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9r7g5h · 2 years

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Rewind and Retry Part 1

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia

Rating: T

Genre: General

Summary: He must have taken enough damage to knock him unconscious, and that was why he was now remembering this of all things. Because why else would four-year-old Deku be looking down at him, hand outstretched, offering to pull him out of the water?

Words: 4117

Parts: P1, P2

AN: I'm new here (I haven't even finished season 3 of the anime yet, and I'm watching the first movie tomorrow with two of my people. We're making katsudon together! :D), but I've fallen in love with this show, and I've fallen hard. I have a ton of fic ideas, and I'm looking forward to writing them as I continue to learn about the world and the characters. I'm sorry if people seem out of character or if I get things wrong, since I'm not caught up yet, but this one especially didn't want to wait since I did have one specific scene spoiled for me. Hopefully you all still enjoy! I'm just glad to be here!

Disclaimer: I do not own MHA.

He had no fucking clue what was going on.

He knew what had happened - Tokoyami had caught wind of a group his agency had been after for a while and called in for backup. He had been the closest, the warehouse the group had claimed as their own right on the edge of his patrol. Feathers had filled him, Dunce Face, and (annoyingly) Deku in after the extras appeared, and the four of them had burst in to take names and kick some ass.

A normal Tuesday, and a good way to end his shift, if anyone was to ask him.

But instead of the three enemies they had been warned about, almost triple the number had risen from the darkness, throwing quirk after unknown quirk against the newly minted pro heroes, trying to force them back into a corner to take them down. Something Katsuki had refused, point blank. He didn't care if these shitty asswipes outnumbered them over two-to-one, he knew the people at his back.

Knew that electricity, shadows, and the strong arms of his friends companions had him.

Which was what had led him to jump for the sprinklers above. He knew the water would work against him, diluting his sweat, but it would give Dunce Face the perfect conditions to take out a bunch at once, turning the tide in their favor. He might not get the credit of a final blow, something that would smart later when he was alone in his apartment, but right now wasn't the time for egos and pride.

It was about making sure they all got out alive so he could beat them later, so he could show them he was the best so he didn't have to go to another friend's funeral anytime soon. So he jumped, the explosions already building in his palms, ready to set off the sprinklers that would end this.

Except he never landed. He never landed because so many quirks landed instead, too many sensations for him to process as his body froze, muscles tensing, everything about him boiling to a halt as he felt too much within a second to spare driving him into the ground below. His palms fizzled and sparked, and it must have been enough because he felt the rain, the pure clean mist brushing over his skin as multiple voices screamed for him, the loudest (always the loudest) a terrified "Kacchan" with a hand reached out and-

"Are you ok, Kacchan?"

It's not a full grown man's hand. It's not a full grown man's voice. It's not the eyes of a full grown man looking at him, but the eyes and the voice and the hand of a small child, one firmly burned into his memory, that meets him. That's held out to him. That asks about his well being, concern and fear edging the words as he speaks.

"The brain does strange things while in danger," Recovery Girl had once said, during their mandatory first aid classes, "things to protect itself from harm. Wounds will be ignored, trauma will be funny, and if someone is knocked out, their mind might fill in the emptiness with something else. A memory, or a dream so life-like it feels like one. Why, I do not know, but it can lead to some interesting results when interacting with head injuries during rescue missions..."

"That was a really big fall! Are you ok?"

That had to explain it. He must have taken enough damage to knock him unconscious, and that was why he was now remembering this of all things. Because why else would four-year-old Deku be looking down at him, hand outstretched, offering to pull him out of the water?

Katsuki knew how this memory had to go. He knew that, last time, he had knocked away Deku's hand. Had called him useless, worthless, the same tired phrases that had somehow still managed to live into their high school days. Had continued to think that, somehow, the most genuine friend he had ever had was looking down on him just for asking if he needed help. Instead of accepting, Katsuki had slapped away Deku's hand and begun hating the boy, something he had only within the last few years been able to stop. Had been able to apologize and begin to make amends for, even if he did occasionally fall into his old habits. Even if his twist of emotions occasionally made it hard.

"Kacchan?"

He knew what he was supposed to do, in this weird dream memory his mind had created to keep itself safe. He should replay what had happened, despite the regret he now had for the action and the many that would come to follow. It was the safe route, the known, easy. But...

"I'm ok, Deku. Thanks."

A cocky smile as he took the outstretched hand, using it to help pull himself to his feet, because when did he ever choose easy? He let the other boy fawn over him, praising his strength for coming out the other side of "such" a big fall without a scrape, the others calling down their praises from the log above. Because of course they did - this was what his childhood had been like, from what he remembered.

No wonder his ego had been so large, and it had been so easy to turn against Izuku. Too many people made it easy to do so, even Izuku himself.

"You know," Katsuki finally said as they climbed up the riverbank, looking over his shoulder, "you got to me fast. It was pretty impressive. Maybe Dekus aren't useless after all."

A piss poor attempt at a compliment, no apology in sight, but still it made the other four year old gleam, his smile the brightest thing Katsuki remembered seeing. It wasn't much, it was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it still felt good, seeing that smile. When he was awake, in the real world, that smile was often fake for the world, tinged with exhaustion around their friends, and often just gone around him, Izuku letting his hero mask fall in the safety of one of their homes, trusting their strained and slowly rebuilt friendship with this, at least. He knew others saw more, held him when he cried when he got there too late to save someone, let him rant and rage at the injustice in the world, could easily make him laugh without trying; but he at least had what he had, and that was enough. More than he deserved.

And here, in this memory dream, tiny hand holding tiny hand to pull Izuku over the last bump to get him back on the main path, his smile still the widest Katsuki ever remembered it, it was enough.

"Let's head home for today." The others agreed, though it was clearly an order, not a request. The other boys quickly fell back in line behind them, though if the other three wanted to question why Katsuki still held so tightly to Izuku's hand, none of them said a word. Instead they all just quietly marched back along the path they had blazed so many times before, passed through the hole in the fence, and slowly began peeling off as they reached their own streets to go home. A peaceful journey, all things considered, when normally their group was rambunctious and always causing trouble, but a peace that was happily accepted until it was just the two of them. The two of them slowing to a stop in front of Inko's building, hands still clasped tightly together.

"Kacchan? I should go inside now." Izuku made to let go, but paused as Katsuki gave a squeeze, his signature scowl burning into the side of the building. "Kacchan?"

"You can become a hero if you want," Katsuki finally said, using their linked hands to pull Izuku into a hug. "You'll have to train, because right now you're just a shitty nerd who's going to break all your bones and get yourself hurt if you try and become a hero, because you're too weak to protect yourself and help anyone, but if you train, you can."

And fuck, he could already feel Izuku shaking, his shoulder growing wet again as he cried into the fabric of his shirt, little hands clutching at him. Even in this made up world he wasn't good at this kind of shit, couldn't get through a single day without making him cry, because he was clearly just the worst and-

"Thank you, Kacchan." Izuku interrupted his internal scolding, lifting his head to show that yes, he was crying, big fat tears covering his cheeks, but he was also smiling. A smile wide and pure and enough to soothe the ache that had been building in Katsuki's chest for who knew how long. "You're the best, Kacchan, and if you say I can become a hero after I train, I'm gonna train the hardest and become a hero right next to you! We'll be the best heroes in the world."

"You're getting snot on my shirt, shitty nerd." And yet he made no try to move away as Izuku buried his face back into his shoulder, holding him close, his free hand rubbing soothingly over his back. "You'll also have to stop being such a crybaby, but it's ok for now. I'll protect you when you cry."

A watery laugh as Izuku finally took a step back, rubbing at his ruddy cheeks, only spreading the water and goo instead of getting rid of it. Disgusting, and yet he couldn't help his small smile, even as he refused to look down at the mess on his shirt. "I'll do my best, Kacchan. I'll see you later?"

"Of course, nerd. And who knows? Maybe Deku will be the name of a famous hero one day."

He didn't stick around for the renewed waterworks, especially as Inko opened the door to their apartment and called for Izuku, not paying attention as she waved to him as she watched him walk away from her happily sobbing child. And honestly he barely paid attention to the rest of the day. Katsuki knew he got home somehow, the house shockingly familiar to how he remembered it (though, no true shock there). It was strange, going from living alone to once again living under your parents, especially when you dropped roughly twenty years and a couple of feet, but he got through it without exploding anyone or anything, honestly enjoying the simplicity of it all.

Who knew he would have missed cartoons and snuggling with his parents on the couch? Absolutely wild, even if the old hag was still too naggy for his taste.

But going to bed, feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyes, Katsuki was sure it was a sign he would be done soon. Who fell asleep in a dream and didn't wake up in the real world? He'd probably wake up in the hospital, Deku hovering by his side like always and a doctor to rattle on long enough to piss him off. He would forget this small feeling of absolution, this slight lessening of his guilt, and life would go back to normal.

Except it didn't.

It didn't, because he woke up at five the next morning in a body that was still too small, in a room he hadn't lived in for years, with just enough control of his quirk to not set the All Might themed bedspread on fire.

It was then that maybe, just maybe, he started to panic.

Or, rather, not panic, because Ground Zero didn't panic. He left that bullshit to the extras, to the people it was his duty to save. No, if anything, he just became increasingly concerned that he was still four years old, still apparently trapped in whatever coma dream he'd been forced into.

When he woke up he was going to steal Feather's kneecaps and beat him with them. Who gave out such shitty partial information like that? How the fuck had he survived his time as a sidekick and made it to being a fully registered pro if he couldn't even use his sentient quirk to get a head count?

Shit he'd have to beat out of him later, once he woke up. Because right now, even as he did the wrist and arm exercises that had become natural to him over the last decade (?), he was only four. Physically four years old with all the memories of his mid-twenties, and the bullshit that came with it. Meaning Feathers was also some sniveling brat, and wouldn't survive a Howser blast to face yet.

If he even existed here, seeing as this was all in his head.

Damn it. He could really do with blowing something up.

Instead Katsuki slipped out of bed, careful to avoid the long since memorized squeaking portions of the house as he searched. For what, he wasn't entirely sure - for something off, for some kind of sign that this wasn't real, for a wavery patch in the scenery that would force his brain to accept the truth and force him awake. That's how it happened in the movies his idiots always forced him to watch, which was the most he could go off of. It's not like he was knocked unconscious regularly, and even when he was pulled into a rescue mission, he often just focused on getting the people to safety. He didn't stick around to ask in depth questions about what they had dreamt about when they woke up, though maybe he should start.

Might be good to know if this was common, for the future. Just in case.

But by the time his dad scooped him up and delivered him to the kitchen for breakfast, both of his parents asking worriedly if he had slept alright, the entire house had been thoroughly searched. Books had been flipped through, dust bunnies had been chased from under the couch, and he had even given himself a shallow cut on the palm of his hand, the pain doing nothing to wake him. Nothing had flickered, no one had offered him some weird colored pills in exchange for the truth; life, as far as he knew, was perfectly in order.

It fucking sucked.

Even if the first breakfast he hadn't had to make for himself in months was fan-fucking-tastic (a sentiment that got him smacked on the back of the head for swearing), it was also wrong. He didn't want to be stuck as some helpless toddler. He wanted to be back in his adult body, fighting villains to protect the city, rising through the ranks, all that jazz. He had shit to do, damn it, and lazing around in a coma while his brain replayed happy family wasn't going to cut it.

Though, it was cute when, after breakfast, Izuku's voice called for him from behind the door, asking him to once again come play.

"I should ground you for your language, you damn brat," Mitsuki growled even as she grabbed his plate and dropped a kiss onto his forehead. "But maybe Inko's brat will be a good influence on you. Get out of here, and be back in time for dinner."

His dad just smiled and slipped him a few bucks, enough to get both him and Izuku some lunch from a vendor near the park, and within a few minutes he was gone. Gone out the door, down the stairs, his hand automatically reaching for and grabbing Deku's in his own as he continued his search for the thing that would wake him from this... not nightmare, it couldn't be a nightmare with how brightly Izuku was smiling at him, something he hadn't done in years, but from whatever this was that kept him from his reality.

Even if the small warmth in his hand was nice, he still knew he would have to let it go, and the sooner the better.

So they spent the day searching - not that Deku knew, no, he just followed Katsuki close behind, asking questions and rambling into the silence when he got no response, filling the air himself. He'd always been good at that, taking what should have been awkward and making it easy, allowing others to exist within his presence. Deku had never needed an audience, just a friend or two to hear him out and, unlike him, he was content.

A closeness Katsuki was grateful for, even if he'd never show it. Because as the day wore on and nothing activated the cutscene worthy awakening he had imagined, his totally appropriate concern just continued to grow, only held at bay by the mumbling and hand.

What if he didn't wake up?

Statistically he knew it was unlikely. Even in just the few years he and his class had all been working, things had come so far in the medical field. Not everything could be fixed, no, but most limb damage could be healed, and the last person to exist in a long term coma had been decades ago. New quirks helped advance everything in leaps and bounds, and even just a few days ago people had been asking if this was the end of mortality as humans knew it.

Utter horseshit, of course, but the basis was there. Statistically, he would be up and moving within two weeks.

Statistically.

He'd always been good in school, but still, he didn't want to run the numbers.

"Kacchan, how do you train to be a hero?"

He’d almost forgotten that he had company, Deku’s constant stream of conversation cut off when he’d used the few bucks his dad had slipped him to buy them some late afternoon ice cream. Again, he’d been rewarded with another smile and a perky “Thank you, Kacchan!” before he had fallen silent, the two of them snacking in quiet. But now, by the uncharacteristic furrow between his brow, it was clear the little four year old’s brain was working hard, trying to come up with the answer on his own.

“By working out, duh,” he replied, taking a bite of his own slowly melting treat. “You don’t have a quirk to train, so you need to train your body instead. Lots of running, lifting heavy things, shit like that. You need to make yourself strong enough to keep up with the rest of us, otherwise you’ll be too easy to beat. Then you really won’t be able to be a hero.” He tried to curb his annoyance and language - he was speaking to a child, after all, even if his last memory of said “child” was him covered in blood, again, from pounding villains into dust. He’d have to wait until he woke up to see if that blood was someone else’s, though he already had a lecture prepared if it wasn’t.

He’d carried that fucking nerd home from the hospital too many times to not have one ready, though he also knew it would just be the same apologetic smile, promise not to do it again, and few weeks of Deku being extra careful before it happened all again. At least he had stopped breaking bones so easily, not that it was much of a reassurance when he was almost bleeding out from getting impaled.

Katsuki was sure he was going to go gray before 30, and it would all be Deku’s fault. Once he woke up, that is.

“Could you help me?” Again pulled out of his thoughts by the same little voice, determination etched into every soft baby feature. “Kacchan is so amazing, with your help I’m sure I could train enough to be a hero too! Maybe even as great as All Might!”

And fuck it, he had already changed so much in just a single day. Instead of being the bully he remembered being, instead of reliving the past he felt shame for, at least in his head he could be kinder. Not soft, of course, because he didn’t do soft, wasn’t actually sure if that was something he could do, but he could at least do this.

“We can start your training at school tomorrow. I don’t want to hear any whining that I’m being too mean, ok? I won’t help a crybaby.”

If he hadn’t known otherwise, Katsuki would have thought that Izuku and his mother both had a water-based quirk centered around their crying, because the sheer amount of liquid that came from such a small body should have been impossible. But it was Deku, so all he did was throw some napkins at him and tell him to eat his ice cream, that they would have to go home soon and he didn’t need him sobbing in public like a baby when they walked. Easier said than done, though soon Deku was successful, even if he was still wiping at his eyes as Katsuki led him back home.

“Remember, Deku, we start tomorrow! No chickening out on me. Got it?”

A determined nod was all he got, his poor friend almost shriveled from dehydration by the time they got home, but it was there. The same spark he had seen when they had both first gotten into UA, that same little gleam that said he was ready to become All Might’s successor - even now it existed within this four year old phantom his memory had created.

He had a good imagination, he’d give himself that. At least if he was going to be stuck in this memory dream coma for a while, which was looking to be more and more likely the longer this went on, he wouldn’t be as bored as he’d always thought he would be.

It was still boring as fuck, because holy shit being four again was its own kind of torture. Even with having been out of school for a few years, he was still far beyond anything the teachers wanted to teach him. Sure, his hands shook a bit when he held the pencils, something that annoyed him to no end (just something he would have to practice, the muscle memory lacking in this and, most likely, the quirk usage as well), but he could read and mostly write and easily breeze his way through anything they put in front of him. The only thing that kept him entertained, besides the idea of training Izuku come the break, was playing with his own quirk at the table, small sparks playing across his fingers.

He knew he couldn’t push it, at least not yet. Not that he hadn’t tried - once again awake at five in the morning, wrist and arm exercises completed, he had tried to gather the control he once had over his powers. Focusing on his pores, on the building of sweat in his palms, the muscle twitches that ignited everything; it was all there, just under the surface, but weak. He couldn’t force the sweat production, not like he could when he was older. He could sense the muscles in his forearms and his palms, could feel them move sluggishly as each tiny little spark set off in his hands, but it was nothing like the almost painful spasms that gave him his larger blasts. And he knew even if he could let off something larger than these tiny pops, his shoulders couldn’t handle it. That all had come from years of training, from building himself into someone who could actually handle his quirk and not be destroyed by its power.

Maybe he could do the same for Deku. He didn’t know how far this dream would go, but maybe, if it went far enough, by the time he became All Might’s successor, he’d actually be ready to accept it. Or at least maybe keep him from breaking himself so badly, something the poor nerd needed all the help accomplishing.

And even if it was all in his head, even if he would forget all of this when he woke up in reality, even if none of this was real, it still felt good to have Deku smile at him when he asked how his training would start. It was entirely selfish, but he had over a decade to make up for, and this small little bit of fake reparations helped.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Deku?”

Another nod, his eyes watery but determined as they stood away from the others in their class. The boys Katsuki normally played with watched curiously from the sidelines, but none of them moved to interfere.

“I’m ready, Kacchan!”

“Then get ready to die!”

He could do this, at least until he woke up.

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anxious2dsimp · 3 years

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Everything He's Not | Iwaizumi x GN! Reader | Short Fic

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Flavour: Angst (Reader x Cheater!Oikawa) to Fluff (Reader x Iwaizumi)💔→☁️

Reader: Gender Neutral!

Format: Short Fic (alternating between two sides of the story, y/n and Iwa's)

Part: 1 out of 2 (read part 2 here)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Y/N, has dated the very popular Oikawa Toru for a while, through him becoming friends with his group. However, little do they know about a certain stoic ace's feelings for his best friend's s/o. When Oikawa screws up big time, will Iwaizumi's true feelings finally show? And what will Y/N do when everything goes down?

Warnings: Cheating, cursing, breakups, basically Oikawa x Reader angst turned into Iwaizumi x Reader fluff.

A/N: I wrote this for myself a while back but I edited it into a gender-neutral reader insert on a sleep-deprived whim (sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know!) Ik it's very random, but hopefully someone likes it :)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

Your POV

Dating Oikawa Toru was definitely different from what you expected; at first you were weary about the volleyball star, but after giving him a chance you started to see the real him. Yes, he was the captain of a powerhouse’s Volleyball team and had a ton of fangirls, but really he was just a regular guy with dorky interests and an alien obsession, which was the side of him you fell for. It wasn’t all great, dealing with his fangirls was rough; luckily you were safe being from another school, but they’d take any chance they had to try and gain Oikawa’s interest, flirting with him as he did the same back, not with bad intentions, it was just his personality. It did slightly annoy you, but you knew he was clear that we were together and wouldn’t take things further, he was just keeping up his image, and he promised you that was all.

Since your Karasuno friends didn’t particularly like your relationship with the setter (though they did respect it), you two hung out with his Aoba Johsai friends; that’s how your friendship with Iwa, Makki, and Mattsun started. You all became good friends, so they all helped you keep Oikawa in line while at school (especially Iwaizumi). Since you got along so well your friendship became its own thing besides Oikawa, and before you realized it, you and Iwa were such good friends that you chatted almost daily on the phone.

You don’t know what exactly made you bond so much, maybe you were similar in the sense that you were both used to being lowkey, keeping things together behind the scenes; regardless, you both enjoyed each other’s company. That Tuesday afternoon was one of those days, Oikawa had something to do at school, so Iwaizumi invited you, Makki, and Mattsun over to his place to wait for the captain like you usually did since it was the closest to the school.

So, you just chilled like always, laughing and playing video games, talking about whatever came to mind. While you were in the middle of a Mario Kart match, you heard the front door of the apartment open, “(y/n)-chan! I’m sorry for the delay~” the brunette said in a sing-song voice.

“Hi to you too, Oikawa,” said Makki, poking fun at him, to which he just rolled his eyes and walked over to the couch. “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss?” Oikawa asked standing in front of the screen, causing all four of you to start yelling at him to get out of the way, making him pout. “One sec, Toru-chan,” you said, biting your lip while focusing on keeping your first place intact for the last lap. The setter just giggled and got out of the way, walking around the sofa to stand behind you.

Iwaizumi’s POV

‘Eyes on the screen Iwaizumi,’ the ace told himself as he tried to focus on the game, attempting to ignore the way Oikawa kissed (y/n)’s neck while they played, trying to get their attention but failing miserably other than a giggle here and there. Iwa could tell by the way their (e/c) colored eyes pierced the screen that they wanted to win. The boy could see why his best friend liked them, unlike most people (y/n) actually treated Oikawa like a normal person, which definitely got him going. It wasn’t just that though, you all became such good friends because they’re smart, funny and beyond kind; but that’s all you were, friends. So why did it make him moody to see them be all couple-y?

After all, they were together while he was just the friend, the one who kept the fangirls off Oikawa so (y/n) didn’t have to worry because he couldn’t do it himself. Even though Toru was Iwaizumi’s best friend since they were kids, he couldn’t help but think that his friend wasn’t the greatest boyfriend. However, that was the same reason why he couldn’t say anything either, after all, they made him happy and vice versa, so he just kept telling himself to keep his damn eyes on the screen.

Luckily for him, the game was soon over so you all ordered takeout and sat around talking. “Yo, (y/n), there’s this new scary movie on Netflix, we should watch it this Friday night,” Mattsun stated, stealing one of Maki’s fries and throwing it in his mouth. “That sounds fun, but I can’t Friday! Karasuno has a friendly match against a few Tokyo schools this weekend so we leave Thursday after school,” (y/n) explained with a sweet smile, Iwaizumi’s eyes casually wondering over to Oikawa to see him looking upset.

‘Ugh, here goes,’ the spiker thought to himself. Lately, Toru had been restless and uncomfortable because according to him, his s/o was slipping away from him. Oikawa had somehow managed to convince himself that Karasuno had made it their mission to get their manager (y/n) to stop liking him and had been getting increasingly dramatic and jealous lately for no reason.

“But I thought we were going to hang out this weekend,” Oikawa whined as he pouted at his significant other, trying to seem jokingly disappointed though his best friend could tell he actually was upset. “Babe, we literally talk every day and we hung out all this past weekend, and today,” (y/n) said taking his hand.

“Plus, you have friends too, Shittykawa,” Hajime said, trying to get his friend’s mind out of that dark place since he knew he was more prone to make stupid comments when it was there. Oikawa didn’t drop it, insisting on how they were talking less as (y/n) continued to explain that school had been busy and how he also had responsibilities that took up his time. They eventually got him to shut up, but Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the concern that he was being too stupid, and it felt like he was getting closer and closer to making a mistake.

Your POV

You had to admit you did feel guilty when you told Toru you were leaving for the weekend, it was true that you had been way too busy with school and that neither of you had much free time, but you knew that your feelings for him were still strong. So, that Thursday after school you were happy and excited to hear that the trip had been postponed and you’d actually travel on Saturday morning because Sensei had a very important meeting on Friday afternoon. With the change of plans, you decided to go surprise your boyfriend, and it already being late in the afternoon, by the time you got to his place he would be home.

As you got off the bus by his place and got closer to his house, the sun beginning to set, a couple by a small park caught your eye, causing a soft smile to appear on your face. That park was always where you two would hang out when you wanted to be just the two of you. Walking closer, however, the smile quickly disappeared as you realized the “couple” was none other than Oikawa himself with one of his persistent fans he told you not to worry about. ‘Maybe they’re just hanging out as friends,’ or at least that’s what you told yourself as you squinted and kept walking.

Picking up your pace you got closer, now being able to see their faces more clearly in the dimly lit park only to watch them kiss, the girl’s arms around his neck while Oikawa’s hand slid up her thigh. You didn’t know what to do, so you just stood there in shock as silent tears began to fall down your face. Almost as if you were in a trance, you reached into your pocket and took out your phone, dialing his number as you saw the brunette react.

He looked down surprised at his phone screen as he scooted apart from the girl and picked up the call as if it was nothing. “Hey beaut-” he started to say before you cut him off, not having the strength to hear his happy tone. “How could you?!” you sobbed angrily into the phone as his face became anxious. “What’s wrong babe?” How could he try to play it off as if he had no idea?

“You lying, cheating, son of a bitch! We’re over,” you yelled angrily, hanging up right as his eyes met yours. You were close enough to see the horrified and heartbroken expression on his face, but before he could say anything you turned around and just ran. Grabbing the straps of your backpack you sprinted back down the streets, your vision blurry with tears as your (h/c) hair was pushed back by the wind. It was only when you were back at the bus station and were sure that Oikawa was nowhere to be seen that you stopped and realized; you didn’t know where to go next.

You could go to your Karasuno friends, but you weren’t in the mood to hear “I told you so” and couldn’t go home to not worry your family. As you sat there and looked at the screen blankly, tears continuing to fill your eyes, a notification appeared. ‘Hey loser, how’s the trip going?’ you read as your eyes looked at Iwa’s name by the message. He was your best shot, you were close and he wouldn’t judge, so without opening your phone again and ignoring all of Oikawa’s calls you jogged over to Iwaizumi’s place.

After ringing the apartment and hiding your teary and now out of breath voice in the intercom, Iwa’s mom buzzed you in, and once you got to his floor you were greeted by Iwaizumi looking concerned, more so once he saw the state you were in. “(y/n), are you ok?” Iwaizumi asked as he walked over to you, hugging you as you hid in his arms and sobbed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. It’s Oikawa,” you explained as he nodded and got you inside. He made some tea and brought it with you two to his room, both of you sitting on his bed. “Ok, what did Shittykawa do now?” he asked as he looked up at you and handed over a warm mug. “D- did you know h-he was cheating on me?” you managed to stutter out between sobs, trying to sound collected but being embarrassed by your inability to do so.

“He- wHAT?!” His reaction startled you, and when you looked up from the cup and saw his horrified, furious expression it made you feel less like you were overreacting. “I- the trip got postponed to Saturday morning, so I went to surprise him to his place and saw him in our bench making out with one of his fangirls,” you explained, watching as Iwa’s face became angrier and angrier, realizing how you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this, “I’m sorry I came to you, I know you’re best friends.”

Iwaizumi’s POV

Seeing them like this was already painful, but learning what Oikawa did was too much, Iwaizumi couldn’t believe how his friend could do this to (y/n). The spiker had never cared when he did stuff like this or worse than this to his fangirls. After all, he thought, they were the ones stupid enough to be blinded by his charm, but he never fathomed Oikawa would be able to do something like that to someone as great as you. “What? Hey, don’t even dare apologize,” he stated firmly as he took both mugs and set them by the bedside table, hugging (y/n) tightly and feeling them snuggle into him as they cried. Seeing them like this killed him. ‘Fuck Oikawa,’ he thought to himself, ‘if before I had stayed out of the way because they were good for each other that’s no longer the case.’

“I’m so sorry he did this to you; I should have stopped him. If I had known I would have, I should have been paying more attention,” the ace rambled into (y/n)’s hair as they cried softly, getting angry at himself before being interrupted by them pushing themselves away from him gently to look up at his face. “Why are you apologizing as if this was your fault? Iwa, he’s the one who’s an asshole, not you,” they stated, wiping a tear from their face.

“Because,” was he really going to say this? Screw it, here goes nothing, he told himself before continuing, “I knew you deserved better than him, but I convinced myself he would be different with you because I saw how good you were to him, and how happy you looked.” (y/n) just looked at him, mouth slightly ajar as they seemed to process what the boy had said. He couldn’t take the silence anymore so to avoid the blush he felt was beginning to appear on his cheeks he asked; “so did you dump him?” They nodded, looking down at their cup of tea as they chuckled and replied; “on the spot, over the phone.”

Iwaizumi chuckled back, releasing some of the nerves; “serves him right.” They smiled weakly at his comment and absentmindedly ran their fingers through their hair, My god were they gorgeous, Hajime thought to himself, only then realizing it was the first time it was just the two of them in his room, suddenly becoming self-conscious. Calm down, he told himself while taking a deep breath, looking over at (y/n). 'They just broke up with their boyfriend, being here with you is their last concern,' or so he thought. “Do you… want to watch (favorite movie) and eat ice cream?” the spiker suggested after thinking for a moment, he knew that was their favorite movie, and ice cream helps get over jerks, right?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡*✧･ﾟ:˚۰˚☽˚｡･:

#Cassie likes HQ!#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x gender neutral reader #oikawa angst #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi hajime fic #iwaizumi fic #iwaizumi x you

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Teach me something 2

It is 2:30 in the morning and here I am dropping something that is so cheesey we should call it fondue (ignore me I’m tired)

BUT this is the fic that I was talking about that I decided is going to turn into a four part mini series, so I hope you like this. Sorry for typos, but y’all know me well enough by now to expect them.

Read the other parts: part 1 // part 3 // part 4

---------

“Hey, guys, come on! I asked you to do this silently, this is not something we’re doing as partners,” you yell over your students. “The only reason you should be talking right now is if you are asking me a question and Josh is the only one doing that right now.”

Your students are not listening to you; it was the end of the day and a beautiful day at that. With the weather getting warmer and nicer compared to the winter you just had, the last thing your students wanted was to be doing chemistry; they wanted to be outside.

“Excuse me!” you end up yelling, something you hadn’t done before, causing some of your students to jump, “If you’re trying to be louder than me, it’s not going to work. Do you want to see how loud I can be?” You couldn’t believe you were yelling at your students, but for some reason, you were just at a breaking point. You see Annie across the room, eyes wide, shaking her head no at you being the loudest one, “Annie is saying no, do you guys agree?”

The students murmur in agreement, not talking and leaving the classroom in an awkward silence. Before turning back to Josh, you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath to try to calm yourself down a little before talking again, “I’m sorry guys, but I did say that this was something you should be trying on your own. If you have questions, ask your partner quietly. There is no need for me to have to shout over you.”

The entire week had been absolute chaos: the lab you wanted to do with your students didn’t work the way you wanted to, the warm weather was causing your students to act absolutely batshit by the end of the day, you hadn’t seen your husband since Sunday because of how busy he was gearing up for the playoffs with the Flames, and you were just overall falling behind on everything you wanted to do. Nothing was going right for you.

You sit down for the first time since lunch, your students working quietly the rest of the period, only whispers of sound as they asked each other questions they were probably too afraid to ask you at this point. The bell rings, signaling the end of the week, your students scurrying out as fast as they can, hopefully just to get outside and not to get away from you.

Searching through your desk, you finally find your phone buried under papers that you had to take home and grade that weekend. The end of the quarter was coming up, and you had at least seven assignments to get through and put in your grade book. Shoving them in your bag, you find Matthew’s contact, hoping that he was finally out of practice to pick up.

“You have reached the voicemail box of: Matthew Tkachuk,” you hear his voice intertwined with the automation for the voicemail greeting he was too lazy to customize, “Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Hey, babe,” you say, looking at the ring on your finger, “I’m done for the week, I’m probably going to be heading home soon but I want to try to get some grading done first. Any way you can pick something up for dinner tonight? I’m exhausted and I just don’t feel like cooking, unless you want to. Ok, call me when you’re out of practice. I love you, bye.”

You keep your phone out on your desk, sound on for if Matthew actually calls you. The entire week had been a game of telephone tag, and you were praying you would finally catch each other before actually seeing each other at home.

“Hey, Mrs. T?”

“Oh, hi, Nazeem, what’s up?” you greet one of your students as he comes in and sets his bag down on the lab bench.

“I was wondering if you could help me with those K problems?”

You sit down and get started, working on practice problems and trying to reteach him the equilibrium problems, “Ok, so for this problem, are we at equilibrium?”

“No.”

“How do we know that?”

“Um, because it says that,” he hesitates, scanning the words of the practice problem again, “the concentration of the NH3 is 0.405 molar, and it asks for the direction of the equilibrium shift?” he guesses.

“Yes, but you’re guessing aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, causing you to let out the first small laugh you had all week.

“Ok, so with these problems, it’s important that you know you can’t just use K, right? Because K is used for what?”

He stops and thinks for a moment, brow scrunched as he tries to answer your question, “When you have initial concentration and you’re looking for equilibrium?”

“You’re guessing again,” you tell him as he just nods admitting to it, “You clearly know the answers to what I’m asking, there’s no need to guess. Trust your answers, you’re going to need to on your final. But if we aren’t going to use K, what are we going to use?”

“Q.”

“Exactly. Calculate that, and then call me back, I’m going to grade some stuff, ok?” He nods, putting his head down to his paper to get to work. You go back to your desk and start grading, checking your phone to see if Matthew had at least texted you back. Nothing on your screen but the picture of your first kiss as husband and wife that you had as your background for the last couple of months. You would give anything right now to go back to the month leading up to your wedding last summer; you and Matthew were both off from teaching and hockey, spending a month of bliss together doing whatever you wanted.

“Mrs. Tkachuk?” you hear Nazeem ask, snapping you out of your daydream, “I think I got Q.”

“Let’s see. Ok, so you found that Q is 0.233, while K is given as 0.00542. So what does that mean for the equilibrium shift?”

“It shifts to the,” he starts, hesitating, only to be interrupted by the sound of your phone playing John’s Legend’s Stay With You, the song that was your first dance at your wedding. “Do you need to get that?” he asks, looking panicked that you would leave him for your phone call.

You knew it was Matthew calling you back, but you were with a student, therefore, still at work, “No, that’s just Mr. Tkachuk. I can call him when I’m on my way home.” The two of you get back to the problem, working for another half an hour before he finally says his mom was there to pick him up.

“Thank’s Mrs. T!” Nazeem calls, rushing out the door to meet his mom in front of the building.

Finally able to go back to your phone, none of your grading done that you had wanted to get done, copies that you just remembered you had to make for Monday, and a new voicemail to listen to. “Hey, love. Sorry I missed you. I’m just getting out of practice. I have an early day tomorrow and then they just told us today that we’re leaving for Dallas on Monday instead of Tuesday like we were originally supposed to. I’ll see you at home, but is there anything specific that you want me to get? Chinese, Italian, sushi, burgers, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, all of that sounds good to me. Ok, I love you, bye.”

You send the stuff you need printed, pretty much sprinting down the now deserted hallways as you were probably the last teacher there. “Hey, Matthew. I guess you’re driving? God, I can’t wait to get home and see you, especially since I’ve seen you all of, what, twenty minutes since last week? And get whatever you want, I don’t care, but oh, can you please do the dishes? They’re piling up in the sink and I’m pretty sure most of them are yours,” you tell him, even though that doesn’t really matter. The copier starts growling at you, spitting out the copies as you pray that it doesn’t crap out on you in the middle of the print job, “Sorry, that’s the copier. Remember the day I told you about being in the Stampede, you wanted to push the buttons on this thing? Maybe next time you come you can play with it, admin said when it breaks for it good we can get a new one. Welp, ok. I love you, see you at home.”

You get back to your classroom, stuffing the folders with the fresh copies, thinking back to that day a few years ago when Matthew had been doing the same thing. Matthew hadn’t really been in to visit during the school year since, but he was always the first one to offer to come in when you said you needed help with something, even if it was something he couldn’t help with.

Driving back to your apartment, you just want Matthew to call. Packing up your bag and lugging out the 210 or so things you needed to grade, plus the material you needed to play the lessons for the next week that you were still struggling with actually exhausted you. The only thing you wanted to do was go home and see your husband for a night before he had to be whisked away a day earlier than originally planned to spend what would now be six days in Texas.

But the NHL and the Flames were pretty good about letting the guys know about schedule changes. It seemed sort of weird that the organization would let them know only a few days ahead of time. You could text Noah or Johnny and ask them about it, but what would that say about your marriage to Matthew that you’ve been together for less than a year and you’re already going behind his back to get information?

You know what? Screw it. “Call Johnny,” you say to Siri, Johnny’s contact coming up on your car dash.

“Hello?” you hear him ask, clearly tired from the day he had.

“Hey, Johnny, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Y/N. What’s up? Is Matthew ok?”

“He’s fine, I just needed to ask you something,” you start, trying to figure out how to phrase it. You can’t straight up ask him if your husband was lying to you, but how to you put it otherwise? “I just wanted to check in; I heard you guys just found out today that you leave on Monday instead of Tuesday? I figured I’d offer to pick up some last minute things since I’m already doing it for Matty.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m all set. They told us about it last Wednesday, though. Matthew didn’t tell you?”

So he was lying? Or did he just forget to tell you until today? Either way, he shouldn’t have said that they found out today, he could have just said he didn’t remember. “I mean, I just remembered today. You know, long week, my students driving my crazy, normal stuff. But if you need anything, let me know. Tell Sean and Elias the same for me, too.”

“Gotcha. Bye, Y/N.”

He hangs up, leaving you to pull into your spot at your complex just in time to see Matthew running out the door. “Hey, babe!” he says, kissing you as you get out of your car. He was unusually happy for someone who seemed so tired on the phone. And for someone who just lied to his wife. “I’m running out to get the food now; I’ll be back in fifteen?”

“Ok,” you say, without being able to get another word in before he gets in his car and speeds off. You didn’t even know what you were eating, but at this point you would eat anything. You grab your bag, momentarily forgetting how heavy it was, lugging it inside to your place. All you wanted was to have a nice evening with your husband, one of the last ones you would probably be able to have for a while.

Wandering into the kitchen to put clean out your lunch bag, you find the sink full of dishes, indicating that Matthew had not loaded the dishwasher, even though you had asked him to. Sighing, putting your bag down on the counter, you get to work on the dishes. You probably needed something from the sink in the near future, and something told you Matthew wasn’t going to be getting to this any time soon.

Digging through the dishes, you prayed that none of them had started growing new substances that you didn’t want to deal with. Loading the dishwasher to capacity and still having more dishes, you sigh and just hand wash what was left. Mugs from last the beginning of the weak, plates, utensils, until you saw it: the handle of one of your favorite mugs, the rest of the mug not attached. Careful to dig around the rest of the sink, you found the rest of the mug, smashed under the weight of the dishes that had been sitting there. You had only liked the mug so much because it was the biggest one you had; there was nothing that special about it.

But it was enough for you to break, just like the mug had. All of the stress of the week came out right there, with you crumble to the floor crying, pulling your knees to your chest with your back against the cabinets, pieces of the mug still in your hands. Everything was getting to be too much, between constantly feeling behind at work, coming home almost every night to an empty apartment, doing everything to keep the apartment clean by yourself, and Matthew never being home was destroying you. You knew this would be hard when you said yes, but you never thought it would be this hard.

“Hey, babe, I got us burgers,” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen, “Oh, my god, Y/N, are you ok?” He puts the bag down next to you, getting on the ground and pulling you into him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

You hold up the pieces of the mug, trying to stop crying. “Shit,” Matthew lets out once he realizes what you’re holding, “Did you drop it? Why are you sitting down, there could be shards on the ground.”

He picks you up off the ground, grabbing the food with his other hand. “No, I didn’t drop it,” you hear yourself yell, all of the crying turning into anger, “I found it broken in the sink because I have been asking you to do the dishes and the weight of everything on top of it probably broke it!”

“I’m, I’m sorry,” he stammers out, “I’ve been busy with practice and we’re leaving soon, and-”

“Like I haven’t been busy? I have a weeks work of assignments to catch up on grading, I need to plan the rest of next weeks lessons, make the tests for my AP kids because last years sucked, plus I’ve been the one keeping everything clean and the one thing I asked you to do, you couldn’t even fucking do that. Plus, you lied to me about when you found out you were leaving on Monday instead of Tuesday.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny told me.”

“You were talking to Johnny?”

“Yeah, I was talking to Johnny; I’m friends with him, too, remember? I asked him if he wanted me to pick anything up for him before you guys leave, like I always do, and he told me you found out last Wednesday? Why would you lie about it?”

“Well, what about the fact that you lied to me about dancing with the stampede?”

You stop and look at him, his face red as you can tell the anger is boiling up inside him. He hated that you had to go behind his back like that. But, you were due for a fight, you just wish it wasn’t over something so stupid like this, especially when he dodged your question in the first place.

“What are you talking about? That was five years ago. And I never lied to you about that!”

“It’s not like you told me the truth.”

“That doesn’t mean I lied about it,” you say, both of you raising your voices each time as if to outdo the previous voice level, “and if we’re really going to hash out and bring up stuff that we already said doesn’t matter, what about that time we went out with the guys and ran into, what, five girls you had hooked up with before you met me? How about we talk about that?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he snaps.

“Oh, it doesn’t? It doesn’t matter that you introduced me to them as your friend when we were engaged, only for one of them to tell me about all the sexcapdes you had, none of which I knew about. But that’s right, we had a night when we talked about all our past relationships to get them out in the open, hookups included, but I guess those girls just slipped your mind, didn’t they?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted it.

The look on Matthew’s face was one you had never seen before and never wanted to see again; the pain in his eyes as his face calmed from red to pink, trying to figure out if any of this was worth it. He turns around, facing the counter instead of you. He couldn’t take the look on your face any more than you could take the look on his.

“How can I expect to raise a family with you if you can’t even wash the damn dishes, Matthew!”

He whips around, eyes wide. “A..a fa-family?” he stammers out. “Are you?”

“What?” you ask, not sure what he means. “Oh, no, no I’m not. I’m just saying. We’ve talked about kids. We both want kids, hell we even already have names picked out. But how the hell am I supposed to be able to depend on you when you’re home to take care of children if you can’t even take care of you and me?”

“I do take care of you! I have done nothing but love you and support you in what you do with your life. You think that you would be living here if it weren’t for me?” He says, immediately recoiling at what he just said. He knows that teachers don’t make a lot of money, but he always loved that you were so adamant about doing something you were passionate about. “Y/N/N, I’m so-” he starts to say, walking towards you.

“You know what?” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more from him. Of all the things he could have said, that was probably one of the most hurtful, “You have been my husband for almost a year,” you say, your pointer finger pressed to his chest, not fully pushing him away, but enough that he won’t come closer, “It’s time you start fucking acting like it.” Before he can get another word in, you turn on your heels and walk away.

“Where are you going?” he calls, trying to come after you.

“I’m going to Rory’s.”

“No, you’re staying here,” he says, trying to beat you to the door.

“No. You’re staying here and you’re going to figure out how to be a husband. I’m going to my friend’s place. I don’t care if that’s one less day with you at this point because if we don’t do this now,” you stop yourself, looking at the absolute pain in his eyes. You know you shouldn’t say it with his eyes glassing over with tears like they are, “then who knows how much longer we’re going to have.”

“Y/N, don’t leave,” Matthew pleads as you grab your keys, trying to ignore him. You could feel the tears coming back, but you couldn’t stay here with him. You go to your car, thinking that Matthew wasn’t following you. Pulling out of your spot, you see Matthew coming running, not fast enough since you pull away before he can get to you.

You drive around for a bit, debating on if you should even go to Rory’s or just go home. She was the one who had convinced you to tell Matthew about the Stampede, you knew she could give you advice with this. Knocking on her door, trying not to start crying again, she doesn’t answer. You should have called, you should just go back to Matthew.

“I’m coming!” you hear Rory call on the other end, just as you were about to leave. She opens the door, dressed like she’s getting ready to go out, “Hey, love, are you ok?”

She pulls you into her place as you start ranting to her about the fight that just happened with Matthew. “I just, I don’t know what to do. I love him, but I can’t keep doing things alone.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. I said he needs to figure out how to be my husband.”

“Look, you’re free to stay here for as long as you need to, but you need to go talk to him. Your marriage isn’t going to work unless you talk to him, just like I told you when you wouldn’t tell him about the Stampede,” she says, getting up and going to her kitchen.

She was right. You needed to go home to Matthew, but what would you even say to him at this point? What more could you tell him to get through to him that you needed your husband to actually act like your husband? You sit there on her couch, definitely intruding as she runs around her place getting ready to go out with her boyfriend, telling you not to worry because “he won’t be here to pick me up for another hour or so, he’s always late like that.” Meanwhile, Matthew was blowing up your phone with texts and calls that you weren’t answering.

This wasn’t fair to him; you shouldn’t be doing this. “Hey, Ror?”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” She walks back into her living room to find you standing and trying to dig your keys out of your bag. “He wants you to be happy. Go talk to him.”

You rush home, definitely breaking a few traffic laws on the way. “Matthew?” you call once you get in the door. You look down, seeing the hallway lined with rose petals, an almost overwhelming smell of vanilla coming from candles that were lit in your home. “Matty?”

You follow the petaled path into the kitchen to see Matthew sitting at the table wearing blue dress pants and a white button-down, the outfit that he knew you loved on him, your favorite dinner sitting at your seat, along with a bottle of your favorite wine. “What is this?”

“I’ve been the worst,” he says, getting up to go to you. “I should have done the dishes before you asked, I shouldn’t have forgotten to tell you about leaving earlier and then lied about it, I should be at your beck and call at all times. I’m going to help you with your grading this weekend because the only place I’m going to be before I leave is at practice or by your side and no where else. I’ll even break into the school with you so we can break the copier.”

You can’t help but laugh, tears forming in your eyes, for the first time not out of sadness or anger. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything and everything for you. You are the love of my life. We said for better or worse, rich or poor, sickness or health until the day we die, and I know that I have never said anything that I meant more before I said that. I love you, Y/N, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been showing it,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“I love you, too. And I just need to you to do things when I ask you to. If I’m asking you for help it’s because I really need it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I will, I just can’t lose you,” he says, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“The only time you’re going to lose me is when you wander away from me in the store,” you say. He laughs, wiping away the tear that had fallen from his eyes.

“I know you said we weren’t starting a family yet, but what do you say we go and practice?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

“I think you’ve had enough practice,” you tell him, smiling. His eyes grow wide, the smile on his face doing the same. Picking you up off your feet, he whisks you away to your bedroom, definitely not needing any more practice.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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sourbat · 3 years

Note

is hammertooth 39 (secret admirer) ok? It might be for any other ship instead if it's already asked !

*throws arms* have an entire fic.

Heads up: i cheated and wrote an AU

Rehearsal was every Tuesday and Thursday, from 5pm onward, though it was unusual for practice to extend beyond nine. Even in the rare instances it did break past the dreaded four-hour barrier, Toki wasn’t too worried. The cold still of the night never bothered him so long as he had space to move and breathe in, along with the lamplight to remind him he was above ground, and enjoyed the ten-minute walk from the rehearsal studio to the small building that served as both a used bookstore and café. Tonight wasn’t any different. It was just past nine when Toki entered the café, plaintive expression replaced with a hit of musical nostalgia and the hot, tasty aroma of roasting coffee.

Toki took to visiting the café two weeks into joining the band, after a session ended with a nasty downpour. Toki had somehow missed the industrial, brick building that hosted both shops until late at night while shivering and waiting for his bus that only arrived by the hour past eight. Though he barely read anything past age twelve, and had hardly any money to spare, Toki took residence in the store filled to the brim with dry-smelling books, posters, tie-dye shirts, puzzles and board games, and Toki eventually found himself cozily situated at a table located in the furthermost corner of the café, where the boundary between books and nitro cold-brewed drinks met. It was past nine, and hardly a soul was ordering anything caffeinated at this hour, but no one told Toki to leave, so he stayed. No one told him off the second time he stumbled in, this time entering through the café side of the parlor, and once Toki grew familiar with the table nearest the glass pane with a view of street, decided he’d make the warm-smelling shop a permanent fixture of his rituals until politely asked to leave.

Winter had officially arrived, and though the weather paled in comparison to Norway’s frosty, white winters, Toki donned his fair share of layers as he stepped inside the café. He was hit with a warm, flavorful scent, and inhaled deeply as he glanced at the counter, spotting the backside of the tall barista busy draining old decaffeinated coffee into the sink, and walked to his usual spot. He passed old music posters of punk-rock bands, indie groups and displays stapled to the brim with “wanted” ads or requests for roomies, and located his seat tucked by the window.

There was a cup of coffee waiting for him when he arrived.

Once he set his guitar aside, Toki eyed the cup, picked it up, and wasn’t surprised that it was still warm. He also wasn’t surprised when he removed the foam protector and saw the same sloppy heart hurriedly etched by the barista when he took the order, and wasn’t too shocked when he brought the lip to his nostrils and inhaled that delectable scent of sweet white and bitter chocolate intermingling with one another. Toki glanced around the area, spotting an older gentleman reading the paper, two students engaged in vigorous studying, the barista sorting through the remaining biscuits and treats in the display rack, and another employee pushing a tray of books just outside the café’s perimeter.

This was the fourth time Toki was greeted with a cup of coffee, and the fourth time he missed out on figuring out who had ordered it for him. The first time was understandable: rehearsal ended earlier than normal after a string snapped and cut Skwisgaar’s hand, and when Toki snuck inside, had a long line of people asking for smoothies and precooked take away meals. With all the hulabaloo, Toki barely noticed when the barista slipped by his table, dropped off the cup, and told him “it’s on the house” before parting, giving Toki no time to respond. By the time Toki finished being so giddy over the surprise gift, had considered that he’d need to give himself a shot before drinking, so much time had passed and when he looked around the café. He couldn’t begin to sort through the crowds and determine who bought him the surprised drink. The second time was stupidity on his part, having forgotten the promise of checking the café because it had been so cold, and upon being granted the cup, was so thankful he only had the forethought to thank the barista before greedily using the hot cup to warm his tired, chilled spirits. The third was a bust because, like today, when Toki arrived the drink was already waiting for him. Toki thought about asking the barista since he was the one filling the orders, but because Toki knew the barista was friendly with the girl customers and coworkers, he was hesitant to ask for a name.

He rubbed the tip of his nose, enjoying the heated friction caused by plastic and chocolatey steam, then settled into his seat and took the first warm sip. The beverage was warm, but not as hot as it normally was when he arrived half-past eight. Whoever was buying him drinks either probably had to leave before or around nine.

Toki took another sip, smiling to himself and whomever his secret admirer might be.

What if it’s a dude, Toki pondered midway through a gulp that, despite the beverage’s lukewarm temperature, still managed to fill his chest with a comforting warmth. Whoever was buying him drinks, Toki wished they weren’t so shy. Bad enough Toki had a miserable time figuring out when a person was flirting with him. He finally had someone signaling their direct interest, and they were too afraid to approach little ol’ him for a small chat. Toki didn’t see why. He’d love for someone to sit down with him and let him in how they figured the combination of white and dark chocolate would be his favorite, or give their opinion on the ancient, but tasteful punk that played muted in the background of the café side of the shop. Of course, Toki would also love to know when they noticed him, developed a crush, and decided to help bring an end to his long, cold nights with something so sweet and thoughtful, but for now would settle for a simple “hello.”

He finished his drink quickly, enjoying the warmth while it lasted, and settled into his corner, eyeing the intersection and bus top near the corner. A few minutes passed, and something knocked gently against his table. Toki jolted, turned and saw the tall barista retract his hand to then point a finger at the neglected cup.

“Hey, man,” he greeted coolly, offering a short nod to Toki. “You good?”

Toki couldn’t help but notice the clock on the wall, saw it was thirteen minutes to closing, and the barista’s serene politeness was likely a passive means of trying to kick him out. He gave him a nervous nod in return, then reached for his guitar case’s strap as the barista picked up the cup.

“You headed out already?” the barista commented once Toki slung the case over his shoulder.

Toki made one glance at the barista. It only then dawned on him that his admirer might be one of the workers in the store. The urge to ask the barista filled his gut with butterflies, and when the older man asked if there was something on his mind, Toki shook his head, stood so quickly his case almost got trapped with the chair, and stumbled off.

Perhaps another night, Toki thought, then exited the café.

…

After a particularly good, but exhausting rehearsal, Toki arrived at the café just shy of 8:42 p.m. The last of the early Christmas shoppers were making their rounds on the book half of the store, and there were a few shoppers, mostly families, huddled around the dessert and snack display.

When he exited the bathroom, Toki was greeted to the surprising snap of peppermint mixed with his mocha, along with a decent helping of cracked peppermint and chocolate sprinkles coating the whipped top. There were quite the number of cute, friendly faces in the area, though Toki was helplessly lost at determining whether the occasional glance in his direction was a possible sign of interest. He does pick up on the heat of his cup, and when he slides the foam covering down, sees the same sloppy heart had smeared when he pressed and dragged the cardboard against it.

Maybe it is a worker, he thought, eyes wandering around, darting between hanging lightbulbs, tables covered with neglected magazines and leftover gift wrapping. Given the size of the bookstore, chances were it was one of the late-night shift workers. Toki’s eyes settled on a family leaving the café, holding some wrapped books, and felt his stomach tickle as he took another sip of his delicious drink. They could be seasonal, he worried, after dwelling on the thought a bit longer.

A sharp voice called out a name, and when Toki trend, saw the barista leaving the pick-up counter to start chatting with the young woman working alongside him. The thought to ask the barista arose once more, and this time Toki counted on the unspoken bond between men to hopefully work up the courage to ask the older gentleman. Sure, the guy was always so friendly with the girls, but that didn’t change the laws of nature, right? Guys looked out for each other, Toki concluded, and convinced himself to leave the seat and approach the line once it had shrunk to an acceptable wait.

Toki stared at a few delectable treats, unaware that he was up next until the barista called for him.

“Hey there,” he greeted, voice cheery and befitting for the season.

Toki nervously fidgeted once the man caught his attention. A sharp, brown eye settled on Toki. “Uhm, hellos,” he said, both amazed and discouraged that his confidence would vanish so quickly with a simple look.

The barista glanced at his coworker, sent her silent nod, then returned to the register. He rested both hands on the counter, and with a friendly countenance, asked, “Anything I can get ya, man?”

The question was friendly enough, and the man, despite his rough features, had a nice smile that drew Toki forward.

“Uhm, askually…” The barista gave a nod. Toki thought about how he overstayed his welcome the last time, and wondered if the barista remembered, or cared. Probably not, Toki thought, or hoped. Prayed. “I justs wanted…”

“We got an issue in the back.” The female coworker popped her head from a room, her thick hair bouncing as she learned against the opened doorway. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re missing a shipment of soy and coconut milk.”

The barista’s smile faded as he turned and met with the girl. “Are you kiddin’ me?” he asked, then promptly returned to Toki and, with a slightly strained smile, said, “Sorry, man. One second.”

Toki nervously fiddled with his hands as he accidentally listened in on the conversation, catching on the older man’s growing frustration, and the woman’s insistences that it wasn’t her fault, that he should have a word with the blond with the glasses, that this always happens when she takes a day off from work. Suddenly, the question seemed stupid. Suddenly, Toki realized he was about to ask a stranger something rather personal. An agreement that the barista ultimately partook in, but a sacred act that was still rather private. And what if the barista refused to share the name, or the female worker thought he was weird for asking? Was it weird to be asking in the first place?

The barista abruptly returned. “I’m sorry. Do you mind wait–”

Caught in the moment, and terrified of having nothing to say, Toki’s eyes settled on the older man’s rolled-up sleeves, and he frantically blurted, “I just wants to tells you I likes your tattoos. Really ams a cool sleeves. Well, goodnights.”

He about-faced before either worker could react to his rushed fray of words and slipped back into his seat, burying his face with a beanie as he inwardly swore at how terrible that went. There was a good chance he'd have to avoid visiting the café side of the store come next week, and quite possibly after that. Maybe for the rest of his life.

Toki slumped, rested his head on top of the table, and stared dejectedly at the cup. After a few minutes, he lifted his stare, catching the bright shimmer of the Christmas decorations slowly encroaching on the industrialized setting of the café.

It would be so nice to know who his admirer was before Christmas, he thought.

…

The following week Toki spent all day at work, doing his and picking up Murderface’s shift (the man complained of an upset stomach, though Toki had his doubts), and after a long day, dragged his heavy instrument down the nearly hour-long route of bus rides, only to have Pickles greet him at the front doors of their rented space to let him know that rehearsal was cancelled. Nathan’s dad suffered some minor injury, but the event left their singer so shaken that he departed early to visit his family. Skwisgaar called the house earlier, but Pickles had an inkling Murderface would be too lazy to call and update Toki on the news, and as such, waited here to drop him back off at his place.

After pulling two shifts, Toki welcomed the ride, stowed his guitar in the back, and reclined his seat as far back as he could, then rested on his side. Pickles jokingly warned him to sit his ass up while they passed through the gentrified part of the neighborhood, lest a cop pull them over. Once he did, Toki spotted the café and secondhand bookstore.

The light at the intersection turned red, and as Toki stared inside the shop, became painfully aware of how close the holidays were, and how badly he wanted to know who it was who was buying him drinks. Toki glanced at the red light. If he drove off with Pickles now, that unknown admirer would leave behind a gift that no one would drink. The thought left Toki uneasy, filling with a funny guilt that made little sense. It wasn’t as though he could prove his secret admirer was even around when he arrived…though, the longer he thought about it, the less that made sense as well.

The light turned green, and right as Pickles hit the gas, Toki fumbled in his seat, and requested that Pickles drop him off here and please take his guitar home for him.

“Ya sure about this?” Pickles asked a final time before reaching across his seat to shut the passenger door. “S’ gonna be real cold tonight.”

“Ams sure,” Toki said, smiling through chattering teeth at the already rapidly declining temperature. He rubbed his cold palms together, feeling the wrinkled twenty that Pickles so graciously provided him once Toki explained his story, and forced a still grin upon his taut, shivering face. “Thanks for helpins, Pickle.”

“No prob, dood,” the older man replied. “Do me a favor? They don’t show up by half-past eight, give me a call. I’ll take ya to a bar n’ we can drink through this.”

“Okays.”

Pickles revved the engine. “Don’t wait too long, Toki.”

“I won'ts,” Toki replied through shudders, but knew it would be at least three hours before he could fully determine who was buying him the drinks.

Toki managed the first hour well enough, visiting various nearby stores and distracting himself as best he could, but found himself leaving after only a few short minutes, constantly drawn to the used bookstore and café. By the second hour, it was getting uncomfortably snappish, and Toki could see each miserable exhale, and felt the sting of every other inhale. Knowing the risks, he huddled near the bookstore, waited for a group to enter, and joined them and entered through the bookstore half of the shop.

He hid amongst the puzzles and board games, which proved to do a better job at keeping his mind off the inevitable as he read through summaries, rules and guidebooks. Once it neared eight, and Toki knew his drink would be placed around that time, he edged closer, covering a portion of his face with a scarf, and his forehead with his beanie, hoping that it would be enough to obscure his identity as he peeked around a display of recycled bookmarks, gift cards and keychains and stared into the café portion of the store.

By now, the familiar rock music that lulled in the background was gone and replaced with slightly muted holiday melodies filled with the jingle of bells. Though he’d sequestered himself in the store for an hour, the sight of his empty table made him shiver. He checked the time with his phone, saw he had about fifteen minutes left before the estimated time of ordering, and backed himself into a row of classical science fiction.

He maneuvered through some rows, shifting his position and checking the table from another vantage point. He caught the female barista on her phone, checking a text while the line was empty. Toki waited a bit longer, picking up this year’s best sellers and pretending to show interest, when he overheard the male barista call for his partner to man the register.

Toki lifted his stare, saw the clock on the wall, and realized this was just about the right time for the order to be made. About this time, Nathan would normally tell everyone he was done for the night, and Toki would take his ten-minute walk over here and enjoy his surprise drink.

“Still just a heart, Hammersmith?”

“Whatever. Just ring it up for me.”

Toki lowered the magazine further as he watched the male barista mark up a cup and attend to his work. The girl snickered, leaned across the countertop and tapped her fingernails against the register to charge the man for his drink.

“Y’know, this would be a lot easier if you wrote your number,” she said, paying no mind as the older man cast her a roll of the eye before returning to the drink. “Or, better yet: you can just hand him the drink and tell him you’re interested.”

“Customers,” the man stiffly replied, and the younger of the two shook her head, faced the front, and greeted the two older women making their way towards the front counter.

Toki’s heart suddenly jumped into his throat as he caught the older man turning, reaching beneath the counter and grabbing a container of whipped cream for his newly finished drink. His interest grew as he focused in on the man, watching thin lips form an even finer line as he covered the top of the drink with a nice, bounteous amount of whipped cream. As he grabbed a small shaker filled with sprinkles, Toki fumbled. His heart trembled, remembering how gently the man had knocked on his table last week. Toki had assumed his smile and polite manner were nothing more than a nice way of trying to coax a customer out of a closing store. He didn’t consider how confused the older man had been when Toki suddenly left, and how apologetic he’d been last Thursday when his coworker called him aside.

Toki gave one final, distanced glance at the older man as he covered the lid to his drink, walked around the counter and carried it all the way to Toki’s specified table. As the man hovered over it, readjusted its placement so it was more aligned on the center, Toki fixated on the older man’s hair, lush and tied in a bun, and the right of his arm that lacked the same amount of ink as the left, but possessed a few decorative rings that took to Toki’s fancy. He saw the man’s weary, but fretful smile as he backed from the table, returned to the counter where his coworker signaled one final “really?” before replacing her sarcastic gleam with amore controlled appearance.

The drink rested upon the table. Toki swallowed, then shoved his hand deep into his jacket’s pocket. The wrinkled twenty crinkled in his shaking, sweating hands.

Without a care of how it might look, Toki left the aisle and walked straight into the café. The older man didn’t notice, but the woman sure did, and once her forest-green eyes set upon and read the determination in Toki’s eyes, stepped aside and vanished into the back of the store.

Toki knocked on the counter. “Hellos?”

“Abby, customer–” The man glanced over his lanky shoulder, spotted Toki at the counter, and stopped himself from saying more. He quickly removed himself from the sink, then greeted Toki with a charming, albeit less prepared, grin.

“Heys,” Toki said, smiling warmly at the man. His eyes dropped to the nametag situated on the man’s apron. “Magnus?”

The man lifted his head at the sound of his name. “What can I do for you, man?”

“Wants to order something nice,” Toki answered, English slipping and turning messy near the end as he yanked the twenty from his pocket. “Whats do you recommends?”

Magnus turned slightly, eyes shifting passed Toki to the drink he’d just made him.

“Oh, donts worry about that,” Toki replied before Magnus could say a word. “Ams not gonna wastes a free drinks!” If he could say a word. Toki figured the man, despite his rough contours and cool appearance, was as shy as he figured his secret admirer to be. If his position didn’t force him to remain quiet, the fear of public rejection most certainly would.

“Well…” the man cupped his large hands together, “We have a hot cider that’s pretty popular. A gingerbread flavored latte.”

“Which ones you likes the best?”

“The cider is nice,” Magnus answered calmly. “Especially on a cold night like this one. It’s not as sweet, though.”

“Sounds good. Gets me a mediums, please.” Toki watched as the man ringed up the price of the drink. He glanced at the dessert display and chewed in inner cheek. “What’s about snacks? Anythinks you likes?”

Magnus shrugged. “Cider goes well with the gingerbread stuff.”

“Ams the bread good?”

“It’s nice, yeah.”

Toki went ahead and ordered both the bread and gingerbread man and, upon Magnus’ suggestion, asked for the bread to be warmed before paying for his additional drink and snacks.

“Can I have a name for this order?” Magnus asked. His expression gave nothing away. Toki couldn’t tell if he was eager to learn his name, or dreading to hear it.

“Toki,” he answered back, and when Magnus joked and asked if Toki was going to share those treats or hoard them for himself for the night, Toki ignored him, just smiled and told him to please keep the change before heading off to the restroom to supply himself some insulin.

He hurried out a few minutes later, head still spinning from the interaction, but found his table as it normally was, empty and bearing the single cup. Toki rushed to it, took his seat and grabbed the warm cup into his anxious hands. He brought it close to him, but refrained from taking a sip, and instead patiently waited for his name to be called so he could pick up his new order. He fished through his pockets, pulled out a pen, and snatched up a nearby napkin from another table and hurriedly began scribbling his number across the slightly stained paper. He drew back, observed it, and frowned.

“Hey.”

Toki carefully folded the napkin and stowed it into his pocket. He looked up at Magnus holding two bags in one hand, the drink in his other.

“Oh, you didn’ts have to carries all of thats for me,” Toki said with a mild gasp.

“It’s no problem, man,” Magnus replied. He offered the morsels to Toki. After a short thanks from Toki, Magnus stepped back, but didn’t leave. Instead, he lingered near the table, eyes resting on the drink he had made some several minutes ago. “You sure you don’t want me to toss that?”

“Nopes, that ams for me to drinks,” Toki answered. He glanced down at his recently purchased meal and, without looking up, added, “this ams for somebody else. Someones specials.”

“Oh?” Magnus broke into a sly chuckle. “Lucky you.”

“Yeah,” Toki said aloud, feeling relieved right when he had said it. He glanced up at Magnus, catching the slight hurt in the older man’s good eye, and after a quick inhale, said with a slight stutter, “it ams for you.”

“What?”

Magnus’ voice was terribly soft. His expression yielded to whatever whims he had held within him for so long, and Toki saw the comment had caught him so off guard that he almost looked like he might run away at any moment. Though equally as nervous, Toki swallowed away any fear he had in him, and grinned at Magnus.

“I saws you makins this drinks for me,” he explained through slightly chattering teeth. God, he was nervous. He was probably just as terrified as Magnus was, but unlike the older man standing before him, hands fumbling and tugging his apron ins desperate please to keep busy an in control, Toki knew exactly what he was going to say now. “Thanks you for getting me drinks after rehearsals.”

Magnus played with his ponytail. “Ah, well…it’s no biggie.”

Blushing, Toki added. “Was hopin’ I could surprise you with a drinks, too?”

That soothed the nerves. Magnus dropped his arm, face darkening as his head sunk with the shaking appendage, but lifted after a quick exhale and exposed the flattery hidden underneath. “I appreciate that…Toki.”

Now cupping his drink, Toki asked. “When does you get offs work?”

“Not till half-past ten,” Magnus confessed with a low, but pleasing voice that Toki was sure he wouldn’t mind hearing more often. He watched Magnus check the clock, frowning. “You, uh, sure–”

“I can waits!” Toki announced with a hearty beam.

He grinned wide, watching and holding in a chuckle when Magnus took another step back, hands pressing against the back of his head as he fought to control the rising excitement building in him. Toki caught a glimpse of some additional tats he overlooked before, noticed the red gemstone glimmering as Magnus brought his hands down, and wondered more about the man who’d taken a liking to him since he had started visiting the store.

“Beens waitinks for a whiles to haves a friendly chats with yous,” Toki said, resting his blushing face into his palms. “What ams few minutes more?”

Magnus smiled back at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

#magtok #hammertooth #magnus hammersmith #toki wartooth #coffee shop #AU #ficlet ask thing #thank you #totally not betaed #or edited #but I'll fix it and publish later

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chaoslaura · 3 years

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Can this be for Willex please. Fluff 11 “I’m so proud of you.”

If it’s ok to ask, can Alex have a bad panic attack when he’s out with Willie.

I know Alex having a panic attack has been done a few times but I always feel like once he’s gone through it, the fic just ends and I’d like to read one where Alex is really embarrassed and Willie is just so caring afterwards and really protective.

Hi hi I loved the Willex prompt you did it was so good. Can I ask for them for a prompt? Fluff 11. “I’m so proud of you” I had an idea Alex has a panic attack, it’s the first time Willie has seen it happen, Willie helps him through it and he says that to Alex

First, thanks for the kind words I’ve gotten so far.

For this prompt I have gotten two requests that were kinda similar, so I mixed them together to create one story, I hope you like it though.

Read it on AO3

Warnings: panic attack, mention of self harm (nails digging into skin)

As someone who has never experienced anxiety or panic attacks, I didn’t feel comfortable to write a full panic attack scene in case I wrote it wrong because the only things I know about it are from reading fics myself. But please feel free to talk to me if I depicted anything wrong.

In retrospect it wasn’t perfectly clear what had set it off. It wasn’t one specific event, or person, or thought, rather the whole day was just one big disaster. From the minute Alex woke up nothing was going according to plan. Which wouldn’t be catastrophic per se but on some days even a minor accident could be enough to push him over the edge, and today these accidents just kept piling on top of each other till Alex couldn’t see over the mountain.

When his phone had gone off with a beeping sound and vibrated on his bedside table and Alex peeled his eyes open, he was confused for a moment. Why wasn’t the sun shining in his face? Alex would always wake up with sunrays covering his bed and face from where he didn’t close the curtains the full way. Liking waking up with the bright sunlight. But this morning it was different.

Peeking at his phone he realized it wasn’t morning at all, that’s why. “8:30? Fuck!” Class would’ve already started by then and Alex was never late. Never. It was one of his fears. Having to come in while every student and every pair of eyes was aimed at him and the teacher was pinning him down with a reproving look and writing with red ink into the class book that he had been late. To Luke and Reggie, it would’ve just been another line next to their name, nothing unusual since they started high school, but to Alex punctuality was a sign of respect and a part of keeping his day together. He always knew when to be where, dragging his other two friends with him because as Julie once said he had their collective brain cell at all times.

With a hop Alex sprung out of bed into the bathroom. While hastily brushing his teeth, he wondered why his parents didn’t wake him up. Didn’t they notice his closed door or his shoes next to the front door? They were aware of Alex schedule; they must have been knowing he was running late so why on earth did they just left for work without waking him? Alex could’ve worried about it for hours but frankly he didn’t have time for thinking about his parent’s behaviour. Not since it changed drastically after they found out about Alex ‘habit’ to kiss guys. More precisely Willie. His boyfriend.

Not having time for dreaming about his perfect boyfriend either, Alex raced back into his room and searched through his wardrobe for his favourite sweater, the pink one, his friends nagged him to get, saying pink was really suiting him and it would piss of his parents for sure.

Coming up with nothing after searching through it for three times, he came to the daunting conclusion it must be in the laundry. It was his feel-good hoodie, it was comfy and soft and warm, and just gave him safety, he really needed it today. Resting his head on the closet door with more force than necessary, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And one more. Come on you can survive one day without your hoodie. Alex tried to persuade himself and quickly grabbed another Shirt to put on without putting much thought into it.

He decided to skip breakfast, school lunch wasn’t that far away, and headed out of the door after making sure he had at least all the books he needed today. He always packed his bag the evening before but who knows what he could’ve missed. Standing in the front yard of the house, for the second time today, he was confused. Shouldn’t his bike be standing there? Racking his brain and shortly fearing someone stole it, it came back to him. His brother had it today since his own was in repair. Just great. Now he had to walk. Without one of his parents taking him with them in their car, without his bike, and the school bus long gone.

It wasn’t that far, but it meant he would be even later. He at least would miss the whole first period and could walk in the next classroom like everybody else and no one would give him questioning looks. Oh no Alex groaned internally; his next class was math. Right, today was Tuesday and his second period being math with Reggie. Reggie at least had an idea of what topic they covered this week, but Alex was completely lost, and he was pretty sure Mr. Smiths hated him for his lack of knowledge. He was trying, he really did, even hiring Reggie as his tutor but it just wouldn’t stick, and now he had to suffer through it while his brain was already distracted. Hopefully Mr. Smiths wouldn’t pick him today, that’s the last thing he needed.

Taking big steps to hurry up, he arrived quicker than he anticipated. Rushing in and through the hallways he stepped into the room just as the bell rang, indicating class started. Hastily taking his seat next to Reggie, he took his book out of his bag while Reggie fixated him with a questioning look, raised eyebrow and all. ‘Where have you been?’ Reggie mouthed but Alex shook his head, he would explain later. The last thing he wanted was for Mr. Smiths to catch him talking in class and getting another mark.

Even though he was physically there now, his brain decided to race in the other direction. It worked on full speed since he had woken up and concentrating on the math problem written down before him was not achievable. But to his luck Mr. Smiths left him alone and Reggie passed him notes with the right answers to which Alex threw him a grateful smile.

Finally, after two more classes he walked with Luke to the cafeteria only to discover he forgot his money at home. His wallet must be sitting on his desk. Groaning he put his head in his hands and then carded swiftly through his hair with his fingers. He was really hungry, if his grumbling stomach wasn’t indicator enough, after skipping breakfast, but without money there were no possible means to get any food.

Luke sensed Alex distress immediately. “Alex? What is it?” Oh, yeah, Alex almost forgot Luke was beside him, having zoned out completely.

“Forgot my lunch money, tis all.” He replied defeated.

“I buy you one today and you can get me something next week. Don’t worry about it.” Luke gave Alex a pat on the back and marched on towards the doors. “Are you coming or what?” He asked over his shoulder.

Alex was so grateful in that moment but quickly followed his friend.

Sitting down on the table with their plates the others were already there. Meaning Julie, Flynn, and Willie who gave him a short peck on the mouth. “Hello, hotdog.” He greeted Alex with a bright smile Alex could only compare to the sun and a warmth spread through his body, calming him down at least a little, it was a side effect that always came while being in the presence of Willie.

Reggie and Flynn were deep into a conversation about frogs to which Alex could not contribute anything, and Julie and Luke were already discussing songs they could rehearse later the day and Alex wasn’t really in the mood to interfere with them, their energy was too high for him to match right now. Leaning against Willie’s shoulder while his boyfriend scrolled through his Instagram feed on his phone Alex couldn’t help but bounce with his leg up and down. The uncomfortable feeling from this morning still settled deep in his bones and it seemed it wouldn’t leave anytime soon, and Alex knew shaking his legs wouldn’t do anything but there was no harm to try.

A ping signalled an incoming message. Fumbling for his phone in his pockets he instantly regretted pulling it out as soon as he saw the name on the screen. It was his mum and she never messaged him if it wasn’t important and recently important messages meant reminding him to behave.

Wrestling with himself for a short minute he decided to open it and skipped over the text. He must’ve zoned out for a bit because as he came back a hand was seeking out his right one and Alex realized he was biting on the skin around his nails as he did so often unconsciously. Willie took the hand in his and laced their fingers together, giving him a small smile to say he was here. Luke who was sitting on the other side of Alex laid a hand on his shaking knee. “What has gotten you today? Are you okay?” There was always worry weaved in his voice and Alex was again reminded that today isn’t a good one.

Alex didn’t like having the attention on him and he was glad that Reggie and Flynn were still deep in their conversation, knowing it wouldn’t help if they stared at him too. He knew Julie was listening, but she at least scribbled on a piece of paper what could’ve been lyrics and didn’t openly questioned him and his behaviour. Alex knew that his body always betrayed him when he was anxious, showing the tell-tale signs when he was spiralling, and he didn’t have to say anything before one of his friends gave him the opportunity to vent.

Alex sighed deeply. “Just not a good day. And my mum wrote me. My grandparents are coming by this weekend. From my fathers’ side.” Pocketing his phone again to try to get the message out of his mind, he leaned further into Willie and found a pair of arms winding around him but giving him space to breath.

“Shit.” Luke let out. He was the only one of them who had met Alex grandparents, but they all knew how much Alex despised them. Having to put on a front whenever they came around, it was just plain exhausting, and Alex wanted to push away the reminder of their visit until the day arrived.

Alex nodded to show he shared Luke’s sentiment and began to play with the rings on Willie’s finger. Today was truly one bad thing happening after the other and he couldn’t wait till he came home and could slump down on his bed and just breath for a minute before he had to start with his homework.

He asked his English teacher if he could get any extra credits since his essay only got an 80 and his parents wouldn’t be pleased with that result but what else could he do? Hide the paper till his parents found out on their own? No, he needed a plan before he would show the note to his parents and if that meant extra work, so be it.

The end of the school day didn’t come as fast as Alex had hoped, the hours dragging by and with every look to the clock, just a few minutes had passed, and it might have been the slowest time had ever gone by. The buzzing under his skin that had started not shortly after lunch when Alex couldn’t help but overthink what could happen over the weekend didn’t help his nervousness and by the time he left the school building the skin around his nails was red and bitten down and Alex knew he shouldn’t but he had done it for so long it was hard to stop the habit.

Alex decided to walk the way home, the thought of sharing his space with other students on the school bus made his skin crawl, the fresh air should help clear out his head a little bit and he could put his nervous energy into walking. The faster the better till his calves were burning. Before he turned the first corner though, he could hear someone yelling his name behind him. Spinning around in case it was one of his friends he had to discover it was not in fact one of the boys but instead John. John, a guy with the most average name and most average face, had been on his case since he came out in school and hadn’t stopped yet no matter how often Luke threatened him with a serious ‘talking’ after school or Flynn and Julie actually talked with him while letting out their frightening personas that even made Luke and Alex take a step back.

Alex wasn’t in the mood to listen to John’s comments and hastily turned around to continue his run home. Not today. It was the last thing he needed today. With all the spiralling thoughts already spinning in his head he didn’t need another person pulling all his fears to the surface.

Closing the front door behind him Alex didn’t know when or how he arrived at home, the walk was completely erased from his mind, replaced with a static in his head and he realized once he got to his room his breathing had picked up. No no no come on; you know the breathing techniques. He told himself and tried to calm himself while he sat on the ground before his bed, his bag lazily thrown into the corner.

Alex doesn’t actually know how much time had passed until he sensed someone sitting down some distance before him. The tears in his eyes made it difficult to see the room before him clearly and he could only made out the long dark hair and colourful Shirt, trying to concentrate on the pattern.

“Alex?” Willie’s tentative voice pierced through the fog in Alex mind, but he could only nod shortly to indicate he heard him. Speaking was not yet in the realm of the possible.

Some more minutes or what felt more like hours to him, but Alex knew wasn’t the case, Willie’s figure stood more clearly in front of him and the room wasn’t spinning as much. His hands were still shaking and the tear tracks on his cheek still not dried. But it was better.

Willie settled beside him now that Alex could see him. “Hey hotdog.” Alex turned his head to the voice. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Alex gave a quick jerk with the head to say yes, not quite trusting his voice yet.

Slowly and so that Alex could see it in the corner of his eye Willie took Alex hand and opened the fist it was in and turning it around to inspect the crescents indents in the palm of his hand. Deep and red against the skin, not bleeding but he had almost pierced the skin with his nails.

“I’m sorry.” Alex voice was scratchy, and he looked to where Willie was holding him, shame flooding his body as he tried to pull back his hand and hide the dents.

But Willie didn’t let him, gently holding on to the hand and closing his own around it, his attention shifting to Alex face. With his other hand he wiped the remaining tears from the splotchy cheeks and then shifted a bit to rummage through his bag that sat behind him and brought a bottle of water to light. “Here, you need something to drink.” While Alex accepted the drink with a thanks and took a few sips, Willie’s gaze never left him, but Alex realized it was filled with the same affection Willie always looked at him with and not with annoyance or nuisance as he had feared for so long, afraid of what Willie would do or say once he saw that side of him.

Alex wanted to start apologizing again when he put down the bottle, but Willie got ahead of him, “I’m proud of you.” And that put a hold on Alex thoughts because what? “Huh?” Was all that came out of Alex mouth instead from his confusion.

“I mean it. How many times did you go through this already? Even alone? I know it’s terrifying but every time you bounce back, and I think that’s noteworthy.” Willie’s thumb was brushing over the skin on his hand and Alex was almost ready to cry again because no one ever said that to him and all he could see was a bundle of mess sitting in his place in his room, in front of his bed.

“But- but now you have seen what it looks like, how can you still want to be here?” The with me was left unsaid but Alex was sure Willie got it nonetheless.

“Alex, I don’t care how messy it gets, I’m here for you, always.”

To say Alex was grateful was an understatement but then something else came to his mind and he groaned, letting his head fall back against the bed and squeezing his eyes shut, already feeling ashamed. “I forgot our date.” Willie and he were to meet at the skatepark because Willie saw some videos and wanted to recreate some stunts he found cool.

“You didn’t forget. It’s okay, really. We have enough time to catch up.”

Before he could say anything else, they could hear the front door slamming shut and Luke calling Alex name and two pair of feet were heard stamping up the stairs. Alex looked at Willie questioningly. He was perplexed as to why Willie was here but also Reggie and Luke?

Willie looked sheepishly suddenly. “I texted them when I found you here. Sorry, it was the first time seeing you like this, and I was afraid I would do something to make it worse, so I asked them to come around.”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, Alex was a bit relived. The boys knew how to handle him. Did so for years before Alex even knew what was happening with him.

Reggie stayed in the threshold to not crowd him, meanwhile Luke sat down on the other side of Alex, taking him in and examining the situation. “Hey, how are you doing? We came as soon as we got the message, but we were shopping for Julie and Reggie stopped me from ignoring the red lights.”

“Could be better, but I’m okay.” He answered honestly, he knew Luke was always the first to worry over him. But know he was worried what other stupid things besides ignoring traffic laws the boys had done to quickly come to him all the other times before today.

Luke didn’t give him time to ponder over it. “If you good to get up we can take this to the couch.” He proposed.

“Great idea. And I doubt it was ever a better time for ice cream.” Reggie said already on his way to the kitchen.

“You just want to take the opportunity to get your hands on the deluxe stuff Mrs. Mercer always buys.” Luke half yells after him and Willie snickered from where he was still sitting next to Alex, hand clasped around him. Alex meanwhile tried to gather his remaining energy to stand up with a little bit of help from Willie.

The couch was way better than the floor in his room, definitely more comfortable and providing more space for all of them. Alex was seated between Willie’s legs and leaned into his chest, a blanket over them to keep Alex warm and he really appreciated that his boyfriend didn’t left after the whole mess he had to witness. Willie who sensed Alex shift in demeanour and could feel him tensing up against him, hooked his chin over Alex shoulder and whispered in his hear so the other two couldn’t overhear them. “I love you Alex.”

Alex cheeks turned a bit red but luckily no one commented on it, Luke and Reggie were deep into an argument about the best feel-good movie, finally resting the case on Rise of the Guardians while Luke pouted in his corner of the couch that the others weren’t willing to watch Back to the Future. Again. But with a pint of ice cream in his hand, his pout quickly dissolved into a small smile and he regularly glanced beside him to make sure Alex was doing okay.

Alex was indeed content were he was, in the arms of his boyfriend, sharing the ice cream with him, breathing in the scent that relaxed him further until his eyes were almost closing on their own accord. He always got sleepy after, all energy drained from him and he slipped further into the embrace until he fell asleep after initially only wanting to rest his eyes for a bit.

Willie noticed when his boyfriend didn’t try to steel from the ice cream anymore and put it aside in favour of carding through Alex hair, making sure he was comfortable while sleeping.

Luke and Reggie were giving him a thankful smile. “Thank you for being there for him.” Reggie spoke up with much more earnest Willie was used from him.

“I didn’t do anything. I was just nervous to make it worse for him.”

Luke put a hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t. You did great. Alex has been in a much worse state before we found him. Just stay by his side no matter what. We’re glad he has you. With his parents and these assholes from school, he needs every support he can get even though he wouldn’t admit that so outright.”

Willie smiled to himself. The boys never gave him the stern talking when Alex and him had gotten together but he had sensed the protectiveness coming from them whenever he was around the first times, only fading away after a few months, and Willie would make sure to never get on their bad sides, not that he wanted to. If it meant to stand by Alex side with his anxiety and watch animation movies (or Back to the Future five times for Luke and Star Wars seven times for Reggie) with him and the boys while eating sweets and talking nonsense to distract Alex mind for a while, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#julie and the phantoms #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #luke patterson #reggie peters #mine #my fic

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sleepypeaky · 4 years

Text

now i’ve found you

finn shelby x male reader

request: male!reader, who is Tommy's assistant, is pretty sure he's straight. but he ends up falling for one of the shelby brothers (your choice!). insert gay crisis, and potentially tommy/aunt polly/ada being supportive?

w/c: 1,363

a/n: i love this headcannon so much thank you. i know i do finn for everything but i thought this would work the best and also i love him so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ note that john is alive because im in deep denial. i know i went for a heavier take on this than i could have, but i think it works. also yes i ripped that scene right out of the DA movie. i hope i did the mlm a good. #wlwmlmsolidarity

this is 1928 ish so finn is 20 and so is the reader

this is very obviously way more fully formed than any of my other fics but its tuesday and i have nothing to do so

Ada Thorne had always looked out for you. So when she managed to get you a job working for her brother, you knew you would be safe. Now you hurried up the steps and knocked on a large heavy wooden door, which opened presently to a sitting room where you awaited your new boss.

Ada held the phone to her ear.

“Listen,” she said. “I have a lad who needs a safe place to work. He’s smart and capable and before you say anything, no, he’s not a spy.”

Tommy silently acknowledged the last part with approval. “Ok, but protection from what?”

Ada looked over her shoulder, making sure none of the others in the house were about. She sighed, “I know this means little to you, but he -lets put it this way- doesn’t fancy the ladies. And life is hard enough for people like him without having to worry about being kicked out of work for something that’s no one’s goddamn business.”

“As you said, this lad’s private life is moot to me, but if you can vouch for his work ethic and loyalty, i’ll give him a try.”

“You must be (y/f/n), nice to meet you.” Tommy shook your hand and led you into his office.

“My sister talks very highly of you, and she is quite possibly the only honest person i know.” He offered you a chair and lit himself a cigarette.

“So, the job is simple enough. I need an assistant, the most recent of which, is my wife, who can’t very well be working for me anymore.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Well I have two years of university to my name so I hope I can be useful.”

Tommy chuckled, “Well you are more qualified than any other man here lad, and it’s probably smart to get some new young blood on the company.”

You smiled, “Thank you sir.”

He motioned you to follow him out of the room and into a smaller one just off it.

“This is your office, across the hall-” He motioned behind him through the door, where directly adjacent was another room, “-Is my cousin Michael’s office, he is the account handler so to speak.”

“Now,” He turned back to you, “There is the matter of this.”

He placed a pistol and a handful of ammunition onto the desk between you.

“You know how to shoot son?’

You looked concernedly at the weapon casually lying on the table,

“No sir.”

“Well, hopefully you wont ever need to use this but it seems to be company policy, never can be too careful. I’ll have someone teach you.”

You thanked him and placed the items in a desk drawer.

“If you’ll follow me, i’ll give you the rundown of the company,” he said. “I’ve got some time and I need to wrangle up some people.”

You followed him out the door and through a series of buildings where different operations took place. At one point, you walked into a sort of yard-warehouse area.

Beginning from a distance and gradually growing louder, you could hear ‘duck!’ ‘hit!’ ‘shift!’ etc..

All was explained when you and Tommy turned the corner.

In a roped off section of the cement yard were two very handsome young men. Both boxing and both, seemingly to vex you on your first day, shirtless.

“That’s Bonnie and Finn, don’t mind them.” Tommy commented off-hand.

He turned left and walked into another building, leaving you just enough time to glance back at the two shirtless men, before ducking in after him.

After Tommy had introduced you the Charlie and Curly, he led you back to the office and then said he had to run, and you could start filing the stack of papers on his desk.

You went right to work, and before long, had forgotten the time completely.

~~~~

You were in a filing induced trance when a noise took you out of it.

The noise turned out to be the door opening.

“Oh hi.. i didn’t know anyone was in here..” The boy stammered.

You looked up to see on of the boys from the boxing ring, taken slightly by surprise, you fumbled out from behind the desk to introduce yourself.

“Sorry to surprise you, hi i’m (y/n), Mr. Shelby’s new assistant.” You held out your hand and he shook it.

“I’m Finn,” he stumbled “Tommy’s brother.” he released your hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Well I thought I’d find my brother here but i guess i’ll see him later.”

In a hasty fashion he held up a hand as a brief farewell, and scurried out of the room.

You sighed and cursed silently to yourself.

Out of all the people he could have been, why my boss’s brother.

~~~~

Like no time at all, the weeks and months seemingly flew past. You had become acquainted with everyone and felt like you had finally found your place. There were, of course, still some aspects with which you couldn’t fit in just the same as any other.

“Oi, you’re a good looking lad! Why don’t you come along with us tonight. Get some drink and find a girl, Birmingham’s best!” Arthur wheezed.

“That’s not saying much, but do come along mate!” John followed up. Giving you a friendly slap on the back.

You smiled,

“Thanks,” You gave john a man-pat on the shoulder, “But i got some work to finish here.”

“Suit yerself.” And they were gone.

You sighed with relief. You knew you’d have to go someday, but right now you couldn’t handle the idea of,,,that.

A few minutes later ,you heard a knock on the door and Finn entered, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“i heard you skipped goin’ to the Garrison with the others so i thought i’d bring some to you.”

He placed the things down on your desk and sat on the chair opposite you.

“You’re a life-saver! thank you.” you exclaimed.

Finn chuckled, pouring you a glass and handing it over,

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

You hummed, taking a sip and savoring it quickly in your mouth. You wondered, a stupid thing to do, if it wasn’t his scene for the same reasons as you. Though the more you got to know him. You suspected.

Suspicions are a dangerous thing. Especially ones that are led by the heart, and are ever so biased on your own happiness. Nevertheless, a week or so later from that night, you popped in to tell Finn, with perhaps too much certainty,

“You know, I think I know a place you might enjoy.”

~~~~

London always induced a joyous feeling inside you. Not that you had only fond memories from living there -far from it- but there was something about a city where the air wasn’t 80% coal soot.

You and Finn got off the train and made your way to Ada’s house. It was always a delight to be in her presence. Especially because you owed her so much, in fact, probably you owed her your life in so may ways.

After tea, and insisting that you had to make your way to a surprise spot, you and Finn made your way into the night.

Through a maze of mews and side-streets, down alleys and cracks you led him.

“I know i grew up in small heath,” He said at one point, when you were in a particularly funky alley. “but where the hell are you taking me?”

“Trust me.” you assured him.

You both came out of an alley and into a small courtyard-like space. You brushed off your clothes a little and knocked on a door in the dark brick wall.

A little notch opened up and you whispered the password. the door swung open.

“Hello Love!” The doorman said, “ ‘aven’t seen you ‘round here for a long time!”

You greeted the man back and made apologies. Presently, you went inside, leading Finn behind you.

Inside was an immaculate ballroom filled with people. Jazz music was pouring from the stage at the far end of the room. But as Finn looked around more, he started thinking that something was off.

When he realized he froze.

All the people dancing, all the paired up couples, were men. Some dressed lavishly and others in plain working clothes. some with curled mustaches and some with cheeks of rouge and powdered skin.

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw for the first time, a pair of men dancing hand in hand with wild smiles on their faces. Laughing, singing along.

Finn couldn’t move, nor could he take his eyes off the sights around him.

He felt your presence next to him,

“Was i right to bring you here?” You asked.

He turned his head to face you, he was quivering. He looked you in the eyes, eyes that were lined with tears.

“I had no idea,” He whispered,

“I had no idea there were others.”

Your heart ached for him in a way that only those like them know. You knew what he felt, the wonder, the pain, the confused elation.

You took his hand,

“There are.”

You slowly pulled him to the dance floor.

The music had gotten slower, and the dancing changed to a sort of swaying four-step.

You took his other hand first, letting him go at his own pace, but soon you were as close as the others on the floor. both of you had a hand on the others waist.

Finn looked around again, at all the other people, eyes all closed and heads close. He turned back to you and moved even closer. He brought his lips up to your ear,

“Thank you.” He whispered. He kept his cheek at yours, you felt his hands on your back.

He moved his head slowly so he could look at you again, it was such that your foreheads touched. Your heart beat slow, but hard. You whispered

“Can i kiss you?”

His eyes flicked up to yours before looking down again and moving his lips to yours.

It was ever so soft, barely even there. But it was there, and that was beyond anything Finn had ever felt or imagined before. He closed his eyes and kissed harder this time, and from beneath his eyelids came small lines of tears. The release of an unseen, unknown burden that he had carried for so long.

All you felt was warmth. And the ballroom surrounding you disappeared. You were on a different plane of being, the jazz music still crooned, muffled.

All there was was him, and for him all there was was you.

~~~~

Epilogue

Finn stood outside the opaque glass of the door. And in the irony of psychology, he had never felt more confident about what he was going to do.

He opened the door to Tommy’s office.

“Hello Finn.” He said from behind the desk, cigarette smoking from his lip.

Finn went right up and took a seat across from his brother.

“I’m a homosexual.” He declared, his gaze unwavering despite the magnanimity of his previous statement.

Tommy took the cigarette from between his lips and put it out.

“Well then.” He reached over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses and sliding one over to Finn. He took a sip.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m in love with (y/n).” He replied casually, taking himself a swig.

Tommy raised his brow, but made no other physical impression of surprise.

“Well then.” He said again.

Finn sat there in the silence of Tommy’s company. Surprised, and at the same time not, at his reaction.

Tommy got up from his seat and made his was around the desk. Finn stayed where he was. In an act so small, and yet untellingly powerful, tommy placed a hand of finns shoulder, and kept it there.

“How will the others find out?”

They found out at a family meeting a month later, when, a new agenda item was introduced.

For a while after, there was silence.

John, being john, broke it with,

“Falling for a secretary huh?” he chuckled, “that seems more like something i’d do.”

That lightened the tension. Amid the other items on the list, Finn leaned over to Ada, who sat on his right.

“Tell me,” He asked quietly to her, “did you know?”

She breathed a moment, finding the words to use.

“I knew you had more on your mind than we could ever know.”

Finn looked back ahead, letting her words sink into his mind. Her hand rested on his knee with quiet warmth and reassurance.

~~~~ You waited outside the meeting room until the rest of them filed out. Finn was the last, and when he appeared you gave him a quick peck on the lips, and held his hand, walking together out of the building.

#wow im so tired #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x male!reader #male reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x male!reader #finn shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #ada thorne #gay peaky blinders #mlm

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Prove It

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Accusations of infidelity, manipulative behavior, profanity, angst

Word Count: 3055

Request: At the end to avoid spoilers!

Author’s Note: Lots of angst, I know and I’m sorry! I’ll try to write something nicer for next week :) Also, I tried out a new paragraph break inspired by @ohprettyweeper-fics! It always bothers me that the asterisks aren’t centered so hopefully this will be a nice fic, feel free to let me know what you think :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one! (picture credit)

Josh: Late night at the studio, will be home as soon as possible. Love you

Your heart sunk as soon as you read the message from Josh. Between recording sessions, design meetings, and late night calls with Tyler about tiny album details, Josh’s schedule had left hardly any time for the two of you to be together lately. Most of your evenings were spent curled up on the couch with Jim and waiting for Josh to get home so you could have actually have dinner together.

Y/N: no worries, drum your little heart out, dun. i love you too :)

You closed your messages and switched over to Instagram to see what your friends back home were up to tonight. There wasn’t anything super exciting - mostly due to the fact that it was Tuesday - but a couple of them had shared photos of their dogs. You decided to join in on the trend and post a cute picture of Jim for your friends to see, as well as the other thousands of followers you had amassed from being known as “Josh’s partner”.

By the time you finished posting the picture with a caption about spending the night in, minus the part about Josh not being there, Tyler had also taken the opportunity to post to his Instagram story. Eager to see what him and Josh were up to, you clicked on it. Your heart dropped as you realized it wasn’t him and Josh at the studio, but a video of Mark standing in front of a mural with Tyler’s voice clearly behind the camera. Josh was nowhere in sight.

That didn’t bode well.

You didn’t even take a moment to consider if you were acting irrationally before you dialed Tyler’s number. Your feet tapped quickly against the edge of the coffee table as you waited for him to pick up. It only took a couple rings before Tyler’s voice was carrying through the phone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi.”

“Is everything ok?”

“I’m not sure,” you said, chewing on the edge of your thumb. “Is Josh with you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since we left the studio.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Is everything ok?”

“I don’t know, Tyler,” you huffed. “Can you please just answer the question?”

“He said he was heading home. Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Tyler snapped.

“I just- Josh said that you guys were staying late at the studio, but that obviously wasn’t the case because you and Mark are downtown.”

“You think he’s lying to you?” His tone had switched entirely. Sometimes it was easy to forget Tyler had been your friend long before you dated Josh.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard not to assume the worst.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to make a huge deal out of something that could just be a miscommunication. I’ll talk to him when he gets home, whenever that is.”

“Ok. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“This isn’t your fault, Ty. Go enjoy your night.”

“Will you keep me updated?”

You sighed. Although Tyler was your friend, you didn’t really feel like you should drag him into the middle of your relationship drama.

“We’ll see what happens. Like I said, I really don’t want to make this a big deal if it’s nothing.”

“Ok, but you know I’m here for you, right?”

“Always,” you smiled. “I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Don’t forget about lunch on Wednesday!”

“I never could.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

You set your phone down on your lap and rubbed at your temples. Josh hadn’t given you any sort of estimate about when he would be home and it was already nearing 9 p.m.

It seemed you would just have to play the waiting game.

You finally heard Josh pull into the driveway around 10:30. Jim’s head perked up at first, but it wasn’t until Josh’s keys were in the door that he finally hopped down and ran to greet him. You took your time getting off the couch and wrapping a blanket around your shoulders for comfort, not to mention that the rest of the house felt cold after you had been nestled up on the couch with Jim for a couple of hours.

“Hi, love!” you called, feeling a bad taste enter your mouth as you said it.

“Y/N!” Josh said, appearing around the corner with a smile on his face. “I missed you.”

You did a quick scan of Josh’s appearance to see if it would give you any clues about where he might have been. His hair was a bit messy, but that was always the case, there weren’t any hickeys on his neck or on the bit of collarbone peeking out from under his shirt, and he was wearing the same outfit as when he had left.

“How was the studio?” you asked as he gave you a quick kiss. One of his hands was hidden behind his back.

“It was good, we got a lot of work done.”

So he was upholding the lie.

“You know, I was talking to Tyler on the phone not long after you texted me,” you started. Hopefully Josh wouldn’t be able to hear your voice shaking. “It didn’t sound like he was at the studio.”

After giving you a kiss, Josh had walked straight into the kitchen, meaning you couldn’t see the current look on his face. You were almost glad to have a wall in between the two of you right now. It made the confrontation easier.

“You did?”

“Where were you, Josh?” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t want to feed into his games.

“Getting you these.”

You opened your eyes and blinked, clearing the blur away. Josh was standing a few feet away from you, holding a vase full of red roses. There was a shy smile on his face as he held the vase towards you.

“For an hour?” you asked, taking it from him. It was a serious question posed as a joke.

“Well, my plan was to just pick up the flowers, but one of my friends called because his car broke down and needed a jump start and I just so happened to be in the neighborhood because I was leaving the studio. Then we ended up talking for half an hour before we actually got the car started, you know how we are.”

“I appreciate the flowers, Josh. Thank you,” you said, giving him another kiss. It seemed all of your concerns had been unnecessary.

“How were things here?” Josh asked, once again walking back into the kitchen. This time you had the confidence to follow him and take a seat at the counter while he made himself a drink. Jim curled up next to your chair.

“Same as always. Jim and I watched some TV together, talked to a few friends from back home, made a microwave pizza for dinner and slipped a couple pieces of ham to Jim.”

“I’m sure he enjoyed that,” Josh smiled.

“He did. Hey, do you want to go watch something in the living room?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

You shuffled back towards the living room while Josh finished putting his things away and taking off his shoes. While you waited for him, you sent Tyler a quick text.

Y/N: turns out there was nothing to worry about. it was a miscommunication like i thought

You and Jim had already made yourselves comfortable by the time Josh finally made his way into the living room. He had swapped out his jacket and jeans for a pair of sweats and a tight t-shirt. It was hard not to stare as he got closer and sat down on the couch.

“Enjoying the view?” he laughed as he sat down next to you.

“Just a little.”

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer into his side. “What do you want to watch?”

“Whatever you want to is fine, I already caught up on everything I’m watching.”

“Alright.”

Josh leaned forward to grab the remote off the coffee table, which is when you noticed the tiny smudge of red just below his ear. Your heart sunk at the sight of it; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had worn red lipstick.

“You have a little something,” you said once he sunk back into the cushions. “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Not sure, but… there, it’s gone.”

“Thank you.” Josh smiled and puckered his lips, prompting you to give him another kiss.

Once Josh was busy looking for a show for the two of you to watch, you pulled your phone back out of your pocket and opened up your recent messages.

Y/N: just kidding

“I don’t know what’s going on, Tyler,” you sighed, using the hand that wasn’t clutching your phone to pinch the bridge of your nose. “I don’t know why he keeps lying to me.”

“I wish I had answers for you.”

“It’s ok. I never meant to drag you into this in the first place.”

“I think we both knew from the start that I was going to get involved in this one way or another.” Tyler tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out quite right.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you and Mark go back to Ohio tomorrow. I guess I’ll just have to figure out his lies on my own.”

“My offer is still open if you end up going through with it.”

“We’ll see,” you said, wiping a tear off your cheek. “We’ll see.”

“Ok, Mark is waving at me which means I need to get back in there. I’ll talk to you once we’re done with this session, ok?”

“Ok. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

You closed your eyes and flopped back onto the bed. It had been a week since you first discovered Josh was lying to you and the evidence had only been growing since then. He was always on his phone when you were together, always texting someone and smiling but never telling you who it was. Then there was the fact that he always had his phone within a few inches of him and never face up. You had heard enough of your friends’ stories to have an idea about what that meant.

On top of that, he had told you multiple times that he had to stay late again, only for you to confirm with Tyler that he had made some excuse about going across town before heading home. Even when Tyler pressed him for information, he wouldn’t say anything other than he was seeing a friend. Still, without any solid evidence, you hesitated to confront him in case you were entirely misreading the situation, despite your instinct telling you that it was exactly what you thought it was.

Josh got home nearly two hours after you got a text from Tyler confirming that they were done at the studio. That was another piece of evidence that you had gathered: Josh was always gone for an extra hour or two after a text from Tyler. Never more. Never less. The mere thought of it made you uneasy.

“Hey,” Josh said, stepping into the living room. His hair was messy again today and he had opted to wear a shirt with a higher neckline than he was usually partial to. “I didn’t realize you were here, you were so quiet.”

“Sorry, lost in thought.”

Josh sat down in the chair across from you and started to untie his shoes. You quickly scanned his neck, looking for any leftover lipstick smears or hickeys that you were sure you hadn’t left yourself. As far as you could tell, he was still doing a good job of hiding them.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Josh said, looking up at you with a smile.

“I will.”

“Alright, well I’m going to run upstairs and get changed before we start making dinner.”

Perfect.

“Ok,” you said, puckering your lips. Josh walked over and gave you a gentle kiss before heading upstairs.

You waited an acceptable amount of time before following Josh, already thinking up whatever excuse you would give him as to why you had come upstairs. If you timed things right, you would be able to walk in right as he was changing his shirt and get a good look at his chest. Josh usually took any opportunity he could get to walk around shirtless, but over the last week you hadn’t seen him shirtless once. He had to be hiding something from you.

You peeked your head just inside the door before making your presence known. He was still wearing the shirt from earlier in the day, having only changed into sweatpants so far. Before changing his shirt, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text. Your heart started to pound in your chest as you realized what you were about to do. In all your investigation, you hadn’t once stopped to think about what it meant for you and Josh.

If you were right, this was the end.

Before you had too much of a chance to get caught up in your thoughts, Josh started to pull off his shirt. You rolled your shoulders and then walked into the room, acting as if you had just come up the stairs.

“Hey, Josh?”

“Woah, hey, Y/N.”

Josh turned to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He was still clutching the shirt he had been wearing earlier in the day to his chest, but it wasn’t enough to cover the numerous hickeys across his chest and collarbones.

Hickeys that you knew for a fact hadn’t come from you.

“What are those?” you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Nothing,” he said, reaching into the closet to grab a clean shirt. He pulled it over his head without another word.

“Nothing? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I’m some sort of idiot, Josh?”

“I just got in an accident when I was skateboarding the other day. It’s not a big deal.”

“God, stop lying to me!” you said, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“How do you know I’m lying?”

“You’ve lied to me about staying late at the studio multiple times in the last week! And you’ve lied to me about who you’re texting. And you’re lying to me right now.”

“How do you know?” Josh said, carefully enunciating each word.

You looked up towards the ceiling, shaking your head. You said you wouldn’t drag him into this.

“Tell me, Y/N. You’re just making yourself look like an idiot right now.”

“I talked to Tyler, alright? And he confirmed what I already thought I knew.”

Josh shook his head, “I can’t believe you, going behind my back to get information from my best friend. You could have talked to me.”

“You’re mad I went behind your back because it means that your manipulation tactics don’t work on me. And in case you forgot, he was my best friend before he even knew you existed.”

Josh grabbed at his hair and turned away from you, walking the length of the room. You stood frozen just inside the doorway, your arms still crossed tightly in front of your chest.

“Just admit it, Josh,” you said softly. “You’re cheating on me.”

“You’re crazy, Y/N. I would never do that to you.”

“Then tell me where you’ve been, Josh. Show me evidence that you were actually doing the things that you said you were.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” he said, suddenly raising his voice. His anger was all the evidence you needed.

“I’m not asking for anything groundbreaking.”

“You really think that I would do that to you?” he asked, pointing a finger in your direction. “That I would sleep with someone else when I could just come home to you every night? I didn’t know what love was until I met you, Y/N, and you’re accusing me of throwing that all away just so I could sleep with somebody else? Is that really what you think of me?”

“Just stop. I’m not going to fall for this again.”

“There’s nothing to fall for! I’m telling you how I feel!”

“I’ve only asked you for one thing, Josh. I just need proof that you’re not cheating, but you can’t even give me that.”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“Prove. It.”

Josh was silent as he continued to pace the room. You waited for him to say something - anything - but he couldn’t. It was the exact response that you had expected.

“It’s settled then. Tyler got me a seat on their flight back to Ohio tomorrow. I'm going with them.”

“So you’re just going to give up on us like that? Three years of a relationship down the drain?”

You shook your head, “I’m not the one that gave up on us.”

“Please, Y/N, we can make this work. I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ll cut things off with her immediately. I love you. Please.”

Josh started to reach for your arms, but you pushed him away.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me. What you did was unforgivable, Josh.”

“She could never compare to you-”

“Stop. It’s over, Josh. I’m packing my things and going to Tyler’s tonight. By tomorrow, I’ll be back in Ohio so you never have to think of me again.”

“There won’t be a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

“Good.”

You turned and walked back downstairs before Josh had a chance to say another word to you. There was still the matter of avoiding him while you packed up all your belongings, but you would find ways to avoid talking to him. All of the things you needed to say had been said, now you just had to make peace with the situation. Being back in Ohio close to your friends and family would be a good way to start that journey.

You only wished that you could take Jim with you.

Request: yay!! i’ve had this request in the back of my mind for a while...i was thinking of Josh x reader and they’re dating but the reader finds out Josh is ALSO dating someone else 👀 -@faceofcontvsions

#josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun angst #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots angst #josh dun imagine #josh dun drabble #josh dun fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #tw; infidelity #tw; cheating #tw; profanity #tw; manipulation #angst #skeleton clique #blurry-fics

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true-love-will-thaw · 4 years

Text

An Old Friend’s Advice

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,242

Summary: When Kristoff doesn’t find the Queen in her office like she usually is most afternoons, he discovers her asking for advice from an old friend. Quick one-shot I wrote about Anna dealing with being Queen. Canonverse, takes place 1 year after Frozen 2.

Note: No, this is not the fic I mentioned earlier that I had finished, but this idea came into my head and I wrote it surprisingly fast so here it is. Hopefully the other one will be up soon but probably not for a while because I see star wars tomorrow ahhh.

A mug of cocoa in each hand, Kristoff entered Anna’s office, just like he did most afternoons when she wasn’t preoccupied somewhere else. One mug plain with a cinnamon stick floating in it and another covered in a mountain of mini marshmallows, he set both down on the desk, surprised that she wasn’t there. Though Anna, even as Queen, wasn’t particularly keen at sticking to her assigned schedule, he thought by now he’d figured out where to find her most days, depending on what was going on. He looked around the office and nearby rooms briefly for her, and then stopped to think, double checking in his head that this was where she was supposed to be.

Anna’s schedule, though hectic and less than traditional, was fairly consistent. Even though most weekends were wild cards (consisting of jam packed visits from Elsa, family trips to visit the Northuldra, or occasionally a weekend away with her husband), her weekdays were fairly predictable. Most mornings she ate breakfast together with the family, (though he often had to pull her out of bed; he knows mornings aren’t the easiest for her), where she would get excited for the day and often discuss the daily events with everyone. Mondays and Wednesdays she spent the morning listening to citizen requests, learning what her people needed and how she could best provide for them. Tuesday and Thursday mornings she went into town and visited the people herself, checking in on the merchant’s guild, visiting the sick in the hospital, or reading to the children at the school. Friday mornings were her favorites, where she and Olaf went into town to simply chat with people and have fun. Without crowns, schedules, or fancy dresses, Anna and Olaf would go buy fresh bread from the baker, pick flowers in the meadow, or go window shopping in the square. She talked to the people as their friend, not as their queen, even though if they had a request for her she’d always stop to listen. After lunch with the family, most of Anna’s afternoons were spent communicating with foreign dignitaries, whether by occasionally actually hosting them for a meeting or by writing letters and other formal communications. She still enjoyed it, but this work was the nitty-gritty of her job as queen. Though she had made friends with many of their foreign allies and did not mind writing to them directly, it was going over detailed treaties and trade agreements that tended to bog her down. At that time is when Kristoff often found her in her office, reading through the intricate details of documents that would keep their alliances intact. Kristoff, as King consort, did have a few responsibilities of his own, though not many. He was the royal liaison to the ice harvester’s guild, and met with them as well as the fishermen, merchants, and farmers on a semi-regular basis in the mornings. Though he used to not enjoy talking to people, over the years spending more time in the kingdom he had made many friends with the people of Arendelle, and did not mind their company. It was when dealing with other royals and foreign dignitaries that he began to tense up, however that was where Anna shined. The majority of his afternoons consisted of eating lunch with the family, tending to the stables for an hour or so, and then making two steaming hot cups of cocoa and meeting Anna in her office. He would walk in and know exactly what kind of day she was having based on her actions at her desk. If she was staring down intently at a paper, scribbling furiously with a quill with her tongue barely sticking out the side of her mouth like it did when she was focused, he would simply set the cocoa down on the desk next to her, give her a light kiss on the head, and leave her to her work. If she looked relaxed and happy about the work on her desk, he would hand her the cocoa and sit on the sofa in front of the fire while she continued to work, discussing all of the exciting papers she was sifting through. Occasionally he would pick up a book and read there whenever their conversation slowed and she went back to her documents, but he always put it down as soon as she wanted to talk again. If she looked tired or defeated at the sight of the work on her desk, he would hand her the cocoa and they would get up and take a break together. Sometimes she would be excited to see him, wondering why he took so long, and grab his hand, rushing out to the gardens for a much needed walk outdoors to clear her head. Other times she would be so tired that he would have to pull her from the desk and take her over to the sofa, where she lied down next to him and closed her eyes, the rising and falling of his chest against her head lulling her to sleep like a lullaby. But today she was none of those things, because she wasn’t even at her desk! He knew there were no events going on (she would have talked about them earlier if there were), and he couldn’t think of anywhere she would have left to go. Elsa wasn’t back in town until tomorrow, Olaf was still at school, and he just saw Sven in the stables, so he knew she hadn’t run off with any of them. He began to wander around the castle, checking her usual spots, wondering where she possibly could have gone. No one in the kitchens had seen her since lunch, the gardener hadn’t seen her since yesterday, and even Kai hadn’t seen her since the morning. Unsure of where to go next, Kristoff walked down one of the main, long hallways in the castle, until he noticed an open door. Which room is that? He thought to himself. Though he had lived in the castle for years now, there were still several rooms he struggled to find without help. Is that the library? No... it’s the... portrait gallery? He approached the door and walked in slowly, not sure who he’d find. Of course, he should’ve known, because there she was. His wife, the Queen, lying down on the floor of the portrait gallery, feet against the wall, looking up at a painting and talking quietly to herself. He walked over to her and stood beside her, his towering figure looking down at her. It had been a fairly slow day, so she was dressed no different than she usually was, choosing a simple light blue dress. She had also worn her hair down, so it surrounded her head on the floor in a pool of auburn. She gave a soft smile when she saw his head come into her field of vision. “Hey,” she said softly. “Hey,” he replied, “whatcha doing there?” “Oh, just taking to Joan,” she replied, still looking at the painting instead of at him. He looked up at the painting on the wall and saw a woman in head to toe armor, who he could only assume was Joan of Arc. “Yeah?” he said, looking back down at her, “what are you ladies talking about?” “I’m wondering if she thinks I should sign this new trade agreement with the Southern Isles we received today. All of my advisors think I should but I read over it and I don’t think the agreement seems fair.” Kristoff sat down on the floor next to Anna, and gently took one of her hands in his. She glanced at him and smiled, gladly accepting the gesture. “Hey Anna?” he said, still speaking softly to match her tone. “Hm?” she looked back up at the painting. “You know there are real people you can talk to about this, right?” he asked. “Elsa, or Kai, or...” “You,” she said, looking over at him again and lightly squeezing his hand. “Of course me, always,” he replied. “I’m not perfect, but I suppose I’m not a complete bonehead about this kind of stuff.” She laughed and sat up, now sitting face to face across from him. “Of course you’re not,” she said. “You may not realize it, but I rely on your advice the most.” He smiled back at her. “Ok, then can you tell me why you’re taking to Joan instead?” She looked back up at the painting. “When I was little, I never had that many people to talk to, so I often found myself asking the paintings for advice. I would research all about them, learn their names, and ask them their opinions on the things I did or should do. I’m pretty sure Lieutenant Mattias even helped me with my math homework once.” She chucked for a moment at the thought, as did Kristoff, now that they knew the man. “As I got older,” she continued, “I still talked to the paintings, even though I began to realize that they weren’t actually talking back to me. They weren’t giving me the answers, but they were helping me work through the problem myself and come up with the answer I already knew was right. I haven’t been back here in a long time, but sometimes when I know that I can figure something out and I know what the right answer is, I still come and talk to the paintings to work through my thoughts. And from everything I’ve read about all of the paintings in this castle, I’m pretty sure Joan is the bravest and strongest person here. I guess I figured she’d help me figure out what to do.” She looked back over at Kristoff, who was smiling at her. “You probably think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked. “Of course not,” he replied. “Anna, do you know why you rely on my advice so much?” “Why?” “Because my advice is always just your advice, just coming from my mouth instead of yours! Despite what you say Anna, I know nothing about any of this stuff. However I do know that you do, and you’ll do whatever you know is best for Arendelle, and that I trust your judgement. And the things you say sound like the right thing to do. So sometimes your brain goes so fast that you may get a little off track, but all I do is agree with you and redirect you back to your goal.” “Anna, it’s always been you. You always know what to do, and I know you’ll make the right decision now, about this. And if talking to the paintings still helps you I won’t stop you, but I want you to know you don’t have to do this alone any more. I’m happy to help you sort out your thoughts and reassure you that you’re doing the right thing.” “Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand again. “Of course,” he replied as he lifted her hand up to give it a soft kiss. “So do you think not signing the treaty is the right decision? They’re asking for a 20% tariff rate which I think is ridiculous, because the most we’re paying right now is 15% to Corona, but we import a lot more from them so I really don’t think 20% is fair. And I heard they only asked for 10% from Weselton, so I feel like they’re assuming we’ll agree to anything to keep the peace between us after what happened 4 years ago. I can’t let them take advantage of us like that, right?” Kristoff smiled at her again. It was so clear she knew the answer already, she just needed someone else to reassure her. “Trust your gut,” he said. “That doesn’t sound fair to me. You know what the right thing is, and you know what our people need. I’d say do some more negotiating before signing that treaty.” And that’s all she needed to hear. “Thank you, Kristoff!” She said excitedly, giving him a peck on the cheek. She had gained her confidence back and with it, her energy, as she got up from the floor quickly, pulling him up with her.” “C’mon, I have to make a new draft of the treaty before dinner so that it’ll be done before Elsa comes back tomorrow!” She began to pull him back to the office when she stopped for a moment. “Wait, where’s my cocoa?” She asked. He laughed. “On your desk, probably cold by now since it took me so long to find you,” he replied. “But don’t worry, there’s still some on the stove I can heat up again.” “Well then, what are we waiting for?” She pulled on his arm and began to walk faster and faster down the hallway. “C’mon,” she shouted behind her, beginning to run, “last one there is a rotten egg!” Kristoff laughed as he began to chase after her. She’s extraordinary, he thought. And he was right. He wondered how on earth he got to where he was. He and his wife, the King and Queen of Arendelle, racing down the hallway. One headed to reheat a pot of cocoa and another to negotiate a trade agreement. Arendelle wasn’t perfect by any means, but he knew that with Anna as their Queen, everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

#fanfiction #kristanna fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #frozen 2 fanfiction #frozen #frozen 2 #kristanna #kristoff #anna #queen anna #arendelle #hope you all like it I haven't written a fic in forever!

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

Text

Writers Block Pt 4

Shameless fluff. Utterly self indulgent. Possibly some self projection onto Cathy. Hopefully still readable. If anyone isn’t clear, the incident I refer to in the fic in which Henry nearly has Cathy beheaded is true.

Her own voice sounds quiet and flat compared to Anne’s more energetic efforts- pathetic, just like she is- but Anne is beaming at her as if she’s actually done something and that’s encouraging.

‘Sometimes, I hate research too. I hate all of it.’

It’s slightly louder but there’s still not much energy behind it. Even so… having said it out loud feels oddly pleasing. She’s said it- and Anne doesn’t look horrified. The roof hasn’t fallen in. no one has swept in to take away her credentials for her ingratitude.

‘I hate how it takes forever and I hate that I’m so tired all the time. I like writing but…. Sometimes I just want to rest, you know? We do the show and it’s like ‘Oh obviously Cathy’s going to work’ but sometimes I just want to chill out with you guys! But then I feel like I’m letting everyone down-’

Anne’s nodding at her frantically- ‘Keep going, keep going!’- so she does.

‘I can’t write anything else. I’ve been trying and trying and…. I’m just done. I don’t even care anymore, I don’t care if I finish the book or if I lose readers… I just want to not have to be working for a change because it’s too much, it’s too much to do as well as the show and I just, I can’t anymore- I dont have any ideas, I don’t have any plans, I don’t even know what I want to say anymore and nothing sounds good and…..’

With every word, it gets easier- it’s traitorous, it’s true.

‘-and I hate that I’m the only one to have to do all this, and I know I chose to and I know I like it…. but sometimes I don’t and now everyone expects things from me and it’s so hard because I’m letting everyone down, I’ve made Catalina hate me, and I’m meant to be the writer and I can’t even do that anymore-’

She can feel herself starting to cry- she tries to brush the tears away with her wrists but it doesn’t help, it just makes everything blur. She feels pathetic, she feels like a child. They’ve all seen Kitty cry, she’s even seen Jane give in to tears a couple of times….but she’s meant to be beyond this.

She’s calm, she’s rational. (Except she isn’t.) Anne will surely be uncomfortable, and who can blame her, since Cathy is essentially just bewailing something that she brought entirely on herself. Perhaps if she doesn’t look at the other girl, Anne will be able to leave the room without it being too awkward-

And then arms- Anne’s arms- are wrapping around her, pulling her close. Her face ends up buried into the soft worn cotton of Anne’s green hoody and despite her best efforts, she hears herself let out a sob of pent up exhaustion and fear.

Anne doesn’t pull away- she just holds her more tightly and it’s a surprise, how strong her arms feel. For a smallish person, she feels reassuringly sturdy, stable. Safe.

(Or perhaps it’s just that it’s been a while since anyone touched her.)

‘It’s alright.’ Anne’s breath tickles her ear. ‘It’s all going to be ok.’

She’s grateful for the hug but platitudes have always irritated her- she wants to tell Anne that of course it isn’t alright- nothing is alright- but the thing is, she can’t really talk properly yet and her words are jumbled, blurry with tears. Anne seems to understand though.

‘We’ll fix this.’ Her voice is serious- it sounds like she actually means it. ‘We’ll sort something out, I promise. I know it feels awful right now and I don’t even blame you babes, but I promise, it’s all solvable. You just really need a break, huh?’

Cathy nods pathetically into Anne’s chest and Anne’s hand starts to rub across her tight shoulders.

‘Fuck your fans… I mean…. Not like literally or anything. Unless you want to. I guess.’ (It must be the muddled feeling brought on by the shouting and crying because why on earth would Anne sound almost jealous when talking about…..that? It’s surely proof Cathy is more sleep deprived than she thought)

‘Anyway….. What I mean is, you don’t owe them anything. You’ve given them two books and now you need to take care of yourself, ok?’

‘They’ll be….so disappointed….’ She knows it sounds a bit conceited to say it…..but it’s true (she wonders if Anne thinks she’s terribly egocentric…but she’s just shrugging, as if Cathy is right but that it doesn’t really matter. It’s the same way that she shrugs when Catalina warns her that her clothes will be creased if she throws them straight from the dryer onto her bedroom floor, or when Jane warns her that a bag of skittles does not a healthy breakfast make.)

‘I mean, probably? You’re an amazing writer.’

It’s a minor shock to Cathy to hear that Anne has actually read her work. She knows that the other queens have but Anne has never mentioned doing so, and Cathy isn’t exactly going to demand it of her- she hadn’t even expected the other queens to be interested, really. Not that Anne isn’t a reader- she must be, to have had such a reputation for learning in her first life- but….Cathy just assumed she wasn’t interested.

(She isn’t sure why the thought of Anne reading her work gives her butterflies- she’s sure she never felt them when she learnt that the others had read it…)

‘But books get delayed all the time. It’s just one of those things- people might whinge a bit but everyone who matters knows that you can’t force creativity. And you’ve already built up a good reputation- it’s not like you’re trying to get noticed, people know you can write already.’

Anne’s reassurance is welcome- but she also can’t suppress the flood of weariness that courses through her.

Having to justify herself, having to explain, having to find out the protocol for this… it has to be done, of course but….she’s tired. She’s just….so tired.

Then she realises she’s said it out loud. She expects Anne to be annoyed at her ingratitude- but when she risks a quick peep at the other queen’s face, there’s nothing there but sympathy.

‘I know babes. You won’t have to do it alone though, ok? I’ll talk to Jane and Aragon- I bet they’ll know more than I do, or they’ll know who to talk to anyway. Whatever. Just don’t worry about it- we’ll sort it all out for you ok?’

It sounds so reassuringly real when Anne says it like that- like she has people on her side, people to do her fighting for her when she’s not able to fight for herself. Funny that it has never occurred to her before that she could just...ask for help.

‘Thank you- I don’t know if it’ll be that easy… but thank you.’

‘We’ll make it work out.’ Anne repeats it stubbornly. ‘I’ll fight anyone you need me to.’

Cathy doesn’t want to ask if she means it literally or figuratively.

‘You can even-’

Anne draws back a bit and looks at her, serious now. ‘You can say it’s me if you need to.’

‘What?’

If you need like an excuse or something. If you don’t want to have to just say you’re tired. You can say it’s me. That I’m going through something, that you need to support me and you don’t have time to write. If you don’t want to ask for yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh I don’t know- say I’m having post traumatic stress, say I’m having some intense therapy and you’re my support person. Say I’ve had a pregnancy scare- anything, I don’t care really. Just- if you need to make up a reason, I’ll back you up in anything you say. Just warn me first, ok?’

Anne really seems like she means it and her ernest expression makes Cathy’s throat tight all over again- the way she offers without hesitation, as if it doesn't even matter. She likes to think she’d do a lot for the other queens but she can’t imagine promising to fake a pregnancy scare for any of them- at least, not without seriously thinking it through first.

(It’s not as if she’d actually ask Anne to do that for her either… but the fact that she offered…. It makes her feel lighter, lighter than she has in weeks.

She wants to tell Anne how grateful she is…. But it turns out that all she can manage is a mumbled thank-you before she’s crying again. This time, they’re tears of relief. She feels so much better…..although being so emotional really isn’t her normal state.

Anne doesn’t seem phased though- she just draws her in again with one arm and digs in her pocket for tissues with her free hand.

‘There was something else you said-’ She passes the tissues over to Cathy who wipes her eyes gratefully. ‘You know Aragon definitely doesn’t hate you right?’

She really doesn’t want to think of that right now- she definitely doesn’t want to talk about it- but she thinks Anne probably deserves an explanation. She’s taking up enough of her time (and her tissues. And Anne’s definitely going to have to wash her hoody now.)

‘I…. got a bit cross with her earlier.’

‘Ooh!’ Anne looks interested. ‘What did you say?’

‘I shouted. Told her to go away. Stop nagging, leave me alone….’

She wants to bite out her tongue for saying it at all… but Anne, when she looks up at her expecting to see her looking disgusted with Cathy’s ingratitude to the person who loves her most…..she’s laughing.

‘Is that ALL?’

‘….yes?’ (Isn’t it enough?)

‘Oh my god, of course she won’t hate you for that!’ Anne tries to bite back another giggle and fails. ‘God, I know you’re always working but you’ve got ears- haven’t you heard us screaming at each other before?’

‘Well-’

(Now Anne mentions it-)

‘It’s...what half past two?’ Anne checks the time by just full-on rotating Cathy’s wrist to see her watch. ‘I’ve already called her a bitch twice this week and it’s only Tuesday. And she threatened to strangle me with my scarf if I left my stuff on the bannister rather than hanging it up. And don’t even get me started on last week when i used her conditioner-’

It’s true, Cathy supposes. Shouting matches aren’t exactly uncommon in the house. But somehow it’s different when it’s between Anne and Aragon- or even Anna and Anne.

It’s loud but it doesn’t mean anything really- its just how they communicate. That Anne calls Aragon a bitch for using up the last of the hot water does not prevent her from offering to drive her to church when Aragon’s car won’t start. Aragon threatening to kill Anne in ever more inventive ways for leaving her belongings scattered around the house does not prevent her from making the younger queen a cup of tea after she’s done shouting.

That’s…..not her though. She and Kitty and Jane dont really go in for shouting or threats and so it feels different. More serious.

She tries to explain it to Anne.

‘- and then she just left’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘No. She just… went.’

Cathy presses her hands over her stinging eyes. ‘What if she was really hurt?’

‘Probably wanted to give you some space babes.’

‘But-’

‘That’s what she said to me anyway.’

Cathy’s head snaps up.

‘What? When?’

‘Well I was coming up to check on you anyway but then she was coming down the stairs when I was going up and she asked if I’d look in on you because she was worried…’

‘Did she look upset?’

Her heart lifts a bit anyway. Catalina did still care, at least a bit….

‘Mmm…..concerned, I’d say, more than upset. She really cares about you.’ Anne squeezes her hand. ‘Honestly, I think she just didn’t want to make things worse by staying because you seemed so stressed out. But she’s not cross, honestly.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! In fact, if you’re that worried, just come and talk to her- you can even say sorry if you really want-’ Anne sits up. Cathy is dislodged and it feels suddenly colder, now she’s not nestled against Anne’s chest. ‘-but I bet she won’t let you.’

Anne makes it sound so easy but…. Cathy knows she won’t be able to make anyone else really understand. That’s not how it works, not for her.

They had all been clear that talking to Henry wouldn’t work- it was beyond that. She hadn’t been aware at the time that she’d pushed too far but she knew she had- the warrant in her hand was proof of that. It was terrifying really- how you could so carelessly talk your way out of someone’s favour without even realising, without even knowing you were doing it… or perhaps it was just her. In fact, it probably was her, there must be something wrong with her, that meant she couldn't read people, that she didn’t know when she was going too far. Even now, it scared her sometimes when she let herself think about it.

‘Hey-’ Anne’s hand touches her hair, brushing aside a wayward curl. ‘She’s not him you know.’

‘How did you-’

‘Because I was married to him too, remember?’ Anne smiles gently at her. ‘He screwed us all up a bit, in his own way.’

And Cathy supposes she’s right.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #parrlyn #cathy parr #stressed!Cathy #anne boleyn

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fandomn00blr · 4 years

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Trivia Tuesday, eh? <3

Ok, so I had to look up what Trivia Tuesday was because @serial-chillr tagged me (you’re the best, btw!). And I guess it’s fine if I just gush about some made-up “facts” about my characters/fics, right?

Tagging ahead to @charlatron, @johaeryslavellan, @kemvee, @barbex, @iarollane, and @factorykat! TELL US SOME FUN FACTS IF YA GOT ‘EM!

I’m going to share a bit (a lot) of head canon/name trivia that is very dear to my heart about one of my Hawke half-twins, Leandera Fenara Hawke that will hopefully be explored more in detail in a distant chapter of a future part of my Lost and Found series on AO3 (like, she doesn’t even exist yet in the parts I’m currently polishing up now, but I tend to write things in a backwards time spiral, so...spoilers, I guess?)

Leandera was originally named Leandra, after her late maternal grandmother (cuz Hawke is unoriginal but also cuz she missed her mama more than ever when she became one herself...not a thing I can relate to at all, I swear! shut up...I’m not crying...YOU ARE!), and Fenara, which was Fenris’ contribution, meaning something like “wolf’s journey” (I don’t understand Elvhen grammar because nobody bothered to actually develop one when they first started slapping words together and that’s okay, Bioware. I get that you had other more important things to worry about...like making everyone friggin hot and stuff, but if you wanted to hire me, a PhD-level linguist, I would take pay in the form of plot spoilers just so I can get out of academia). Fenris makes a habit of studying languages, and has a knack for picking up new ones (canon AF), but until he and Hawke had the twins, he had sort of avoided studying Elvhen for...reasons. Their son, Leandera’s half-twin, is called Malcolm Asaara...asaara being Qunlat for ‘breath’ for even more reasons, but this is about his sister, sooo...

When Hawke and Fenris brought their little family to Skyhold, the kids weren’t even four yet (another fun fact: they get a pretty sweet send-off/fourth birthday party right before leaving Skyhold), but Malcolm had already taught himself how to read and write (under Fenris’ tutelage, natch) because he’s kind of an amazing prodigy. Leandra hated reading and writing lessons, and sitting still for pretty much anything, so she had barely even learned her letters. But the Skyhold library was a favorite place to hang out for both of them (I mean, Dorian’s there...there are big comfy chairs...it’s round!), and when Leandra realized that she could read about dragons and shit in books, she finally started taking an interest in reading and writing (again...none of this is based at all on any of my own personal experiences with children, early childhood education, or literacy, or anything...).

Then the Fade thing at Adamant happened. Hawke stayed behind to fight the Nightmare because she’s a fucking bad ass. She also found Anders there. They were both rescued by Fenris and a team of powerful mages and Justice and... But anyway, Leandra finally got to meet her other dad, Anders.

When she was learning to spell her name (and phonemic awareness and all that shit), Fenris encouraged her to sound it out and spell it how she saw fit. She asked how Anders spelled it, recognizing the sounds of his name embedded in her own (which may or may not have been on purpose), and Fenris never corrected her (BECAUSE HE IS IN LOVE WITH ANDERS, TOO...DID I MENTION THIS IS SOME REAL SAPPY FENHANDERS SHIT?! ANDERS CRIED, OBVIOUSLY, THE FIRST TIME HE SAW HER WRITE HER NAME). By the time Hawke noticed, Leandra had already become Leandera (”with two Es!”), and she was signing her name all over everything, and Hawke just had to embrace it as well.

Omg...this got so long and meandering and I am so very sorry! I guess it’s also TMI Tuesday.

#dragon age #Lost and Found DA2 endgame canon divergence #trivia tuesday #tag #leandEra fenara #fenhanders #Hawke twins (not Bethany and Carver)#half-twins #heteropaternal twins #f!hawke #fenris #anders #literacy #names #hawke family #LF Hawke

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pufflezy · 4 years

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Authors Note: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.

Comment down below if you would prefer to see Wolfstar or Sirius x Marlene in this fan fic. Hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER FOUR: She’s Perfect

James’ POV:

I was sat on the couch in my new head common room, working on my Charms essay. It was quiet, until Lily came in. She walked into the common room, her beautiful, perfect red hair flowing over her shoulders, her amazing emerald eyes shining in the light.

“Hi.” I said smiling.

“Hello, James.” Lily replied, seductively, “I have something to tell you.”

“Ok. What is it?” I asked, as I sat up. She walked over to me and stood right in front of me, looking down at my face.

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, I just didn't know how to tell you.” She informed me.

“Really?” I asked, shocked.

“Really! I want to be with you for the rest of my life, James Potter!” She said before leaning down and kissing me.

It felt like heaven. I never wanted to let go of her. Her soft lips touching mine. Her hands in my hair. I never wanted it to be over.

“Prongs?” I heard a voice say.

“James!”

“James! Would you stop making out with your pillow and get up?” I knew that voice. It was Sirius. Of course Sirius had to wake me from this amazing dream. This amazing dream where I was finally with Lily.

“What do you want?” I groaned, in my sleepy voice.

“Wake up! You were supposed to meet us for breakfast half an hour ago!” Sirius replied.

“Go away!” I said, throwing a pillow at him.

“Stop dreaming about Lily and get downstairs! We’re waiting for you.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“We were gonna plan the first prank of the year, remember? We’ve already had two days of classes and no pranks! We need to do something big! And the weekend is the perfect time to figure it out.”

“Oh, fine! I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Ok. Make sure to give your pillow a kiss goodbye for me.” Sirius teased, before walking out of the room.

I got out of bed and got dressed before walking downstairs to join the boys. I was quite sad I overslept. The past two days of being back I had gotten to see sleepy Lily. Not that I hadn't seen her sleepy before. But this time it was right after she woke up. She had bed head and she was still in her cute little bunny pyjamas. She looked adorable. Of course there was also the grumpiness. Lily is definitely not a morning person. She can be quite irritable in the mornings. But she still looked adorable.

“Hey guys.” I said, as I walked over to the boys and sat on the couch.

“Hi.” Peter replied.

“So, you had another dream about Lily?” Remus asked, smirking.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“You’ve got to get over her, mate!” Sirius said.

“It’s not that simple.” I replied, running my hand through my hair.

“Well, you’ve got to at least stop kissing your pillow. It’s just sad.” Sirius said.

“Haha!” I said, sarcastically.

“Maybe if you dated another girl you’d forget about Lily.” Remus suggested.

“Moony, that's a brilliant idea!” Sirius said, patting Remus on the back.

“I guess. But who?” I asked.

“Anyone. Prongs, any girl at this school would love to go out with you!” Remus said.

“Yeah, but, I don't really want to go out with any of them.” I replied.

“Why?” Peter asked.

“Because none of them are-”

“None of them are Lily. Yeah, yeah, we know.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but no girl compares to Lily! She’s perfect!” I said.

“There are other girls, James. Maybe if you start dating, you’ll find another girl who you think is perfect.” Remus replied.

“No girl is as perfect as Lily.” I said, with a sad smile.

“Maybe not. But, Prongs, you can’t stay hung up on her forever!” Sirius said.

“I know, I know. If only she would like me back!” I replied.

“I think you’ve done all you can do, mate.” Sirius said.

“That’s not true! C’mon, you cant give up! You’re James bloody Potter! You can do anything!” Peter said.

“I don't know, Pete. Maybe I should just give up on Lily.” I replied, sadly.

“No! You cant give up! I’m rooting for Lames!” Peter yelled.

“Lames?” I asked.

“Yeah, Lames.” Peter said, casually.

“What the bloody hell is Lames?” I asked him.

“It’s Lily and James put together. Lames!” Sirius explained.

“They made that up years ago!” Remus said, going back to his book.

“Lames? Lames. Wouldn't Jily be much better?” I said.

“No way! Lames for the win!” Peter yelled.

“Lames? What's that?” Marlene asked, as her, Alice, Hestia, and Lily walked in.

“Uhhh” Peter looked over at me, panicked.

“It’s a muggle term. Peter learned it in Muggle studies yesterday!” I said, quickly.

“A muggle term? Lames is not a muggle term.” Lily laughed.

“Oh, uhh. Maybe I misheard what Professor Burbage said.” Peter replied.

“Yeah, probably.” Lily laughed again. Her laugh was so cute. It always made me smile, even when I was in the worst mood possible.

Marlene, Hestia, Alice, and Lily walked over and joined us on the couches. We sat around and talked for a while before Alice pulled out her Potions homework and started working on it with Remus. Soon enough, everyone was working on their homework.

“James, do you want to get started on the prefects schedule?” Lily asked me, about an hour after they joined us.

“Oh, sure.” I replied. Lily got up to grab the list of prefects and a piece of parchment from her desk. When she returned she sat next to me rather than across from me like she was before.

Now that she was next to me her perfect scent was all around me. She smelt of strawberries and cinnamon. My favourite smell, by far.

“So, I’m thinking that we take rounds on Wednesdays. Then the weekends would be free for studying and Quidditch. I think that we should make sure any prefects that are on a Quidditch team, have the weekends off.” Lily suggested.

“Hmm? Oh, uhh, yeah, sounds good.” I replied. Truth is, I didn't hear a word she said. I was trying to listen, but she was so close to me. Our legs were touching. Her scent was all around me. Her perfect lips, were too distracting.

“James, are you even listening?” Lily asked, annoyed.

“What? Yes, of course I am!” I said, running my hand through my hair.

“What day are we doing rounds on, then?” She asked me. She had that look on her face like ‘I'm about to prove you wrong’.

“Umm, Saturdays?” I asked, hopefully. She sighed and I heard Sirius try to cover a laugh with a cough from behind me.

“James! You have to pay attention! We’re supposed to be making this schedule together!” She said, putting enthesis on ‘together’.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll pay attention now.” I said.

_____________________________________________________________

Lily’s POV:

“Ok, so the fifth year Ravenclaws want to do rounds together.” James stated, reading off the list to me.

“Ok, got that. We’ll put them in the early evening, every other Sunday.” I said, as I wrote it down on the schedule.

“We’re gonna have to make a group of thee, unless someone does rounds alone. There’s an uneven number since I wasn't a prefect.” James said.

“Oh c’mon, James! Why do you have to screw everything up!” Hestia teased. James laughed.

“We’ll just have to make a group of three then. It’s not safe to do rounds alone.” I said as I continued writing stuff on the schedule.

“Ok.” James said. I could hear in his voice he wasn't fully paying attention. He had zoned out three more times since we started working on the schedule. It was really getting on my nerves.

“Remus, is there any day you’d prefer to do rounds on?” I asked.

“No, any days fine.” Remus said, smiling.

“Ok, I’ll put you on the evening shift every other Tuesday. James, who did we decide Remus was doing rounds with?” I asked.

James didn't answer. He must have zoned out again.

“James!” I said, turning to look at him. When I looked at him, I saw that he was already looking at me.

“Hmm, what?” He said, with wide eyes.

“Why cant you focus? We could have been done this by now if you just payed attention!” I said, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I just keep getting distracted.” James said.

“By what?” I asked, getting more annoyed by the second.

“You.” He said smirking, “You look really adorable when you’re focused.” I didn't know what to say. I couldn't think of a witty comeback. I always had a witty comeback! I could hear the girls giggling from the other side of the coffee table. I could feel my face warming up. Why was it doing that?

Oh my god! I’m blushing! I have never, once in my life blushed at anything James Potter has said to me! What was happening?

I didn't know what to say. So I just looked down at the paper again so hopefully he wouldn't notice that I was blushing. I heard him laugh and then pick up the list again.

“The sixth year Hufflepuff, Jamie Straw, wants to do rounds with seventh year Slytherin, Kate Pran.” James said.

“Ok.” I chocked out, writing that down on the schedule. Why was I acting like this? What was happening?

About twenty minutes later we had the schedule finished. Everyone else was just sat around talking and working on homework.

“Do you guys want to go get something to eat?” Marlene asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Alice said.

“I’ll come too.” I replied, as I stood up.

“Hestia?” Marlene asked.

“Sure.” Hestia said.

“You guys coming?” Alice asked the boys.

“No thanks. We’ve got some planning to do.” Sirius said.

“But I’m starving!” James whined.

“Well then maybe you shouldn't have missed breakfast to make o-”

“Ok! Ok! I’ll stay!” James said, giving Sirius an angry look.

“Ok, well we’re gonna go.” Hestia said.

“Bye.” Remus said.

“Bye, guys.” Marlene replied as we walked out the door.

We went down to the Great Hall and sat in our usual spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table. Almost immediately after we got our food Marlene smirked at me. I knew what was coming although I was really hoping to avoid the subject.

“You blushed!” Marlene said, excitedly.

“I did not!” I replied.

“You so did!” Alice said, giggling.

“I so did not!” I said, annoyed.

“Yes you did!” Hestia laughed.

“I did not!” I said, through gritted teeth.

“Stop denying it, Lils! You’re a red head, it’s so obvious when you blush and you were totally blushing!” Marlene replied, smiling.

“I don’t think I've ever seen you blush from something James has said before!” Alice said.

“Because I've never blushed at anything James has said! And never will!” I said, annoyed.

“You totally blushed.” Hestia replied, smirking.

“Do you like him or something?” Alice asked.

“Oh, that would be amazing! Could you imagine if they started dating?” Hestia said, smiling.

“Their kids would be gorgeous! Ou, can I be godmother?” Marlene asked.

“Guys! I do not like him and I am not having his children!” I said, sternly.

“But, they would be so cute!” Hestia whined. I rolled my eyes and went back to my sandwich.

“You totally blushed.” Marlene said under her breath.

__________________________________________________________

Severus’ POV:

“I know, I know. We’ll figure it out, but we need to wait until people have settled in and we know how many there are in each house.” Mulciber said.

“Well there's none in Slytherin.” Avery replied, proudly.

“Yes, I know, Avery! But that makes it harder for us to get to them.” Mulciber stated, annoyed.

“True. But we already know where one is. And it won’t be too hard to get her. I mean, she has her own dorm, its not like we can confuse her with anyone.” Macnair said, smirking.

“Very true. And she’ll be one of the first!” Mulciber replied, smiling.

Once the meeting was over, I decided to go for a walk. I had been sat in that dark corridor with them for hours.

I was walking down the corridor near the library when I saw her. It really isn't hard to miss her, with her fiery red hair, and bright emerald eyes and her perfect smile that could light up a room.

“Hi, Lily.” I said, when I got close enough to her.

“Oh. Hi, Sev-erus.” Lily replied.

“How was your summer?” I asked her.

“It was alright. I didn't really do much. I hung out with the girls and met Petunias new boyfriend.”

“Petunia got a boyfriend?” I asked, shocked.

“Yeah. He’s perfect for her! He’s rude, doesn't care about other peoples feelings, and hates me! Its a match made in heaven, really!”

“Yeah, sounds like it.” I laughed.

“So, how was your summer?” She asked, politely.

“It was fine. Moms been gone a lot lately, but I worked on some new potion recipes.”

“Sorry about that. But the potion stuff sounds cool! Are you making your own potions or just changing some instructions on other potions?”

“A bit of both.”

“That's great. Maybe you could tell me about one of your potions some time.”

“Yeah, of course! As long as its just you. I don't really want to be sharing my potion inventions with your new friends.”

“My new friends?”

“Yeah. Potter and his little gang.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. When did you become friends with them anyways? They’re jerks. Why do you even like them?”

“We became friends at the end of last year. And they are not jerks! They’re actually really nice people.”

“They seem like jerks to me! Don’t you remember all the things they used to do? They were jerks to both of us!”

“Yes I remember! But they’re not jerks anymore. They've grown up, and so should you!” Lily said angrily before storming off.

“Well, great.” I muttered to myself before walking off in the other direction.

___________________________________________________________

James’ POV:

“Yeah, I saw it too. She was kind of flustered.” Remus agreed.

“She didn't even say anything! She always has some kind of comeback to get me to shut up and back off, but she didn't say anything!” I added, excitedly.

“Maybe she didn't want you to back off.” Sirius said, smirking.

“Maybe.” I said, smiling. “Did you see her blushing? She looked so cute. I’ve never seen her blush before!”

“Yes, we saw her blushing, Prongs.” Peter replied.

“I wanna see her blushing again!” I admitted.

“Then make her blush again.” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“Ok! I will! She looked so cute. But she always looks cute. She’s perfect” I gushed, as the boys rolled their eyes and went back to planning.

“She’s perfect.” I smiled to myself.

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Chapter five up now!

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Tequila

Chapter 5 of Damned Spot is up on AO3! It ends on a bit of a cliffhanger BUT THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UP EITHER TONIGHT OR TOMORROW, I PROMISE. Posting this one tonight for @dadrunkwriting Friday!

In which Fenris and Rynne flail around like awkward idiots in the wake of the previous night’s party. Tiiiiiiny hint of smut. Previous chapters can be read here: [1] [2] [3] [4]

And beautiful art of this fic can be seen on the Tumblr of my partner in life and crime, the ever-talented @schoute.

***********************

2:21pm - you had fun last night. admit it!

Rynne’s phone made a little swish sound as it whisked her message away to Fenris. She grinned to herself as she pulled her sunglasses from her forehead down to her nose, then stepped out into the brilliant afternoon sunshine.

She was still on a high from how great the party was. After the intensity of the conversation on the balcony, Fenris had spent the rest of the night by her side. They’d both continued drinking, and he’d started loosening up, and Rynne lost her breath every damned time he laughed. He talked more than she’d expected, firmly sharing his opinions in the ebb and flow of conversations as they moved among the various groups of people in the house, and he was just…

He was so fucking smart. And articulate. And surprisingly opinionated. Rynne hadn’t expected that either, given how infrequently he participated in chit-chat at the Hanged Man. But now that she’d seen him talking more freely, it was more obvious than ever that his customary reserved silence masked an unceasing river of thought rather than a lack of anything important to say.

His opinions didn’t always match with hers. In addition to the lyrium issue, Fenris favoured the death penalty and really seemed to hate big corporations like Amazon. Rynne, on the other hand, supported rehab for convicted criminals and didn’t particularly care where her stuff came from as long as it was cheap. She and Fenris butted heads a few times, and the conversation became rather heated on more than one occasion - too heated for Isabela, who complained that this was a party and not a courthouse - but somehow, Rynne always managed to diffuse the tension and make him smile.

And as soon as Fenris smiled, every hint of cogent thought fled her foolish brain.

He’d followed her from the couch to the kitchen to the games room, scoffing at her jokes and returning her teasing with rapid-fire retorts that made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt. He’d point-blank refused to dance with her, but it hadn’t stopped her from dancing up on him like the shameless tart that she was. At one point, while she was twisting in front of him like a snake, he put his hand on her waist.

Fenris had touched her. Touched her of his own free will, twice in a single night. He’d shaken his head and smirked at her as his elegant, tattooed fingers squeezed her waist, and…

Maker’s balls, Rynne really wanted to fuck him.

But it was so much more than that. Usually Rynne was happy to hop into bed with whoever caught her interest, and if the fling became more than physical, that was a happy plus. But with Fenris… She got the sense that that wouldn’t work for him, and that she’d have to wait for him to come around to the idea of sleeping with her.

Rynne didn’t care. She was more than happy to wait. She would wait for him for months if she had to, because she could happily admit the truth: in the space of less than two months, she’d become more attached to Fenris than to any other romantic partner she’d ever had.

Fenris knew her worst secret, the one she’d been forced to hold most closely to her chest, and he didn’t think she was a horrible person for what she’d done. He’d given her a few secrets of his own, and she knew that was no small thing for him. Somehow, for some reason, Rynne trusted him at a visceral, instinctual level, just as much as she trusted Piper and Cullen. And in the most uninhibited depths of her heart, she knew that she would wait for him for as long as it took.

But hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.

She cheerfully hummed along to her tropical house playlist as she made her way to Athenril’s coffee shop in Lowtown. She was so busy rehashing the happy events of the previous night that she was halfway to Lowtown before she realized that Fenris hadn’t texted her back.

She pulled out her phone and swiped through to her messages.

2:33pm - fine, play coy, i dont mind ;) 2:33pm - seriously though i’m really glad you came

She popped her phone back in her pocket, but to her happy surprise, it dinged less than a minute later.

2:34pm - Thank you for having me.

I haven’t had you yet, she thought cheekily. But she would keep that thought to herself. For now, at least.

2:34pm - anytime ^^ 2:34pm - are you super hungover? did i wake you up? lol

2:34pm - No. I’ve been up for hours. Some of us don’t have the luxury of blackout curtains in every bedroom window.

Aw. So snarky, she thought fondly. She could imagine the crease of his eyebrows and the smirk on his lips as he texted her. The image fostered a warm feeling in her belly, and she grinned to herself as she stepped into the road.

“Hawke! Be careful!” A strong female hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her back, and Rynne squealed in alarm as a taxi screeched around the corner in the spot where she’d just been standing.

“Fuck!” Rynne gasped. She pulled out one earphone and stared up at Aveline, who was scowling at her with a look that she usually reserved for shoplifting teenagers. “Av! My hero! Kirkwall’s finest at her very best! How are you?”

“I’m fine. But you need to pay attention to your surroundings,” Aveline scolded. “Turn your music down. You would have heard that cab coming if your music was quieter.”

Rynne tilted her head playfully. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over my music. What was that you said?”

Aveline pursed her lips. “Very funny.” She waved a hand for Rynne to cross the street, and they made their way in the direction of Lowtown together.

“Seriously though, how are you?” Rynne asked. “How’s Donnic?”

Aveline’s expression softened at the mention of her husband. “He’s well, thank you. Enjoying paternity leave.” She smiled slightly, and Rynne grinned at the pinkness of the police captain’s cheeks.

“And how’s Carver doing?” Rynne asked. “I hope he listens to you more than he ever listened to me. It would be embarrassing for a police officer to get another ticket for parking in a no-parking zone.”

“He’s doing very well,” Aveline replied. Her tone held a hint of censure. “He’s a hard worker, you know. A good addition to the precinct. And yes, he listens well, so no complaints there.” Aveline shot her a sideways look. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

Rynne shrugged casually. “Yep.” It had been about six months, in fact. But it was better this way. It wasn’t like Carver wanted to see her, anyway.

She changed the subject. “What are you doing out in these parts, anyway?” she asked. “I thought you were more of a desk jockey these days. Are half of the precinct on vacation or something?”

Aveline pursed her lips again. “A good captain keeps her eyes and ears on the street whenever she has a chance,” she announced. She gave Hawke a knowing look. “You should be grateful that I’m out and about. You’d be roadkill otherwise.”

“That I would,” Rynne chuckled, and she slipped her hand through the crook of Aveline’s arm. “Care to escort me the rest of the way to Athenril’s, just in case I decide to wander into traffic again?”

Aveline smiled. “I’m afraid not. I’ll be leaving you here, actually. I’m off to the docks.” She patted Rynne’s hand, then pulled away. “Be careful,” she warned. “Volume down!”

“Yeah, all right!” Rynne waved and popped her earphones back in at full volume, then pulled her phone out again.

No further texts from Fenris. The ball was still in her court.

2:40pm - hey, those blackout curtains are necessary ok 2:40pm - you don’t know this, but im actually a vampire 2:41pm - i spontaneously combust in direct sunlight 2:41pm - none of that sparkly diamond skin twilight bullshit. i’m the real deal

She held her phone loosely in her hand as she strolled along. When he didn’t reply a few minutes later, she lifted her phone and tapped out another message.

2:44pm - what are you up to today? wanna hang out later?

She sent the message before she could stop to think twice. Maybe she was being overeager, but she’d really enjoyed spending time with him last night. They were both off work until Tuesday, and if she had to wait that long to see him again, she would drive Piper up the wall with her gushing.

By the time she reached Athenril’s coffee shop, he still hadn’t replied. But as luck would have it, he didn’t need to. As Rynne stepped into the cafe, she instantly spotted a familiar black-clad and hooded figure standing at the counter with his hands shoved into his pockets.

She grinned, then sashayed over to him and leaned against the counter. “Excuse me, sir. Are you a janitor? Because you’ve swept me off my feet.”

Fenris recoiled at her abrupt appearance, then his eyebrows rose as he recognized her. “Hawke! What are you doing here?”

“Inspecting the goods, of course,” she said. She bit her lip and gave him a coy smile.

To her slight disappointment, he didn’t smirk in return. Instead, he ran a hand over his hood and dropped his gaze.

Rynne straightened up. “I’m picking up an order,” she explained. “It’s our usual after-party thing. Unfortunately, I drew the short straw for pick-up today.” She stood on her tiptoes and waved at Emile, who held up two fingers to her.

She nodded, then turned back to Fenris. “Did you get my text?” she asked brightly.

“I did,” he confirmed. And he said nothing more.

Rynne frowned slightly. He wasn’t looking her in the eye. Maybe he was just really focused on getting his coffee, but she was getting a distinctly weird vibe from him.

Well, he’d been weird when she first him, and that hadn’t thrown her off. “So. What are you up to today?” she said. “Want to come over and hang out with us?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said. “I’ve… I have errands to look after.” He nodded at the barista as she handed him his coffee, then turned away from the counter and from Rynne.

Her stomach started writhing. What was wrong with him? Had she done something wrong? She could hear Isabela’s voice in her mind telling her to brush him off and let it go, but Rynne’s shameless, prideless tongue wouldn’t stop wagging.

She followed him as he moved toward the door. “Do you want to go for dinner with me?” she blurted. “There’s an Antivan tapas place that just opened in Hightown. I haven’t been there yet, but Varric said the fish tacos are to die for.”

“No,” Fenris said bluntly. “I mean - no, thank you. I will see you on Tuesday.” He finally looked her in the eye - the briefest, most neutral look - then pushed open the door to the coffee shop and left.

Rynne stood dumbly near the door as she watched him leave. Then she slowly made her way back to the counter.

“Hé, Hawke!” Emile glided over and handed her a tray of drinks and a paper bag as he reeled off their regular order. “One Nevarran spiced chai, one espresso, one black drip coffee and one Arlathan apple spice, and one mixed box of Orlesian petit-fours… hey, are you okay?”

She hauled her face into a smile. “Yeah,” she lied. “I just remembered I haven’t done my taxes yet.”

Emile’s face fell. “Ah merde, I haven’t either! My father will have a fit…” He pulled his phone from his pocket and began madly tapping at the screen.

Hawke grimaced guiltily and backed away from the counter. “Er, sorry! I’ll, uh, see you later.” She hurried away from the counter and left the cafe, but as soon as she was on the street again, she let her smile fall away.

Her chest felt heavy, like someone had dropped a pile of rocks into her rib cage. Why was Fenris being so cold? Maybe she’d said something stupid last night that she didn’t remember. She had been pretty drunk by the end of the night. Maybe they’d argued about something

Or maybe she was just a deluded idiot, and he wasn’t actually interested in her at all.

She pulled her sunglasses down to hide her burning eyes. It doesn’t matter. He’s just a boy, she told herself. A handsome, intelligent boy with hidden depths, but still just a boy. As Isabela would say, boys come and go - literally and metaphorically - and they were imminently replaceable.

Maybe if she kept telling this to herself, the stupid childish pain in her chest would go away.

Maybe if she kept telling this to herself, she would start to believe it.

********************

Hawke slid Fenris’s water with lime across the bar. “Hey,” she said.

He nodded. “Hawke,” he greeted, but she’d already glided away to the other side of the bar.

Fenris watched her wistfully for a moment, then lifted his water and turned around on his stool to face the rest of the pub. The Hanged Man was relatively quiet, as was usual for a Tuesday; they didn’t do karaoke on Tuesdays, so the customary mix of 80s new wave and 90s grunge was pumping through the speakers and carrying the conversational susurrus of the laid-back post-work crowd.

Fenris sighed quietly. He slid his hand into his pocket and idly toyed with his phone. This was the first contact he’d had with Hawke since he’d run into her at Athenril’s cafe on Sunday. She hadn’t sent him a single text since then.

She’d only started texting him regularly about a week ago, but it was odd how quickly he’d become accustomed to the presence of her sunny swearing and ridiculous typos on his phone. Since the run-in on Sunday, she’d gone completely radio silent. It was…

Necessary, he told himself. It was necessary. She was getting too close, and Fenris couldn’t let that happen. The closer she got, the more dangerous it was for them both.

He’d been a fool at the party on Saturday. On the balcony during that moment of weakness, he’d told her Danarius’s name, and it was a foolish fucking mistake. Knowing even that much information was a risk to them both. What if she tried to Google Danarius, and someone was spying on her search histories and tracked her down to get information about Fenris’s whereabouts? Fenris used a VPN for all his online browsing, but Rynne didn’t seem the type to care about that kind of thing. Fenris wasn’t ready for Danarius and his men to come after him. He needed more time.

If Hawke learned anything more about Fenris, it could compromise his goals. His revenge would be at stake. Worse yet, Hawke herself would be in danger, and Fenris’s blood ran cold at the thought of any harm coming to her.

He briefly turned back to the bar and lifted his water. As he sipped from his glass, he glanced at Hawke again; she was leaning her elbows on the bar and giggling with a pair of businessmen.

“Puppy eyes.”

He turned and met Piper’s shrewd amber gaze. “What was that?”

“Puppy eyes,” she repeated. “That’s what Merrill would call your face right now.” Her eyebrows were lifted and her lips were pursed; her expression was the definition of unimpressed.

Fenris frowned and turned away. “There are no puppy eyes.”

Piper snorted. She leaned over the bar and stared at the side of his face. “This would be cute if we were all sixteen. News flash: we’re not. We’re all fucking adults.”

Fenris refused to look at her. He restlessly ran his thumb across his phone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Piper retorted. For a long moment, she stared fixedly at him as though he was a bizarre piece of art, then straightened up and wafted away.

Fenris scowled at her slender back, then replaced his glass of water on the bar and went to sit by the door of the Hanged Man. Only one bouncer was needed on Tuesdays to monitor the inside the pub, but Fenris couldn’t help but wish he could sit outside today.

An agonizing few hours later, after the waitstaff had cleaned up and gone home, Fenris made his way to the bar while Piper and Hawke were starting to lay out the cash. But before he could say goodnight, Piper raised her eyebrows at him.

“I have to leave early,” she said.

Hawke’s head whipped up at her words. “What? Since when?”

“Since two hours ago,” Piper said pertly. “Cullen got off work early tonight, so guess who else will be getting off early?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hawke groaned and rolled her eyes. “Wow. That was a stretch, even for you.”

Piper snickered and bumped Hawke’s hip. “It was clever and you know it.” She smiled as Hawke chuckled, then turned back to Fenris. “Can you help Hawke to count the cash?”

Fenris tensed, and Hawke’s grin immediately slid away. “What? No! I can do it on my own-”

Piper flapped her hands. “No, Fenris can help.” She looked at him. “I asked Varric already, he’s paying you for an extra hour. That works out for everyone, right?” Piper’s tone was light and friendly, but her eyes were like daggers on his face.

He clenched his jaw and gave her a hard stare, but her strong chin was belligerently lifted, and… well, the whole point of being here was the money. If he was being paid for an extra hour…

He turned his gaze to Hawke. “I’ll help. Tell me what to do, and it is done.”

Hawke stared at him for a second, then smiled tightly and shoved a pile of twenties toward him. “Fine. I hope you can do math.”

He frowned slightly. “Of course I can.” He sat on a bar stool across from her and lifted the pile of bills.

“Good,” Hawke said. “Because I can’t. Pipes is the brains of this operation.”

Piper laughed. “Nice try, bitch. You’re brilliant too.” She checked her phone, then hitched her purse onto her shoulder and waved at them. “Cullen’s just outside. Have a good night!”

“Bye. I hate you,” Hawke called to her departing back.

“Love you too!” Piper chirped, and then she was gone, leaving Fenris and Hawke alone.

Hawke stared blankly at him for a second, then shot him an alarmingly bright smile. “Who wants a drink?” She turned away and grabbed a lower-shelf bottle of tequila, then pulled out two shot glasses.

“Oh. Er - perhaps just one-” Fenris said dumbly, but Hawke was already pouring him a shot.

The pushed the tiny glass of tequila across the bar to him, then poured one for herself and immediately drank it. “Want a piece of peach with that?” she asked. “Piper calls it Fen’harel’s Fuzzy Cock. Well, she does when we add some lime juice to it. Three ingredients makes it a cocktail.” She winked at him as she poured herself a second shot.

“No,” Fenris said. “No peach is necessary.” He downed the shot and winced at the harsh burn of cheap liquor, then began counting the stack of twenties.

Hawke chattered the entire time they were counting the cash. Fenris listened as she complained about her favourite food stand in Lowtown closing last week and an outlandish anime she’d just finished watching and how she was planning a trip to Rivain in a couple of months. He watched with no small amount of wonder as she managed to swiftly count the cash and write the amounts on a spreadsheet while simultaneously talking and pouring them shot after shot of tequila.

By the time the task was almost done, Fenris was feeling a little hazy from the drinks, and he wasn’t sure how helpful he had ultimately been. “You may want to check this,” he confessed as he pushed a pile of dimes toward her. “I counted twenty-three, but I… I may have miscounted.”

She grinned at him. Her coppery eyes were brilliant from the booze. “Some helper you are,” she teased. She quickly counted the coins again, her face briefly furrowing into a frown as she counted them, then gave him a satisfied smile. “You’re good,” she said, and she wrote the amount on her spreadsheet, then began to tally it all up with a calculator.

Fenris watched her as she worked. She hummed to herself as she tapped in the numbers, some song that was vaguely familiar to him from earlier that night. Her face was peaceful and her tiny smile was sweet, and…

Venhedis, he wished his life really were this simple. If only he really was just a man working at a pub with a beautiful woman who hummed happy songs while she counted the cash. But this kind of simplicity, of uncomplicated peace and quiet… This was as foreign to Fenris as his native language was to her, and there was no point pining for something so bright when all his future held was blood.

She looked up from her spreadsheet and tapped at the computer over the till, then punched her fist in the air. “Yesss. Counted the cash while drunk. Pipes and Varric will be so proud! Or horrified. I can’t decide.” She grinned at him, but her smile froze when she met his eyes.

He stared at her, unable to breathe and unable to look away from her stricken expression. Then she dropped her eyes and began replacing the cash into the drawer. “Fenris, can you put the bigger bills into that envelope, we’ll lock it up separately in the safe-”

He reached out and took her hand. “Hawke,” he blurted, “I… I am sorry.”

Her hands went still, and her eyes darted back to his face. “Sorry for what?” she said faintly.

He hesitated as he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure what to apologize for. He hadn’t forced Hawke to talk to him, after all. She’d flirted with him and garnered his unwavering attention without any particular encouragement from him. He hadn’t asked her to be his friend. He hadn’t asked her to become the first person he’d trusted in a very long time. If he was sorry for anything, it was that he’d indulged her incessant attempts at conversation and gotten them both into this uncomfortable position in the first place.

But he couldn’t tell her that, not without explaining why they couldn’t be… whatever she clearly wanted this to be. Finally he settled on a cheap diversion. “You’re a beautiful woman. Is there no one else who has your attention?”

Her eyebrows leapt high on her forehead, and she smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that first part.”

He gave her a chiding look. “I’m a Tevinter gangster with years’ worth of blood on my hands,” he said bluntly. “None of those things bother you?”

She turned her hand in his grip and squeezed his fingers. “You’re not a gangster anymore,” she said.

A wriggle of guilt burrowed into Fenris’s belly, but Hawke wasn’t finished. “Besides, if I was interested in anyone else, I’d be with them. I’m only interested in you.”

He stared at her with growing puzzlement. “Why?” he said hoarsely. Now that he thought about it, he genuinely wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to him. He wasn’t even particularly nice to her. Kaffas, he’d been a downright ass the last time he’d seen her, and purposely so.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled slowly at him. “What, you want me to list all the reasons?”

With horror, he realized that it indeed sounded like he’d been soliciting compliments. “No,” he said hastily, but it was too late; she was already pouring more shots and talking.

“You’re smart. You’re funny when you’re in the mood. When you’re not in the mood, your angry face makes me want to rip my clothes off. I…” She trailed off and ran a hand through her tufty hair. “You get me, Fenris. Or I thought you did.” She downed the shot and poured herself another. “It also doesn’t hurt that you’re fucking gorgeous.” She tilted her head. “Why are you asking me this? Do you like me?”

With a slightly shaking hand, he gulped the shot she’d poured, then watched as she filled his glass again. “That is not the issue,” he hedged. “Whether I like you or not is irrel-”

She bluntly cut him off. “It’s a simple question, Fenris,” she said. “Do you like me, or don’t you? I can’t tell, you see. I need you to break it down for me like the idiot that I am.”

He shook his head in growing exasperation. This was not where he’d meant this conversation to go. Where… where had he meant this conversation to go? He couldn’t quite remember.

He lifted the shot glass to his lips. “We shouldn’t be together,” he insisted, then downed the shot.

She frowned, then placed her glass on the bar with a clatter and poured two more. “I told you stuff about me that no one else knows. And I thought… I thought it was the same for you. Was I wrong?”

“N-no,” Fenris said. He was feeling increasingly agitated. He was starting to get the distinct sense that he was being interrogated; ironic, since he was the one who had clumsily started this conversation.

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked. “Do do you like me or not? That’s all that-”

“Yes,” he finally snapped. “Yes, I do, all right? I like you, Hawke. I think about you, and… in fact, I’ve been able to think of little else.” He snatched the shot from the bar and gulped it in one big swallow, then slammed the glass on the bar and glared at her.

Her mouth had dropped into a comical little ‘o’. Fenris dragged a hand through his hair. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he demanded.

Her expression slowly lifted into a brilliant smile. “I didn’t expect you to say ‘yes’,” she said. Then she burst into laughter.

Fenris planted one elbow on the bar and pointed at her accusingly. “You see? This - your - you laugh like this and it… You drive me mad with your incessant flirting and your laughing and that macabre little dress of yours with the skulls-”

“Oh, that dress,” she drawled. Her voice was vibrant with mirth, like laughter smoothed and curled into speech. “You liked that dress, did you?”

“I…” He buried his spinning head in his hands, then scowled at her again. “I wanted to peel it off and watch it pooling around your feet,” he growled.

Her eyes widened, and Fenris watched with a nearly-vindictive rush of satisfaction as her cheeks turned pink. “Well, fuck me sideways,” she breathed.

Her evocative curse painted a brilliant picture in his mind: Hawke naked and sweaty, stretched on her side while he slid up behind her and stroked the inside of her thigh…

A roar of heat blazed through his chest from throat to groin, and he dragged in a heavy breath. His eyes were fixed on her lips, her plump and parted lips, and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, not even if he was panting for it.

Then Hawke lunged toward him and hooked her hand around the back of his neck, and before he could do more than gasp in surprise, she was kissing him.

Hawke was kissing him. Hawke’s lips, her fingers on his neck, it was… she was…

The next thing he knew, he was on his feet with one hand gripping her short dark hair as he leaned over the bar and kissed her back, and she was whimpering against his lips like the wanton little thing she was. There was a faint clatter of coins as she splayed her palm on the bar - the bar, the fucking blasted bar that stood between them, separating them and stopping them from doing something stupid-

She petted his neck and released a tiny sob of want when he nipped her lower lip. “Fenris,” she begged. “I want - I…”

“Come here,” he breathed. This was a foolish thing to do, an act of complete idiocy, but Fenris couldn’t stop: he was drunk on her, intoxicated by the reddened look of her lips and the taste of tequila on her tongue and the sheer shining joy in her eyes, and he wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything in his cursed life.

Hawke smiled against his lips, then pushed away from the bar and hefted herself onto its surface, and Fenris gaped at her as she clumsily scrambled over the bar and onto her feet beside him.

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Now, where were we?”

He didn’t waste his breath replying. He dragged her against his body and slid his thigh between her legs, then swallowed her rapturous cry with another kiss.

She slid her tongue against his own, then broke away with a moan as he slipped his fingers into her loose camisole and up along her ribs. “Fucking Maker’s balls,” she whined, then she gasped and thrust her hips against his leg as he snuck his fingers under her bra and pinched her nipple.

He breathed hard as he palmed her pert little breast. His body was thrumming, heavy and pulsing with the strength of his need for her, and he hadn’t felt this way in years. He hadn’t wanted this in years, not since he’d had the tattoos branded on his skin. The tattoos represented so many layers of resistance, of pain and emptiness and regret. Especially since leaving Tevinter, Fenris hadn’t wanted to be seen with these metaphorical scars staining his skin.

But in this moment, he would strip himself bare in the space of a second if it meant Hawke would strip herself as well.

He carefully licked her lower lip. “Let’s leave,” he whispered.

She pressed her lips together, then gasped again as he pinched her nipple harder. “Oh fuck,” she whined. “I… Fenris, we have to lock up the cash, I can’t just…”

He growled in frustration, and she laughed breathily. “You making that sound does not make this easier for me,” she panted. She pushed gently at his chest.

He reluctantly allowed her to step away, then penned her between his body and the bar. “A renegade with a work ethic?” he whispered in her ear.

She shivered prettily, and her hands were clumsy as she collected the cash. “Exactly,” she replied. “Never let it be said that I shirked my duties to this lovable dump.” She shoved the bigger bills into an envelope and replaced the remaining money in the drawer, then picked it all up and shifted away from him. “I’ll be super quick, I promise.”

He allowed her to move away, then shamelessly watched as she hurried to Varric’s office and let herself inside. While Hawke locked up the cash in Varric’s safe, Fenris pulled up his hood and wandered restlessly toward the door.

This was a bad idea, and he knew it. It was stupid and irresponsible, and he suspected that he was going to regret it tomorrow, but it just felt so fucking right. The lingering feeling of Hawke’s hands on his skin, stroking his neck and pressing against his chest - it warmed and riled him the more he thought about it. He thought about her lips and the sharp taste of her tongue, and it was so fucking wrong and selfish and unfair, and he was powerless to stop.

The distinct click of a lock caught his attention. He turned to see Hawke hurrying toward him with her phone in her hand. “I called an Uber,” she said. “It’ll be here in two minutes.”

Two minutes. He had two minutes to do the right thing. To tell her this was a mistake, that he was a complete and utter ass whose only legacy was a trail of bodies and blood and death, and that she should write him off altogether…

She slid her palms along his abs and lifted herself on her toes. “Kiss me while we wait,” she whispered.

He instinctively gripped her hips as she leaned into his chest. “You’re very demanding,” he said.

“Of course I am. This is everything I wanted,” she retorted. She bit her lip, and her gaze drifted up to his eyes. “You’re all I think about, too,” she murmured.

And just like that, Fenris was sunk. His resistance and his reasons were gone, obliterated by the woman in his arms, and in the muddled mess of his sex-scrambled mind, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

In this moment, all he cared about was her: the charming and infuriating woman in his arms, with all her merriness and her melancholy. And for tonight, Fenris was hers.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenris modern AU #fenris smut #damned spot #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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shireness-says · 6 years

Text

Playing the Part ch. 4: Stick to the Status Quo

Summary: As a stage manager who’s clawed her way up from bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU. Rated T. Also on AO3. Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

Title pulled from High School Musical, because my excellent beta @snidgetsafan (thanks as always!) suggested it and it was a little too perfect to pass up. It's performed by schools across the nation every year, so I say it still counts.

I haven't done so lately, so I think this is a good time to remind people that my theater experience is all on the community theater level, not the professional level. Things that happen in this chapter or in this fic may or may not be realistic, leaning towards the latter. I hope you enjoy it anyways as a lovingly crafted piece of fiction.

Tags: @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @thejollyroger-writer, @mythologicalmango, @onceuponaprincessworld, @idristardis, @teamhook, @courtorderedcake, @aerica13, @revanmeetra87, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes. If you want to be tagged going forward (or taken off this list - I won’t be insulted!), shoot me a message, and I’ll make it happen.

Enjoy!

Tuesday starts alright (at least as much as Tuesday mornings ever do). As everyone involved in the production has fallen into a new routine at the theater, Emma’s stress level has dropped significantly. The creases are slowly being ironed out on the tech side, the cast is fully off-book, the choreography looks fantastic, and she had even managed to get home in time to hang out with Henry for a little bit before his bedtime. Not bad for a Monday - and hopefully a pattern that sets the tone of the rest of the week.

Henry does trip her up a little at breakfast. It’s early still, but Emma had wanted to make breakfast for once - sort of as a “thanks for being a great and patient kid” gesture, since she knows it’s been a hectic few weeks and not likely to get any better. Nothing special, but Henry really loves the pancakes from the box, and she cooks up a few slices of bacon to go with. Unsurprisingly for a boy his age, Henry falls upon the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week. Emma’s not complaining; it means he’ll be sent off to school with a hearty breakfast instead of the usual Pop-Tarts or toaster waffles, and they’ve never been much for leftovers.

Breakfast conversation (or at least what passes for it with a halfway awake ten-year-old) is happy, if predictable - talk about upcoming tests and projects, how his friends are doing and the like - before Henry turns the conversation back around on her.

“So, is it going better?” he asks. The words are seemingly normal, even casual, but something is setting off Emma’s mom alarms all the same.

“Yeah, we’re all settling into a routine. Still on schedule,” she replies. “Any particular reason you’re asking?”

“No, no, just… making conversation,” Henry hurries to answer. After a pause to shovel more pancakes into his mouth, he continues his inquiries in a almost painfully casual tone of voice. “So… have you seen a lot of Killian lately?”

Emma casts her son a suspicious look, grabbing the plate of bacon before answering his question. “I see him every day at rehearsals, but not any more than the rest of the cast. Why, should I have?”

Ok, that last part isn’t strictly true. Killian has a way of showing up when she least expects him to, often to offer his assistance on things he doesn’t strictly need to concern himself with. But Henry doesn’t need to know that. Hell, Emma doesn’t know how she feels about that - no need to drag her kid into that.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Henry hurries to add in a move directly stolen from Mary Margaret. “Just, you know, I had a great time hanging out with him the past couple of days. He’s a really nice guy.”

It’s the emphasis that really drives home Henry’s intentions, and Emma groans loudly when she realizes. “Aw, kid, not you too.”

“I’m just saying!” Henry protests, loudly and enthusiastically. “He’s super nice, and he totally has a thing for you.”

“How do you even know that?” Emma demands.

Henry just shrugs in return. “Robin says so.”

That elicits another groan from Emma. God, this is not the conversation she wanted to be having with her kid this morning. “When were you even hanging out with Robin? And don’t get me started about how you two are apparently gossiping like a pair of sorority girls.”

“We were not!” Henry tosses back, affronted at the mere suggestion. “And you were doing something else. Talking with Scarlet, maybe? I don’t know. Robin’s a cool guy, he’s teaching me about the light board. And he says Jones is totally smitten with you.”

“Well Robin needs to watch his fat mouth,” Emma grumbles petulantly.

“Would it be so bad?” Henry says, switching gears to that pouting routine Emma is usually weak for. “I’m a big kid now, you know, you don’t need to drop everything for me anymore.”

“I’ll always drop everything for you,” Emma promises solemnly, choosing to ignore Henry’s point.

In return, her son just rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Super-Mom or whatever. I’m just saying… if you wanted to go out and have a life… I’d be fine with it.”

That’s her kid - trying to look out for his mom, even when she doesn’t ask for it. “I’ll keep that in mind, kid.”

Emma thinks the subject has been exhausted, but with a mischievous smirk, Henry lobs one more verbal missile. “And if you are going to get out there on the dating scene… I do really like Killian.”

Emma affectionately sticks her tongue out at her son in retaliation before shoving the bacon plate back under his nose. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eat your breakfast.”

The thing is, early morning heart-to-hearts over pancakes have a way of lingering, and even if Emma had brushed off Henry’s prodding at the time, she finds herself still thinking about those words when she arrives at rehearsal. Her son is a great kid to be so concerned about her and her social life, but it’s not like she’s lonely or something. Honestly, she doesn’t have the time; she’s got great working relationships and a great kid and some pretty great friends (even if Mary Margaret is concerningly optimistic and Ruby can sometimes drive her nuts). Sure, she hasn’t really been in a relationship since Henry was born - a few flings on the weekends Henry was with Neal, a smattering of dates that never went further - but she’s not desperate for a man in her life. Emma’s got everything she needs, just the way things are now.

Of course, that doesn’t stop her from thinking dangerous and romantic things when Jones shows up with her daily hot chocolate and a smile. She may not need anyone, it’s true, but maybe Henry has a point. It could be nice, to actually be involved in an adult relationship. Killian really is a nice guy, handsome to boot, and, as pointed out by far too many people in her life, clearly besotted with Emma. When Killian grins at her as she takes that first marvelous sip from the cheap to-go cup, Emma finds herself thinking: would it really be that bad?

The answer, of course, is yes. The fact still remains that they work together. If Emma has one hard and fast rule for her non-existent love life, it’s not to mix business with pleasure - regardless of Jones’ feelings, regardless of Henry and Robin’s less-than-subtle hints (and God forbid Ruby or Mary Margaret catch wind of those conversations), and definitely regardless of any attraction Emma may or may not feel towards the man (because honestly, the more time she spends in his company, the more she’s moving away from no and towards yes, absolutely yes). So, despite everyone’s wishful thinking on that matter, the answer is still that it would be an awful idea.

(It won’t stop her from thinking about it, though.)

Thanks to that breakfast conversation with Henry, the morning isn’t going at all the way Emma had planned. But still, it’s got all the potential to be a good one all the same.

Of course, that all goes to shit by noon. Zelena has remained a problem, one Emma has known for a couple of weeks now that they’ll have to deal with, but Emma had been hoping she’d restrain herself to the status of a nuisance instead of actively working against the interests of the production. However, luck seems to have deserted them in that regard. Emma is consistently confused by the amount of criticism that Zelena is able to offer, considering the size of her part. Caroline Bingley is certainly an important role, but it’s not a sizable one - really only a few scenes and portions of two songs. And yet, the redhead has something negative to say about seemingly every moment of it. The best Emma can figure is that Zelena must have greatly inflated the role in her head, to the point that she’s decided that she knows best, and everyone else will think the same way.

“She’s a large character, darling,” Zelena is telling Merlin in that condescending voice she’s perfected. “I’m only doing what best suits the script.”

“Actually, I’ve got the same script as you do, and there’s hardly any direction for Caroline,” Merlin tells her yet again, a tired argument by this point. “Miss Bingley, while we all think her efforts and motives are a bit cartoonish, is all about the subtle dig, hiding her bite behind impeccable manners and passive aggression. Like I’ve told you before, I need you to tone all of your reactions down unless I specifically direct you otherwise. You’re wildly overacting.”

It’s only then that things become more heated, Zelena huffing dramatically as her voice reaches new piercing pitches. “Well any director worth his salt, one with a little more experience, would clearly understand my acting decisions, and see that they’re superior choices for the good of the production.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Merlin replies agreeably enough, apparently still trying not to engage beyond what is strictly necessary or stoop to her level of unprofessionalism. “However, as long as you’re part of this production, we’ll be doing things my way.”

The rest of the room is dead quiet as Zelena makes more and more of a scene. Most expressions vary from shocked to irritated to slightly scared on some of the younger cast members, though Emma spots an amused glint in Killian’s eye as their gazes meet. Honestly, he probably has the right idea; view this whole display as the ridiculous spectacle it is, instead of turning it into an even larger drama. Back at the proverbial center stage of the unfolding drama, Emma can see Zelena drawing herself up to a haughty stance, clearly preparing to deliver what she thinks will be a damning blow.

“Any other inexperienced director would appreciate my generous contributions. Frankly, your blatant disregard for my superior understanding of the character you hired me to inhabit makes me think you want this production to fail. Well, I won’t be around to see it.” Zelena dramatically flings her prop into the wings, a well-made ladies’ fan that Emma is concerned won’t stand up to being thrown. Hopefully Scarlet is around to catch it. “You can consider this my resignation! Rest assured, everyone will know about how poorly you’re directing this.” Zelena begins to stalk off the stage to her (now former) dressing room, before dramatically turning back to add a last word. “You’ll never find anyone to replace me with even a quarter of my raw talent!”

And in a final twirl of fabric, Zelena Mills exits their stage forever. Good fucking riddance.

Of course, that relief lasts for less than a minute before Emma remembers that holy shit, they’re weeks out from previews and one of their major cast members just quit.

Faintly through the blood rushing in her ears she can hear Merlin dismissing everyone for an early and extended lunch break, but Emma’s far too focused on the quickly intruding panic to process much else. As everyone else disperses, Emma all but collapses into one of the velvet-covered theatre seats. God, this could be the end of it all. Zelena is undeniably a pain in the ass, but she wasn’t underselling how difficult it would be to replace her on such short notice. Not to mention, the publicity… if Emma knows anything about Zelena, it’s that she won’t be making a quiet exit. No, Miss Mills’ style tends more towards the dramatic, towards making the biggest splash, and Emma won’t be at all surprised if she sees their production’s misfortune plastered across several websites and magazines by the end of the week. Not to mention how opening night creeps closer and closer, and their Thanksgiving Parade appearance before that… The more Emma thinks about any facet of this fiasco, the more she realizes that this is an absolute nightmare from every angle - in terms of time, publicity, practicality, and everything else.

Oh god, what are they going to do?

———

This morning’s rehearsal has certainly been… eventful, Killian reflects, watching Zelena make her dramatic exit. He can’t honestly say that he’s sorry to see the woman leave; in fact, he thinks it’s about time. Every day spent dealing with that woman was a Production in its own right, one that distracted from the hard work necessary to put together the real production they were all hired to create. Sure, Zelena’s departure might create some stress and possibly some delays in the short term, but Killian is confident that Merlin and Emma will lead them through it. Especially Emma.

The thing is, he’s not sure that Emma is quite as confident in that as he is. It takes a few minutes to find her after Zelena’s dramatic exit, distracted by the event and the ensuing rumble of brewing gossip, but when he does, Emma’s face is white as a sheet and she’s collapsed into a seat on a side aisle, panic written plainly across her face. At this point, crossing the room to join her is an irrepressible compulsion. Since admitting to himself his feelings for Emma, Killian hasn’t even tried to curb his impulse to assist her in any way she allows.

She clearly hasn’t noticed him, eyes glazed over with a million racing thoughts. She does, though, when Killian less-than-subtly throws himself into the neighboring chair, effectively shaking half the row and snapping Emma out of her reverie. He means to say something clever, something witty and funny, but seeing her still-anxious expression, Killian takes slight pity on her, offering a reassurance instead.

“It’s going to be alright, you know,” he tells her, injecting his voice with every ounce of confidence he feels.

Emma snaps her head around to meet his eyes, her incredulity apparent for all to see. “Is it? ‘Cus it sure doesn’t feel that way.”

“Of course,” he shrugs, calm as a quiet sea. “I’ve yet to see you fail.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, to give Swan her own boost of confidence, but instead it only seems to discourage her further. “Yeah, well, stick around,” she mutters gloomily.

“Oh come on Swan, we’ll manage. It’s not so bad.” That’s not strictly true, but Killian really doesn’t think this roadblock will be a death knell to the entire enterprise. At this point, he’s willing to say just about anything to pull Emma out of her bleak outlook on the whole affair.

Though he certainly achieves his goal of dispelling Emma’s blind panic, she instead whirls towards him in sudden anger over his latest words. “Yeah? Well, I’m stuck having to find a way to solve a major problem in a matter of days before it seriously sets us back, so I’m sorry if I don’t share your weird laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing. You might not be affected, but I sure as hell am, and I’m going to have to deal with the fallout!”

It’s quite the reaction - more of an explosion, really. Killian is just glad most people have already filed back to their dressing rooms or out to lunch, minimizing the witnesses to Emma’s outburst and the embarrassment she’ll likely feel later. He can’t resist raising a questioning eyebrow at her comments, however; Emma’s suggestion that Killian wouldn’t be affected by the sudden cast upheaval is especially ridiculous, considering his status as a major actor in the production.

Emma seems to process her words at the same time, letting forth a loud groan and dropping her head into her hands. “And now I’m an asshole too, on top of the stress.” Turning her head to look at him, she props her face on one hand, features squashed and distorted by the pressure of her palm. “Do you ever get so caught up in your own problems that you stop thinking about anyone else?”

Killian chuckles drily. “I think that’s just a human thing, love.” He probably shouldn’t have added the endearment, but Emma’s far too distracted by the present circumstances to notice or care.

“Yeah, probably. Still, sorry. I know you have to deal with this too.”

“It’s quite alright, Swan, you’re already forgiven. I understand, anyways - we’re all going to have to deal with this, but you’re the one that takes much of the logistical burden of replacing her.”

“God, don’t remind me,” she groans, face again hidden by her hands. “I just need two minutes to just… not think about this. Ok? Just… don’t remind me for two minutes, and then I will haul myself out of this deceptively uncomfortable chair and go talk to Merlin and attempt not to show the meltdown that’s happening inside. Or, at least, make it a very professional-looking external meltdown.”

Conversation dissolves into a long silence, but Killian can still hear Emma’s rapid breaths. Despite any claims she might make to the contrary, mere avoidance of the topic isn’t doing much to calm her down - just allowing her to retreat into her brain, where he’s sure a full replay of the incident is lurking with a million imagined potential outcomes. Quickly, he searches for something - anything - to distract her with, before settling on an unexpected sight happening just inside the wings, barely visible from their vantage point down in the audience.

“I think I’m hallucinating, Swan. I must be. The stress of it all has finally gotten to me and I’m having a mental breakdown,” he declares, trying to be as deadpan as possible in an attempt to make his blonde companion laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about, Jones?” Emma impatiently sighs. Oops. It seems his phrasing may have backfired a bit. Nothing to do but plow on, now.

“Tell me - is that, or is that not, Will Scarlet attempting to put the moves on poor Belle?”

That certainly catches Emma’s attention, her head snapping up and frantically searching her surroundings. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“Unless I’m facing the previously discussed hallucination option, right over there. Center wing, stage left,” Killian replies, pointing. When you know where to look, it’s easy to see Scarlet’s cocky stance as he chats with Belle with a smile he must think is charming plastered on his face. The lady, interestingly, doesn’t seem opposed to his attentions; the look on her face is a little skeptical, if amused, but she’s made no move to send Scarlet on his way - a feat she’s more than capable of, regardless of her sweet demeanor.

“Well shit, you’re right,” mutters Emma as she witnesses the interaction. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Well, we can’t be certain that anything will come out of this.” Killian had intended his words to be hedging, but they come out more snappish than he intended. Swan, of course, notices his tone, shooting him a concerned look.

“I’m not sure why you’re getting adversarial with me about this,” she remarks, causing a small flash of shame to shoot through Killian.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I worry about Belle, you know? We’ve gotten close these past weeks. I don’t want her to get hurt.” The word again remains unspoken, but hovers implied over the conversation all the same. They all know what poor Belle has already been through.

Emma smiles in a reassuring manner, absent-mindedly patting his knee in a comforting gesture that still manages to set his heart thumping wildly. Gods above, he’s got it bad for this woman. “If it makes you feel better, Scarlet’s a good guy. I know he’s a little goofy and mouthy, but he’s got a good heart under there.”

“That does help, actually, thank you Swan.”

They watch the possibly budding romance for a few moments longer before they spot Merlin heading over to their little corner, sporting his own worried look. Quickly, Emma recollects all her assorted paraphernalia, preparing for the inevitable meeting addressing how to proceed, but Killian is relieved to see that her face is slightly less panicked, the set of her shoulders marginally less stressed.

It feels even better when Emma turns back to Killian before she leaves, the most tentative of smiles on her face. “Hey, thanks for talking me down or whatever back there. It, uh…” she falters. “It means a lot that you have that confidence in me. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Swan,” he replies, smiling gently. “As I said, I’ve yet to see you fail.”

———

Regardless of Killian’s fantastic pep talk and his seemingly unending faith in her, it’s still a rough, stressful day, any hopes Emma might have for a nice, easy week absolutely shattered. Henry senses her rough day as soon as she gets home, having been directed back to the apartment instead of meeting at the theater after school, and drags her to Granny’s for dinner in a valiant attempt to cheer her up.

(Of course, having to pay for your own cheering-up dinner kind of defeats the purpose, but Henry’s a good kid to try. Not to mention, Granny gives them significant discounts anyways, to the point where Henry probably could have paid out of his allowance if Emma had let him.)

Thankfully, salvation arrives sooner than expected in a pencil skirt and fabulous high-heeled boots, asking in an authoritative voice to speak with Mr. LeMage, please.

As it turns out, salvation is named Regina Mills. Mills, as in the sister of the source of all their problems.

“I’m sure I don’t have to pretend about where I heard about this vacancy from,” Miss Mills the Younger explains. “For what it’s worth, you aren’t the first director she’s caused a fuss with, and you won’t be the last.”

It’s a hollow reassurance. Thankfully, Regina is already passing out resumes, offering them a proposal. “With your permission, I’d like to audition for the role she left. Frankly, I would have auditioned previously, and saved you all this mess, but I was committed to another show that was shuttered due to financial difficulties.”

Merlin raises his brows in surprise before replying. “That’s an awful lot of confidence. How do I know that that… shall we say, excess of confidence won’t result in the same problems that have led us to this conversation?”

Regina scoffs. She’s got presence and attitude, Emma will give her that. “Please. Unlike my sister, I’ve inherited a self-preservational gene that keeps me from actively sabotaging my employment. Not to mention an ounce of common sense.”

“And what are you getting out of this?” Emma thinks to ask. “Even you can’t deny this is unusual, one sister resigning and the other one showing up to make a run at the role.”

“Besides the steady job and a promising script?” Regina asks, her very eyebrows somehow regal as they lift into an elegant arch. “A healthy helping of sibling rivalry. Call me petty, but she’s been bragging about how the role was practically made for her for months. It’s been a bit hard to stomach. I like to think I could do just as good a job, if not better - though ultimately, that’s your decision,” she defers.

Emma hates to admit it, but she’s inclined to believe the regal brunette. She may have strutted in here, but she’s demonstrated an understanding that her sister is a nightmare and gone through the normal steps of seeking a role - providing a detailed resume of her past roles and asking to audition, instead of just assuming she’ll be given the part. Granted, she has effectively jumped the line by coming to see the director before the role was even advertised, but Emma’s willing to overlook that for the moment. They’re in a serious pickle at the moment, and Regina Mills offers a way out; Emma, for one, is willing to give her a chance to try.

Of course, watching Regina audition, she’s perfect - deliciously haughty in that same way her sister was, but with a hint of humanity underneath that makes Caroline Bingley into a real woman - albeit, a selfish one - instead of a cartoon villain.

Merlin’s still a little nervous, but Emma’s got a good feeling about Regina Mills. She’s got the job; now, time will only tell what she does with it.

———

The entire production breathes a sigh of relief with the arrival of their new Caroline - Emma particularly. Killian is himself intensely relieved, though that has less to do with the casting change and more to do with the fact that it removes a heavy weight from Emma’s shoulders.

He likes comforting her, likes being able to relieve her stress in any small way, Killian realizes after that fateful day Zelena stormed out and the even more ground shaking - at least emotionally - conversation that followed. If he’s honest, he wants to play that role on a more permanent basis. Of course, Emma Swan is a tough lass, a damsel who can resolve her own distress, but she shouldn’t have to shoulder that on her own. It’d be a lucky man who could be her emotional support, her shoulder to cry or scream on, and Killian not-so-secretly dreams of filling that role.

Killian wrestles with himself all week over the idea of asking Emma out on some kind of date, weighing Liam’s words of caution and his own common sense against the fanciful wish of his traitorous heart. He’ll admit that it’s likely still a terrible idea, but ultimately, the heart wants what the heart wants.

He’s not fully confident in his suit (though that’s likely more a matter of temperament on his part), but it seems like Emma isn’t necessarily opposed to his attentions. Sure, he probably hasn’t made his interest quite as blatantly obvious as he could have, erring more towards the side of light flirtation in a valiant attempt not to undercut in any way the respect she’s earned in her position, the authority it’s crucial for her to wield. Still, she always seems genuinely happy to see him, pleased by the hot chocolate he brings her whenever he has time, welcoming of his attempts at conversation and lighthearted teasing. Ultimately, that’s enough to encourage him to act, hesitance (and, if you ask Liam, common sense) be damned.

Still, it’s with no small amount of nerves that Killian resolves to ask Emma Friday afternoon after rehearsal wraps up. Things have gotten better as the week has gone on, Regina’s hiring and subsequent excellent work ethic doing much to ease Emma’s stress about the situation from Tuesday.

Gathering his courage, he approaches her as she’s loading up her supply box for the day. Emma seems happy to see him, though not surprised - a sign, perhaps, that his attentions have not gone unnoticed.

“What’s up, Jones?” she asks, curiously but not unkindly.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” he asks, scratching behind his ear - his own personal nervous tic. Does Emma know it’s a nervous tic? God, he hopes not, he’d love not to seem like a nervous wreck for this.

He doesn’t know if its his words or his tic that causes it, but her eyebrows are furrowed in a distinctly concerned way, Swan clearly thinking something is wrong. “Yeah, of course, what’s the matter?”

Quickly, Killian waves a hand as if to physically swat away her worry. “Oh, no, nothing’s the matter. At least I don’t think it is? Maybe you’ll think so, but I’m not intending it that way —”

“What is it, Killian?” Emma interrupts his rambling, a hint of impatience creeping into her tone.

Taking a deep breath, Killian takes a last moment to muster up his courage. “Well, I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner sometime. Or coffee. Or whatever would work for you, really, I know Henry takes up a lot of your free time, as he should —”

Killian quickly stops his rambling (again? Gods, this really is becoming a pattern, isn’t it) at the sight of Emma’s face. At best, it’s an uncomfortable expression, at worst an irritated one. Regardless, it makes Killian think that he perhaps misjudged his chances and how much Emma enjoyed their time together.

“That’s very… flattering, Killian,” Emma replies in a much nicer voice than he expected, “but I don’t date coworkers. Ever. It just doesn’t work. You’re a great guy, and I am flattered, but let’s just… keep things professional, ok?”

Red-faced, Killian nods, trying to retain what dignity he can. “Of course, Swan.”

“Great.” Emma gives a sharp nod as if to settle the subject before jerking a thumb towards the doors. “Then I’m just… gonna go. Have a nice weekend.”

“You as well,” he says softly as she retreats, impossibly lovely even in awkwardness.

Now it’s time for him to go and sink into the ground forever and definitely not tell Liam.

———

Emma is flattered; she really is. Under other circumstances, she might have even accepted. But honestly, what the hell was he thinking? Honestly, this week has gone from bad to worse, with barely any bright spots.

Partially, she blames herself; she should never have been so permissive of his attentions. But she had enjoyed being treated like an adult for once, like the attractive woman she still believes herself to be underneath all the stress and overworking and being 24/7 Supermom. He hadn’t been trying to distract her from her job, either, or compromise her authority - just helping in little ways, not to mention providing that welcome distraction the other morning during the Zelena debacle.

Still, she can’t. She’s a professional, one with a quasi-authority over Jones; she can’t risk undermining her career in what would appear to be a blatant show of favoritism.

Emma hates to do it, but she thinks it’s necessary to abruptly sever all but the most professional of connections to Jones; she can’t afford to do otherwise.

She only hopes it will prove to be a clean break.

#my writing #Playing the Part #Stick to the Status Quo #cs ff #modern AU #Broadway AU #stage manager!Emma #actor!Killian

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phoenixwaller · 7 years

Note

Will In Our Dreams be updating anytime soon? Or is it abandoned. Just so I can know if I should stop checking all together.

It’s not abandoned. Life just kicked me in the rear so things are taking longer in the background. (long story short, client panic and I’m back on the several hours/day looking for a job or new clients routine) If you can I suggest subscribing on AO3 since I don’t have a date for the next chapter (hopefully in the next couple weeks though). Otherwise I always tag posts with the fic with the tag “In Our Dreams Phoenixwaller” here, so you can follow the tag.

Just so everybody knows where I’m at on things:

Fic #1 for a bang event: Crunch time! Like this is ultra priority! I need to try and finish it this weekend so my partner artist has time to get the whole thing read and decide what art they want to make in addition to what they’re already working on. Currently at 35,000 of an expected 60,000 words. Yes I theoretically can write 25,000 in a matter of days, though my wrists hate me when I go over about 7k in a day. (my record is 12k in a day)

Fic #2 for a bang event: Complete. 5000 words.

The Tower: Need to try and get ahead again for Patrons. Will probably scrap my original NaNoWriMo idea to focus on this and fics instead.

Private Photos: I bang these chapters out in a couple hours Tuesday night or Wednesday afternoon. They’re short enough to not be an issue.

In Our Dreams: Chapter 31 is started, Victor is in discussion to produce another show.

Shared Gravity: Also not abandoned. Chapter 73 is not started yet because I alternate it and Dreams and dreams is next of the two.

Fics on the Horizon: 1 for a zine, the word limit is 2-2.5 k. That’s a solid few hours of writing.

Things that are going to slow me down:

My computer - I spend way too much time yelling at it and adjusting the LCD cause it keep blinking out or blue on me. It makes EVERYTHING take longer.

The job/client hunt? - Maybe? Things might be settling in the background, but maybe not? Either way I really need to get a better income.

NaNoWriMo - Ok, I know that’s in November, but I’m the local contact person, have been for a decade. So that means I get to organize and host meetings in October. And set up things for a smooth November for my writers.

The good news? November is coming. November is NaNoWriMo. That should get me refocused nicely. as it makes me watch my word count.

#Answered ask with TMI #in our dreams phoenixwaller #shared gravity phoenixwaller #private photos phoenixwaller #The Tower Phoenixwaller #support the tower #phoenixwaller writes #makkachinisbestboy

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totallytubulargirl · 7 years

Text

Donatello In Love (Donnie X Reader)

Rating: PG

Universe: 2016

Authors Note: OK so this started with @dorkyturtleenthusiast posting a headcanon here about donatello quoting shakespeare I was like UMMMMM…. I HAVE to write this. I feel like I also changed my writing style but its BETTER (At least I think so.) Remember my writing is always changing with me, so if you don’t like it now come back a month later and i’m sure i’ll have gotten better. (I hope lol) Anyways I hope you guys like this, if not send me some constructive criticism. Also I could imagine Raphael picking some quotes up from Donnie, so i might write a similar fic for him.

Summary: Donatello invites you over on a tuesday night, for what? Let’s find out. (I MIGHT write a NSFW part 2, if enough people want one.)

Donatello carefully scanned over his dim, candlelit room, his brown eyes fervently searching for any mistakes or things he might have missed. Red bouquets of roses covered any table or place that could fit them, and rose petals decorated the entire room. He fidgeted with his fingers, repeating a checklist to himself. Roses? Check. Candles? Check. Beautiful girl who loved him? Well he was working on it. He could hear [Y/N]’s voice coming from the living room, and anxiety washed over him. He had spent all day setting up this special night for her, picking wild roses and using bottles he’d found around the city for vases. He had scrubbed them until they looked brand new and shone with the same sparkle that reflected hopefully in his eyes. He just prayed that she wouldn’t think it was too much or even worse; not enough. He felt for [Y/N], they’d only been dating for four months but he could feel something festering in his chest every time he looked at her. He had encountered these feelings the day he met her, he remembered the way his throat had tightened when he saw her, the way his ears purred at the sound of her voice. He had stood before her baffled at the anxiety rising in his chest as she greeted him. Was it really too much to hope that someone like her could love someone like him? Donnie took a deep breath, his plastron heaved up and down with nervousness before he stepped out of his room to search for her. He made his way through the lair, finally finding her talking to his little brother, Michelangelo. The young boisterous turtle, beamed at her, rambling on and on as he tried to impress her. Donatello watched her expression as it changed and shifted with Mikey’s chatter, her eyes glued to him, dancing with his words. Her hair glowed around the edges of her face and stretched down to her shoulders, making her light up like an angel. Donatello’s throat tightened at the thought of showing [Y/N] his creation. He took another deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, grabbing her attention instead. She looked at him and smiled, only ramping up Donatello’s heart into a violent jack hammering pace.

“Hey.” She greeted him. He scanned her face, memorizing it for the millionth time before he spoke. “I want you to come look at something.” He said, reaching his hand out for her. He looked into her wide brown eyes and the room became silent and tense, as she gazed back. Mikey stood by, even his usually charismatic personality was put on the back burner, as tension filled the room. He made a face, trying to cover up how awkward he felt. “Are you guys going to kiss now?” He asked in a soppy lovesick voice, his pastel blue eyes twinkling with mischief. Donatello shot Mikey a sharp look. “Right,” he pointed towards his own room, “I’ll go.” Donatello returned his attention to [Y/N], she took his hand before he could get out a word. He felt his heart jump at the smoothness of her palm against his, her tiny hand intertwined with his over sized one, squeezing it in affection. Donatello swooned, as butterflies took over his stomach.

“So what’s this special surprise?” She asked, clueless. It was only a Tuesday so she was surprised that he had made plans at all for them that night. He bit his bottom lip nervously.

“You’ll see.” His heart raced with anticipation, as they approached his door, “Alright now close your eyes.” Donnie instructed. [Y/N] squealed joyously before closing her eyes.

“Donnie, what is it?” She asked, reaching out her hands in front of her as he guided her through the doorway. She stood in the middle of the room waiting for Donnie’s orders. He stared at her for a second, fearful of what her reaction might be before he let her open her eyes.

“Open them and see.” He said, stepping back towards the roses. She opened her eyes, looking around at the room in awe. Her mouth dropped open, and she quickly threw her hand over it. Her brown eyes sparkled as tears accumulated in her scleras. Her silence threw him off, he watched tears well in her eyes and took it as a bad sign. “Did I do something wrong my goddess?” He rushed to her side to comfort her.

“No, Donnie I just-” tears slipped out from her eyes and she fanned herself in an effort to make them disappear. “This is amazing.” Solace flooded his body as his lungs exhaled a sigh of relief. He took her hands in his, clutching them against his plastron and gazed, lovingly, into her eyes. “How could anything I ever do compare to this?” Donatello let out a small chuckle.

“Hear my soul speak,” he spoke firmly, making sure that his words would forever be embedded into her heart. “The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service, there resides To make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.” A tear slipped down her cheek,

“Donn-” He pressed a single finger against her lips.

“Silent my love,” He implored. “I will follow thee and make a heaven of hell to die upon the hand I love so well.” She melted into his sentences, pressing herself against his body, helpless as words poured out of his soul. He could feel his heart thumping, as his words frantically escaped him. He needed her to know how he felt inside, that all consuming feeling that plagued his every thought. “Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” He stopped, abruptly. “I- am winged Cupid painted blind.” He took a deep breath, finally as satisfied as he could be with what he had said. She was speechless, quivering from his testimonial. [Y/N] could hear her heart pounding in her ears, blood rushed to her chest and she felt her body become weightless.

“I love you.” She managed. It seemed as if those were the only words she could ever say that might slightly compare to anything Donatello had done for her. Donnie’s eyes widened, his brain going off in a million different directions at once, as if she had ignited a bundle of fireworks with her fiery words of passion.

“You love me?” He asked. “She loves me!” He whispered to himself, a small smile creeping onto his face. He was suddenly expressionless before he turned to [Y/N] with a determined look. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He stated, as if he were reciting a statistic. She glanced down, shyly, taken aback by his forwardness.

"Please do.“ She begged, encouragingly. Her ears warmed up, as the anticipation of his lips reverberated throughout her body. Donatello watched her eyes for any sign of remorse or hesitation as he neared her face, afraid that she would suddenly reject him. Her hands were still tightly pressed against his chest and she could feel the way his heart raced and hammered with a million feelings at once. Donnie could barely register the small pulse coming from her fingertips, beating fast yet softly. It was enough to reassure him and he barreled forward, crashing his lips against hers, desperate to quench some sort of thirst from deep inside him. Her mouth quickly latched onto his, frantically kissing him with as much emotion as she could muster. Her tongue was soft yet protruding as she used it to explore his mouth. Donatello surrendered completely to her, allowing [Y/N] to wander the farthest corners of his cavern, gently pushing against her more forceful tongue. He could feel passion rising in his throat, desperate to convey his attraction to her. Donnie guided her small hand onto his shoulder, cherishing the warmth she brought with her every touch. He strained to pry himself away from her lips.

“I love you too.” He gasped. She looked at the way his eyes bore into her soul, with loving intesity, and she knew that all that mattered in the world right now was her and Donatello.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles fan fiction #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader #donatello #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse

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