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landinoandco · 3 years

Note

Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?

Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty

Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy!

Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end

Word count: 2.2 k

Requests are open...

Baby, the future is ours

At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late.

You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew.

You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well.

You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically.

You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father.

There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be.

Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop.

“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh.

“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head.

You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never.

“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension.

Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement.

You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back.

“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from.

“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering.

“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line.

“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child.

You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze.

“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.

“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands.

There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”

You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner.

“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right?

“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”

“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth.

“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision.

“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.

“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again.

“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered.

Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer.

Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad.

It was too soon.

He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now.

He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed.

Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?”

“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.

“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max.

“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion.

“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.”

In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be.

“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face.

He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.”

“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you.

Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite.

Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.

“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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dismal-alien-darling · 3 years

Text

The Gentle Heart of the Monster

Alcina Dimitrescu x female reader

Bela, Cassandra and Daniela Dimitrescu

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu and her daughers take care of a very pregnant reader.

Warnings/tags: pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink, talk of impregnation, some sexiness, Lady D and her daughters are so caring, personal attention, caring for a pregnant woman, wholesomeness

A/n: For the sake of the fic Alcina carried and birthed her daughters so she has extensive knowledge on vampire babies/pregnancy. Let’s say they are fraternal triplets to make things simple. No father involved just witchy baby magic just let me have this please!

y/n=your name

b/n=future baby’s name

“Ugh! You’re close to overstaying your welcome b/n!” you groaned as b/n gave your ribs a firm kick. You were seven months pregnant with still two months to go and you were over being pregnant. As if being pregnant wasn’t hard enough, having a human-vampire spawn growing inside of you was an entirely different animal. Alcina had come to you with the request of you carrying her next child a few years after you had come to live in the castle. You started as a servant, then her personal hand maid, then her lover and now her brood mare. Lady Dimitrescu would have trusted no one else to carry her next child. You had initially refused her request. You deeply loved Alcina but not enough to have some Dimitrescu man rut you like a rabbit in heat. Lady Dimitrescu had laughed, given you a very sly look and then explained how the conception would happen. You had listened mouth agape closing it after Alcina was done explaining. When you were told SHE would be the one impregnating you your decision instantly changed to a resounding yes. The rest was history.

“B/n hurting my dove again?” Alcina cooed kneeling down to take your shoes off. You grumbled in response. You had spent most of your pregnancy in one of the lounge rooms upstairs. It had the most comfortable chairs in the castle accompanied by equally comfortable foot rests. It had a fireplace and an adjacent balcony with a lovely outside dinette set. The doors leading to the balcony were made of glass so you got plenty of sunshine and had easy access to fresh air. Lady Dimitrescu had joined you every day as often as she could in your little sanctuary. She would often read in the chair across from you, rub your feet, neck, shoulders and back or you would curl up in her lap so you and her could caress your growing bump. Even the first two months your pregnancy had been challenging due to the circumstances. You had been around countless pregnant women in your old village and none of their pregnancies resembled yours, in some aspects yes but most aspects no.

“B/n, you little shit, stop hurting your mother,”Alcina chastised the baby inside you. You chuckled. It always made you laugh when Alcina and the girls would talk and vaguely threaten b/n. Alcina sat on the floor, placing your shoes to the side and began rubbing your feet with her inhumanly strong hands. You sighed in relief. You settled further into the chair placing your hands on your stomach as b/n continued their assault on your insides.

“Ow fuck!” you cried as b/n dragged their foot along the length of your stomach as if they were trying to rip your skin. You sat up doubling over.

“My dear sweet y/n,” Alcina said placing a comforting hand on your head stroking your head. She glared at your stomach and as if the baby could see her terrifying glare b/n finally settled and stopped moving. You lifted your head and slumped back into the chair. Alcina gave you a delicate smile and continued to rub your sore feet.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up my lady,” you confessed tears forming in your eyes.

“I know I know dear one. Growing a vampire baby is a daunting task. The girls were fist fighting even in the womb and look at them now! Ah, but alas my body was more than equipped to handle the pregnancy.” Alcina admitted. She had been in her same form she was now when she had been pregnant with her triplet girls. You however, were still a feeble human so just one vampire-human baby was more than enough for you.

“I’m so weak and fragile I’m too-” you were cut off by Alcina placing a hand on your stomach.

“My dove don’t start...” Lady Dimitrescu trailed off. You simply nodded in response wiping your eyes. You hated how emotional you had become. Alcina hated when you tore yourself apart especially now since you were carrying her fourth child. Alcina and you had discussed the mechanics of what a vampire pregnancy would entail making sure you were fully aware of what was ahead of you. You accepted the task because you would literally die for Alcina Dimitrescu. You had also discussed that if b/n were to almost kill you coming out she would turn you no questions asked.

“Would you like me to rub your neck and back draga mea?” Alcina asked breaking your recollections. You nodded leaning forward as Alcina moved behind the chair. She could fully sit on the floor and still be tall enough to reach your neck and back comfortably. “You look so beautiful cel mic, I love how you look with your child growing inside you, our child. I must admit I’m going to miss you looking like this when b/n arrives,” Alcina fawned as you gave her hand a quick squeeze. “If you weren’t hurting sweet one I would take you right here and now,” Alcina purred into your ear. You twisted your neck meeting your lips with hers. During the first few months Alcina hadn’t held back making love to you in your early stages but now you were too sore to entertain the idea.

“You flatter me so Alcina,” you said licking her lips before deepening your kiss. Alcina reached down snaking her hand over your belly rubbing it softly. She moved her hand and ever so gently touched your swollen breasts. “Oh my dear lady,” you moaned into her lips. Lady Dimitrescu moved her hand down your stomach again and was just passing your hips when the doors to the lounge room flew open. You and Alcina jumped apart breaking your tender moment.

“LUNCH TIME!” Bela announced pushing a tray full of delicious food and snacks. Her sisters followed in behind her pushing another tray of herbs and drinks.

“Oh thank you my loves,” you thanked as Bela, Cassandra and Daniela presented the spread to you. Cassandra began mixing the herbs into a liquid which she poured into your tea. It was mix of supplements and pain relievers. You gladly gulped the tea as the almost instant effects settled into your aching body.

“I have water, more tea, juice and milk,” Cassandra offered.

“Thank you Cassandra just set it down for the moment,” you said.

“So you have bread, that’s...feta and brie cheese, tomato slices, ham, salami, fresh basil, I picked it myself,”Bela boasted.

“But I have grapes, strawberries, almonds, roasted chicken and chocolate cake,” Daniela boasted back glaring at Bela. Since you had been pregnant the girls had been competing to see who could take care of you better.

“You’re feeling better aren’t you y/n because of my herbal mixture right?” Cassandra asked pushing past her sisters.

“I can rub your feet!” Bela offered kneeling down and getting right to work.

“Well I can rub your neck and shoulders,” Daniela barked bulldozing her mother out of the way. Alcina looked sternly at her daughter in response.

“You two didn’t ask her what she really wants! What would you like me to do for you and b/n y/n?” Cassandra asked sweetly. Alcina could see her daughters were overwhelming you.

“GIRLS!” Alcina bellowed making all three girls freeze. “You’re going to make y/n go into early labor if you don’t quiet down.” Alcina continued in a low and deadly voice. You spoke up to diffuse the situation.

“My lovely caring girls. All three-four of you,” you started looking up at Lady Dimitrescu, “are doing a wonderful job taking care of me and b/n. You all have made this pregnancy so much easier for me and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able repay the countless hours you’ve devoted to us.” You finished eyes welling up with tears for a different reason this time.

“AWE Y/N!” The girls squealed in delight as they gathered around you hugging you lovingly but gently because they knew if they were the slightest bit too rough with you mother would have their necks. You gave them each a kiss on their heads eliciting even more squealing. You glanced over at Alcina who had a single tear running down her face. She quickly wiped it away and cleared her throat.

“I can clearly see you and b/n are well taken care of here so I’m assuming I’m not needed,” Lady Dimitrescu teased. You rolled your eyes as the girls removed themselves from you.

“Oh no my lady, you’re job is to be the most beautiful view for me,” you teased back as Alcina leaned down kissing you chastely. “Now my angels you can each take turns rubbing my feet and then when I’m finished eating you can take turns rubbing my neck, shoulders and back. Does that sound like a good plan to all of you?” You finished with a feigned tone of exasperation.

“Yes!” The girls said in delight and just before they could bicker about who was to go first you exclaimed “Bela you can be first, then Cassandra and then Daniela and that was the order that popped up in my head,” you assured before any of their feelings could be hurt. Bela knelt down again as her sisters sat on the floor waiting their turn. Alcina walked over to the chair opposite you and picked up her book from where she had left it the other day. She took a seat admiring the beautiful picture of her pregnant lover and her three daughters so eager to attend her.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x fem reader #fanfiction #resident evil 8 #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu

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ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#elucien #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien #angst #possibility

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Cold Feet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (happy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé, and blink and you’ll miss it implied smut Word Count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST | Alternate Version/Ending of Cold Feet

NOTE: When @meganskane announced her 700 follower celebration I just knew this idea would be the perfect way to implement one of the prompts she gave! The one I chose is “quit looking at me like that” ❤

Also! Fun fact: this song opens with “they’re all set to go on the 18th of June”, and that’s today, so it’s festive 😊)

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Dying to kiss him and put on his ring. So why is she walking alone after midnight, Down a small town street, with cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still feels the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again— a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancée walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancée helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancée. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance.

He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancée's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancée doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

James never was.

Y/N burrows herself further into Spencer's body and plants a gentle kiss to his neck, shivering slightly at the way his curly locks tickle her temple.

He stops humming and laughs. "What are you feeling for breakfast?"

"Hmmm... You." She articulates her point by selfishly kissing his neck, reminiscent of Cookie Monster.

Pretty soon, the two of them are laughing together, limbs tangling and breaths mingling, and then an hour and a half later they're in the kitchen, sipping on coffee.

As its warmth radiates through her throat and chest, Y/N studies him from across the room. He flips through pages of a book as he drinks his coffee, and for a brief moment, his eyes flick up to see her staring.

The action brings a smile to both their faces, and Y/N has never felt happier.

She's never felt more loved.

***

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#meganskane’s library 📚#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfiction

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with-my-murder-flute · 3 years

Text

Sometimes you just have a really intense week and can’t stop thinking about how much trauma Lan Sizhui experienced by the time he was 5 and how being the Very Best Boy isn’t always healthy and then you need to write Lan Wangji the child psychologist and his incredibly anxious foster-son, y’know?

---

Bunny is on time-out again.

"You have to behave,” A-Yuan says in the voice of the potato-head, packing accessories into its body and shoving it into the bed of a soft plastic truck. “You get in the car now.” The Barbie van is already full, with a dinosaur and a fingerpuppet and one of the new larger Lego figures, and all their carefully packed luggage. A-Yuan does that. Over and over again, for each of his toys, he methodically packs and unpacks luggage. It’s his most common form of play, but not the most enjoyable.

A-Yuan’s breathing is rapid and shallow, so much so that he takes little gasps when he talks to himself. Routinely, predictably, he’s calmer when he turns away from the dollhouse. He’s most collected when selecting items to put into luggage, deciding on pieces of felt and Barbie shoes, but even with the vehicles he can lose himself enjoying the movement and progress of the cars. But underneath it all, there’s a jerkiness to his movements and a certain disconnected quality in his speech and body language that tells Lan Wangji that he’s pretty distressed.

It’s a step forward that Bunny is out at all, Lan Wangji knows. A behaviour therapist at A-Yuan’s last preschool made it a point to extinguish comfort-seeking behaviour towards the toy, which was becoming both careworn and grubby. A-Yuan’s had it at least since he was fourteen months old; it was with him when he came into care. Maybe his birth mother gave it to him. A-Yuan has obediently derogated the toy; if it’s left lying out, he can usually be trusted to throw it into a corner to prove what a big, grown-up boy he is.

Lan Wangji has very carefully gauged his son’s limits of tolerance for some things. When the car ride begins, he waves slightly and says, “Have a nice trip,” which makes A-Yuan glance back at him nervously, but it’s just mild enough, just unemotional enough, just tolerable enough, that it doesn’t provoke too much emotion. A-Yuan can keep pushing his vehicles around, and feel safe enough to drive one into Lan Wangji’s foot. He doesn’t persevere at that point, though; the trip has culminated and he gets up and walks to where he can see down the hallway to the front door, then wanders over to the slide.

A hundred million years ago, Lan Wangji thought he’d be a genetics researcher, like his uncle. Then he thought he’d be a neuroscientist, like his undergraduate thesis advisor. Then he thought he’d be a psychologist like his brother, who focuses entirely on assessment and the development of psychometric tools. For a little bit in grad school, he thought he’d counsel adults, like Wei Wuxian, until a classmate told Wei Wuxian that Dialectical Behavioural Therapy was “objectively badass” and he developed a fixation Lan Wangji could not follow. In retrospect his career path is absolutely obvious, resonating clearly through every bone of him, but it took him a very long time to realize he ought to work with children. It’s a little shocking that he, who was so bad at being a child, feels so prepared to be a father.

He smiles when A-Yuan looks at him anxiously from the slide, the moment of uncertainty as he lets go and begins sliding down triggering the need for reassurance. Lan Wangji is always waiting for that glance, waiting to return it. At A-Yuan’s last placement he’d been assessed as having an avoidant/dismissing attachment style, and despite its uncharitable and parent-shaming nature Lan Wangji can’t help but agree with what his husband had muttered over that one: “Were the parents even trying?”

The most vital task, and the hardest, is being present in the moment with a child. Not worrying about the future, not concerned with the past, not preoccupied with an external standard. He’s surprisingly bad at performing objective assessments with children, because he can see how unfair they all are. His greatest facility is something he built for himself, brick by painstaking brick: the willingness to sit with discomfort, and have faith that the chaos will not remain chaos. All his years of meditation have cultivated a still eye to see the world from, and the faith that patience and compassion will see him through.

Still smiling, still watching A-Yuan, Lan Wangji moves closer to the dollhouse. He carefully stars arranging its contents, righting knocked-over furniture and returning blankets to little wooden beds. He takes out a shark figurine, a couple of doll clothes, then puts Bunny on the floor near his shin. When A-Yuan comes close, magnetically drawn away from the slide, Lan Wangji reaches behind himself for the tea set they were using earlier, arranging cups and plates in front of him as though they’re going to have another tea party. He leaves the placement of the cups ambiguous; it’s not like Bunny is specifically invited, but there is a suggestive proximity, the way the other cup is in proximity to the shark. A-Yuan takes the teapot, and Lan Wangji solemnly holds his cup out while A-Yuan pours. For the sake of the ritual he accepts milk and refuses sugar and mimes stirring his invisible ingredients before taking a sip.

When A-Yuan is done drinking, Lan Wangji turns to Bunny, lifting a cup, and asks, “Would you like some tea?” A-Yuan noticed the moment that Lan Wangji’s hand moves, but as he addresses the rabbit A-Yuan seems to lose interest, which is to say, he slightly dissociates; blink and you missed it, but his eyes go a little glassy, he looks away, and then he acts on the adrenaline and gets up and wanders away.

The current theory about Bunny is like the theory of gravity, which is to say, it’s definitely pretty certain but it never hurts to be humble when it comes to knowledge. It’s honestly a little more speculative and psychodynamic than Lan Wangji is truly comfortable with, and A-Yuan’s case manager, possibly a little defensive over the last preschool placement, absolutely refuses to consider the possibility. But it still feels as essential and true as which way is up that Bunny performs the vital task of holding all the parts of A-Yuan that he blames for making the adults he cares about disappear. Bunny holds both the neediness and the hope for comfort that were so painful, his son shut them down in order to survive. Bunny was how A-Yuan mediated that desire, the source of his comfort, until he was three and a half, and the behaviour therapist.

A-Yuan knew his foster parents didn’t like him being disorganized and distressed and clingy, that they’d rather he behaved more like a six-year-old than four. Which he could, sometimes, because he had a ferocious intelligence which put him cognitively ahead of his emotional development. But he, well... adapted a little too quickly, one might say. Learned his lesson a little too well. Now they’re trying to reignite the behaviours that were extinguished.

Lan Wangji takes a risk, while A-Yuan is pulling picture books off the lower shelf, and lifts Bunny to his shoulder like a colicky infant. He doesn’t do anything else, aside from stroking the rabbit’s fur. He leaves it in place, with a little guiding help from his hand, when A-Yuan brings a Franklin book over and climbs into his lap, demanding to be read to. With interest he notes, halfway through the story, that Lan Wangji holding and petting Bunny doesn’t distress A-Yuan; as the story arc gets as exciting as Franklin books ever do (which is not, to be clear, a criticism) A-Yuan turns in his arms long enough to distractedly reach up and pet Bunny too, before turning back and trying to grab the book for himself.

Wondering how far he can push this, he keeps Bunny in place on his shoulder when they leave the room to check the clock, and A-Yuan goes to the living-room window to watch the street for Wei Wuxian. He looks curiously when Lan Wangji leans down to dig the remote out between the couch cushions, but easily redirects when Lan Wangji turns on the TV and goes to prepare dinner. Having the show on limits his anxious glances out the window to three or four a minute only, instead of sustained attention followed by a meltdown if he had to wait more than five minutes.

Lan Wangji thinks it would be easier to keep Bunny in place, on his shoulder like a dishtowel, if he had weighted plastic beads in his extremities, or if he was velcroed. He’s wary of changing anything about such a strong comfort object, though, so he just learns to move and stand differently to keep the rabbit from constantly falling off.

A-Yuan greets Wei Wuxian with the kind of terrified delight that looks like general indifference if you don’t know better; he runs over, stands uncertainly within arm’s reach of Wei Wuxian’s legs, and then dodges away before Wei Wuxian can reach down to him. Lan Wangji helpfully muted the show when he heard the door open--it gives A-Yuan the space to sit with his back to the room and self-regulate while the adults say hello.

“New friend?” his husband asks finally, an eyebrow raised.

“Modelling it as appropriate,” Lan Wangji says. “I thought perhaps he could tolerate us demonstrating that it is not discouraged.”

“Nice rabbit, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says seamlessly, in a voice meant to be heard from the couch. “I like it. Makes me wish I had a rabbit.”

“They are very good friends,” Lan Wangji agrees. “This one is not mine, but he is keeping me company.”

“Nice,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “Maybe whoever you borrowed him from will let him hang out with me sometime.”

Their audience does not comment on this, but they didn’t need him to. Wei Wuxian sets the table while Lan Wangji cooks. A-Yuan’s palate is still pretty limited, so he’s used to making three separate elements of one meal, and can live with cutting up cooked hot dog into little coins so long as he doesn’t have to eat them himself. They just supplement their kid’s diet with a multivitamin.

A-Yuan looks askance enough, when dinner is ready, that Lan Wangji takes Bunny off his shoulder and asks, “Where should he sit while we eat?”

There is a fourth chair, albeit completely out of proportion, but he doesn’t dare try it. Instead A-Yuan thinks for a minute, and points to the kitchen counter behind the table. Lan Wangji props Bunny up against the wall, observing dinner if not participating, and after a second to think, A-Yuan accepts this as normal and climbs into his chair. He is meticulously well-behaved.

Lan Wangji aches for his son, and hopes one day he’ll feel confident enough in their love to break the rules around them.

They eat.

#the untamed #my stuff #lan wangji #lan sizhui #AU where everybody's a therapist #the colleague from grad school lan wangji consults most with is nie huisang the family therapist #never saw that coming

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp. He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian. Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #whumptober2021 #day 1 #bound #barbed wire #you have to let go #injury #blood #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #happy ending #precious posts #no editing we die like robins

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viperbarnes · 3 years

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The Tie That Binds – [Four of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: THANK YOU FOR WAITING!!! I reaaallly hope you enjoy this chapter ;) This one is a little longer, to make up for the shortness of the last chapter. Let me know what you think!!!

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It’s late, your phone tells you that much.

Blinking quickly awake, you catch your breath and reach immediately for the device, checking the time with a deep frown. You feel as though you’d only just managed to fall asleep, which makes the loud knocking on your door even more annoying.

For several seconds you just sit on your bed and listen. Perhaps it was one of your neighbours, coming home drunk and not realising this wasn’t their place, but then the sound comes again and you have to cross that option off.

The banging was too precise, too sharp to be someone inebriated.

You’re pulling a thick sweater over your head as you make your way through your living room, cautiously. The knocking hadn’t come again, and you wonder if your visitor had left.

You pull open the door quickly, frowning deeper still at why on earth Bucky was on your doorstep at three in the morning. You don’t even manage to take him in properly before he’s stepping forward, his wide, wild eyes sweeping over you, searching.

“I came as soon as we landed, what happened?!” He asks, deep worry filling his voice, his features pinched in panic. You blink in confusion, taking a slight step away from him, but only so that you can properly take in his completely overwhelming appearance.

You’d seen him return from missions with minor scrapes and bruises before, but nothing about his current look was ‘minor’.

A large cut on his forehead that reaches up into his hairline is caked with both drying and still wet blood, the rest of his face filthy with the clear remnants of a brutal fight. You can’t tell if the blood on his lips was from his nose, or if he’d cut there too. Even his uniform is all but ruined, ripped and torn in various places, blood splattered all over his jacket, and even worse, a large gash along his thigh, deep and still weeping.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky!” You exclaim, unable to stop yourself. Bucky’s brows only knit further together and he steps closer.

“Are you alright? I couldn’t call, my phone got– it doesn’t matter, are you okay?” He looks you over again, as if you were the one currently bleeding, but you realise rather suddenly why he had come and why he was so worried.

Your face heats up approximately a million times hotter than the sun.

“I’m– I’m fine, I… That wasn’t– I didn’t mean for you to–!” Your voice cuts out as mortification fills you and you drop your face into your hands. Bucky’s face floods with relief, and then a small amount of displeasure as he seems to fully relax, shoulders sagging a bit under what you can only assume is a very sore body.

“You said to call you ASAP.” He mutters, and you wince.

“I know, I know… But I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even think about how it might sound…” You scold yourself, finally lifting your head from your hands to look at him apologetically. Bucky sighs, and you can see him forcefully reigning back his ire.

“As long as you're okay…” He sighs again. You want to apologise again, but a drop of blood seeps out from his hairline and you straighten.

“What the hell happened to you!?” You ask, stepping aside and allowing him to amble into your home.

“Got blown up.” He states shortly. He doesn’t make to elaborate, but you don’t think you need him to.

“It’ll mostly be healed by morning.” He informs you, turning his head to look back at you as he peels off his blue leather jacket. With his back to you now, you can see even more large gashes in his back, having torn right through his clothes and left his back looking as though he’d been lashed.

You can remember the Winter Soldier returning from missions looking just as terrible, the gore was sometimes too much for you to handle.

As if realising for the first time that he’d entered your home, Bucky looks around with a frown and then quickly grabs his ruined jacket back from the countertop he’d just placed it on.

“I should go. Let you get back to sleep.” He tells you, already moving for your door again. You don’t exactly know why, but panic lances through you, making you hurriedly step in his path, blocking him off.

“What? No, no, no, you need to clean up!” You blurt, swallowing thickly when his expression shifts slightly, into something unreadable.

“It’s late… and I’ll be fine.” It sounds less like he’s making his excuse to leave and more like he’s trying to reassure you, his voice softer and more soothing than you’d expected.

You blink at him, and try to figure out why exactly you didn’t want him to go.

Granted in the past few weeks you’d become increasingly close, it was actually something you’d started worrying about. It was as if time ceased to exist when he wasn’t around, only starting up again when you saw each other. More and more you’d started to feel lonely, had started to look at the little scar on the back of your hand and yearn.

And that was scary.

Scarier was the way that any and all reservations you’d had about Bucky had completely dissolved, replaced instead by a sense of warmth, and comfort and safety.

You swallow again, and shake your head.

“I’m not letting you go home like this.” You tell him.

“Seriously, you need to sit down and clean up as soon as possible. You look bad.” You gesture at his head and thigh.

“I’m fine, really–” Bucky begins, but his voice hitches when his knee seems to momentarily give. He catches himself quickly, one hand steadying himself on the wall, and you know he’s lying to you through his teeth because he doesn’t even try biting back the curse he lets out.

“Bucky…” You scold warningly, crossing your arms over your chest, even as he relents. You don’t think about the fact that he’d barely put up a fight, or that when he carefully begins moving again, that he knows his way through your home, even in the dim light.

He groans as he sits down on the toilet seat, looking even worse under the harsh lights of your bathroom.

“Dislocated my knee.” He grunts, eyes keenly trained on you as you move around him, procuring a clean towel and a couple of washcloths from the cupboard, and getting the water in the shower running for him.

“Do you… are you okay to get in yourself, or…?”A sudden sheepishness fills you, having not considered the realities of making him stay, but he shakes his head, and reaches to pull his black shirt off.

Dumbly, you stare for several seconds too long as the fabric is peeled from his body and tossed into your tiny bin, your eyes glued to the broad expanse of his chest and abs, a body you’d seen a hundred times before, but somehow, feels brand new now. Bucky notices, of course he does, but thankfully doesn’t say anything as you hurry to avert your gaze, jumping around to face the mirror, which doesn’t really help.

“I– I have some mens clothing. Some sweatpants and a jumper. I bought them for me, but they’re big enough… they should fit you okay…” You ramble, pretending to tidy up the multitude of things you have on and around your sink.

“Thanks.” He says quietly, grunting softly as he works on his boots.

You pause again, stuck staring, as for the first time since you’d met him two months ago, you were able to see his metal arm completely uncovered.

You’d picked up that it was new, the black and gold colouring of his hand a give away, but he hadn’t said much on the subject. You knew it was a gift from Wakanda, and had theorised from that information that it was made of vibranium.

Your eyes travel over the sleek, geometrically interlocking panels, of how it moved and folded almost organically. You turn back to face him to get a better look, your curiosity too much as you take it in. The fingers were deft and far more slender than the arm you’d worked on, much more like his flesh hand. The joints and knuckles were traced in gold and you realise that the black vibranium (?) was actually encasing a layer of more delicate golden panelling underneath, allowing for both acute fine-motor skill and reinforcement to lend added strength–

You’re shocked from your thoughts when you realise Bucky stares right at you, his movements frozen in place. When you further realise that you’ve moved away from the sink and now hold his forearm in both your hands, you let out a startled gasp, and jump back, releasing him.

You can’t even think of what to begin saying to him, and for several moments you both just stare at one another.

“I– I, um…” You stutter, face growing warm. Bucky slowly tears his eyes from you to look at his arm, but his gaze quickly returns.

“You can… You can have a look, if you want…” He offers, voice even and unreadable. You blink.

“I know you were working on this kind of stuff before… prosthetic limb enhancem–” He continues, but you’re snapped out of your daze, cutting him off quickly.

“No. No thank you.” You say, a little more harshly than you intend, but a cold prickle has begun creeping it’s way up your spine. Bucky closes his mouth and just watches you. You step even further away from him and shake your head.

“I don’t– I don’t ever want to think about any of that again.” Your voice feels stiff, and both embarrassment and discomfort force your decision to exit out of the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

You feel bad about your behaviour, and as you lay in bed and replay the events again and again, it almost makes you want to step out of your bedroom and apologise. It wasn’t as if you’d have to go anywhere. After he’d finished cleaning up, looking a hell of a lot better already but still walking stiffly due to his knee, you’d quietly insisted he at least stay until his leg healed.

Bucky hadn’t argued, and you try not to linger on his seeming willingness to stay. It makes your blood pump a little faster, and your mouth feel both dried and over-salivating at the same time. You think again about your strange relationship, how things were evolving, and about how you could almost trick yourself into thinking you felt tingling on the back of your hand sometimes.

You’d been trying to ignore the feeling, not only because it was insane for you to feel as such about him of all people, but mostly because Bucky’s soulmark was black. Black, meaning he already had a soulmate.

Somewhere out there, Bucky Barnes’ perfect half was waiting for him to find them. Maybe they were even looking for him. The thought feels like a punch in the gut, but it wasn’t the first time recently that you’d had to remind yourself of the fact.

Whatever weird, strange feelings you’d developed, it was all pointless.

You roll over and brush the thoughts from your mind. You’d never fall asleep that way. Sleep didn’t always come so easy to you, and it had already been late when Bucky had arrived, and so you let the warmth of your blankets and the knowledge that your home was a hundred times safer with him inside it lull you into unconsciousness.

---

The Winter Soldier sits bloodied and battered in the chair before you, his chin turned down toward his chest, but his eyes flickering around the room, looking as dark and as menacing as always. His gaze lands on you for mere moments before it’s moving on, clearly not deeming you as a threat.

Around you, the room bustles with an unusual amount of people, talking rapidly and low in Russian. Your shoulder is jabbed harshly and you quickly continue to move forward, gingerly pulling up a nearby stool and moving to place your small bag of tools on the trolley provided.

A doctor of some kind stands on the Soldier’s other side, his gloved hands covered in bright crimson as he attends to a wound you refuse to look at. He seems distracted however, looking back and over his shoulder at another man every so often, gesturing and pointing at his patient’s body.

Perhaps the fact that the Soldier had been watching the room when you entered should have given it away, should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but you were so often surrounded by danger these days that the change in demeanour hadn’t made a mark.

You move to take your seat, just as the doctor leans back in and that's when the Soldier snaps.

His broken body lunges to his feet, moving faster than you have time to register, and you don’t even get to see what he does next. The air is knocked out of you, a pain pulsing in your abdomen and chest, and then your back as you suddenly hit the bare concrete wall, crumpling like fabric to the floor.

You’re aware the room has erupted into chaos, of shouting and the clicking off of safeties on guns, but for several minutes you’re only able to clutch at your stomach, gasping for breath. You aren’t hurt, not fatally anyway, there had been no knife in the fist that had swung out and batted you away like a ping pong ball, but the force would surely leave bruising.

You catch a brief glance of the Soldier with his hand around the doctor’s throat, until you realise that his hand is in fact around a scalpel that is lodged inside the doctor’s throat, and you look away again.

The guards and his handler all hurry to diffuse the situation, garbled shouts and threats in a language you don’t understand, as tears begin to prickle your eyes. You were lucky to be alive, all things considered, just unlucky enough to be standing so close when he’d snapped. But although you weren’t dead, or dying, the blow had hurt.

Too soon for your liking a hand is harshly grabbing your bicep and yanking you to your feet.

The room seemed to have returned to how it had been before, the only signs of change being the dead body lying on the ground beside the Soldier, and the cuffs that were strapped around his wrists, holding him to the chair.

The hand holding you pushes you to walk forward, and you dig your heels in.

“No, please, I don’t–” You start, feeling your whole body begin to shake in panic. You’re cut off by another man, Karpov, who steps into your line of sight with a curled lip.

“Fix it.” He demands, accent heavy around his words. Your fear of the man behind him outweighs your fear of him, and you find yourself shaking your head, struggling to try and break free of the tight hold on you.

“No, I can’t, I can’t! Please–” This time you’re cut off by a sharp slap that sends your head flying to the side, the sound ringing in your ears and seemingly bouncing off the walls. Your chin is grabbed roughly and yanked to attention.

“You will fix him. Now.” Karpov spits, releasing you just as the guard holding you jerks you forward once more.

You’re pushed down onto your seat, your trolley of tools shoved beside you, the noise making you jump. For several seconds you can only sob, your whole body shaking violently as you try not to cringe away from the Soldier, who sits impassive now, his eyes turned down, his body slumped.

A harsh prod to your shoulder makes you move, and slowly you begin the process of opening up the metal arm, diagnosing the problems, and fixing them.

Your hands tremble the whole time, and your crying gets softer, but doesn’t stop, the pain in your abdomen pulsing and aching.

You wake with a sharp inhale, but as the dream fades and the morning sets in, you release it with sigh.

The dreams hadn’t become less frequent since Bucky had come into your life, but the power they once held over you, the ability to put you on edge and send your anxiety spiralling for the next few days had all but disappeared.

It was as though the fear of him specifically had become detached from your memories, and regardless of your friendship, you were grateful to leave it behind.

The events of last night begin to trickle back to you as you stretch and groan, waking up properly and considering all that had happened. You don’t know if Bucky had stuck around through the night, or had taken off in the early hours, but you know you still needed to apologise for your reaction in the bathroom, so forcing yourself out from your sheets, you pull on a thick sweater and stuff your feet in your slippers before making your way out of your bedroom.

It was still early in the morning, the sun only just beginning to rise, and you find yourself pausing in your doorway, eyes transfixed on the sight that was Bucky Barnes lit up in the morning light.

He wasn’t asleep, nor did you expect him to be if he had stuck around, but the view is no less breathtaking, the sun illuminating his side profile as if to tease you, to put on full display what you knew you could never have.

Bucky looks up from his phone after a moment, spurring you to move again, absently making for your kitchen.

“Morning.” You greet, mouth dry still.

“Morning. I already got coffee.” Bucky’s words make you pause again, and you blink at the sight you’d obviously missed with ogling him; two large takeaway cups, still in the little cardboard holder.

The cups are marked with the labelling from the cafe you’d often meet at, the one Bucky had revealed was his favorite only after you’d gushed about how good their coffee was.

“Oh,” Is all you’re able to say for a moment, changing paths to move slowly, almost gingerly toward him and the cup and now holds out for you.

“Thanks…” You continue when you’ve carefully plucked the drink from his fingers, and made the decision to take the seat beside him on the sofa.

Bucky takes his own coffee then, and you realise he’d been waiting for you to wake up before he’d started on his own. The thought makes your tummy flutter, but you tell yourself it’s only the memory of your dreams.

“Thanks for letting me stay… I probably shouldn’t have been getting around on my knee as much as I was.” Bucky says after he’s taken a sip from his cup. You watch him scrunch up his nose and fiddle with the lid, pulling it off and placing it aside. He always hated how small the drinking holes were.

“Of course. You looked awful, but I would have felt worse sending you off… especially since you’d come all this way to check on me.” You shrug, shooting him a smile.

Bucky grimaces momentarily.

“Yeah… You had me worried.” He tells you, and your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“You were?”

Bucky frowns dramatically and nods his head.

“Sam almost insisted on coming, just in case.” He informs you, and you have to tsk at yourself.

“Sorry…”

You both sit in amiable silence for a while and you try to hold together your mess of a mind, a scrambled concoction of thoughts and feelings.

“I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories last night… about…” Bucky speaks first, breaking the quiet and you blink at him for several seconds as his meaning sets in. You duck your head and try to keep from sighing.

“No, I shouldn’t have reacted so sourly.” You shake your head, and begin to fiddle with your coffee cup, tracing the printed sides.

“All I ever wanted to do was help people, I’d studied for almost ten years, and I was going to accept my dream job at Stark Industries… and then HYDRA happened…” You don’t look at him, you can’t. You’d never spoken about this before, not with anyone, even during your ‘trial’ after you’d gotten free.

“I could have fixed my window,” You say, gaining the courage briefly to lift your head and make eye contact. Bucky’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t speak.

“I could fix my shitty shower head, and noise my garbage disposal makes,” You gesture wildly to your kitchen and shake your head.

“But I can’t even pick up a screwdriver without my hands starting to shake.” You sigh, feeling almost lighter for confessing, despite the distress in your words.

Bucky drops his head, looking to his lap as he swallows, before he lifts his eyes again. You suddenly regret bringing it up. You know he felt guilty, you know divulging your reasoning would only make it worse. He opens his mouth, but you speak before him.

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t…” Your words catch in your throat at the way he stares at you, and you have to break away for a second, take a sip of your rink before you can continue.

“Please don’t apologise.”

He doesn’t apologise, but he doesn’t speak either, sitting back further, slumping over slightly. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for it. For anything. He’d done so much for you, had helped you more than he’d ever hurt you, but you aren’t sure how to tell him that.

“I had a dream last night,” You blurt suddenly, catching his attention again. You can see that the hand he doesn’t hold his coffee in is balled up, his whole body rigid and stiff.

“It was… I don’t know if you remember, but you’d come back from some mission, and you looked like shit,” You half chortle at the way he lifts his brow tightly.

“You were on edge, I guess, something not quite right… You attacked a doctor…”

“I remember.” Bucky nods, brow furrowing again, likely at the memory of what he’d done to the man. But then he looks sideways at you, his frown turning curious more than anything else.

“I don’t remember you being there…” He murmurs. You swallow and force a tight smile.

“That’s because you batted me away when you stood up.” You joke, and he makes a face as he ‘ahs’.

You watch him stare at the coffee in his hands for several seconds, sorting through his thoughts and emotions silently.

“I’d stopped having those kinds of dreams so much before you came around, and then they started up again.”

He looks at you then, expression sad but unreadable, his eyes flickering across your features as he tries to figure out your tone.

“That first day, when you came and apologised, I couldn’t help but be terrified. I knew what had happened to you, what they’d done, and that you’d been getting better, but I couldn’t help it.” You almost regret telling him that, watching as his eyes turn even sadder, but you needed to, to make sure the next part made sense.

“I wasn’t able to sleep for days… I kept thinking it was all some trick and… and you were going to come back and take me away again.”

You purse your lips and turn your cup around in your hands, your pulse speeding up with nerves and anxiety.

“... And I think that’s so funny now,” You can’t help but laugh around your words, shaking your head as Bucky looks up at you sharply, confusion clearer on his features now.

“Funny?” He asks, voice flat, as if he suspected you might be making fun of him. You nod.

“It’s funny because these days I feel safest when you are around.” You confess, feeling very raw and open, feeling like perhaps he would see right through you.

Bucky just watches you for a while, his face returning to that unreadable expression he often wore, the confusion now gone. You start to wonder if he’d understood you properly.

“It feels like even if somebody did try to take me, you might not let them…”

“I would never let them.” Bucky says quickly, hurriedly, as if snapping out of a trance. You blink at him, a little surprised by the intensity behind his words, but he just shakes his head, frowning as he leans forward to put aside his coffee cup, and turns to face you on the couch.

“Listen to me; I will never let that happen again.” Bucky reiterates, firmer this time, making you jump slightly when his hand curls around yours. You inhale sharply, suddenly thrown off kilter and off course. You’d only wanted to make him see how much he’d done for you, but now you have no idea what was happening.

You look down at his hand in yours, and then back to his face with bewilderment, startled again when he squeezes your fingers in prompt.

“I… I believe you. I know.” You stutter and stumble over the words, feeling suddenly like there wasn’t enough air in the room. Bucky nods, and swallows, and then he’s kissing you.

You can’t help but gasp against his lips, and you’re almost certain that this whole morning has been a fake out, and you hadn’t really woken up yet. His hand not held in your own comes to gently hold your face, and even though you felt like you were drowning, responding feels bizarrely natural.

His kisses you sweet, contrary to the suddenness of it all, lips dancing slow and smooth across your own, tentative and hesitant behind the bold move. Your mind spins, elation and happy disbelief shooting through you, that you weren’t alone in having developed strange feelings. Your hand is released for a moment, only for your coffee to be tugged lightly from your other, and you don’t know where it goes, don’t really care, because now you were free to return his hold.

It feels a little awkward at first, it wasn’t as though you’d done anything like this in more than a decade, but you eventually let your arm wrap around his shoulder, slipping your hand a little shyly up to the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky hums against your mouth in what you think is approval, and you scratch the spot a little more confidently.

And then, as if a brick had been tossed through your window, you’re shocked back to your senses.

You pull away from him quickly, jumping back and tearing yourself apart. Bucky looks surprised, and you can only stare back at him with wide eyes, breathing harder than you’d like to admit.

“What are you doing?” You manage to get out, your voice far too breathy and affected. Bucky’s brow furrows.

“You– You have a soulmate!” You tell him, trying not to sound like you were scolding him, gesturing to the hand that had previously been holding your face, the little black mark on his wrist clearly visible.

You wait for him to reply, and his expression seems to go through a journey before he focuses back on you.

“You said to me once that soulmate or not, there was still choice involved,” He speaks carefully, looking as anxious as you felt. He sucks in a breath, and looks at his wrist, before pulling his sleeve over it, and slowly holding his hand out toward you.

“I don’t– I don’t know who this is. But I know you.”

The words may as well sucker punch you in the gut, and you feel just as winded as you had in your dream. You can only stare at him, and his hand, in mild disbelief, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t take it back.

“… Really…?” Your voice is meek, small, and belongs to the tiny part of you that didn’t feel damaged, or broken, the part of you that had still held out hope. Bucky’s lips quirk in the corners, and understanding that you won’t be able to reach for him yourself, he moves closer again, both hands cupping your face now, but instead of kissing you properly, he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. Somehow it feels even more intimate, confirms the truth in his words even more than his lips on yours would have.

“Really.” He promises you.

If you like or enjoy, a comment or reblog is always highly appreciated! Thank you for reading!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: TTTB

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

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Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises - Fred Weasley

Title: Honey, Flowers and Pinky Promises Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred denies himself the one thing he wants most in life, a future with Y/N, to keep her safe. So, what’s he to do 5 years later when she reappears in his life, safe from harm and with their future together already started. A/N: For the anon who wanted Fred breaking up with the reader before he leaves school, only to find out she gave birth to his kids a few years later! This was actually a very cute idea and very fun to write! As always feedback is appreciated and requests are open!!

tag list: @pandaxnienke @feltondarling (send a message if you'd like to be added!)

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“Everything is all set,” George says quietly as he takes a seat next to Fred at dinner. “I figured out where our brooms are, and I found the spell we’ll need to get them out of the enchantments Umbridge has them locked up with.”

Fred hums and nods absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what George is saying. He’s too busy watching Y/N. She’s sitting a few seats away with her friends, laughing at something one of them has said. Y/N looks absolutely gorgeous and carefree, and Fred’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches her.

“Everything all set on your end?” George asks, nudging Fred.

“Almost,” he responds. When George smacks him upside the head Fred finally turns to glare at him. “What the hell was that for?” he asks, rubbing at the spot George’s hand hit.

“I did all the hard stuff! All you had to do was pack the bags and set up the swamp for us to set off,” George scolds. “We leave tomorrow, Fred!”

Fred rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I was talking about git.” He turns in his seat so he can look at Y/N again. “Bags are set and so is the prank.”

“Oh,” George says softly, feeling stupid. He follows Fred’s gaze and frowns. “You haven’t told Y/N yet?”

“No,” he admits. “She’s not going to like what I have to say so I’ve been putting it off for a few days to get as much time with her as possible.”

“I thought Y/N supported the whole joke shop thing?” George asks, his confusion evident in his tone. “There’s only two months of school left, I can’t imagine she’ll be that mad.”

Fred bites his lip and tears his gaze away from Y/N so he can look at George. “It’s not the joke shop she’s going to be mad about.” Fred swallows thickly. “It’s the fact that I’m going to break up with her that’s going to upset her.”

“What?” George asks in shock as his eyes widen. “You’re joking right?” When Fred doesn’t move George hits him. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Fred whispers, hanging his head. “It’s for the best.”

George nudges Fred so he’ll look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re madly in love with her and she’s madly in love with you, how can breaking up with her be a good thing?” George leans forward to whisper in Fred’s ear. “You’ve talked about marrying her, Fred. What changed?”

“The world has changed, George,” Fred says suddenly, scaring his brother. “Percy disowning us, us joining the Order, our family being a target for You-Know-Who and the death eaters. I can’t bring her into that, I can’t risk her life like that.” Fred clenches his fist. “I love her too much to let her get hurt.”

“So, you’re going to break up with her, to keep her safe?” George asks, trying to understand Fred’s point of view.

“I know it seems weird but it’s the only way that I can keep her safe. Even if it kills me to do it,” Fred sighs. He lets himself look at Y/N again, and his heart breaks when she returns his gaze and smiles at him warmly.

“Freddie,” Y/N greets as she takes the last few steps down the staircase and into the common room. It’s well past midnight, and Fred had left Y/N a note to meet him downstairs. She moves over to him quickly and sits next to him on the couch. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.”

Fred resists his urge to cuddle her close and leans in to kiss her briefly. “Sorry, love. Been busy doing stuff with George,” he lies. Truthfully Fred has been distancing himself from her over the past few days. He knows breaking up with her is for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Y/N is like a drug to him, the more he’s around her the more he craves her touch and her presence. If he allowed himself to spend every waking moment with her like he desired he’d never get the nerve to end it.

“Joke shop stuff?” Y/N asks excitedly and when Fred nods she smiles at him. “I’m so proud of you, Freddie. You’re working so hard on all that stuff with George, and I just know you guys are going to make it big.”

“Thanks, love,” Fred says quietly, praying that his voice doesn’t crack. He leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, taking a deep breath in. She smells like honey and flowers and Fred thinks it’s the most comforting scent in the world. Normally it would make all the stress leave his body, but tonight it punches a hole in his chest.

Y/N pulls away from Fred and cups his cheek so she can make him look her in the eyes. “What’s wrong, Fred?” The use of his actual name knocks the air out of Fred’s lungs. He’s always Freddie to her, unless they’re talking about something serious. “You’re not acting like yourself. What’s going on?”

Fred moves away from Y/N further down the couch, and he puts his hand up to stop her from following him. “We need to talk about something.” He can feel tears forming in the back of his eyes and he blinks furiously, trying to keep them at bay. “We can’t, we can’t see each other anymore. Be together anymore.”

“What?” Y/N asks, her voice cracking. Tears spring to her eyes and start to slowly wander down her cheeks as confusion and sadness start to flow through her veins. At dinner just that evening Y/N had mentioned to her friends that she suspected Fred was going to propose after graduation, and just a few hours later he’s shattering her heart into a million pieces.

“I’m breaking up with you, Y/N,” Fred says clearer, his bottom lip trembling. “We’re done. Over with. I can’t be with you anymore.”

Y/N sobs and when she reaches out to grab Fred he stands up quickly. “Don’t do this Fred, please. I thought everything was okay with us. What went wrong? I can fix it Fred, please.” She wipes away some of her tears, but fresh ones just keep replacing them when she looks into Fred’s cold, emotionless face. “I love you Fred. Don’t you love me too?”

Fred closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at the pure heartbreak on Y/N’s face. He loves her more than life itself, and that’s why he has to do this. “I don’t love you anymore,” he says coldly, opening his eyes to look Y/N in hers. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, before turning around and heading up to his dorm, the echoes of Y/N’s sobs following behind him.

Y/N doesn’t think much of it when her period doesn’t arrive like it’s supposed to three days after Fred and George leave school. She just had her heart broken by the boy she thought would be her forever, so it makes sense to her when she misses it completely. And when she starts to feel lethargic and has random nausea spells in the following few weeks Y/N attributes it to stress; her chest still aches with the thought of Fred and NEWTS are coming up.

Y/N doesn’t start to panic that it may be something more until she misses another period. Her chest still feels empty without Fred, but she’s just graduated and she’s excited for her life to continue on. But the nausea is still there, and her ankles have started to swell, and she can’t help but notice that her boobs are sore pretty much all day every day. When she wakes up one morning and the smell of her mother cooking eggs sends her heaving into the toilet, Y/N can’t deny what she’s known deep down for weeks. She takes a test that afternoon and confirms her fears.

Pregnant.

Her parents are upset when she tells them the next day, and they urge her to send an owl to Fred immediately. By this point it’s no secret to anyone what Fred and George are up to, their joke shop has been open for weeks now and is the talk of the wizarding world. Y/N has often thought about heading to Diagon Alley to check up on Fred, but she always resists those urges. Fred was her first thought when she saw that little pink plus sign, but she can’t bring herself to tell him. Fred clearly didn’t want her to be a part of his future, and she’s not sure she’s ready to let him be a part of this future with her.

Y/N is 10 weeks along when her mother escorts her to her first doctors’ appointment, and to no one’s surprise its twins. Up until this point her parents had been adamant that she consider adoption as well, but as soon as the doctor announces its twins, Y/N’s decision to become a mother is solidified. These babies are going to be the perfect combination of her and Fred, her last connection to the boy she still loves.

Y/N gets a job doing copywrite work for the daily prophet, and a hefty inheritance from her grandfather allows Y/N to move to a cute brownstone in London when she’s eight months pregnant. She avoids Diagon Alley like the plague, too afraid of running into Fred or George. Her family and friends try and convince her to reach out to Fred, and Y/N really does try. She has dozens of unsent letters in a box under her bed, dating all the way back to the day she found out she was pregnant. Y/N thinks about sending them often, but her stomach lurches each time she tries to.

She gives birth to a perfect, healthy baby boy and an equally perfect and healthy baby girl on a snowy day in December. Y/N names her son Phoenix, to match the fiery red hair that’s already sprouting out of his tender head. And she names her daughter Electra, to match her bright eyes and to remind Y/N that she and her brother are the light at the end of a very dark road. They both remind her so much of Fred, and it makes her journey into parenthood harder than she thought it would be.

The war is tough on everyone, but Y/N manages to survive it. It’s hard, raising two children alone during the darkest times anyone has seen, but it builds her confidence in her parenting abilities. She falls in love with herself and being a mother, and it only strengthens the bond she has with the twins. They’re without a doubt the best thing that has ever happened to her and watching them grow swells her chest with pride. In the blink of an eye the twins are 4, and the world Y/N had created for them suddenly comes crashing down.

“Damn,” Y/N mutters to herself as she examines the jar that usually holds Abraxan hair. “Forgot to get more.” She’s not the best at potion making, but she had found one in her youth that will temporarily change the color of your hair, and Electra had woken up that morning with the desire to turn her fiery red locks purple.

“Mummy said a bad word,” Phoenix teases, kicking his legs excitedly.

Y/N turns around and playfully rolls her eyes at the twins. They’re sitting at the table gobbling down pancakes as per usual. While they both sport the same red hair as their father, Phoenix is the spitting image of Fred, and it used to make Y/N’s heart ache. But it’s been almost 5 years since Fred broke her heart, and the pain no longer lingers. Electra takes after Y/N, her soft features and eyes nearly identical to her own. Unfortunately for Y/N they both inherited Fred’s love for pranks and jokes, and she finds herself collapsing into bed every night exhausted from the mischief they create.

“That’s because Mummy is allowed to say bad words,” Y/N teases. She puts out the fire beneath the cauldron she’d been brewing her potion in before taking a seat at the table with her kids. “We’re going to have to run into Diagon Alley after breakfast. I need to stock up on some things to make your potion, Ellie.”

“So, you can say shit, but we can’t?” Ellie pouts, putting her fork down.

“Hey!” Y/N says, trying not to laugh. “What did I just say? Bad words are for adults to use during the appropriate situation. They’re not for little kids to say at the breakfast table.”

“That’s so not fair,” Phoenix sighs, putting his fork down as well. “How old do we have to be to be adults?”

Y/N takes a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. “Older than 4 I can tell you that.”

“Five then?” Electra asks excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

Y/N gives both twins a look that makes them burst out into a fit of giggles. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast or we’ll never make it to Diagon Alley before it gets crowded.”

45 minutes later Y/N apparates into Diagon Alley, a twin holding each hand. Normally she avoids taking the twins with her whenever she needs to shop, fearful that Fred may be lurking around every corner. But she just needs to grab a few things, and it’s early enough that most of the stores are closed, and when Y/N looks over her shoulder it seems that Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is no exception.

“Here come on. We just need to grab a few things and then we’ll go home, and I’ll be able to put the potion in your hair, sound good?” Both twins nod excitedly and Y/N smiles at them. “And no running away!” she adds with a laugh, before pulling them both into the store behind her.

“There were just the cutest little red head twins outside,” Verity calls dreamily from her place in the front window. They’re still a few minutes from opening, so she’s waiting by the door for it to be time to unlock it.

Fred comes down the last few steps from his flat into the shop, fixing his tie. He comes to stand next to Verity, peering out the window with her. “Really? George and I better watch out, they may try and steal out thunder,” he jokes.

It’s started to barely snow when the door to the Potion supply store just down the road swings open, and two little kids with fiery hair are running out to twirl around in the snow. Fred goes to say something, but his mouth runs dry when someone else follows the kids out. “Y/N?” he asks, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. He hasn’t seen her in almost five years, and his heart has started to pound in his chest.

“You know her?” Verity asks, watching as Y/N chases the two little kids around in the snow.

Fred nods, almost unable to believe what he’s seeing. Y/N is there in front of him and Fred’s blood runs cold as he watches the little girl run into Y/N’s arms. “Hey Verity. How old do you reckon those kids are?” Fred has a few nieces, but he’s absolute shit at telling how old kids are.

Verity hums, watching them closely. “I’d say anywhere from 4 to maybe 6? It’s kinda hard to tell through the window but they’re definitely no younger than 3.” Fred makes a noise from behind her, and she turns to look at him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fred just stands there, unable to form a coherent sentence as his brain puts the pieces together. Not only is Y/N out there with two young children, they both have fiery red hair that looks quite like his, and their approximate age makes it very likely that Y/N could have been pregnant with them during their last year when he broke up with her.

Before Fred has truly processed the fact that those very well might be his children playing in the snow, he’s throwing the door to the joke shop open and heading out into the cold. Both of the kids are giggling like crazy, and it makes Fred’s knees quiver as he approaches. “Y/N!” Fred calls when he’s only a few feet away.

Y/N freezes at the sound of her voice being called by someone far too familiar. She grabs a hand of each twin and pulls them close to her side as she stands up. “Fred,” she says flatly, looking up at him. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest, and she can’t help but look Fred up and down. He looks older, more mature, but still so familiar to Y/N.

“What are you? What is? Who are?” Fred stutters as he tries to find just the right words.

He lets his eyes wander from Y/N’s face down to the two little kids standing at her side. Both of their cheeks are flushed red from the cold, and as Fred looks at the little girl there’s no denying that she’s Y/N’s daughter. Her eyes are the same color as her mother’s, and her cheeks have the same roundness. He looks to the other child then, and his jaw nearly drops. It’s as if he’s looking at a baby photo of himself that his mother has hanging on the walls of the Burrow. The little boy has the same brown eyes as Fred, and an almost identical freckle pattern splashed across his cheeks. If there was any doubt in Fred’s mind before it’s gone now. There is no denying that he’s the father of these children.

“Mummy,” Electra asks, tugging on Y/N’s hand. She waits for her mother to look at her before she continues. “Who is that?” she asks, pointing towards Fred.

Y/N swallows thickly and squats down so she’s eyelevel with the kids. “That’s Mummy’s friend Fred, from school. I’ve told you about him and his brother, George. Remember?” She gestures behind Fred, towards the shop. “They own the joke store where Papa buys all those little things for you two to prank me with.”

Both twins giggle at that, looking at Fred with awe. He can barely believe the words he’s hearing, and he’s frozen in place. The little boy lets go of Y/N’s hand and takes a few steps towards Fred and holds his hand out.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Fred,” Phoenix greets. When Fred tentatively bends down and shakes his little hand, he smiles. “I’m Phoenix and that,” he pauses so he can turn back to point at his sister. “Is my baby sister, Electra.”

“Only by 5 minutes!” Electra shouts, running towards her brother. Phoenix takes off then, and Fred watches as they chase each other around in the snow, the wind blowing through their hair and both of them laughing like crazy.

“They just turned four, in December,” Y/N says as she stands up.

Fred tears his gaze away from them so he can look at Y/N. “How could you not tell me?”

Y/N shrugs and looks away from Fred’s intense stare. “You made it pretty clear that I had no place in your life or in your future, I didn’t want to go through that again. And I didn’t want to share them with you, if I’m honest.”

“Share them with me?” Fred asks, trying to contain his anger. “They’re my kids Y/N. Not some stupid toy.”

“Obviously I know that, Fred,” Y/N sneers with a glare. “But I was barely 18 when I found out I was pregnant, and I’d just had my heart shattered out of nowhere by the guy I thought I was going to marry. So, excuse me for not running right to you. I was freaking out when I found out I was pregnant and being rejected by you for a second time wasn’t high on my list of priorities.”

“I still deserved to know,” Fred responds, less angry. He hadn’t of even thought about that. Of course, Y/N would have been scared and unwilling to come to him. He still can’t think about the night he ended things without getting emotional, and he can’t imagine how it felt for Y/N, especially finding out she was pregnant only a few months later.

“I know, I know,” Y/N admits sadly. They both just look at each other for a moment, the twins still running in circles around them.

“Where do we go from here? I can’t just pretend they don’t exist,” Fred says quietly. “I want to be in their lives, Y/N. I need to be.” Fred pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “But there’s things we need to talk about. About that night, the things I said to you. Can we do that, please?”

Y/N nods and reaches into her bag for a spare piece of parchment and a pen. She scribbles something down and reaches out to hand it to Fred. “Here’s my address. Come by tonight? The kids go down at 8 so come any time after that, we won’t have to worry about any little ears listening in.”

Fred grabs the piece of parchment, letting his hand linger on Y/N’s for just a moment. The contact sends a shiver down his spine and Fred thinks his heart might just beat out of his chest. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Great.” Y/N calls both kids back to her, and they each wave at Fred before taking their mother’s hand and apperating away.

“Mummy?” Electra asks that evening as Y/N is getting her and her brother ready for bed. The twins are standing on little stools and brushing their teeth while Y/N runs a comb through their freshly washed hair.

“Yes, my love?” Y/N responds, making eye contact with her in the mirror.

“When can we see your friend again?” Electra asks once she’s spat her toothpaste foam into the sink. “The one from today?”

Y/N bites her lip and starts to braid Electra’s hair. “You mean Fred?” Electra nods as best she can and Phoenix nods excitedly next to her. “You guys like Fred?”

“He’s so tall!” Phoenix muses with a giggle. “You think I’m ever gonna be that tall, Mummy?”

Despite the fact that they’re the same age, Phoenix is already a few inches taller than Electra. He clearly takes after Fred, so Y/N is sure that he’ll end up being just as tall as his dad. “I think you might be, bud.”

“And he’s got red hair like us!” Electra adds with a giggle. “I’ve never met anyone with red hair before.”

“Well your hair isn’t red right now,” Y/N teases as she wraps a hair tie around the end of Electra’s braid. Her potion making was successful, and for the next few days Electra’s hair will be a soft purple color. “Can I tell you guys something crazy?” Both of the twins turn so they can look at Y/N and nod happily. “Everyone in Fred’s family has red hair.”

“No way!” Electra and Phoenix gasp at the same time.

“Everyone?” Phoenix asks in awe.

Y/N nods and reaches out to ruffle his still damp hair. “Every single one. And you guys have something else in common with Fred too.”

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” Electra asks excitedly, bouncing on her stool.

“Fred is a twin too,” she says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Electra’s forehead. “His brother George that he runs his store with is his identical twin.”

Phoenix hops off of his stool so he can come over and hug Y/N’s leg. “Wicked. So, we can see him again?”

“Maybe, sweetheart. I’m not sure yet,” Y/N says honestly. Fred wants to be in their lives, but they still have so many unresolved issues. The last thing she wants to do is get their hopes up only for Fred to be gone just as quickly as he came.

Electra wraps her arms around Y/N’s middle and hugs her close. “Please Mummy,” she begs, looking up at her with wide eyes. “He seemed really nice. And he was really cute!”

“Electra,” Y/N laughs. “That’s enough out of you. Fred is my friend and I won’t be having any talk like that.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Phoenix teases, looking up at Y/N with a cheeky grin.

He looks so much like Fred in that moment, and it nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs. “You two are crazy. It’s time for bed, monkeys. Let’s go.”

“That wasn’t a no!” Electra shouts as she jumps from her stool and follows her brother out of the bathroom.

Y/N has just come down the stairs from putting the kids to bed when there’s a soft knock at the door. She sighs as she looks around at the mess her living room as turned into. Y/N planned on cleaning up a bit before Fred arrived, but it took forever to calm the twins down after their conversation in the bathroom. She’d had to read them two stories and admit she thought Fred was cute before they would drift off.

“Hey, come on in,” Y/N greets as she pulls the door open for Fred. This is the first time she’s seen him up close, and he’s just as handsome as she remembers. Y/N tries to calm her heartbeat down as she shuts the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. The twins have just started getting their magic and it’s hard to keep up with them.”

Both Electra and Phoenix had started to exhibit signs of magic just after their fourth birthday, and ever since they’ve been more chaotic than usual. If Y/N didn’t know any better she would think that they somehow have managed to already control what little magic they have, because it always seems like they’re working together to cause as big of a mess as possible.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred says as Y/N waves her wand, watching as things fly back into place. “George and I gave Mum a run for her money, so I’d expect nothing less from my children.” The words feel funny in his mouth. His children. As exciting as the idea of being a dad is, Fred would be lying if he said he also wasn’t scared shitless.

“Can I get you something? Wine? Firewhiskey? Tea?” Y/N asks, gesturing for Fred to take a seat on the couch.

Fred sits down slowly, watching Y/N fidget. “Most people assume I drink coffee.”

“Well I’m not most people,” Y/N responds, flushing slightly.

“You’re not wrong about that,” Fred says quietly. “I’m alright, Y/N. Thanks though.”

Y/N nods and sits down next to Fred, making sure to keep a good amount of distance between them. “So,” she starts, looking over at Fred. “Where do we even begin?”

“I don’t have any idea,” Fred answers truthfully. “I never really thought I’d ever be having a conversation like this. There’s so much I wanna say to you. And stuff I wanna ask you. But I have no idea where to start.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Can I ask you a question?” When Fred nods she takes a deep breath to try and calm herself. There are things she needs to know the answer to, no matter how much it hurts. “Why did you break up with me? It came out of nowhere, for me at least. One minute we were talking about building a life together and the next, you were gone.”

“There was a lot of stuff going on, with my family,” Fred starts, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “My parents were a part of this secret society founded by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort called the Order of the Phoenix. And just before Christmas break my dad was almost killed by Voldemort’s snake during a mission.”

“Fred,” Y/N says softly, fighting her urge to reach out and grab his hand. “How come you never told me any of this?”

“I wasn’t allowed to, Dumbledore’s orders. But going through all that, it made me think about stuff. About me and you and life outside of Hogwarts. George and I decided that we would join the Order once we left school, and I couldn’t put your life in jeopardy like that, Y/N. Our family was being targeted by death eaters and followed around. I knew it would only get worse as time went on. And if you had gotten hurt because of me, I would never be able to forgive myself,” Fred pauses, running a hand through his hair. “So, when George and I decided to leave school early to start the shop, I decided it would be best to end things with you. That’s the only way I knew to keep you safe.”

“So, you didn’t just randomly stop loving me?” Y/N asks meekly.

“God no,” Fred answers immediately. “Y/N I loved you more than life itself. If I knew you were pregnant, or you came and told me I would have grabbed you and ran as far away from Voldemort as possible. It killed me to lie to you like that, but I wanted you to be safe and happy, even if it meant that it wasn’t with me.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she lets out a groan when the phone rings. “Probably my Mum, I’ll be right back. If I don’t answer she’ll just show up and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

Fred laughs as Y/N walks away, unable to stop himself from watching. Having children has done great things to her body, and he can’t help but appreciate it. He’s thinking about how beautiful she still is when the sound of soft pattering on the stairs catches his attention.

“Fred?” Electra asks, her lower lip wobbling as tears streak down her face. “Where’s my Mummy?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Do you want me to go get her?” Electra shakes her head, and before Fred can process what’s happening she’s heading towards him with her arms outstretched. Without hesitation Fred picks her up and places her in his lap. Her little legs wrap around his middle and she tucks her arms into her chest before resting her head on his shoulder. Fred’s hands shake as he hugs her to him tightly, one of his hands coming up to stroke her hair. “What’s wrong, Angel?”

“Bad dream,” she sniffles.

Fred’s heart melts as she snuggles in closer, and he starts to slowly rub her back. “It’s alright, Angel. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.” He presses his cheek to the top of her head and inhales deeply, the familiar scent of honey and flowers overwhelming his senses. His chest aches as Electra, his daughter, cries, and he so desperately just wants to make her feel better. “I’m right here, Angel. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Promise?” Electra asks, pulling away to look at Fred.

Fred leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. He’s aware that he’s probably breaking about 100 boundaries, but he can’t find it in his heart to care. His little girl is sitting in his lap crying and he’s going to make sure she knows he cares for her. “Promise,” he answers, holding out his pinky finger.

Electra lets out a giggle and hooks one of her pinkies around Fred’s. “You have to keep it now, forever,” Electra reminds him, squeezing his pinky tight.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Fred presses another kiss to her forehead before he wipes away some of her tears. “Feeling better now?”

“Loads,” Electra confirms with a nod. She bites her lip, giving Fred a look. “Can I ask you a question?”

Fred chuckles. “Sure, Angel. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you think my Mummy is pretty?” she asks, shocking Fred. “Because she thinks you’re cute.”

“Does she?” Fred asks in surprise. Of course, Fred had hoped Y/N would still find him attractive, and he hasn’t stopped thinking about her since this morning. He never imagined that he’d be reunited with Y/N so he never let himself imagine creating a future with her, but now she’s back in his life with his kids and Fred would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about what that could mean for them.

“Mhm, she told me and Phoenix before we went to bed.” Electra nudges him. “So, do you think she’s pretty?”

Fred smiles at her. “Don’t tell her, but I think your Mummy is absolutely gorgeous,” he tells her quietly.

Electra giggles excitedly and hugs Fred tightly. “I think you should ask her to be your girlfriend. Mummy’s never had a boyfriend even though Grandma keeps trying to give her one.”

“Oh?” Fred asks, raising his eyebrows at her. “And how do you know all this?”

“I can be real quiet when I want to be,” Electra answers, giving him a cheeky smile and a wink. “Papa thinks it’s because she’s still in love with our Daddy.”

Fred practically chokes on his saliva and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He can hear his heart pounding in his chest and his pulse is thrumming. “Do you know a lot? About your Daddy?” he asks, unable to stop the question from coming out.

Electra shakes her head. “Mummy doesn’t talk about him a lot. Only if Phoenix and I ask. She tells us stories sometimes and talks about how funny and kind he is. And that they loved each other tons. But that’s it.”

“Does it make you sad? That you don’t know a lot about him?” Fred asks. This is definitely not an appropriate conversation to have with a four-year-old, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“Sometimes,” Electra answers with a shrug. “I love Mummy so so much and she’s the best Mummy in the world. But I think it would be nice, to have my Daddy around too. And I think it would make her happier too.”

“What would make who happier?” Y/N asks as she comes back into the room.

“Nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Electra answers, winking at Fred.

Y/N crosses her arms and gives the girl a look. “What are you doing out of bed, Ellie?”

“I had a bad dream. But it’s okay, Fred made me feel better.”

“Well that was very nice of Fred to do,” Y/N says quietly. “But since you’re feeling better I guess you can get back in to bed now, hm?”

“I guess,” Electra pouts. “Can I ask you a question first?” she asks, holding her arms out for Y/N to pick her up.

“I suppose,” Y/N answers, picking her up and settling her on her hip.

“How come you lied to us? Before bed you said you didn’t know if we’d see Fred again, but here he is, sitting on our couch.” Electra’s tone is stern, and her eyes are narrowed at Y/N.

Y/N laughs. “I never said I wasn’t going to see Fred again. I said I wasn’t sure you and your brother were going to see Fred again.” Electra frowns at that and Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead. “Now say goodnight to Fred.”

“Goodnight, Fred,” Electra grumbles as Y/N starts to head back up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Angel,” Fred says back with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry about her,” Y/N says as she comes back down the stairs a few minutes later. “I hope she didn’t say anything too crazy.”

“Nothing too bad,” Fred reassures with a laugh. “Though she did mention she’s quite the eavesdropper, so I’d keep an eye on her.”

Y/N groans as she flops onto the couch. “She told you about the boyfriend thing then?” When Fred nods she groans again, her cheeks heating up. “It’s all she’s talked about for weeks, literally anyone that will listen to her gets to hear about the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I think it’s cute,” Fred insists. “She clearly loves you a lot and just wants you to be happy.” Fred bites his lip. “How come you don’t date? If you don’t mind me asking. Electra has theories but I’d like to hear from you.”

“Of course, she does,” Y/N says with a laugh. “Truthfully, I’ve never had the desire to date anyone else. I always say it’s because the kids are young, and I don’t want to confuse them or bring people around them, but I have gone on a few dates here and there. No one ever feels like the right fit. We were together for so long that everything just always seemed so natural between us. Like we always knew what the other was thinking. Trying to date other people just feels weird, and artificial.”

Fred nods, running a hand through his hair. “I feel you. I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships over the past few years. I think the longest one lasted maybe three months?” he sighs. “I realized I kept trying to recreate what we had with every girl I dated and it’s not fair to them. What we had was special. Irreplaceable.”

Y/N watches Fred for a moment. Before today she had been positive she moved on from Fred, he hardly occupied her thoughts anymore and her chest would only occasionally ache. But after seeing him today, finding out the truth about what happened that night. She can’t help but notice that feelings for Fred she buried long ago have started to rise up again with full force.

“So, you’re not seeing anyone right now?” Y/N asks quietly.

Fred shakes his head and turns so he’s facing Y/N fully. “No, and I haven’t been for quite a while.” He looks her up and down, trying to decide what to say next. “But there is this woman, who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I saw her today.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks coyly, subtly moving a bit closer to Fred.

“Yeah. And just a few minutes ago her daughter was telling me how cute her Mum thinks I am, and that I should be her boyfriend.” Fred smirks as Y/N’s cheeks flush red. “And I couldn’t help but tell her daughter just how breathtakingly beautiful I find her Mother.”

Instead of responding, Y/N chooses to be bold and she grabs the front of Fred’s shirt, pulling him into a slow kiss. Their lips move together just as perfectly as they always have, making it seem like no time has passed between them at all. Y/N moans as Fred deepens the kiss, letting him pull her onto his lap.

“You’re incredible,” Fred pants as they pull away. He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea.”

“I’ve missed you too, Freddie.” Y/N buries her face in Fred’s neck, letting him hug her close. They sit there in silence for a few moments, just enjoying being together again.

“How should we tell them?” Fred asks, breaking the silence. “About who I really am? I’m okay, with being just your friend Fred for a bit while we figure everything out. That might make it easier.”

Y/N pulls away and gingerly grabs Fred’s face. “You deserve to be in their life as their dad and they deserve to have you in their life that way too. I thought seeing you with them would fill me with jealousy but honestly, seeing you with Electra, it made my heart burst with happiness. And Phoenix would not shut up about you before bed, it was actually really cute.”

Fred chuckles. “They’re just like their Mum, can’t resist my charm.”

Y/N flicks Fred on the nose and then kisses the same spot. “I’ve been thinking about how to tell them throughout the day and I think I have a good idea. All you have to do is come by again tomorrow, around 8 again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Fred murmurs, before pulling Y/N into another heated kiss.

“Alright guys, it’s time to start getting ready for bed,” Y/N says as she walks into Electra’s room the next night. Both kids groan and turn to pout at their mother.

“Five more minutes,” Phoenix begs.

“Please, Mummy!” Electra adds.

“You can have five more minutes.” When both of them cheer Y/N puts a finger up to quiet them down. “Or we can start getting ready for bed right now and you’ll get a special bedtime treat. Which would you prefer?”

Phoenix and Electra look at each other for a moment before they drop the toys they’d been holding and run past Y/N into the bathroom.

“Is the special bedtime treat that we get to sleep in bed with you?” Phoenix asks thirty minutes later as he snuggles into Y/N’s pillows.

“Not quite, it’s even better than that,” Y/N responds as she helps Electra on to the bed. She drops to her knees then and grabs a medium sized shoe box before standing back up.

“What’s in the box?” Electra asks as Y/N climbs into bed and settles in between her and Phoenix.

“Well,” Y/N starts, letting her hand slowly drag over the top. “There’s a few different things in here. When I first found out you two were growing in my belly, I started writing letters to your Dad. But I was too scared to send them, so I kept them all in here.”

“Are you going to read them to us?” Phoenix asks softly.

Y/N shakes her head. “Not tonight. There are a few other things in here I want to show you. Inside this box along with all of those letters, is all the pictures I have of your Dad and I from when we were at school together.”

“We get to see them?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a nod. “You guys are getting older now and it’s time you know a bit more about him.” Y/N slowly lifts the lid of the box and grabs the small stack of photos on top. She takes a peek at the first one, before holding it out for both of them to see. “This is from our seventh year, we were walking down to Hogsmeade, the little village outside of school. And one of my friends took this picture of your Dad carrying me on his back.”

Electra and Phoenix’s eyes roam over the photo. Fred isn’t very visible in the photo, just his red hair is visible over Y/N’s shoulder. This is one of Y/N’s favorite memories she has of Fred. She’d stubbed her toe just as they left the castle, and Fred had made a spectacle of it. He insisted on carrying her everywhere, no matter how many times Y/N demanded he put her down.

“Show us another one,” Phoenix requests quietly.

“This one is from our sixth year,” Y/N explains as she shows them the photo. “Hogwarts participated in something called the Triwizard Tournament, and there was this great big ball on Christmas.” The photo just captures Y/N and Fred’s side profiles, each of them smiling as Fred sways them side to side.

Electra frowns and her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the photo. “Hey, he looks kinda familiar,” she muses, looking up at Y/N. “I think I’ve seen him before.”

Phoenix pouts. “What? That’s not fair.”

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “Let me show you one more photo, okay?” She takes the next photo and holds it face down for a moment. “This one is just your dad. I took it in front of the black lake just a few weeks into our last year.” Y/N flips the photo over slowly, watching as both Electra and Phoenix focus on it intently.

“Wait a minute, isn’t that,” Electra starts.

“Fred!” Phoenix finishes excitedly. “So, Fred isn’t just your friend?”

“No baby,” Y/N says quietly, trying to keep her emotions in. “Fred was my boyfriend at school, and he’s your Dad.” Y/N pauses, and she hears the front door click shut. “And I think he just walked through the front door.” Both Phoenix and Electra squeal excitedly as they scramble off the bed and head towards the stairs. “Be careful!” Y/N shouts as she starts to follow them.

Fred has barely taken off his coat when he hears the sound of tiny little feet running towards him. He turns towards the stairs just in time to hold out his arms and catch Phoenix and Electra as they jump off the last few steps and into his chest. He wraps one arm around Phoenix and the other around Electra so he can hug them tightly.

“Hello to you too,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to each of their heads. He inhales deeply, overwhelmed once again by the scent of honey and flowers. “You guys miss me that much already? I just saw you yesterday,” Fred jokes, trying to hide how emotional he feels.

“Yeah but yesterday you were just Fred,” Electra giggles.

“Today you’re our Dad,” Phoenix adds with a laugh.

Fred laughs and puts them both down on the ground and crouches so he’s eye level with them. “Is that okay? That I’m your Dad?”

“Is it okay? It’s like the coolest thing ever!” Phoenix insists, hugging Fred again.

Fred returns his hug, rubbing his back. He holds his other arm out and looks at Electra. “What about you, Angel? It is okay with you?”

“Better than okay, Daddy,” Electra confirms, letting Fred hug her tightly.

Y/N comes down the stairs then, tears forming in her eyes as she watches Fred hold their children close. Phoenix is the first to notice her presence, and he pulls away from Fred so Y/N can pick him up.

“Why are you sad, Mummy?” he asks, wiping away a few of the tears that have started to stream down her cheeks.

“I’m not sad, baby,” Y/N insists. “Just really, really happy.”

Fred stands up then and picks up Electra, settling her on his hip. “Hi love,” he greets, leaning forward to kiss Y/N briefly.

Electra squeals in delight as their lips touch, and Phoenix pretends to gag, causing Fred and Y/N to laugh as they pull away.

“Does this mean we get to be a family? Forever?” Electra asks excitedly.

“Forever,” Fred confirms, kissing her on the forehead.

“Pinky promise?” she asks, holding her little pinky out.

Fred hooks his pinky around hers, gesturing for Phoenix and Y/N to do the same. “Promise.”

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fanfiction #fw #golden

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drxwsyni · 3 years

Text

Petrified (pt. 9)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: This part is really short, and honestly not that good. But seeing as this whole series is a mess, not much is new lmao. Thank you to @sawamooora for beta reading ilyyyyy <3 <3 <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

3.4k words

Warnings: Descriptions of past dubcon, gaslighting.

Waking up, you wished the metaphorical blanket of comfort wasn’t ripped off of you the moment you opened your eyes.

It was an uncomfortable contrast.

While one blanket was ripped off, a real, physically tangible blanket weighed down on not just you, but the two sleeping men who had you sandwiched in between them. Seeing Hizashi on your right, and Shouta on your left was all you needed to be plunged into a dreadful confusion.

Your body hurt. An ache creeped through your spine as you sat up, only to realize you were completely bare. If the pain spreading across your skin wasn’t enough of a clue as to what had ensued less than twelve hours ago, then the evidence marring your body would be.

An intense throbbing radiated from your backside, prompting you to lean over on your elbow. Pulling down the covers, your eyes landed upon the black and blue patterns littering your skin, trailing down to the tops of your thighs. It seemed that both your wrists and hips were adorned with similar bruises, the only difference were those being distinctly fingerprint shaped. No one position completely alleviated the ache.

A sting emanated from your neck and shoulders as you lightly traced over the series of wounds, feeling remnants of bite marks and long scratches. In examining the bedsheets, you were convinced that the patterning of the fabric wasn’t tricking your mind. Little blotches of blood were just barely visible where you once laid.

An indiscernible cloud still hung over your mind, even if it was only slightly there by now. A fog that was muddling your memories, blocking whatever had gone down between you and the men at your sides. Nothing you could recall really felt concrete, at least for now―the possibility of memories returning over time being not all that unlikely. In the present however, the only indicators to tell you what happened were the marks they left behind.

And based on those―you were certain that it was never something you would’ve agreed to.

The morning sunlight was beginning to stream into the room, breaking through the small divides of the curtains. One glance at the alarm clock placed on Shouta’s nightstand told you that it was just over half past five.

On a Sunday morning, neither of them had anything to do. Naturally, the two were still sound asleep. You envied how peaceful they seemed, bathed in morning light, free from worry―a contrast to the nauseating unease you felt.

Becoming more and more horrified by the second, drowning in your thoughts and grasping at what they had done to you, the only one thing that stood out was your need to get the fuck out of there.

As carefully as possible, for fear that one move too harsh would wake one, if not both of the so called heroes, you peeled back the blankets from your battered form. Proceeding to crawl down to the foot of the bed, you gave a glance over your shoulder―just to confirm that the two were still sedated in slumber.

You let out a shaky breath upon confirming that they were, returning to swiftly taking your leave. But in the split second, when a whimper of pain left your lips, body doubling over at the burning enveloping your core as you settled your weight to stand—you were immediately sure their perception as trained heroes would alert them to the noise.

Though still, the steady rise and fall of Shouta’s chest, and the now relaxing sound of Hizashi's light snoring, put your nerves at ease―even if only a little.

Your clothes from last night weren’t in the bedroom, but neither were theirs. In finding a steady trail of frantically discarded articles leading to the living room, you could finally abandon the suffocating atmosphere that was their home. Freedom was the only thing on your mind as you hastily dressed yourself and grabbed your bag from the foyer.

_____

Hizashi Missed Call (7) 10:48 AM

Hizashi Text Message (16) 10:32 AM

Shouta Missed Call (3) 9:54 AM

Shouta Text Message (5) 8:12 AM

It would seem the shake in your hands would be uncontrollable until the foreseeable future, sighing as your phone lit up once again. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest idea to disappear with no warning, knowing how the two could be when they weren’t in the know of your every move.

Yet, if they knew just how downright terrified you were to stay until they woke up, maybe they’d understand your unceremonious leave of absence.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. Neither of the heroes seem to be all that knowledgeable of how they affected you, what they did to make you fear them.

For so long you tried to bury that anxiety you felt with them. They crossed the line of innocent concern a long time ago with their intrusiveness. And now, with the marks they left behind, spanning across your body and leaving a searing pain as an unignorable reminder of just who they were under their doting facade―you couldn’t simply disregard what this relationship had turned into.

It was toxic.

The safety they should provide feeling ripped away in their presence.

It was suffocating.

Even when you were alone, there always seemed to be an inescapable weight upon your shoulders, mind guessing as to when you’d see them next.

It took you until now to realize it, until they’d done something you couldn't quite ‘forgive and forget’―but you finally knew their tactics, what they’d been doing all along. They were predatory in every sense of the word, targeting your weaknesses to seek a self satisfying goal.

With each missed call and unread text message, you cursed yourself for not fighting your way out of their grasp before it became nearly inescapable. That, and there was a painful tinge of shame riddling your body with how you’d let them handle you.

Most of last night was all but impossible to recall, but the existing memories told a clear story. They made you feel good, really good. Even in whatever stupor they’d placed you under, it’d be impossible to forget the intense and repeated sensations the two men made you reach.

The thought alone had you nauseous, knowing the circumstances of how you ended up like that.

In any case, the idea at the forefront of your mind was that there’s no time like the present. Especially since you were quite literally adding fuel to the fire by ignoring them. You couldn't change what they’d done to you, but you could change what happened going forward.

It was simple―you never wanted to see the two faux heroes ever again.

Hizashi had been trying to contact you for the better half of the hour. But what really bothered you was how Shouta stopped doing so a while ago―better to know what he was up to than the radio silence that only made the pit in your stomach worse.

Though it wasn’t all that bad―it would be easier to stomach the voice of Hizashi, especially over the phone, given what you were about to tell him.

A new call came through. On the final ring, you answered.

“...―Shou’, I’m not gonna stop till she―”

With the sudden absence of noise, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that the call had ended. Though, silence between the three of you was never short. Never before, and still not now.

“...(Y/n)?”

Your jaw clenched in worry, hearing Hizashi use your first name instead of a not so endearing pet name. Laced with the exhausted sounding disbelief, you could tell even over the phone that he wasn’t doing so good.

Part of you almost forgot to respond, his voice alone bringing you back to last night. When you did, you winced at the unintentional shake which you couldn’t control.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, thank god. What―Where did you run off to? Gave us a damn heart attack when you weren’t in the house.”

For someone so physically fit, Hizashi sounded like he just ran a marathon. Although, you suppose given the scare you put him through, the out of breath reaction was understandable.

And relatable, as your heart rate was beginning to pick up, anticipating how they’d soon handle your message.

“I, uh...I went home before you guys woke up…”

You could practically see the perplexed expression on his face, the sound of confusion coating his words.

A small laugh of disbelief came through the speaker. “Well there was no need for that, sweetheart.”

As if your body was trying to expel the extra energy from the adrenaline you were using to have a steady conversation with him, you began mindlessly wandering around your apartment.

“I just didn’t...feel comfortable? N-Not after what happened, I mean―last night shouldn't have happened, at all. So I left.”

The two heroes were back in the living room of their home, where they found your stuff missing in the morning. Shouta’s eyes narrowed at your words, hearing them clearly over the speakerphone. He shared a glance with his partner, the latter seated on the couch and nervously bouncing his leg.

“I’m not so sure I’m following. I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything, knowin’ how shy ya get, but...you were screamin’ our names last night. Don’t see how ya could’ve had a bad time, songbird.”

That detail in particular was one of the many occurrences from then that escaped you. With your memory being in shambles, it was pretty much a ‘he said, she said’ when it came to what happened.

...Pretty much.

The things that did stick, well...you almost wish they didn’t.

While all the fleeting events you knew of didn’t leave a good taste in your mouth, certain details made you sick to your stomach.

“I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The ones you couldn’t explain, and left far too many possibilities of theoretical context. Most of them being a worst case scenario for you.

“…You saying we should speed things up?”

Or, the ones that could be easy to pass off as playful teasing, if it weren’t for the darker undertones that made your wild imagination run rampant.

And when the things they whispered lowly into your ear became a jumbled mess of inebriated nonsense, you could still rely on memories of their touch. How they held you, early in the night when you weren’t completely lost to both natural and unnatural chemical influences. The sensations of frustration, only met with feelings of being restrained. They way it felt almost practiced, as if they were planning to do whatever they did long before it actually happened.

Unconsciously, you wandered into your bedroom, anxiously pacing all the while. The safety of its familiarity was sedating, to an extent.

You shook your head, trying to figure out how you’d get your concerns across to the two men. “That’s...That’s not the problem. Well it is but―the whole thing was just a bad idea.”

A muffled, irritated sigh could be heard. “No, something must be going on with ya. It’s probably better we talk this out in person, yeah? You home right now, sweetheart?”

In typical Hizashi fashion, he failed to respect your boundaries. You let out your own sigh of annoyance, spinning on your heel to face your bedroom’s window.

“There’s nothing―”

...You were most definitely certain that you closed your window before leaving yesterday.

Forgetting that you were in the middle of a very heated conversation, the hand that was holding your phone to your ear fell slightly. With the one that was free, you pulled the frame closed.

…

And it creaked back open.

The latch was busted.

Deft fingers grazed the metal frame, where it would typically snap shut, and stay shut. While it wasn’t untypical for these kinds of things to break, knowing that your apartment complex wasn’t exactly the newest, the fault didn’t sit right with you.

And, when you set your phone down, using one hand to hold the window closed, the other to keep it in place by fastening the lock, you found that too equally damaged.

...Almost like someone tried to leave out the window, in a hurry at that. Which would explain it being left open, and how the aggressiveness of the action would render the whole thing completely useless.

The sound of your name being called through the speaker brought you back to the main issue at hand. Picking up the phone, you could only continue where you left off.

“There’s nothing else to talk about. Whatever relationship the three of us have...I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

You managed to shock yourself with that, not actually believing you had it in you to really put your foot down.

Hearing the radio silence that followed, you knew he was more shocked than you were.

It made you wonder if he was more fucked up on one substance or another than you were last night—the sheer level of denial Hizashi was in over the whole thing.

“...Don’t talk like that, gonna give me another heart attack. Two in one mornin’, that’s awfully cruel, dontcha think?”

You were always one to shy away from confrontation, but now was not the time for that. The chance to cut your ties with them in this moment was as best as you would likely ever get.

“I’m not okay with what this has turned into, Hizashi. Not remotely comfortable, and—“

“Where are you, (y/n).”

...

Shouta’s voice.

“...This isn’t something we should discuss over the phone.”

It shamed you that all Shouta had to do was address you in that low, gravely voice of his, and you were instantly regretting every decision you’d made since picking up the phone. He certainly had an effect on you; no matter how many times you dealt with his tone, you could never quite get used to the sternness.

You swallowed dryly, still eyeing the unnaturally broken window.

“I-I’m not telling you where I am. You need to respect my decision on this…”

But if they couldn’t respect the privacy of your own home, why would they care about your newfound insistence?

...

The thought of the two men being culprits to the property damage popped intrusively into your head. Wildly associating it to be an explanation to the fragments of blissed out proclamations, whatever “seein’ ya like this” meant.

Your grip on the cellphone faltered, a shake seizing your hands.

No, they were heroes.

What purpose would they have breaking into your apartment?

Because if Hizashi was referring to somehow having already seen you in such a compromising position as the one him and his partner coerced you into…

You took a step back from the window.

“It’s not something you have to like, b-but neither of you guys cared about what I wanted last night.” With the slight crack in your voice, you winced knowing they could likely tell how hard it was to be firm in your ways with them, only making their job easier. “You...you went too far―that’s why I’m so upset.”

Shouta’s words, as always, effortlessly sent a pang of anxiety through your system.

“You didn’t know what you wanted last night, we made that decision for you. And judging by how you didn’t exactly try to put up a fight...” The small, almost inaudible chuckle only made his claims tear you apart more. “...I’d say you were more than happy with our decision.”

Never failing to find the exact things to say to shut you up, to put you in your place, Shouta remained confident with where things were going since he took control of the conversation.

You fumbled on your words, not quite sure of what would be the best argument to deny his statement.

“T-That’s―”

“That’s the truth, and you know it.”

I can’t even remember half of what happened last night, is what you wanted to say.

You wanted to scream at him, really. The two of them loved assuming they knew everything―what was best for you―despite the clear evidence that they in fact did not.

Naturally, all you could actually do was run from wherever this conversation was headed. It was obvious you would never reach an agreement with them. All they’d want to do was take, take, take. Make demands like they were in charge of you.

You knew that you’d never be able to get through to them.

And honestly, you didn’t have the energy to even try.

The point of answering their call was to finally end things, and that’s all that was left to do.

“...I don’t care what either of you think, whatever happened last night—I didn’t want it. Just...don’t try to contact me again. Goodbye.”

When you finally pressed the ‘end call’ button, you expected to feel that weight of their unrelenting presence lift off of you.

...It didn’t. But you probably shouldn’t be surprised. It’d take time to calm down, all you really needed to worry about now was returning your life to how it was before meeting the two all those months ago.

Another call came through in seconds, startling you where you still stood in your bedroom. Shaking slightly from lingering nervousness, you hastily declined it, not checking to see who it was from. Fingers flying across the screen, you blocked both Shouta’s and Hizashi’s contacts from your phone, proceeding to delete the existing conversations.

A small step towards getting back to normal.

Just one of many.

_____

Trying to conceal the slight limp in your step as you walked to work on Monday was both difficult and mortifying, each sharp pain shooting through your abdomen an unwelcome reminder. A cold shiver ran through you, prompting you to shove your hands in your pockets for warmth.

The changing seasons meant you’d have to work on moving around the shop’s layout. Bringing more delicate plants inside, swapping them out for seasonal ones that could handle the chill in the air. A task that you wondered if you would have to complete yourself.

With the days growing shorter, you noted the dusk already settling over the sky, drawing near the start of your 5pm shift. The orange hues dancing in the clouds were certainly a beautiful sight. Your gaze repeatedly found its way back to the sky as you walked down the sidewalk.

The closer you got to work, the more vibrant it seemed.

Strange indeed.You passed it off as the darkening night merely amplifying the remaining light of the setting sun.

Turning down another street, you could hear the approaching sound of sirens. A firetruck soon whipped past and continued down the road, making you shuffle towards the inside of the sidewalk. The piercing noise left an uncomfortable ringing in your ears.

When such an irritating reaction to the blaring never completely faded, you realized that was because it was just more distant sirens, multiple of them, sounding off in the direction you were heading.

You picked up your pace.

With another glance at the sky, you began to see not just the orange hue intensifying, but also a distinct plume of black smoke.

...

...It’s not...it can’t be…

Soon enough, your leisurely walk picked up speed. The ache in your gut from both physical wounds and growing anxiety making you nauseous.

Barely taking precautions to watch where you were going, you focused only on the direction of your shop, and the beacon of light that seemed to be right on top of it. Mindlessly placing one foot in front of the other, feeling like the end of the road before you turned the corner was only growing further away with each step.

The unpleasant smell of something burnt met your senses—faint, but there nonetheless.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, whatever was up ahead, it wasn’t good. But it couldn’t be what you were thinking.

Not your shop.

No. You’d turn the corner, and it would be fine.

The small boutique would be where it always was, nestled in between two buildings, waiting for you to start your shift.

Things would go back to normal, just like you’d planned.

…

The wailing sirens met your ears in full force. A stifling air, unnaturally hot and acrid washed over you, causing you to instinctively clamp a hand over your nose and mouth.

In gradually coming to the worst realization of the night, your free hand braced the brick wall of the building next to you, knees nearly buckling.

Thirty feet away, lighting up the street to be as bright as day, was your workplace completely engulfed in flames.

#yandere #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere erasermic #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi #yandere hizashi yamada #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere mha #tw dubcon #tw gaslighting

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boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Still Trusting

Jasonette July 17: crime boss

Follow up to Tenuous Trust

My masterlist

Jason saw her not long after he entered. He had been invited as an olive branch after he gave up his plans of vengeance. He didn't know she would be here but the idea of seeing her would have helped him make his decision on whether or not to show up. Probably not the best reasoning for decision making but he wasn't exactly known for his good choices.

He didn't approach her though. To most she would seem carefree and happy but he could see her stance was tense and her eyes constantly checked for ways to escape. Instead he headed towards the drink table to get himself something to make the night easier. He wasn't ready to approach his family yet. It was probably the night he met her that gave his family hope that the Jason they once loved was still in there somewhere.

He wasn't ready to decide if that was true. It had been a long road from his days when he thought becoming Robin was the best day of his life. His thoughts on that varied. He was better off than he would have been on the street but the cost had been paid on his own blood. He was already committing pretty theft and then some before he met Batman but now he had been the man in charge. He spotted Tim first but neither of them were ready for that meeting so Jason turned and walked away while Tim glaced around for anyone else to greet.

Jason hadn't meant to approach Marinette but there she was nervously adjusting the straw in her drink while a man in a suit proved he wasn't as slick as he thought he was. She stepped back away from his hand reaching out for her arm. Jason couldn't hear her words from where he was but her polite rejection was clear as Jason continued approaching.

"Come on Sweetheart. Just one dance." He heard.

Marinette didn't quite step back quick enough to avoid his hand on her forearm. The man stepped between her and the rest of the crowd. Jason sped up when he saw her wild eyes, clearly darting around trying to find a way out of the situation. Jason arrived and addressed Marinette as if they already knew each other. They did in a sense, but she wouldn’t know that and he didn’t want to bring up their meeting. He took her hand and tugged it away from the grip of the other man.

“There you are; wait until you see who is here,” he said loud enough for others to hear before dropping his voice to a volume only loud enough for her. “Which way do you need to go? Is there someone you trust who could help you calm down?”

Marinette looked back up at him in shock. He let go of her hand as soon as she was walking with him and she used it to point in the direction he had seen Tim go. He might be seeing his little brother sooner than either of them had planned. It would be okay in public though. Tim would not want to cause a scene and Jason didn’t want that either. He was accepting the offer of peace but he didn’t know if he was ready to be a part of the family again so soon.

He wasn’t surprised when they arrived at the other side of the room and Dick and Tim were there already trying to talk about the boring things society people were bound to talk about at such events. Jason managed to keep his groan internal but he looked around for the best way to acquire another drink. Dick saw him first.

“Jason! And Marinette!” His eyebrows shot up along with his voice’s inquisitive tone. “Did you guys just get here?”

“I got here a few minutes ago. But I ended up talking to someone over by the drink table before this man offered to help me find you,” Marinette said.

Jason wasn’t sure whether he should mention the other man’s behavior. She seemed to be more worried about causing a scene than her own comfort. But if anyone would understand why she was on edge it would be the people right here and Bruce and Alfred, possibly a few others if she had talked about her experiences.

“He seemed like he was a little too insistent for your boundaries. I was happy to help and removing you from the situation seemed more helpful than hitting him.” Jason said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You haven’t even had an actual conversation yet. Don’t run off.” Dick said, then pointed. “Look, there is a drink tray. That is probably what you were leaving for anyway.”

Jason conceded with a nod. Dick turned around and officially introduced Marinette. They spent a few moments talking about her recent work with Wayne Enterprises and their plans for continued work together. Jason had intended most of the night to be him forcing himself to appear interested, but he suddenly found the need to try not to appear overly interested in everything about Marinette.

He couldn’t deny he was very interested in her but he doubted that they could be involved without it getting very complicated. He already knew about a dark period in her life that she likely rarely talked about and he should keep his past hidden from her. He watched her try to cover her blushing face when Dick and Tim continued to sing her praises. There is no way she would be interested in a crime boss or a reformed one after what she had been through..

Jason looked up as Bruce walked up. Dick and Tim had turned back to their earlier conversations and Marinette turned to greet Bruce. Jason really couldn’t get away without the awkward interaction that was about to happen, it felt oddly reminiscent of that night on the rooftop with the 3 of them. He wondered if Bruce felt the same way. Whatever he felt was quickly covered by his public mask. Jason was happy to see that Marinette seemed to have calmed down after her interaction. He shocked himself and everyone else at the next break in conversation by asking her to dance.

He hadn’t danced in many years but he always had some skill. He wouldn’t be able to tell her that his most recent experience was from the League of Assassins as a necessary deception and reconnaissance skill but she still seemed to be enjoying herself. He should be talking but he couldn’t think of what to say. He could feel her pressed against him and moving to the music and he lost all ability to make conversation. She didn’t seem to mind. Her face was completely serene and she didn’t seem to even realize he nor anyone else was there so he just let her have her moment.

After returning her to the group, he excused himself. It had been several years since he had been inside Wayne Manor. He couldn’t bring himself to wander through all the rooms he had known growing up. He might like to see Alfred in the kitchen but he would prefer not to pass by all the memories that haunted him. He chose instead to go to the garden. The air was much cooler out here than the warmth in the ballroom and there was a pleasant breeze. He passed by the benches and found a tree that he used to climb.

It had changed and was taller and wider now, much like him. He found some comfort in that. He sat and leaned against it and sighed as he closed his eyes. It was a few minutes before he heard someone approaching. He had expected someone to follow him out but he was surprised when she spoke after standing silent for a few minutes. He would have guessed Dick or that Bruce would send Alfred. He wondered if she had come to find him or if she had been sent as an emissary.

“It’s a nice night.” she said softly.

“It is. Shame the event is indoors.”

“I’m not sure it would be as nice if everyone was out here. I like the quiet.”

“True. Did you enjoy the party anyway?”

“Mostly. I don’t seem to have as much energy to be social for the whole night.”

“I feel the same. I always like to take a break and go back when everyone has enjoyed the party too much so I can laugh at them.”

He loved her laugh and that she felt relaxed enough to laugh.

“I’ve not seen you at any of the other events. I’ve been to several over the past few months.”

“I missed a few. But I think I might be at more of them in the future.”

“Since you’re not busy being a crime boss anymore.”

He looked up at her and she met his eyes and held his gaze. When he looked down she sat down against a different tree facing him.

“Did someone tell you or were you able to figure it out.”

“No one told me. ‘Jason’ was always talked about in hushed tones and there was always a long story that no one wanted to tell. But I recognized you. It took time for the things to connect. The look you had on your face when you helped me get away from the man earlier. But mostly I recognized your voice.”

“Usually that would be distorted. I wonder if Batman has that problem.”

“He would never admit it. But I wouldn’t do anything to give you or him away. You saved my life and he helped me stay safe after. I saw enough to know that the threats were very real.”

“They are both dead now and not a threat to you.”

She nodded rather than responding and then they sat in silence again for several minutes before she spoke again.

“How did it happen?” she asked. “The story no one wants to tell. Will you tell me?”

He paused before responding. But then he started from the beginning and told her the whole story from his initial meeting with Batman as a child to his death and resurrection and finally his time as a crime boss. She listened mostly in silence except for a few reactions and utterances to help him. He hadn’t even realized she had moved so close to him. She was holding his hand when he finished. He looked back into her eyes and she was looking at him with such understanding. He used his other hand to brush her wisps of hair away from her temple. He was surprised when she responded by leaning forward and kissing him.

He didn’t want to question whether that was the right response or why she had done it. He just leaned into her and enjoyed it when she didn’t stop with the simple brush of their lips. He hoped she wouldn't regret the impulse and wished it could continue longer but they could hear someone approaching so they pulled away. Jason stood and held out his hand to help her to her feet and he was surprised she didn’t immediately pull her hand back. So they walked back into the ballroom with Dick and got their opportunity to laugh at all the people who had dissolved their inhibitions with too much champagne. She was laughing beside him and he was happy that it was with him.

Taglist

#jasonette july 2021 #maribat #jasonette #meet cute #boldlyanxious

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ionlyjoinedforstuffilike · 3 years

Text

Wasting Time

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Rating/Warning: Explicit (18+), smut, language, masturbation, vaginal fingering.

Word Count: 1,100

Summary: You find yourself hold up on an unknown planet with the mysterious bounty hunter your only company.

A/N: Written as a response for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer's Wednesday. Having only ever written for Boyd Holbrook characters (which I post over on my main blog @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook), I'm a bit apprehensive but the prompt just screamed Mando to me. I hope you like it. I've tagged a few people who showed interest and a couple I thought may want to read it.

You stared out into the street beyond, the neon straining against the grey blanket of the day. The glow more abrasive than usual blinking against the never-ending rain, though not as frustrating as the zip of the speeders zooming past, they really shouldn't let them come so close and disturb the city. Yet, what difference would it make to this frenzied world - everything in excessive, everything in a hurry, a buzz. Sign after sign, crowd after crowd, building after building, higher and further and more and more and suffocating. You felt trapped, which of course you were. Forced to stay in the small room on this god forsaken planet for days with your captor. You had no intention of coming here, not really sure where here actually was, but the past had finally caught up with you and now you were lying low with the bounty hunter.

You turned away from the window, observed the small room which was currently your sanctuary. It was as grey and cold as the city outside but quiet and stark in contrast, very little other than a bed and makeshift kitchen, a small fresher attached but there was no comfort or softness to be found, and even if there were it would have been negated by the figure sat in the corner.

The bounty hunter was like none you'd ever seen, you had however heard of his kind - a Mandalorian. Clad top to toe in armour, he had never revealed his face, he had never revealed his hands, covered with gloves, every inch of him shielded from enemies. He barely said a word since you'd been apprehended, which only enhanced the threat. A threat that had been established by a demonstration of deadly skill at your first meeting, reinforced with the dangerous glint of his armour each time he methodically cleaned his weapons in your presence. You didn't dare run, he'd find you again easily and then you'd pay and your current lack of comfort nothing to carbonite or the other alternative.

So, you sulked but stayed by his side in this grey, hard room and did your best to entertain yourself. He glared, though you could not see his eyes, you could feel them boring into you through the black t-shaped visor. He watched you at the window, watched you idle around the room, watched as you tied and untied the lace of your shoe around your finger over and over - never moving or speaking. He watched too when you undressed for a fresher, that had got a response, slight but enough to realise you'd caught his attention - the subtle tilt of his helmet, the stretching of covered fingers before balling back into a fist, as if he wondered if you were doing it to provoke him. In truth you had not, the fresher so small you didn't want to risk your clothing becoming damp and further increasing your discomfort, making him squirm a little was just a happy accident. In fact, it was the only glimmer of fun you had for a while and most probably the foreseeable future. Then an idea burned in your brain - hummed like the neon beyond the glass pane. You were bored, so very bored, and he already thought you were bad, so very bad, someone to be caught and contained. What was there to lose? Nothing. It would be wicked. It would be fun. Curiosity of his reaction urging you on.

You crawled up on the mattress and sat opposite the Mandalorian, stared directly at him. You knew he was staring back, the black void unwavering, you smirked imagining his expression underneath. Without breaking contact, you began to unfasten your trousers, pushed them down over your curves and down to your ankles before kicking them off. Then there it was - the tilt. The inquisitive movement of the helmet, questioning your actions, but he'd have answers soon enough. You spread your legs wider, dropped your hand between them and touched yourself, the only barrier to your sex a flimsy piece of cloth.

"What are you doing?" his modulated voice cut through the air.

"Wasting time." You tried to hide the curl at the corner of your lips. Settling back, your fingers began to rub at your clit, yes this was a very good way to spend your time. Feeling of pleasure quickly washing over you, forgetting the grey world, the uncertainty of your fate falling away with each movement. And the unmoving Mandalorian stared, the glimmer of beskar now a challenge, deepening sensations but you needed more, now you had taken this path you were determined to reach the end of the journey. Moving your hand, you ducked into your underwear, your head lolled as you plunged your fingers into your aching wet cunt. You broke connection with the Mandalorian, but you were lost now to your desires, until the crackle of his modular sounded once more.

"Take them off."

You stalled, eyes shot up looking at the bounty hunter, his legs wide, gloved hand against his covered cock, the other on his knee, fingertips digging into flesh.

"Excuse me?"

"Take it off. Take it all off."

You did as commanded, scrambled to rid yourself of the few garments covering your flesh. Naked in front of him, you sprawled back out on the bed, hand back in place, the other roaming your now exposed breast. Eyes closed drowning in your ecstasy, you heard the scrape of the chair along the floor, the Mandalorian wanted a closer inspection. Your cunt clenched at the thought. The small room soon filled with the noise of your exertions - your moans and the sounds of your fingers in your slick wet pussy. You were close, so very close. Desire wound so tight and ready to snap. When you did, you forgot all your worries, forgot the little room and bustling city, the captor at your side, there was nothing in that moment but you until...

As you were falling back to reality, you felt a new sensation, coarse leather against your most sensitive flesh, the bed dipping as the Mandalorian's knee dropped on to it, the cold metal of his armour burning against you. You looked up at him now, hovering above you, stared at the inky black as you moved your hand so he could replace it with his own.

"This changes nothing." was all he said as his fingers plunged forward.

Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @itssmashedavo @yes-it-would-be-easier-if @yespolkadotkitty @giizhkens-cedar @cheesybadgers @marivela14 @peoniarose @rexsjaigeyes @karie-me-home

#The Mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #Writer Wednesday

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

TAGS NOT WORKING: @thatsonezesty13 @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton #criminal minds angst

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

The answer | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Summary: Questions are asked and answered. Takes place immediately following “Ask me”

Rating: E for Explicit

Tags: SMUT, threesome, reader is penetrated; best friends who have always been a little bit in love with each other vibes (inspired by this photo)

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: I’ve been kinda wanting to challenge myself to do a gender-neutral smut piece, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so :) I’ve never written anything like this before (in terms of both the gender-neutrality and the gay vibes), so I’m open to (gentle) constructive criticism <3

“Worry about me later, baby,” Frankie urges. “Right now what I want is to take care of you.” Nectar drips from his voice like that fateful fruit, slicking your descent toward sweet surrender.

"Or watch me take care of you, anyway,” Santiago adds. Still crouched on his knees before you, lips glistening, the round of his spine suggests laser-focus, a predator about to pounce. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but the look in eyes is deferent as he glances over your shoulder to Frankie.

Your partner’s body enfolds you like a silk hammock, a warm, rippling sea in which you have no fear of drowning. Frankie’s chest is bare and smooth against your back, supporting you as if he’s only here to reinforce your pleasure, and not partake of it himself. Although if his words from moments ago were any indication, he was indeed getting his own enjoyment:

“Too good to me, baby,” murmured through sloppy kisses and removing clothes.

“Fuck, you look so good between us,” groaned into your ear while you squirmed, callused fingers on your nipples and Santi's mouth on your neck.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” satisfaction barely audible over the irrepressible moan that Santi drew from you as he slowly worked you open.

Meaningfully Frankie skates his palms down over your hips, dipping tantalizingly close to the burning between them before winging away. Fingers digging into the plush flesh, he spreads your thighs for Santi.

Again. The air vanishes from your lungs at Frankie’s gesture.

He keeps you pinned open as Santiago inches forward and you’re certain you’re trembling, even as fresh arousal wells in anticipation. This feels so much more, somehow- suddenly immediate and undeniable that you’re really here, about to be fucked by your boyfriend’s best friend while said boyfriend holds you open for him.

Perhaps because this isn’t just affecting you. You note, through the throbbing heat demanding your attention, the tension in Frankie’s body framing you. How careful Santi is about where he places his hands- on you or the couch, no longer bold and teasing with Frankie. The skitter of his gaze, like he doesn’t know quite where to focus now that he’s facing both of you so directly. You wonder where Frankie is looking.

When Santi is finally nestled to the base inside you, an inch for every panting breath, you’re not the only shaky one. His muscles quiver with the effort of holding himself over you, the feeling of you engulfing him threatening to overwhelm his good sense. For a moment there is only the strained rise and fall of your chests as both men wait for you to adjust. It’s akin to being rocked by the swells of an ocean, only in this case your anchor is Santiago, keeping his hips flush with yours, keeping you present on the delicious, searing stretch of his cock.

Frankie’s tongue on your neck makes you shiver, and Santi gasps when you clench around him. Smiling, you admire the gleam of sweat at his temples, the desperate lines around his squeezed-shut eyes. It’s difficult to maneuver yourself in this position, but you arch your body into his as best you can, giving him permission to move with a squeeze of his muscular ass.

A raspy laugh slips from him. It’s a bit clumsy at first- accommodating to the weave of limbs in which the three of you are entangled. Possibly this would be easier on a bed or even the floor, but it’s far too late to move now, lost in each other as you are. You know the boys would agree- even if you had the opportunity to be transported with merely a snap of the fingers, it feels right that this should happen here, on a slightly cramped couch, stifling smiles and snorts of laughter but never your eagerness for each other.

Santiago is impossibly beautiful like this. Every hard-earned muscle on display, working in harmony to the cadence that’s always swayed the three of you, however unconsciously. His eyes half-lidded and hazy, his little groans of effort and pleasure complementing Frankie’s caresses. It’s clear from Frankie’s own awed murmurs that he’s experiencing the same bliss you are, and he lets his hands linger on your front so his knuckles brush Santi’s torso. Like strings on a loom pulling gradually tighter, the design you three are creating becomes steadily clearer.

“Damn,” Frankie says hoarsely. The angle of your head prevents you from seeing his expression fully, but you make a wordless sound of wholehearted agreement.

“Mm?” Santiago hums in question despite his own daze, spying something in Frankie’s face that you missed.

“Just…it’s obvious which one of us aged better.”

Frankie’s voice is strained, his body tense. He’s been hard since the moment Santiago said yes, but a tangible slippery patch has grown against your back while the other man rocked in and out of you, long, measured strokes making an easy smear of Frankie’s cock.

Santi looks up, startled. Then his smile crooks. “Shut up, Frank,” he laughs, and the kiss to your shoulder doesn’t feel like it’s for you.

Frankie chuckles, raspy and affectionate, and it’s like the picture is finally identifiable, an outline of this potential future woven clear.

The turn of your head gets their attention. Santiago slows his hips as you stretch your neck toward Frankie, his lips just reachable in this position. But Santi’s thrusts still entirely when you face him next, your kiss brim-full of the same contentment you’d given Frankie. Something fraught flickers between the two men when you pull back; Santiago looks almost shy as, hesitantly and then all at once, he presses his lips to the corner of Frankie’s mouth for a lingering, reverent second.

Frankie’s eyes close and his head tips back as Santi drops his forehead to your shoulder. His curls catch on the bristly hair of Frankie’s jaw, steady, rhythmic again, and you’re not sure of the delineations between your bodies anymore. You feel full, in more ways than one, surrounded both physically and emotionally.

Frankie’s moans are music to your ears as you reach behind you, stroking his cock as best you can while semi-laying on it. Fuck, his husky sounds never fail to heat your blood- a new experience for Santiago, you’re guessing, from the way his eyes flare, fixed on his friend’s dropped-open mouth. There’s been no particular hurry to your activities thus far, but a sense of urgency is growing now, blossoming with every drag of skin on skin, every throaty plea weighting the humid air.

It’s not long before Santi’s grasp on your shoulder slips, flushed with sweat as you are. Fumbling, he braces himself on Frankie’s broader frame, and your partner holds his hand in place, unthinking. Santiago swears. He looks you over, eyes a little wild, then back up at Frankie, imploring.

Obliging, Frankie’s other hand snakes down your front, fingers searching, circling where you’re most sensitive. Distantly you’re aware of him rutting against your back, tiny whines scraping his throat with a familiar desperation. Everything in you tightens around the slick jerk of his fingers.

You cry out as you come, hips arching into Santiago, flattening Frankie’s hand between you. Santi gasps ragged and guttural as you spasm around him, and your rapture careens abruptly higher at the speed and force with which he’s suddenly slamming into you. A jumble of hands hold your shuddering frame in place as Santiago finds his own release, shoving the three of you impossibly deeper into each other.

For a moment it feels as if you’re floating, your body tethered only by the bruising clutch of your hands and theirs. As your awareness returns, you notice that Frankie is rigid behind you, still quivering, his lower half contorted as if to gain as much contact with your skin as possible.

Oh. There’s far too much wetness against your back for it to just be sweat.

A giddy, dreamy laugh wisps from your next exhale. Frankie doesn’t react, but Santi rolls his head to face you with a drowsy hm?

You disentangle one of your hands and lift it to gently rub Frankie’s scalp with your fingertips, tousling the curls as if scratching a pet’s ears. “Just glad we were all able to make it.” Your still-breathless tone carries your meaning. You twist your head to kiss the nearest bit of him, which happens to be his jaw.

Santi lifts his head, his expression somewhere between surprised and smug. Frankie only gives an airy shrug, inclining his head to mouth at your shoulder; the space now shared by both men’s faces.

“Meant what I said,” Frankie offers in his low voice. His gaze flits over what it can reach of Santiago’s naked body.

Surprise completely overtakes the smugness in Santi’s face, his mouth curving up as if he’s powerless to stop it. You observe in delighted disbelief. You know from experience how much it normally takes to make Santiago blush- yet here he is, all afluster at a few words from Frankie. Chuckling, Santi ducks his head again.

You wriggle sideways slightly so as to better see more of Frankie’s face, a shift that results in Santi leaning on him with his whole arm and flank. The thoughtful flicker of his eyes over Frankie’s further exposed torso doesn’t go unnoticed.

“We’ll see,” is all Santiago says; but his contentment is palpable, his tiny smile a confession. Frankie relaxes as the other man collapses again, this time with his head more on Frankie’s shoulder than yours.

The sun is past its peak now, longer shadows interrupting its shine through the windows, but the three of you don’t need it. You can all but see the afterglow illuminating, the way the filaments of a lantern gradually brighten as they warm, casting gentle light on the possibilities presented here.

You regard Santi with an indulgent smile. You sweep it up to Frankie next, softening at the sight of his unruly hair and the relief with which he returns it. There’s an unspeakable kind of gratitude mingling with the adoration in his eyes. As if his thanks could possibly be necessary; as if you would have ever denied either of them the opportunity to explore such long-contained feelings, no matter what your original proposition for this afternoon may have been.

“Next time,” Frankie murmurs, his lips brushing Santiago’s brow, “we’re doing this in a bed.”

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie x reader x santi #triple frontier imagine

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 10 of 27: Dating

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 9

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING FEEDBACK! I AM BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR EVERYONE WHO READS THIS STORY! This project has become so important to me and I have so much fun working on it! Thank you thank you thank you! Also - this chapter is a little shorter and more ‘calm’ at first. But be prepared, it’s still very important to everything that follows it!! <33 Enjoy!

Words: 3.1k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: none

Two days after Hogsmeade …

Monday morning. You yawned and it turned into a chuckle when Malfoy mimicked you.

“It’s contagious,” he defended himself quietly to avoid attracting Professor Sprouts attention. He sat next to you, way back in the last row of the classroom. It had been your idea – after finding out that almost none of your friends believed your act, it seemed like a good idea to sit next to each other during classes. Maybe it would help convince them.

With a flick of her wand, Professor Sprout made an assignment appear on the blackboard. Nothing too difficult. You walked to the front to get the small flower you were supposed to work with and Ron glared at you from his seat. You ignored him.

Back at your table, Malfoy and you started working together quietly. When you looked at his notes, you leaned over a little too closely, feeling dizzy from the smell of his cologne. Whenever he reached for something, his hand brushed over yours. His comments were accompanied by smiles and direct eye contact. He played his part so well, you almost believed it. From the corners of your vision, you saw Ron staring.

You acted the same in every class that you shared. During breaks, you stayed together – always a few feet away from the others. You discovered how funny he could be when he gave you live-commentary of a fight happening between a Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

In the evening, you came back to your dorm, feeling unusually content. Not even the letter from the parents on your desk changed that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, your mother had written. I simply don’t understand and I am scared for you. I can’t lose you too.

“Oh, mum,” you whispered, rubbing your neck. Then you sat down and reached for a quill. She deserved the truth. At least, a little of it.

***

One week after Hogsmeade …

Draco was happy.

Well, maybe happy was a little exaggerated but he felt … calmer. He used to spend his free time by himself which gave him plenty of opportunities to think. About the war, his parents, himself – and it nearly killed him. The notebook was an escape, a good way to focus, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how many pages he filled, he still felt himself sliding away from his surroundings. Now he spent that time with you – and things began to change. In those few days he even stopped dreading getting out of bed because Draco had finally something to look forward to again: spending time with you.

Draco considered you his friend. A part of him had trouble with the realization since being around someone like you went against everything his parents taught him but he tried tirelessly to shut it off. No, you were his friend and being around you made him feel almost okay.

“What are you writing?”

The sound of your voice caused Draco to look up from his notebook. The two of you sat in the library. You were across from him, finishing up on some homework. Draco shrugged. What was he supposed to say? I’m writing about you? Certainly not.

“Can I read it at some point?”, you tilted your head in curiosity. You did that a lot, Draco noticed. It reminded him of a puppy.

Am I comparing her to a dog?, he scolded himself in the next second. No, he didn’t mean it like that. He meant to think that he thought it was cute when you did that. You … were cute.

“It’s okay,” you finally said with a smile when you sensed his hesitation. “It’s personal, I get it – or do you keep track of dirty dreams in it?” You teased him.

“Only of the dreams involving you,” he winked at you, causing you to snort. Despite the joke, Draco was relieved you didn’t dig any further.

From where he sat, he had a direct view of the huge door leading inside the library. This was the reason why he saw the Greengrass sisters walking in, their gaze immediately landing upon him. He casually reached over the table and softly began to draw circles on your soft skin with the tip of his finger. He smirked at your shiver.

“Ron?”, you asked, not looking up from your book.

“Astoria,” he replied.

A few minutes later, Astoria and Daphne left again. Draco didn’t pull his hand away.

***

Two weeks after Hogsmeade …

Snowflakes were dancing in the cold winter air as you sat on the bleachers with Malfoy. Down on the Quidditch field, the Slytherins were practicing under the strong rule of Zabini. Games were cancelled but they still needed to stay in shape.

“I never pictured you as an Auror,” Malfoy confessed. He had asked about your future plans just seconds before.

“Why?”, you wanted to know.

He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I always thought you’d become … a healer. Or a teacher maybe.”

His words made you laugh. “Are you serious?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Well, no,” you shrugged. “I wanted to be an Auror since I was little girl. And I’ll make it, believe me.”

He raised his hands in a defensive manner. “I have no doubts about that. It simply surprised me.”

You chuckled another time at the thought of becoming a teacher. It had always been the furthest thing on your mind. You loved Hogwarts, it had been your home for years but you craved to see more from the world. Especially since the war happened. You didn’t want to spend your whole life in this castle.

“What do you want to do?”, you then asked, curious as to what his answer might be. It was hard for you to picture him outside of school.

Malfoy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It surprised you. “Really?”, you wondered. “Pureblood families like yours normally have a plan set up for their kids, don’t they?”

“Normally,” he laughed bitterly. “My father wanted me to follow his footsteps and get some high-ranking job in the Ministry. That’s not an option anymore. For obvious reasons.”

He was probably right. The wounds were still too fresh. The chances for a former Death Eater to be employed in the Ministry of Magic were slim.

You stayed on the bleachers for hours. It had only been a little over two weeks since the Halloween party and yet you had become a lot closer to Malfoy than you expected. You felt comfortable talking to him. Both of you had very different childhoods and friends – you came from different worlds. However, it was precisely this fact that made it easy to talk to each other. You were almost certain that he felt the same.

***

Three weeks after Hogsmeade …

Draco watched you flick through the pages of a magazine and for the first time since that night in the storage room, he saw you. And by Merlin, how beautiful you were.

He sat on the couch in the Room of Requirements with you, listening to the flames crackling in the small fireplace in front of him. You were laying down on your back, head propped up against the armrest, a small wrinkle on your forehead as you read the descriptions in the magazine. Your legs were stretched out and on his lap. Draco wondered why – no one would be around to see you anyways.

“Stop staring, Malfoy, it’s creepy,” you giggled.

Draco blinked as he snapped back into reality. “I’m not staring, I’m thinking, Y/L/N.”

“Think without staring at me.”

Easier said than done.

Draco cleared his throat. “What are you looking at anyways?”

“Christmas presents for my parents. But,” you clicked your tongue, “I can’t find anything good.”

Draco grabbed your legs and lifted them slightly while moving over closer to you. “Let me see. I’m awesome at getting gifts.”

***

Four weeks after Hogsmeade …

When December arrived, Hogwarts felt like home again. A cheerful atmosphere filled the castle, accompanied by snowball fights outside and hot chocolates in the common rooms. As if a spell was lifted, something changed within the students and parents alike.

You happily noticed how Ginny needed less and less of her sleeping medicine. The nightmares slowly faded, being replaced by happier memories. The letters from your mother barely mentioned your sister anymore. Instead, she talked about carriage rides in the snow with your father and her plans for Christmas dinner. For the first time in a while, you looked forward to going home.

You wondered if it was the same for Draco. When they put up the Christmas tree in the Great Hall, he got even more quiet than usual. It planted an idea inside your head and on that same day, you wrote a letter to your parents, asking them if he could spend the holidays with them. They agreed. It came to no surprise to you; your mother was eager to meet him and see if her prejudices and fears would be proven right.

“I don’t want to impose,” Draco said with a stern voice when you told him after dinner.

“You’re not! I asked them and they want to meet you. Come on,” you insisted.

He watched you with uncertainty and furrowed brows. “I don’t know. I can’t –”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”, you interrupted him.

Draco looked away at the question; that same expression of bitterness on his face that you’d seen too often for your own liking.

“I thought so,” you said softly. “Please, Draco, come with me.”

He sighed and wiped his hands over his eyes. “Why would they even want to meet me?”

You smiled widely. “You’re my boyfriend.” Never would you have thought it would sound normal to say that.

“Yes, but –”, he lowered his voice, “– but not really.”

True. For a weird reason, it stung a little to be reminded by him. “I am your friend though, aren’t I?”

He blinked at the word ‘friend’ and you wondered if he felt differently about it. Then he nodded.

“Awesome!”, you exclaimed, shooing away your worries. “Then it’s settled. Christmas at my place.”

In that moment, Harry and Ron walked passed you. Ron didn’t even glance at you. How weird, you wondered, this was the first time in days that you thought about him.

***

Five weeks after Hogsmeade …

��My dearest Draco,

I am delighted to hear that Y/N’s family invited you for Christmas. They are very kind to do so. Please remember to bring a little housewarming gift. Although it hurts me to be away from you this Christmas, I do believe it’s a better option for you than visiting your grandparents with me. I’m sure the holidays will be spent in a rather somber spirit this year as your father will be unable to join us. I want you to have at least a little fun and am looking forward to your stories.

Lots of love, your Mother

P.S.: I met with Mrs. Greengrass yesterday. She is not upset and gave me her word to wait until you are ready.

Draco shook his head in amusement when he finished reading the letter. Only his mother could wish him a nice time with his (fake) girlfriend and then continue with ‘if you’re done having fun, your fiancée is still available’.

“That’s why pureblood traditions are fucked up,” was something you would say right now. But you weren’t here. You were practicing for the first Quidditch game in the new year and Draco sat in his dorm, waiting for Blaise to get ready.

Reading the letter a second time, he started to wonder. Why would Mrs. Greengrass wait? Why did their family want this union so desperately? The questions were lingering on his mind ever since you brought them up months ago. He failed to come up with an answer to this day.

“Please don’t tell me that’s a letter to Y/N,” Blaise announced when he stepped out of the bathroom.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s from my mother, idiot.”

“Good,” his friend sighed dramatically. “Because I rarely get to see you now that you have her. No need for you to start writing love letters when she’s not around.”

Even though his nagging slightly annoyed Draco, he realized something in this moment: it had worked. The whole PDA and ‘being-more-affective-in-public’- thing worked. It had been almost two weeks since Theo or Blaise (or even Astoria) tried to get him to confess that they were faking it. His friends started to believe them.

“Yeah, whatever,” Draco gave a dismissive wave of his hand and put the letter away. “Maybe I just don’t want to see you, Zabini, and it has nothing to do with Y/N.”

Blaise laughed. “No, you love me too much. Now, let’s go. Theo’s waiting for us.”

***

Six weeks after Hogsmeade …

A loud shriek echoed through the classroom and you almost dropped the container of cat teeth on the floor. Parkinson jumped up and down, trying to get a slimy violet mass shaken off her leg. It didn’t budge and made its way up her pants, accompanied by absolutely disgusting slurping and smacking sounds. You tried hard to suppress a laugh but when you saw the way Harry grinned behind her, you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling.

Professor Slughorn hurried over and quickly cast a spell. The mass fell down to the floor and stopped moving. “Oh well, Ms. Parkinson,” he quickly glanced inside her cauldron. “It’s important to add the cat teeth before the mandrake juice.” Then he knelt down in front of her, inspecting her pants. “It looks like nothing got on your skin. If I am mistaken, please go and see Madame Pomfrey. It can leave nasty burns behind.”

The Slytherin girl nodded, still in shock.

“What happened?”, Draco joined you at your table. He had gone to the backroom, to gather missing ingredients.

“Parkinson got attacked by her potion,” you sneered while counting the cat teeth. “It was hilarious.”

“I bet,” he grinned, before skimming over the instructions again.

“I think I need to go and see Madame Pomfrey,” Parkinson whined behind you. “It got through the fabric of my pants.”

As if, you thought and rolled your eyes.

“Please go,” you heard Slughorn say. “Better not take any chances. Interestingly, this modified form of the potion has been used in the past. They removed foreign magical particles with it, such as certain marks that resulted from dark spells. It is very aggressive though and since then, the healers have invented different potions. However, when it touches your normal skin, it only leaves burns and scars. Please, Ms. Parkinson, please go. Mr. Nott, you can accompany her.”

“Huh,” Draco made next to you. “What did she do wrong again?”

You sighed when you saw that you had miscounted the teeth. Damnit.

“Y/N?”

“What?”, you looked at him.

Draco stared at the liquid inside the cauldron, a blank expression on his face. “What did Pansy do wrong?”

“She put in the mandrake juice before the cat teeth.” You frowned. “Why?”

“No reason.”

***

That same day …

It was late when you returned from Quidditch practice; tired and sweaty. All you craved was a shower and then your bed. Playing that sport in your free time was one thing but practicing under Ginny as Captain? You were glad that you didn’t die yet.

“Y/L/N!”

Someone shouted your name as you walked inside the castle.

“Y/L/N!”

Irritated, you turned around, trying to make out the person that voice belonged to.

“Y/L/N, here!” Theodore Nott sprinted down the stairs, coming from the direction of the Gryffindor common room. “Fuck, we looked everywhere for you!”, he cursed, completely out of breath, when he finally reached you.

“We?”, you asked with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

You then noticed the fear in his eyes. He gripped so tightly onto the stair railings that his knuckles turned white and his whole body was trembling. Panic began to dwell up inside of you. Draco.

“It’s Draco, something happened,” he panted. “You have to come, please!”

Your blood froze. “What’s going on?!”, your voice turned shrill but he ran down the stairs again.

“Come!”, he shouted. “Now!”

The two of you sprinted down stairs and hallways, passing confused classmates on the way. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you repeated the same sentence over and over again in your head: Something happened to Draco. The thought of it was unbearable and it hit you like a brick wall, making it hard to breathe. Please, no. Not him.

When you reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Theodore turned to you abruptly. He grabbed you by your shoulders. “Act normal,” he hissed. “Walk slowly. They don’t need to know.”

You nodded absently. Your hands were clam and you tried to calm down your breathing.

“Okay,” he didn’t seem convinced that you understood him. Then he mumbled the password and the door opened.

Under normal circumstances, you would have stopped in the middle of the room, looking around in awe. You’d never been here before; it was a mystery to you. But now, you only briefly glanced at the green and black furniture. There weren’t many students around. The ones that saw you, stared at your red Quidditch robes.

“What the fuck?”, someone said loudly. “What’s she doing here?!”

Nott ignored them, leading you quickly to the stairs that must have led up to the dorms. You noticed the windows on the way up and gasped when you realized that you didn’t look at the fields of Hogwarts. You were under the Black Lake.

“Finally,” Zabini exclaimed. He had waited in front of a door, looking just as shaken up as Nott. “You found her.”

“What’s going on?”, you asked for the third time now. “Where is he?”, your voice trembled a little.

“In here,” Nott pointed at the room. “In the bathroom. He locked himself in.”

“He wouldn’t let us in and asked for you,” Zabini continued with a quiet voice, fidgeting with his hands. “It’s … you’ll see. Just go in and help him.” He paused briefly. “Please.”

You nodded and reached for the door handle. Three deep breaths. One … two … three.

You pushed open the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind you. Looking around, everything looked perfectly ordinary. Three beds, three wardrobes, a table. Your gaze wandered over to the door that lead into the bathroom. Then you heard it – a sob. And another one. Someone was crying. He was crying. Your heart broke at the sound.

“Draco?”

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! <33 Also: did you notice Y/N stopped calling him “Malfoy” halfway through the chapter and switched to “Draco”?

CHAPTER 11

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist

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