#so he's instantly appropriately like 'oh crap sorry'

[firebirdsdaughter]

That’s a thing…

… I don’t think clicked the first time I watched it…

The only reason Ronin was in Wrathwood to get left behind was bc Mandrake stole the pod, which he was only able to do bc Nod wasn’t watching it the way Ronin had asked him to.

Not only did he let Ronin down and endanger the whole forest, his carelessness, as far as he knows for that moment, got Ronin killed. He’s just lost another father, and this time it’s his fault.

No wonder he’s too wrecked to talk until it’s necessary.

#Firebird Randomness #listen Ronin's apparent death gets me EVERY TIME #he could have said anything or nothing #but he takes what I can only presume he also thought might be his last moments #to encourage and validate Nod #also the way Nod just immediately goes into panic mode #but yeah no wonder Nod is so in shock #and bless that little moment from MK #she had words when Tara died and that's partially bc she hadn't travelled across the forest w/ them yet #but I absolutely believe it's also that she realises that Ronin was like a father to him #and since she's already aware Nod lost his father once #she's realising she's going through it again and she KNOWS that pain #and she knows there's nothing that will lessen it #and she's probably blaming herself too and aware he's blaming himself #I totally understand why they didn't but gods if we'd been able to go into that #also while I'm here rewatching again #gods this animation is good bc the FACES #like when they're in the house and she says it's her father #Ronin knew she was a large person but he def had no clue the professor was her father #so he's instantly appropriately like 'oh crap sorry' #anyway I love pain #Things You Didn't Know Fire Was Into

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Five: Paris Revealed (Stories/Memories)

Prev

AO3

Marinette flinches back as the room erupts in shouting. The younger boy, who was definitely younger than her and yet almost (if not definitely) taller than her, was fiercely glaring while he screamed at Mr. Wayne in….was that Arabic? The man that walked in with him was waving around the knife in his hand while Dick yelled at Mr. Wayne, his face filled with confusion instead of fury. Glancing around for a way out, Marinette makes eye contact with Alfred who nods behind him. Sneaking away from the group of angry men, Marinette follows Alfred into the kitchen and instantly feels at home. And much calmer.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, breathing deeply to avoid spiraling again. Alfred simply hands her a cookie before turning around and putting water in a kettle.

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Marinette. It seems Master Bruce has forgotten all sense today and is instead insistent on acting like a fool. It was wrong of him to announce you like that, without preparing you or the boys beforehand. I do hope that his atrocious display of proper manners doesn’t make you want to leave.” Alfred says, and Marinette’s eyebrows shoot upwards. Was he? Was Alfred actually blaming this situation on Mr. Wayne? Was it Mr. Wayne’s fault? Did he not actually hate her? Did he just make a mistake?

“I- what?” Marinette says, unsure of herself.

“You, my dear, are not at fault. Your father didn’t tell any of his sons that you were coming to the manor today, or that you existed in general. And judging by your face, you weren’t prepared for the boys to be here either.” Alfred clarifies.

“Oh. No, I wasn’t. Mr. Wayne just said that he wanted to get to know me, and he knew I wanted to get to know him. I- my birth mother passed away. But my Maman knew her, so I can find out from her how I’m similar to Bridgette. But neither of my parents knew Mr. Wayne, and I just wanted to know if I was like him, I guess. I didn’t even know who he was until two days ago.” Marinette admits.

“As in you found out Bruce Wayne was your birth father two days ago or-” Alfred trails off, waiting for her to clarify.

“Oh no. I found out the name of my birth father awhile ago. It’s just- I really don’t pay attention to celebrities. The only ones I really know are designers. So I didn’t put two and two together, and I didn’t even know about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises until a few days ago. My friend Adrien made me google him and that’s when I found out about...the boys.” She says, stopping herself from saying her brothers as she was still unsure if Mr. Wayne actually wanted her like he wanted the others.

“Well I’m certain that things will start to calm down shortly. In the meantime, would you care for some tea?” Alfred asks, holding up the kettle. Marinette nods gratefully, trying hard to stop her inner spiral from drowning her.

---

“What do you mean daughter?” Damian snarls, finally switching to English. Bruce blinks at the boy before sighing.

“I mean, you have a biological sister.” He says, tired and wishing he had been able to convince Marinette to go somewhere else. Not that he didn’t want her to meet her siblings. But it definitely wasn’t the laid back first meeting that he wanted.

“You mean half-sister.” Damian spits out, crossing his arms and sticking his nose into the air.

“Shut up, Demon Spawn. She’s our sister, get over it. Where’d the kid come from? Her mom drop her off?” Jason asks, obviously trying to actually understand the situation.

“No. I first met her at the Museum and had my suspicions. She’s in Gotham on a class trip, and before you ask, yes. We had a DNA test done and yes, I am her father.” Bruce says, frowning when he sees Dick’s hurt expression morph into one of excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait! Was she the girl who was sassing the Joker?” He asks quietly, practically buzzing with excitement. When Bruce nods, Dick cheers and runs from the room. Okay then.

“Wait, she met the Joker?” Jason asks, his expression turning dark. Bruce watches his son’s face morph into one of disgust when he puts it together. “She’s the French kid he had at gunpoint, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Which is one of the reasons why we both thought the manor would be a more appropriate meeting place rather than somewhere public.” Bruce says, sighing as Damian once again starts screaming. This was not what he had planned.

---

After just a few minutes with Alfred, Marinette already felt calmer. Calm enough to giggle at another story about something that one of the boys- one of her brothers- did. Calm enough to let her guard down. And mess up.

“If you wanna see something ridiculous, you should look up the 26th time Monsieur Ramier was akumatized into Monsieur Pigeon. He made all the buildings turn into bird cages and all the food turned into bird seed. Luckily it didn’t last long, but seeing the Mayor of Paris stuck inside a giant bird cage was kind of hilarious.” Marinette rambles, giggling at the memory. It was definitely a needed akuma, situated right between two super destructive akumas. Monsieur Pigeon was, while a nuisance, always a breath of fresh air. His akumatized form was brought on by his fierce protectiveness of the pigeons, which luckily never led to death for civilians.

“Pardon me, Miss Marinette, but could I ask what you mean by ‘akumatized’?” Alfred asks, his posture suddenly stiff. Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. She told someone outside of Paris about the situation happening in Paris. Well crap. Normal Parisians didn’t know about the media block that she had set up with the help of the Mayor and Max. But after her calls to the Justice League were ignored, and she realized how disastrous it would be for a member of the League to be akumatized, the media block was the best choice. Time to act clueless.

“Akumatized, as in, a person is possessed by an akuma? Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s been happening in Paris for almost two years.” She says, hoping he doesn’t ask to see any evidence. This isn’t good, this is awful, this-

“And what is an akuma?” Alfred asks. Okay, this isn’t too bad.

“It’s an evil butterfly sent out by the villain, Hawkmoth.” Marinette says, giving out more information than she’s really comfortable with. Okay, time to change the subject, no more questions about heroes or villains or-

“Marinette!” A new voice calls, sliding into the kitchen, almost immediately falling over.

“Master Dick, have you forgotten about your ban on the kitchen?” Alfred asks, his lips quirking up in amusement.

“Awww, Alfred, I just wanted to talk to Marinette. I feel bad for all of us overwhelming her back there.” Dick says with a pout that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him. Despite obviously being at least ten years older than her.

“Don’t feel bad. It was just...a lot all at once.” Marinette says with a small smile.

“So I have to ask, are you the one who sassed the Joker at the Museum the other day?” He asks, a wide grin on his face as he sits on one of the stools. Marinette’s eyes widen and she blinks. How?

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t a big deal though. He thought I was a Wayne- well, I guess he figured it out before I did- but I think he just wanted to scare my class.” She says, waving her hand to brush off the topic. She really didn’t want to talk about the Joker. Because she was sure it would turn into-

“I apologize for asking, but have you been caught up in the villain attacks in Paris before?” Alfred asks, Marinette instantly panicking. Sure, she’d been caught up in almost every single akuma battle as Ladybug. But there were a few on record where she was targeted as Marinette, and even a few battles that she assisted as Marinette. And then there was Kwami Buster…

“Well, a few. But basically everyone in Paris has dealt with it at some point. That’s just what happens when there’s an attack so often, you know? And my school seems to be a hotspot but that makes sense because teenagers are full of negative emotions and-” Marinette cuts off her rambling, cursing herself on the inside. Great job, Mari. Now they’re going to be worried or they’re going to think you’re a freak or-

“What do you mean negative emotions? Why would that matter?” Dick asks, his previous cheerful smile replaced with a look that clearly meant business.

“That’s how the villain chooses his targets. Negative emotion. If someone is having a bad enough day, he can take control of them and give them powers and basically destroy the city trying to get to Ladybug and Chat Noir, who are our heroes. I only know what’s been posted on official sites like the Ladyblog or miraculousparis.org.” Marinette says, smiling apologetically and hoping that this conversation can be over.

“Have you ever been akumatized?” Dick asks, tension suddenly filling the room.

“No, thankfully. I’ve found ways to manage my negative emotions so that they can’t take me over. I don’t blame anyone who has been akumatized, it’s hard not to be. But, I also don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I was akumatized.” Because then her family would be a target. Because Hawkmoth would know her identity. And if Hawkmoth’s insistence on her being akumatized was anything to go on, she’d be a devastating akuma. And if Ladybug wasn’t fighting in the battle….would the cure even work?

“That is a lot of pressure, Miss Marinette.” Alfred says softly after a moment of tense silence. Marinette grins brightly.

“I can handle it, don’t worry!” She says, hoping no one can tell how hard it actually is. How hard it is constantly being strong. Never truly feeling a negative emotion.

---

Bruce winces at the faux cheerfulness in his daughter’s voice. He had only found out about the Paris situation a few days ago, but he was determined to fix it. Find a solution. Do something to help the city and by extension, his daughter. She’d be going back there soon. Back to a city that was being held hostage by an emotional terrorist. Bruce would fix this. He had to.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks 

#maribat bruce wayne #maribat #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat adrienette #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat bio dad au #maribat batfam #maribat dick grayson #maribat jason todd #maribat damian wayne #mbdbwm2021 #day five stories/memories #ao3fic

[tinyboxxtink]

Weird Secret Friends *Chapter 3*

I fixed it!!!! Huzzah!!!

If you didn't see it earlier, it was crap-tastic on my phone.

I'm glad so far people love this. <3

Part 2

Part 4

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

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

When you returned everyone was laughing at chatting, except for Sonny who was drinking vodka and soda while on his phone. He looked up and saw you both returning, he jumped up to meet you.

“Hey, counselor. I hope Y/N wasn’t too hard on you,” He half laughed.

“Are you kidding me, Sonny?” You scoffed.

“She’s fine, Sonny,” He smirked. “I like a little fire in a woman,”

“Oh?” Sonny’s eyebrows suddenly raised, causing you to give Barba a look. He was blowing your cover!

“I mean, I expect it from Jersey girls anyway,” He flipped his compliment quickly.

“God…” You muttered, looking at the floor. Pick a side, counselor.

“Anyway, um,” Sonny cleared his throat, trying not to think about Rafael and you together. “So when do we do presents and cake? I’ve kind of got an early--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rafael furrowed his brows at Sonny. “Did you-- Carisi did you really just say that?”

“Do you see a present table? Do you see a giant rat mascot running around?”

“...What? Did I say something--?” Sonny became flustered.

“What do you think this is, a fucking Chuck E Cheese?” He suddenly snapped, causing shocked looks from both you and Sonny.

“I’m sorry Barba, I--”

“Alright that’s it,” You stepped in between the two of them, glaring at Rafael.

“Excuse you?” Rafael crossed his arms.

“Y/N, knock it off,” Sonny hit you softly.

“You have been nothing but rude to my cousin since we got here, Mr. Barba,” You pointed a finger to his chest.

“He was just trying to be nice, getting you a gift out of the goodness of his heart, something you would know nothing about!” Maybe now you were overcompensating.

“Y/N!” Sonny said through gritted teeth.

“What?!” You turned to see everyone at the party staring at the three of you in shocked silence. “Oh…” Your voice turned soft, your face turned red.

“Well,” Rafael straightened his suit and tie, recovering from your little rant. “I guess I should be a gracious host and open it then, shouldn’t I?” He gave you a look.

“...Holy shit,” You heard one of the guests gasp. “That thing is over $1,000! My wife wouldn’t even get me that for Christmas,”

“NO!” Sonny objected rather loudly,. “I mean, that’s not necessary Barba. It’s just a little something, it’s fine,”

“No no, your cousin is right,” He shook his head as he walked over next to Sonny’s chair and retrieved the large gift bag and placed it on the table. Sonny bolted over, you trailed behind quickly.

“No, seriously Barba, don’t,” Sonny began to panic. You suddenly realized how this was going to look, maybe you shouldn’t have pushed.

“Carisi why are you being like--” Rafael was questioning him but was silenced mid-speech when he pulled out the briefcase. His eyes went wide, you swore you heard a few people audibly gasp, You looked around completely lost, finally noticing the absolute horror on Sonny’s face.

“....Is this a Louis Voutton Robusto 2 in Taiga leather, Carisi?” Rafael whispered, running his fingers over the fine leather.

“Oh my god,” You couldn't watch this. Sonny had such a big heart, too big of a heart. He tried so hard...why didn’t you step in sooner?

“Uh y-yeah, sure Barba whatever you want,”

“Carisi, can I speak with you a moment outside?” Rafael blinked rapidly, trying to wrap his head around what was happening right now.

“Do you guys need somewhere to make out?!” An obnoxious man laughed, making the other guests snicker.

“Oh shove it Buchanan,” Rita hit him. “Sonny’s just his puppy,”

“Oh god,” Sonny muttered under his breath as he followed Barba outside. He didn’t know which was worse for people to think right now.

“This is totally inappropriate, why would you even--” He threw his hands over his head. God it was one thing knowing Sonny had a thing for him, but for him to finally make a move like this-- in front of his peers? His colleagues? The audacity.

You wondered if you should follow them. You were the one to cause this mess, after all. Also you really didn’t like the looks you were getting from the rest of the party-goers. You quickly began to follow after them, you could hear Rafael yelling from a mile away.

“What the hell is WRONG with you, Carisi?!”

“I-I’m sorry, Barba I--”

“WHAT?!” Sonny’s eyes instantly went to you. “W-Why would you…? Why would you say that?”

“I’m sorry, counselor I just thought--”

“You just thought what, Carisi?” He growled. “That if you bought some ridiculously expensive gift I’d suddenly realized you were ‘the one’?”

“What?!” Sonny suddenly snapped. “What the-- what the fuck are you talking about, Barba?”

“Uh I don’t know Carisi, maybe the fact that you have feelings for me?”

“What?” Rafael suddenly realized either you were wrong, or he was sticking to denial. Either way, he was probably busted.

“I bought you that briefcase because I want you to like me as a COLLEAGUE, Barba. Do you know what kind of clout you get in our field by being friends with the ADA? And-- And nothing I do ever seems to be good enough, I was afraid you’d never...accept me, unless I…”

“Bribed me?” Rafael asked softly.

“I--I don’t know, I--”

“Well,” Sonny shrugged uncomfortably. “When you say it like that it sounds dirty,”

“Right,” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“....But why, in the fuck--” Sonny crossed his arms now. “Would you ever accuse me of--- of that?!”

“Is it because you have feelings for me and you were hoping I felt the same way but it freaked you out when I made some ‘declaration of love’ in front of all of your work buddies?”

“WHAT?!” Rafael practically screamed. “Absolutely not--”

“I’m just gonna ask you one time, straight out,” Sonny approached Rafael, his stature over him becoming more obvious the closer he got to the ADA.

“Then why? Have I seriously given you an impression that I-- want your cannoli?” He tried to find an appropriate word. And he was genuinely asking, he had made damn sure not to act that way for so long, there was no way he had fucked that up.

“Uh...yes, yes you have,” Rafael tried to bluff. He had no idea how this situation had flipped, or if it was better for Sonny to think he had feelings for him, and not his baby cousin.

“That’s bullshit,” Sonny shook his head with a sarcastic laugh. “I have made damn sure--” He glanced at you again, he knew that look. That was the same look you had when you had broken his mom’s favorite vase and had blamed it on the dog.

“Damn sure what?” Rafael quickly tried to distract him.

“Damn sure you didn’t think that,” He answered hazily, thoughts filling his mind.

“Because you do,” Rafael tried to keep defensive.

“....This isn’t about me, this is about you,” Sonny’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he was quickly becoming aware of the glances you at Rafael were sharing.

“Ohh no I think it’s about--”

“WHY would you accuse me of trying to...seduce you?!” Sonny cut him off.

“Does that sound like something I would do, whether it was true or not?”

“So it IS--”

“DAMMIT, Rafael!” Sonny stomped his foot. He was getting bold now as the wheels started turning.

“What?” Rafael laughed like it was ridiculous, looking everywhere but Sonny’s eyes. “When would she even--”

“...Did my cousin say something to you?” His eyes were narrow, he was scowling between the two of you. Fuck. FUCK. Don’t panic. Keep your cool. Don’t move.

“When you followed her just now?” He crossed his arms again.

Whew. Well, thank God. At least that bullet was dodged.

"Was she? Because it seems like telling you was the worst thing she could do!!!" Sonny snapped.

“....She might have said something along those lines,” Rafael glanced at you with apologetic eyes as he threw you under the bus.

“Wha-- are you kidding me?!” You hissed at him, but Sonny was already fuming at you.

“Y/N!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He started to stomp over to you. “You can’t just throw your assumptions at people, because you think your ‘emotionally stunted’ cousin can’t deal with some confusing feelings he has,”

“Uh…”

“Ya can’t just SHOVE someone out of a closet!” He kept yelling, oblivious to the stares he was now getting. “Especially not to my boss!!!”

“Sonny, I--”

“See I knew it!” Rafael clapped his hands together, trying to rescue you after he threw you to the sharks. “I knew you had feelings for me, I didn’t need her to tell me,”

“FINE,” Sonny threw his hands up. “Fine, Rafael. You win, okay?” He struggled with tears forming in his throat. “Yeah, I’ve had some-- weird, feelings about you. For a while,”

You and Rafael just stared at him while he “came out” to an entire restaurant.

“And alright, maybe I went a little overboard with the gift, my bad,” He shrugged. "But that doesn't excuse Y/N for telling you her conspiracy theories!"

"Carisi…" Barba sighed. "She was just trying to help."

"Y'know what YN, would you mind finding somewhere else to crash tonight, i can't really look at you right now," he sighed as he turned and walked awkwardly out of the restaurant.

"Sonny I am so--" you tried to apologize.

"Well you heard the man," He grinned, totally unphased by what just happened.

"I'm sure he'll--" his face went from a soft smile into a horrified expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me Rafael?" You scoffed at him in disbelief.

"Well at least he doesn't suspect anything between us!" He pointed out.

"Yeah just that I'm a horrible outing twat," you rolled your eyes.

"Aw carino," He pulled you into a soft comforting kiss.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly, afraid to turn around.

"How fucking DARE you say that, Barba. I'm not some fucking jealous teenager, although clearly that's your type,"

"Oh my god..." you heard Sonny's voice behind you. "Oh my God!"

You definitely didn't want to turn around now.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Sonny now stormed over to the two of you.

I can't fucking believe you Y/N! What the fuck is this? How did this happen?"

"Sonny I--" You tried to explain,

"And YOU--" He glared at Rafael. "You had the fucking audacity to sit there and start yelling at me for "inappropriate feelings'," he growled.

"Carisi…." Rafael put a hand up.

"What the fuck do you call seducing my baby cousin??" He snarled.

'Look Carisi I know you might be jealous, but--" Before Rafael could finish his sentence, Sonny's fist was hitting his face and he fell to the ground.

"Hey!" You exclaimed.

"This isn't about my feelings, jackass," he went to punch him again but you ran over and tried to pull him off Rafael as a crowd of spectators was forming.

"Which by the way, you have zero worry of those anymore, I'm not into perverts," he spat.

"Sonny!" You gasped. "...the hell is wrong with you?!"

"We're leaving," he instructed you.

"Like hell we are," you went to help Rafael up.

"Sonny, even if you were my dad, I'm a grown woman," you snapped. "You can't drag me out of here like a child,"

"YN," Sonny had that soft, scary, angry tone. "I practically raised you. I'm the closest thing you have to a dad. So when I say we're leaving, we're leaving."

"Either you come with me right now, or I'm disowning you," he threatened.

"Are you fucking kidding me Son?" You laughed at the absurdity of the threat.

"I'll stop paying for your classes at the community college," he threatened.

Well not only did he just threaten your academics but he embarrassed the hell out of you revealing you weren't even in a real college.

"So?" You stood your ground. "Go for it,"

"I'll stop paying your rent," He kept going.

"Well that's--" You started getting nervous.

"I'll stop payments on your car,"

"OKAY," You finally caved. You just wanted to stop revealing what a fucking sad sack you were having him pay for everything, just like a dad.

You looked at Rafael who was standing now, winding his bloody mouth with a handkerchief from a pocket in his suit.

"I'm sorry," you barely whispered with tears in your eyes and throat. The last thing You wanted to do was leave him there but as Sonny so blatantly pointed out, he basically owned you.

You gave him one last long kiss goodbye, to which Sonny made a disgusted scoff.

Rafael gave you a look of pleading, begging you to stay with him while he held onto your hand. You pulled your hand away from him and turned to Sunny

"Alright let's go Son," you said softly trying not to glance back at Rafael.

Sonny nodded triumphantly and walked out of the restaurant with you close behind, leaving Rafael alone.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu fanfiction #weird secret friends

[disasterfandoms]

This is Your Home Now ~ The Ryders x teen!reader imagine

@atjafshelby​ requested: “Okay so I was thinking maybe a teenage reader who was like Judd as a child, gets in trouble and needs help and stuff. But maybe she lives on her own so Grace and Judd take her in and try to help her? No rush though, thank you!!❤️”

A/N: I appreciate you sending me a complex ask. I’ll be honest, I had no idea how i was going to write this one when I first saw it. I tweaked it a tiny bit, and instead of being on their own the reader is in a group home. This may be part 1 if anyone is interested in part 2?

TW: foster care, mentions of violence, mentions of therapy.

Your POV:

Sitting in the principal’s office, you began to take in the various lame quotes around the room. “You miss 100% of the chances you don’t take” sure, whatever.

“You have to look through the rain to see the rainbow” this has to be the worst one of all. What rainbow? and why go through hell to be able to see a prism of light in the sky?

The door shuts loudly, pulling you from your thoughts. You roll your eyes when you see your social worker walking in with the principal.

“So, Y/N, you’ve been getting into more fights recently, including earlier today when you struck another student in the face for saying something about your family,” your principal read from the file, then looked up at you, “Anything you’d like to say for yourself?”

”yeah, they deserved it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him again. Everyone here should know by now the topic of your parents is off limits, especially what he said about them. 

“Just because someone says something you don’t like doesn’t mean you can assault them.” Your social worker scolded, probably hating her life for having to deal with you. 

They went on lecturing you for another 20 minutes, but at that point you zoned out, focusing on the view out the window behind your principal. It was sunny outside, the trees on the outskirts of school grounds blowing slightly with the wind. You could see people walking out there, and instantly wanted to be anywhere but here, supposedly listening to how you’re a screw-up and if you “don’t get your act together” you’ll “never have a future.”

“Y/n, what do you think about the compromise?”

You snapped your head to the principal, trying to figure out what all you missed in the last few minutes so you could figure out to answer appropriately. You studied his face, before deciding agreeing would be the quickest road. How wrong you were, you wouldn’t have the faintest idea until an hour later.

“Sounds good to me, as long as I can go back to class. Ms. Neal is teaching about the wage gap and I want to see conservative boys lose their ever-loving mind.” you smiled, hoping they buy it for now. They both nod their heads, then you stand up to leave. 

“I’ll see you after school, Y/N,” your social worker spoke confidently, seemingly proud of herself for her part in the supposed compromise. With that, you left the two adults to work out the details amongst themselves.

Going to Ms. Neal’s class quickly, you started to wonder what you agreed to. It had to be something significant if you weren’t getting in trouble for giving the star of the baseball team a black eye, which he deserved, by the way. 

Class went by as a blur, your attention focusing in and out on class, except when it came time to debate your stance on the issue of the class. You loved to argue, especially with privileged, snotty teens who don’t know how well they had it. You were good at it too, you could be a lawyer if you had any shot of a successful life.

Sooner than you’d like, class was over, and you started to get up and leave. You were too occupied with making sure you had everything that you didn’t realize you were making a beeline into your social worker.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, watch it!” You both say simultaneously, backing up and looking at who ran into you.

“Oh, there you are Y/N! Come on, I’m driving you back to the home to pack up your things” She signaled with her hand to come with her, and you obliged, confused.

“Pack my things? Why?” You asked while walking to your car. You know you’ve been in trouble recently, but being kicked out of the group home seemed a little extreme.

“Did you listen to the compromise at all when were talking about it? Before you agreed to it?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really, just figured agreeing would get me in the least trouble,” you replied, and you could see her smile a little as she shook her head at you.

“This last fight isn’t going on your permanent record, as long as you get anger management classes, and move out of the group home and into a foster situation with two loving people who know how to handle situations like yours,” 

“Crap, I really should listen more.” You sighed and leaned your head on the window. You didn’t see how moving you out of the group home would help at all, it’s more change and more adjustment, and you were tired of both.

“Want to know about the couple?” You social worker asked you, but you barely heard her. You shook your head and put a headphone in, hoping this wasn’t a mistake.

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

Judd’s POV:

“Are we sure about this, Gracie?” Judd asks, pacing between the living room and the kitchen, pausing every now and then to look at his wife. He stopped, turned to her, and rubbed his face before putting both hands behind his head, cradling it as he thinks about everything that could go wrong with this.

He knew they both wanted kids, and adoption seemed to be their only hope due to ther infertility troubles. But still, he argued to himself, a teenager? With this kid’s anger management issues, stubbornness, and troubled past, this isn’t what he necessarily had in mind.

“Yes, Judd, we’re sure. This kid needs our help, and a stable home to thrive. I understand you’re nervous, I am too, but we’ve been doing our research and interviewing with child protective services for months, and now they’re gracing us with a child that needs us.” Grace had walked over to him at this point, and taken his hands into hers. He looked into those beautiful, rust colored eyes of hers and took a deep breath. He knew she was right, she usually is, but he was still nervous.

He wrapped his arms around her, leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. She looked up at him, grabbed the nape of his neck, and kissed him lovingly. After a few seconds, she broke away, and whispered, “I love you too, handsome.”

Before anything could further along, the doorbell rang. The two looked at each other, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. Grace opened the door, and they both saw the social worker, Malia, with a teenager that looked less than happy to be on their doorstep.

Judd quickly scanned the teen, noticing the frown on their face and the bruised knuckles they were sporting on their right hand. They had a suitcase in the other hand, and looked short in stature. Everyone looks short to Judd, though. 

“Hi Malia, Y/N, please come in.” Grace states, welcoming their guest and their now-forster child into their home. Once the social worker guided Y/N in, the pair sat on the couch while Judd and Grace sat on the other, clasping their hands together and looking at the child who’ll be staying with them, being nurtured by them, for next couple years.

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Your POV:

The house is nice, you thought to yourself as you sit on the couch, waiting for someone to speak to you. You look at them, whose names you aren’t aware of yet, and study their features. The man was tall, and you can tell he’s been working for a while due to his build and the scratches and burns on his hands. The woman is much smaller, and seems softer, but you can tell they love each other just by the way they can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Judd, Grace, this is Y/N. Now, I know the department have given you their file, but do you have any questions about their history, or anything I can answer?” Malia asked, putting her hands in her lap. At least you know their names now, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t think so, ma’am. You’re welcome to stay for supper, though. Y?N, is there any allergies or diet restrictions we need to know about?” The woman, Grace, you remind yourself, asks. She smiles at you as she asks, and she has a pretty smile. You start to wonder why they wanted to take in someone like you.

“No ma’am, thank you for asking though. Can one of y’all show me to my room, though? I’d like to unpack and start on homework before supper.” You try to be polite, not knowing who they are once the social worker. Better to be safe than sorry, right?

“Of course, I’ll show you up there, and let you get settled.” Judd offers, standing up to guide you to where you’ll sleep.

You go up the stairs, and are impressed by what you see. This is better than the group home, at the very least. You head down the corridor he’s taking you through, and walk into a moderately sized room that had a full-sized bed, two nightstands, a dresser, closet, desk with a chair, and a door to what you assume is a bathroom.

“Take all the time you need to settle in. This weekend we’ll all go shopping and you can buy decorations for your room. Once supper is ready, we’ll call you downstairs to eat, get to know each other better. Alright?” He asked, looking as if he expected you to answer. You quickly nodded, and got to putting away your things and taking in the space. Maybe you actually belong here.

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Once supper was ready, you were called down, you stumbled down the kitchen, washed your hands, and then took a seat at the table. Malia had left, hopefully to bother another kid and leave you alone, and you sat there quietly, eating the dinner they prepared.

“So, Y/N, is there any hobbies you enjoy? Anything we can look into getting you, like an easel or a video game?” Grace asks, making conversation.

“Why do you care? It’s not like I’m your kid,” You rolled your eyes, then looked down and played with your food. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached to the idea of having people truly care about you, especially not now.

“Hey, you-” Judd started to raise his voice, but Grace cut him off with holding her index finger up to him, then spoke.

“Y/N, I know this is all too new for you still. You don’t know us, you do not know our intentions, and you’re past makes it especially hard for you to believe anyone would love you and care for you. But, and I mean this, this is your home now, Y/N, and we will not abandon you, no matter the obstacles ahead,” she paused, and looked to her husband. Judd nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Y/N, I was just like you when I was your age. I was going through somethin’, and it left me violent and not knowing who to trust. We want you here so we can help you through the hurt you’ve been through, and make you into the young adult we can already see inside you. We have two rules, don’t disrespect us, and be honest with us. Got it?”

“Got it,” you spoke quietly. The rest of the dinner was quiet, and afterwards you went upstairs to your room, lying on the bed, thinking about how this is going to be good for you. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

#grace ryder x judd ryder #judd ryder #grace ryder #teen!reader #reader insert #writing #9-1-1 lone star #911 lone star #the ryders x teen!reader #grace x judd #apologies if this is god awful

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining.  Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1   Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again.  By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly.  It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks.  “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?”  She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right.  Crap. You forgot about that little white lie.  “Sorry, hang on a sec.”  You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face.  “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks.  Are you feeling okay?  I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied. 

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah.  He was big, too.  And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.”  Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down.  When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others.  You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned.  You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing.  So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over.  “Hm. Better keep that on there.  You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag.  You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully.  The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes.  “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed.  Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in. 

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work.  The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you.  You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her.  And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side.  It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence.  But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge.  Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft.  “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her.  Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was.  You gave a soft sigh.  “Of course not.  He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed. 

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement. 

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it.  She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess.  Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them.  You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing.  More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes.  But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed.  It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied.  You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No.  I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded. 

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes.  You had to choose your words carefully. 

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained.  “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away.  It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you.  And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you.  “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people.  You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something.  You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right?  You treat each of us like family.  Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know.  But you don’t.  That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes.  “You’re so nice, big sis.”  Her compliment made you smile. 

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation.  “Am I all done?”

You nodded.  “You’re free to go.” You announced.  Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name.  “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave.  As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand.  Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before.  It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time.  Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation.  It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear.  The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past.  It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

 * * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible.  To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores.  He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels.  His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you.  The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before.  But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake.  He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it.  It shouldn’t be important.  You shouldn’t be important.  His mouth pressed into a thin line.  The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.  

The cleaning only occupied him for so long.  Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them.  He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories.  Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands.  The cigarette was gone within a minute.  The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort.  So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids.  His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face.  Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal.  It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space.  His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself.  They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret.  But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind.  How did you fold your towels?

Idiot.  He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague.  Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind.  He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence. 

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar.  A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated.  Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him.  The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination.  No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

 * * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes.  You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects. 

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles.  Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up.  You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand.  Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked.  You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction.  “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll.  He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind.  “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…?  Maybe Dabi said something the day before.  Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N!  You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded.  “She might throw it up.  She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank.  No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously.  Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits.  Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it.  You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile.  “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up.  “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented.  “However, Kurogiri is supervising her.  Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high.  I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered.  “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled.  “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents.  It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh!  One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.”  Toga explained.  Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table.  “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated.  “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides.  “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray.  Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him.  “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill.  But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward.  Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne.  Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be.  The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date.  You wanted to laugh.  Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates.  In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter.  You weren’t his type anyway.  And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage.  Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together.  He needed someone he could trust.  He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact.  He needed a friend. You could do that.  You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag.  If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills.  It was about time for it anyway.  With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination.  Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch.  Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form.  You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different.  Maybe it was the shower.  Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants.  Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain.  He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems.  Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring.  You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips.   Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in.  You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll­…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips.  His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing.  If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down.  “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer.  “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” 

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice?  How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog.  Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted.  The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness.  The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence.  Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth.  Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered.  All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival.  A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with.  You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls.  With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.”  He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste.  You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog.  He gave you a soft glare.  “Why did you even take this?  You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased.  “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.”  You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it.  That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk.  “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes!  So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back.  It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander.  “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first.  If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl.  “Fine, you big baby.” 

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth.  He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful.  Definitely burnt.  And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth.  You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.”  Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back.  “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.” 

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll?  You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him.  “Don’t try to act like you know me.  And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead.  So eat up.”  You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose.  He pushed the bowl away back towards you.  “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.”  He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed.  “and she had Kurogiri with her, too.  Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed.  “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm.  “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head.  Dinner date.  Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it.  The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks.  Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you.  He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits.  But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him.  Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table.   You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off.  But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload.  But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could.  More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed.  You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment.  You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.”  He finally said.  He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips.  “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball.  You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face.  “Yeah, thanks.”  You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it.  “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah.  Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway.  “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first.  Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.” 

Was it a lie?  Of course. You were starving.  Did Dabi know that you were lying?  Of course.  But he took the other half of the muffin anyway.  You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

 “Are those my towels?” you asked. 

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth.  “Yeah.  They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details.  “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end.  Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now.  Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before.  He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal.  Bringing ramen.  Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something.  You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes.  Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster.  As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle.  His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills.  He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it.  “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space.  “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile.  “It is.  But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about.  Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower.  You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch.  The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze.  As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night.  There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him.  Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off?  About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted. 

“I’m not talking about the pain.  I’m talking about… I don’t know.  Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone.  “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll.  Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face.  Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified.  You needed to understand more.  You needed to know how bad it was.  “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling.  Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions?  You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night.  Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with.  You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing.  “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged.  “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing.  Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern.  You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.  And certainly not twice in one day.  You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them.  Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk. 

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back?  What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand.  They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little.  “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you.  You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes.  Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips.  You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard.  The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured.  “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself.  His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state.  You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did.  I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied.  “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him.  “NO!” You finally exclaimed.  “Of course, I didn’t!  Why would you even…”  but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you. 

You playfully punched his arm.  “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed.  “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back.  “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit.  With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower.  You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind.  You weren’t here for this.  You were here to treat him and get out of his space.  You weren’t his type.  You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice.  Why did he have to be such a flirt?  It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time.  Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there.  You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today.  Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip.  It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty.  How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face. 

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now.  You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.  Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew.  In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you.  It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered.  “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided.  “Of course I’m going to do your legs.  The better I treat you, the better you can rest.  And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll.  I won’t be needing them.  Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing.  “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk.  “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable.  Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen.  But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure.  He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up.  He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you.  What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery.  Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears.  Was it multiple sensory attacks?  You flinched again.  And again. There was a rhythm.  So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out.  Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper.  He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented. 

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement.  You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears.  He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point.  But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave?  Why stay here if it was bothering you this much?  Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t.  Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter.  You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling.  The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes.  Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized.  The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you.  Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room.  Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag.  It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so.  Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah.  Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door.  After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

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[jadelynlace]

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture. 

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back. 

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest. 

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,” 

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time. 

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion. 

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start. 

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour. 

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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[carolinedionecd]

"What !? No - No"

Sterling palmed her face in shock.

"Mom? What's she talking about?"

Blair is directly looking at Debbie, with brows arched as a sign of confusion. She knew she'll never get an answer from Debbie so she looked at her dad.

"Dad?"

She opened her arms as a signal to Anders that she's waiting for an answer. Anderson bit his lip, took a big sigh and looked at Debbie, who's still crying while pointing her shotgun directly at Dana.

"Hello !? I'm shot !?"

Everyone looked at the man who's lying on the floor, Dana's shitty boyfriend. Bowser pointed his gun at the guy, cuffed then took him.

"Dad?"

Blair is still waiting for an answer, that she knows she's not gonna get, for now.

"Sterling come here!"

Blair took Sterling's wrist then took her to Bowser's car.

"Blair II - alkdjadniw"

Sterling's blabbering, because she's still in shock. Blair closed the backseat door where they're sitting.

"Listen to me, Sterl. We will always be sisters. Twin sisters. You just came out of our mom's twin sister. See? We're still twins"

Sterling looked at Blair who's waiting for her to speak.

"Y-yeah. Yeah. I could - I could deal with that."

Sterling can't cry. She's overwhelmed with emotions and shock and questions. They both looked out of the window when the police arrived. Dana is being put in jail.

Debbie, Anders, and Bowser are talking when the police left.

"Holy shit! They're gonna know that Bowser is a bounty hunter!"

Blair is now in a panic.

"W-what? Why? How?"

Sterling is still confused, her mind is far away from wherever they are.

"Shit they looked at us! Hide!"

They both ducked.

"Wait, why are we hiding?"

Sterling still full of confusion but she follows what Blair is doing because Blair is the only one that makes sense to her now.

"I - I - why are you hiding?"

Blair asked her back. Suddenly, the driver's seat door opened.

"Girls. I will get you home now. Okay?"

They sighed in relief when they heard Bowser's voice so they sat back on their seats.

"Did you tell them about bounty hunting? Did you tell them that we're on your team?"

Bowser rolled his eyes at Blair's question.

"First, I did not tell them that I am a bounty hunter. Second, they will never know you're on my team."

The twins took a big sigh. Blair is relieved that their cover isn't blown, as if a spy dodged a bullet. Sterling, took a big sigh because now that her mom is actually her aunt, she's seeing the family that she grew up in, in a totally different way.

"Third,"

Bowser broke the silence that made the two look at him.

"Are you okay baby girl?"

He's looking directly at Sterling. Blair looked at Sterling, waiting for her to answer Bowsie.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She looked down on her hand and tried to play with her nails.

"You know what? You don't even look like her. You look more like mom. Our mom. You're her favorite and I'm sure she loves you so much--," Blair's eyebrows crossed again. "--more than she loves me."

Confused with her own sentence, she shrugged it off, like she's telling herself that that's not the point.

"Do you remember in third grade, she told us she's gonna make us a ham sandwich for lunch, and then you got the ham sandwich and I got the peanut butter sandwich !?"

Sterling laughed when she remembered how angry Blair was when they got home and told their mom.

"Do you remember what she said?"

Asked Blair.

"Yeah. You told her, 'where was my ham sandwich !?'"

The two laughed because Sterling made an impression of Blair's third-grade-angry-face.

"Yeah! And she was like, 'Blair, you should learn to give to others especially your sister. I love you both so much but a responsible older sister should always take care of her younger sister.'"

They looked at each other.

"Yeah. That was fair."

Sterling finally agreed.

"She always put you first over me. Always has and always has been. But, works for me. Less attention, less expectation. It's enough for me to know they love me, they love us. But so you know, you have to take care of your kidney because I am not going to donate it. I want to die with my organs complete and intact. "

Bowser, silently listening to them shakes his head in awe.

"I should really stay hydrated."

Hydrated. Shoot. The water bottle. Lock-in meeting. April.

"Bye, Sterl."

Once again, Sterling took a big sigh. Her heart is crumbling like paper. Now her tears are starting to run down but she tried to hide them and wipe them away using her forehand.

"Oh my God!"

She looked at Blair when she heard her scream.

"What?"

Blair looked back at Sterling with tears in her eyes. With a wide freaking smile.

"It's Miles! He wants to talk!"

Blair happily hugged Sterl. The latter is so happy for her sister.

"Holy crap. We're gonna makeup, we'll be together again! Oh, sweet Jesus! I miss his smell!"

Sterling, can't help but miss April.

Her lips.

Her smile.

Her kiss.

Her smell.

Her skin.

"Honey"

Debbie hugged Sterling so tight. She knows Sterling is in shock but she's scared to let Sterling think negative thoughts and doubt herself.

"M-Can I still call you mom?"

Asked Sterling while they're hugging each other.

"Oh, sweetheart. I am your mom. No one else could be your mom. Okay? And you, are Sterling. You are our daughter. You are sisters - twin sisters."

Debbie softly touched their chins while smiling.

"See? I told you we're still sisters and twins."

Blair happily told Sterling. She smiled so wide. She's never been this happy to be a part of this family.

"I can't even imagine my life without you. I mean, who's gonna let me borrow a bra and never return it and doesn't get mad?"

Sterling laughed again. Anders and Debbie hugged the twins. They looked at each other with a genuine smile. Their hands intertwined with each other. Anders kissed Debbie on her forehead with a sigh of relief because the husband and the wife know that this night just made their family ties stronger than ever.

"Okay, can we please face the fact that you guys still didn't answer my questions last night?"

Typical Blair, asking questions and gets paranoid when they're not being answered.

"Okay, honey. First of all, we are having breakfast. I don't think it's appropriate to talk about that this time."

Blair's brows arched once again because of disbelief.

"A-actually, mom--" Sterling slightly smiled then reached for her nape. "--I want to know. I think I deserve that."

Debbie silently put down her tea, took the napkin out of her lap, and damped it on her lips before saying anything. Anders reached for Debbie's hand that is resting on her lap, which made her look at Anders. She took a big sigh.

"Okay, I'm going to make it short and precise."

Sterling and Blair are waiting for the answers while Anders enjoys himself chewing his food, but it is making an annoying sound. The three girls looked at him.

"What? I'm just eating my food."

Debbie rolled her eyes. The twins looked back at Debbie.

"Dana showed in our old house carrying you. Blair was just a month old. She told me she can't take care of you so she wanted me to take care of you as my own. Dana was a mess. I mean, she still is. But I don't know who your father is. That's it. "

Sterling isn't bothered anymore. She's a Wesley and will always be a Wesley.

"Are you going home right after school?"

Asked Blair while she's driving to school. Sterling's mind is still in the wind.

"Y-yeah. I guess. I don't have much to do."

Blair looked at Sterling with worry.

"It's gonna be okay. I know it's hard for you to walk around and see her in every corner but you have to be strong."

Sterling looked at Blair.

"Yeah. I just have to be strong."

Blair looked at her again, not convinced by how Sterling said those words.

"Or you can pretend you hate her again until it comes true."

Sterling looked at her.

"II-can't do that."

Sterling looked in the side-view mirror when she saw that they're approaching the parking lot.

"Just pretend. Okay? Act tough and doesn't care about her."

The last piece of advice from Blair before they step out of the car. "By the way, you have to take an uber later. I'm gonna meet with Miles. It's our make-up date. Or probably make-up-then-make-out-date."

Sterl just nodded to Blair.

"Incoming."

She whispered to Sterling as she saw April approaching them. Sterling's heart is pounding just the thought of hearing April's voice. She's directly looking at April while walking and is ready to stop whenever April greets her but to her dismay, April didn't greet her, or even called her name, or even took a glimpse of her.

Sterling stopped and turned around, chasing April's back by staring at her.

"Hey, Luke!"

Sterling turned her back before she sees the flirting that is about to happen.

"How is she doing that? I mean, that would be so hard for a gay woman to flirt with someone who's not even on her menu."

Whispered Blair to Sterling while walking towards the entrance.

"Shhhh someone might hear you."

Sterling dropped her bag then turned her face down the table. She kept taking deep breaths, assuming it would heal her aching heart.

"I told you to save me a seat beside you"

She heard the voice she's longing to hear, but she kept her cool and decided to only move when the bell rang.

"I'm sorry, Hannah B is already here when I came in. I wouldn't wanna sit beside--"

Ezequiel looked down at sleeping Sterling. April doesn't even need to turn her back to know who that girl is because even her peripheral vision can recognize her instantly. But for the sake of pretending, she looked around and rolled her eyes.

"Fine."

~~

Hey guys I didn't know that tumblr has a limit. So I cant post the whole chapter. If you'd like to continue reading you can go to my wattpad account. Here's the link.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/251725935?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=BlueWhaaale&wp_originator=ayB6mhaua0htPKGYUuBaMBOLTreql97Gtq2XrCSLeglsobjcXhwlj7feIgshPrYg37%2F%2FSPEokHRINccn6JFN1sjV4x%2BZ8bgbF1HtvWBwBfwTOpRpdINWFkLBcro73h7g

#stepril #sterling wesley #netflixandchill #netflixquotes #netflixseries #emotions #love #april stevens #sterling x april #tbhedit #writing #my writing #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #chapter #lgbt #lgbtqiia+ #lgbtq #lesbian love #teenage bounty hunters #blair wesley #bowser #save teenage bounty hunters

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 7

intermission iii

<-Previous Next->

AO3

~

After parting ways with the others at the train station, Ann and Shiho ride up to Ryuji’s house. Despite everything, it’s almost nostalgic. They haven’t taken the train to Ryuji’s together since middle school, and Ann can’t help but smile at the memory of them getting set up to play games in Ryuji’s room or the way she’d always trail behind Shiho and Ryuji when they decided to race to the front door.

They just walk up to the door this time, and Shiho keeps glancing around them as they approach Ryuji’s apartment. No one stops to take note of them, however, and eventually they can hear footsteps approaching the door.

“Look, I already told you I haven’t- Oh!” Ms. Sakamoto’s eyes widen when she sees the two of them. “Ann, Shiho. Come in, quickly.”

She ushers them inside and sits them down at the kitchen table. “Can I get you girls something to drink?”

“No we’re fine. We’re not going to stay long,” Ann says.

“Ah, alright.” Ms. Sakamoto takes her own mug and sits down across from them, tapping her fingers against the mug. “So, how is Ryuji?”

Ann and Shiho share a quick look. 

“That’s what we came to ask you, actually,” Shiho says. “He didn’t tell you where he was going?”

Ms. Sakamoto’s shoulders slump. “No. He thought it would be safer if I didn’t know.”

“Did he tell you anything, anything at all?”

“I mean, you know Ryuji. He got an idea of a place he could go and practically ran out the front door, before I told him to at least sneak out the fire escape. All he said was that you’d meet up with him. I assumed that meant you had a safe house or something.”

Ann shakes her head. “No, we don’t.”

“But don’t worry,” Shiho adds quickly, “we know he hasn’t been arrested. And Ryuji’s always been tough, he’s fine.”

Ms. Sakamoto takes a deep breath. “Yes, you’re right.”

After that, Ms. Sakamoto insists that Ann and Shiho take a bag of cookies with them and they say their goodbyes. They slip into a nearby alleyway and Shiho groans as she slumps against a building.

“Well this is just great. We’re back to square one.” 

Ann hums. “I mean, not completely. We know it’s somewhere Ryuji thinks we’ll know he’ll be so he probably decided to hide in a place that was very… Ryuji.”

Shiho bites her lip and tries to think. “I mean, I can think of a ton of places that are very ‘Ryuji’ but not exactly ‘hide out from the cops appropriate’.”

“Well, i mean our first couple of meeting places were the school rooftop and the accessway tunnel in Shibuya.”

“Wait, like, in public?” Shiho asks.

“Yeah. I think at some point Yusuke or Makoto called it a ‘refuge in audacity,’ like it’s so insane a place to hold secret meetings that no one would bother to look there.”

“Huh.” Shiho crosses her arms. “Was that your intention when you picked it out?”

“No,” Ann says, pouting, “and don’t give me that look. We didn’t exactly get caught because we were meeting in the accessway.”

“Isn’t that how Niijima-senpai found out about you?”

“No, she found out about us because we were talking at school and didn’t know she was eavesdropping. And Akechi found out about us because he saw us in the Metaverse so that doesn’t even count. The accessway was a super convenient meeting spot and it worked, so shut up.” Ann gives Shiho a playful shove, and Shiho laughs.

“Alright, so we can’t rule out Ryuji’s hiding spot just because it seems too obvious. So should we just check around every place he’d hang out?”

Ann nods. “So the beef bowl shop, the sports store, the gym…

“The arcade?”

“Ooh yeah, we should check the one in Akihabara too since we need to go there anyway.”

“Alright then, let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

-_-_-_-

Haru gets off the train in Kanda and gawks at the church. She’s heard Yusuke and Akira describe it, but she hasn’t been able to go herself before. It’s a gorgeous building.

She spots a girl in a Kosei uniform staring at a shogi board. 

“Um, excuse me, are you Hifumi Togo?” Haru asks after quietly approaching her. There are only a few elderly patrons there as well as the priest at the front of the building.

Hifumi looks up at her. “Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, my friend Akira said you’re a good Shogi teacher and I’ve been meaning to learn.”

Hifumi’s eyes widen. “Yes, I am. Would you like to join me for a game?”

Haru nods and takes the seat next to her.

Hifumi arranges the pieces. “So, is there anything i can do to help?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard about Yusuke Kitagawa?”

Hifumi furrows her brow and moves one of her pieces. “Well, the rumor goes, he disappeared into thin air.”

“What does that mean?”

“He tends to stay after school in the art room very late so when the notice went out, a bunch of officers showed up at the school building proper and his dorm. He was in the art room, and the police shooed everyone else still in the school away from the building before going to collect him. But apparently someone heard from their brother who overheard the janitor talking about how Kitagawa was nowhere to be seen when the police opened the door to the art room. They tore the building apart, apparently, but he’d disappeared into thin air.”

“And no one’s heard anything since?” 

“No.”

Haru closes her eyes and counts her breaths. When she opens them again, Hifumi is watching her with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just concerned,” Haru says. Tears are starting to well up in her eyes. “It’s just, I don’t know where half of my friends are, and they’ve done so much for me when I was practically a stranger, and what did that get them? They were led into a complete trap by going after my father, and now Shido wants to finish the job.” Haru’s nails bite into her palms. “I keep trying to stay calm and telling myself it’ll be fine, but then I think of all the reasons it isn’t and-”

Hifumi slams a piece down on the board. “Enough of that. You have to stay strong. If you accept defeat, then you’re sure to lose. You have to keep your chin up, no matter what. You can still win this. I know it’s not obvious but I’ve heard people in school talking. They may not be numerous, but there are people who still believe in the Phantom Thieves, including myself. You can’t wallow in despair while there’s still something you can do.”

Haru blinks. “Oh.” She wipes her eyes. “Yes, of course. You’re right. I’m sorry to unload that on you, I was just-”

“You’re fine. I know we’ve just met under less than ideal circumstances, but like I said I believe in your cause. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Togo-san.”

“Well you can call me Hifumi for one thing. And for another, I want to help in any way that I can. Any friend of Akira’s is my friend.”

“Thank you, Hifumi.” Haru stretches out her hand. “By the way, I’m Haru Okumura.”

They finish up their games and Hifumi writes down her number for Haru for when Haru can safely use a phone again, and they part ways.

Haru feels better on the train ride back, so much so that she doesn’t notice the boy in a Shujin uniform staring at her, at first.

But, when she gets off the train in Shibuya, she catches the boy following her. Instead of making the connection back to Yogen-Jaya, she walks around the Underground Mall to try and lose him. Eventually she does, but it’s only a moment of respite before she sees a police officer heading towards her.

Haru moves quickly, sprinting up the stairs into Station Square, and tries to get lost in the crowd. She slips down another set of stairs and tries to calm down, in case someone passes by.

She hears some commotion and pokes her head out to see more officers walking by and coming closer.

“Listen to me! I saw who you’re looking for. The Phantom Thief-”

Haru holds her breath and starts looking for a way out.

“-just went towards Central Street.”

Haru stops and turns towards the man who was talking. He’s clearly a politician who was campaigning in front of her hiding spot. The cops nod to him and run off, followed by a crowd of onlookers.

Haru waits for a few minutes, when the man says, much softer, “Are you alright dear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I take it you’re Mr. Yoshida?” Haru asks. “A friend of Akira’s

The man gives a sheepish smile. “Well, yes. How is Kurusu doing?”

“We’re all holding it together the best we can,” Haru replies.

“I’m so sorry all of this is happening to you, to think people would actually believe the Phantom Thieves would kill someone, and be so quick to turn against a group of children. It’s shameful.”

“Well, not everyone’s turned against us. Thanks, you really saved me there.”

“Happy, to help. Now hurry along, before you get caught again.” 

Haru waves to Yoshida and walks back to the train station, where she bumps into Ann and Shiho.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Haru asks.

“We’re still looking for Ryuji,” Shiho says. “We’re about to check Akihabara.”

“I’ll go with you, but we’ve gotta be quick. I was just recognized.”

Ann and Shiho nod, and they head onto the train. On the ride over they fill Haru in on what happened with Ryuji’s mother.

In the arcade, a boy with a red hat and blue letterman jacket spots them, his eyes widening instantly.

“Crap, I think we just got recognized,” Ann mutters.

Before they can leave, the boy sprints over to them. “Hey. You’re the Phantom Thieves, right?”

“No,” Shiho says, blocking his view of Ann, “I think you’ve gotten us mistaken for someone else.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re them. Listen, I think I saw your friend walk by here a little while ago.”

“Are you sure?” Haru asks.

“Almost positive.”

“Can you show us where?” The boy nods, and leads them out of the arcade. “I just saw them pass by a little while ago.” 

“Let’s split up,” Ann says, and they split down the middle, checking the nearby alleyways. 

“Ryuji, are you here?” Ann whisper-shouts. Ryuji doesn’t poke his head out, but someone else does.

“Makoto?” Ann, gasps.

“Shh, there were cops prowling around here earlier.” Makoto pulls her into the alleyway, then a giant hug. “I’ve been so worried about you guys.”

“Us too, but hold on.” Ann goes back to the mouth of the alleyway and waves Haru, Shiho, and the kid over.

“Ann what is it- Makoto?” Haru doesn’t waste a second wrapping Makoto in a hug.

“Suzui?” Mishima steps out from behind Makoto.

Shiho grins. “Helping out too, huh Mishima?”

“Yeah.”

“How are the others?” Makoto asks.

“Well we’ve met up with Akira, Akechi, and Morgana, and they’re getting help. Luckily Akira has a lot of friends in different places,” Haru says.

“We’re planning on securing the route to Shido’s Treasure tomorrow,” Ann says.

“Cutting it close on Sae and Sojiro’s trial date, but when haven’t we?” Makoto says with a smile. “Alright, we meeting the others?”

Shiho nods. “We should be getting back to Yogen-Jaya soon, actually.”

“So, the Phantom Thieves are gonna go after Shido next?” Mishima asks.

“Awesome,” the kid says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we never got your name,” Ann realizes.

“Shinya Oda. I’m a friend of Akira’s. He totally you guys were the Phantom Thieves before anyone else.”

“I’m pretty sure I knew first,” Mishima says. “I mean I am the Admin of the PhanSite.”

“Really? That’s cool so you’re like Mission Control?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“We have to go,” Ann says. “Mishima, Shinya. Are you going to be ok?”

“Yeah, totally,” Shinya says.

Mishima nods, “Don’t worry, we won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thank you,” Haru says, “we seriously couldn’t have gotten by without you guys.”

“If you wanna thank us, then kick Shido’s butt for us.” Shinya says.

“Yeah, what he said.”

They say goodbye to Shinya and Mishima, then rendezvous with the others back at Takemi’s office, the sun having set. 

Akira and Akechi introduce them to Kasumi properly, and the two groups fill each other in on what everyone else found.

“He just said ‘we’d know where he is’?” Morgana asks once Shiho and Ann finish explaining what happened with Ryuji’s mom.

“Apparently,” Shiho says.

Ann twists one of her pigtails around her finger. “We’ve been trying to figure out what’s a Ryuji place to go but we haven’t had any luck.”

“Maybe it’s less a matter of us trying to think of where Ryuji would go,” Makoto suggests, “and more Ryuji going someplace he thinks we would go.”

“And where would that be?” Akechi asks.

Akira closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. Then it hits him. 

“I think I know where he is,” Akira says. “If I’m right, then we can all meet at the Diet Building tomorrow,” he shouts as he’s running off.

“Akira, where are we going?” Morgana asks from the bag. 

The train isn’t going nearly fast enough, and Akira sprints down Central Street to the familiar sign of Untouchable. When he gets inside, Iwai is the only person there.

“Iwai, has my friend been here at all?” Akira asks, slamming his hands on the counter.

Iwai frowns. “Geez kid, calm down, you’ll draw way too much attention.” He tilts his head behind him. “Back room.”

Akira practically leaps over the counter, causing Morgana to yelp, and rushes towards the back room. 

In the hallway, he practically runs face first into Ryuji.

“Akira!”

“Ryuji!” Akira gives him a massive hug.

Ryuji laughs. “Took you long enough dude.”

Morgana pokes his head out of Akira’s bag. “You’ve just been at Untouchable this whole time?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d be going after Shido at some point, and that meant getting weapons, plus I knew Iwai hates cops so it seemed like the perfect place.”

“This kids been eating all of my ration bars,” Iwai calls from the front.

“Heh, sorry,” Ryuji calls back. “But seriously, Iwai’s been super cool. Especially since I kinda showed up like a crazy person. Kaoru’s cool too, he’s been playing cards with me to help me not go insane coped up back here. Oh, also I’ve been learning about guns and shit while I’m here.”

“Glad to hear you’re doing well, then.” Morgana says. “We were all starting to get worried about you.”

“Aww, miss me Mona?”

“Not more than anyone else.” Morgana snaps.

Ryuji laughs again and Akira feels so much better hearing it. Ryuji’s confidence has always been infectious.

“So, wanna fill us in on what happened to you?” Morgana asks.

“Sure.”

#alto writes #on the run au #ann takamaki #shiho suzui #haru okumura #hifumi togo #toranosuke yoshida #shinya oda #makoto niijima #mishima yuuki #wordcount: 2000-2500 #queuety and vice

[definitelynottony]

Hi! Could you do prompts #20 and #43??? :)

Of course! This definitely turned into something way longer than I thought it would have lol. The whole story is kind of Billy's way of comforting Steve after their fight but then I added a little bit more at the end to really imply the prompt. Hope you enjoy it! 

#20: "How the fuck do you keep getting in my house?"

#43: comfort after a fight

Steve suddenly woke from yet another good dream turned bad. Body hot and slick from sweat, not sure if that's from the good part or the bad parts though. He even left his bat by his bed tonight for some comfort but it didn't help. Maybe it's due to the fact that he had that fight with Nance today? Or cause the kids have been talking about all that D&D crap lately? Or possibly, probably, it's definitely Billy's fault. 

Billy Hargrove, god seriously even thinking about him right now sends a chill through Steve. A hurricane in his gut, sets a fire loose in his veins. What he would do if he was here right now, the asshole.

They had that fight only a couple months back now, in November. Ever since then Billy had been, well… Let's just say entirely too friendly. The entire thing left Steve with whiplash. Steve never knew what he was going to get. Some days Billy would ignore him, which would have been fine with Steve. Especially considering he had to get stitches from that damn plate to his head. But it was the other days that got him, those days where Billy would just watch him. Or when he'd corner him when he was alone, in the locker room or in the parking lot. The first time it was to apologize. Whether it was a bat almost crushing his balls or a miraculous change of heart, Billy did apologize to Steve for that night. Said something along the lines of:

"It wasn't anything personal Harrington. I was angry to begin with and you were a pretty punching bag. When you hit back and I saw that fire in ya I- I just got carried away. Okay. I'm sorry, alright?" 

Needless to say Steve was so taken aback from the whole outburst that he basically just nodded in understanding. I mean the guy apologized, right? That's what Steve was waiting for (wasn't holding his breath but hopeful?) Plus he sort of just like...complimented him in a weird roundabout way so, yeah. That was that. There was no further discussion, no let's shake hands or let's be friends from now on. Just radio silence for a solid week afterwards.

But then it started, Billy that is. Billy started this new game of cat and mouse, hot and cold. Whatever you want to call it. He drove Steve bonkers with it. In the beginning he waited until he was alone and just started talking. Like they were friends?

"Good game Harrington. You're jump shots were fire today. And your defense game, you're finally planting your feet huh?." 

"Uh. Yeah, thanks man. You too I guess, good game." 

And that chatter slowly turned into Billy finding him in the hallway:

"Yo Harrington, you dropped this."

"Oh, thanks. Uh, wait this isn't mi-" 

Billy had left before Steve finished. Billy handed him a folded note, 'Under bleachers. 1:15'. Steve read it a few times with furrowed brows. This was either the part where Billy finishes the job and kills him or… well Steve didn't have an alternative but at 1:10 he made his way outside to the bleachers. It was his free period so it was either catching up on homework or quenching his curiosity. 

"So why exactly am I here?" Steve confronted Billy who was sitting stretch out smoking. He didn't respond to the brunette, just smirked and held out the joint. Steve starred between the roll and Billy but he shrugged and sat beside him and took it.

"I seriously don't get you Hargrove." 

"Nothing to get man. Told ya it was nothing personal." 

"Yeah but even before that shit you were like, I don't know, hassling me." 

"Cause you're fun to mess with princess. You make it too easy man. And the way your face gets, and your eyes get all wide. The shit was priceless pretty boy." 

Steve passed the joint back, 

"Whatever man. Fuck you." 

"That a threat or are you offering Harrington?" 

Steve choked on the smoke, eyes like saucers staring at Billy. The blonde smirked with sharp teeth before laughing, 

"See, too easy." 

"Yeah, no, fuck off man." But Steve kind of laughed too, not that he would admit it. Billy knocked into his shoulder before passing the joint back. 

Then that sort of became their thing. Billy would toss his head to Steve in passing or he would stop him and just tease him or compliment him. But that bitterness, the bite that was there before the showdown wasn't there. It was like a completely different person. Or more like Billy was the same person, he just stopped being an ass to Steve. Cause to everyone else, especially Tommy, he was still that brash jerk. 

"Hey Harrington! Think with all daddy's money you could just pay people to be your friends instead of being Wheeler's and Byers' little bitch." Tommy H. taunted. 

"Seriously Tommy, shut the fuck up." Steve flipped him off trying to walk away from the whole situation. 

"Hey Hall! You'd think with a mother like yours you'd have a bigger dick, but I guess you'll just never be half the man she is." 

Billy joined Steve's side. That little comment earned him a crowd's worth of 'oo's' and snickers from their peers. Tommy flipped Billy off and tucked his tail. More importantly it earned Billy a smirk and side glance from Steve. 

"You didn't have to do that. I know you and Tommy were friends or whatever." Steve stopped when they reached the BMW. 

"Didn't do nothing pretty boy. Plus Tommy and I were never friends. Can barely stand that guy man. You, you and me are friends." Billy stated as if he was saying 'the sky is blue' or 'water is wet'. So matter of fact that Steve almost believed him. 

"We're not friends though?" 

"Wow Stevie, you wound me. I share with you my weed and defend your honor, let you copy my homework and you just toss me aside like the broccoli they give you with Chinese take out." 

That sarcasm earned Billy a full on laugh, and it was beautiful. Steve bit his smile back and just shook his head. 

"You're actually crazy Hargrove." 

"And you're actually gorgeous Harrington." 

Steve blinked waiting for the punchline but Billy just kept smirking that sharp grin, licked his lips and Steve totally watched as he did it. 

"What…?" 

"Thought we were just stating facts amigo." 

"Oh, uh… you- you're not so bad yourself? I guess?" Steve floundered but Billy seemed to take it in stride. 

"Come on princess. Take me back to your place and I'll ignore your horrible compliment skills and share more of my weed with you." 

Billy invited himself and got into Steve's car.

So he guess they were friends now? 

Fast forward two months to the present day Steve, sweating and huffing out of a bad dream. A dream that started with him making out nice as can be with his lover, that turned to Nancy yelling at him for being with said lover to Nancy and his boyfriend getting eaten by demidogs. He woke out of  the nightmare but it's a bang from downstairs that actually woke him up. So he grabs the nail bat and heads down the staircase. He'd probably be more hesitant if he didn't already have a hunch as to what the noise was, or more appropriately who was making it.

"That you Hargrove?" Steve squinted his eyes in the darkness of his kitchen before switching on the light.

"Yeah it's me pretty boy, don't cream your pants."

"Dude, I could have killed you." 

"Yeah, you say that every time man. But, like, your catchphrase is getting kind of old fast especially since you haven't actually killed me yet." 

"Well maybe if you stopped sneaking into my damn house I wouldn't have to keep saying it! This is like the fifth time Billy! How the fuck do you keep getting in my house?"

"It really ain't that hard princess. Those locks on the windows ain't much ya'know. Just takes a pocket knife and some lean muscles." 

"You're serious? You know you're literally confessing to breaking and entering." 

"Didn't break anything." 

"What was that bang then?" 

"That was your care package." 

"Care- what? Billy why did you bring me a fucking care package at two in the morning?" Steve asked with little patience. 

"Jesus. I just wanted to be a good fucking boyfriend and comfort you man. Heard you and Wheeler had a fight earlier at lunch. Figured you'd be all bent out of shape about it." 

And they might have only been together for a month now but Billy seems to get Steve so well. He sighed before leaning the bat against the wall. 

"So what did you bring me?" He grinned crowding into Billy's space. Billy wrapped his arms around Steve's trimmed waist. 

"Me, I'm your care package." 

"God, I need to get better locks." Steve groaned into Billy shoulder.

"Or you can just give me some keys." 

"Not happening Hargrove." He lifted his head just to roll his eyes at the blonde.

"What, you don't trust me? That's-" 

"Do you ever stop talking?" 

"Mmm- make me princess." 

"I thought you said you came here to make me feel better." 

"Oh I am. I'm gonna make you feel so good baby." 

Billy growled low, that heat resettled into Steve's body. It hypnotized Steve, forced him to surge into a heated kiss that Billy instantly returned.

"Well what are you waiting for? You know the way around Hargrove."

#mywritings #prompt ask #reply #Harringrove #harringrove fanfic #harringrove au #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[verus-veritas]

Collan's Caption This Catch Up

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success? What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers. From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level. He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.

Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I guess my capability for intense mental concentration and focus, coupled with the depth of my obsession helped trigger the beginning of it. Each night I would think of Cullen as I drifted off to sleep, going over in detail the fragments of him I had collected in my mind that day, cherishing the nape of his neck, the swell of his bicep, the revelation of his tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. I yearned for him and cast myself towards him with wild abandon in my head. And then one night a couple of weeks into the semester, I felt myself drift off to sleep as usual with thoughts of Cullen filling my head, like the proverbial visions of sugarplums, but instead of my consciousness slipping away until morning, it slipped sideways instead and I found myself hovering just off the floor next to Cullen's sleeping body. I looked across the room towards my bed, if what I did can be called looking, seeing as I was a bodiless consciousness, and I saw my own body just where I would have expected to see it, lying and breathing gently in slumber. I was surprisingly unconcerned with what was undoubtedly a highly unusual occurrence. Instead, I was fascinated by what was happening and started to examine my disembodied self. I seemed to perceive some sort of silvery cord leading back to my body, and a scrap of information surfaced from my endless eclectic reading over the years. Astral projection. This is what this was. I had written it off as new age crap, but here was proof to me that not only was it not crap, but I had somehow managed to achieve it. I turned back to look at Cullen and saw the same silvery cord stretching out of his body and out through the wall, anchoring his dream self to his physical self as he journeyed through the night. The instant I realized this, my thoughts became action, and I flew out of the room through the wall, following Cullen's silvery cord.

The world blurred by dissolving into formless colors, before brightening and resolving into a daytime city street. Cullen was there, arguing with a police officer, a clown, and a talking cartoon goldfish in a bowl hovering in mid-air. Cullen was dreaming, and I was in his dream. I sensed some sort of change in myself and looked down to see that I had a body again. I walked towards the arguing quartet, but as I did the police officer flew up into the air, the clown popped like a balloon, and the goldfish in the bowl turned into a demonic cheerleader who began to chase a suddenly terrified Cullen down the sidewalk towards me. I was enraged that anything would dare to try and hurt Cullen, so I grabbed a parking meter out of the sidewalk and stabbed the cheerleader through the chest with it. She dropped to the ground instantly and vanished. "Oh, man! I thought I was dead for sure! You saved my life! Thank you!" said Cullen and hugged me tight. I went rigid in shock. Cullen had spoken to me, and for the first time it had actually registered as words instead of meaningless gibberish. Cullen had touched me. Cullen had hugged me! For the briefest of moments Cullen's dream world had become real to me, and the combination of his speaking to me, touching me, and hugging me threw me into such turmoil that between one instant and the next I was suddenly waking up in my bed in my darkened dorm room, gasping for air and shaking in reaction. I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

To say that my obsession with Cullen deepened from that point on would be a gross understatement. Now that I knew I could spend all of my sleeping time with Cullen, I began to do so on a regular basis. He had starred in my dreams and now I began to star in his, sleep-stalking him every night. In his dreams, I found I could actually talk with him in a way that I was completely unable to in the waking world. Admittedly, most of the conversations were variations of his thanking me for one rescue or another since I became his dream protector and hero, saving him from countless monsters, demons, witches, aliens, and bad guys who were gunning for him because someone had framed him for a murder he didn't commit. After that first dream hug, I did everything I could to initiate physical contact between us during our nightly escapades, an arm casually draped over his shoulder, a hand gently tousling his hair, countless little touches, smiles, looks into his eyes. In the waking world, he grew more open and friendly towards me, looking at me more, smiling at me more, continuing to try and engage me in conversation despite the fact that I continued to blank it all out and watch our interactions as an observer, rather than as the active participant I was when we dreamed together.

It also dawned on me that there was a sexual tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was still jacking off to mental images of him every chance I got, but I realized he was spending more and more time wearing less and less when we were alone together in our room. He had never been shy about displaying his body, but as the days went by he went from t-shirts to muscle shirts to tank tops to bare torso, and from sweats to shorts to briefs to nothing at all. I exerted every ounce of my self control to not stare at the obvious things and be as casual and nonchalant about it as he seemed to be. The weeks passed, and the days grew shorter as fall progressed towards winter. I welcomed the turning of the seasons, because longer nights meant more time to sleep and dream with Cullen. Things might have continued on this way, but one evening in early November I went to sleep and slid sideways out of my body to find I wasn't alone in the room. There was another presence like myself, hovering just off the floor next to my bed as I was hovering next to Cullen's. It was another waking dreamer, I knew, and as I looked more closely I realized its silvery cord led straight to Cullen's sleeping body!

"Now it all makes sense," came Cullen's voice in my mind. "This is what you do. This is how you're always in my dreams." "Yes," I replied. "It happened first spontaneously, but it quickly became directed. I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself where you're concerned." "You love me, don't you?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted sadly, thinking that this was probably going to be some sort of ending. "I've been obsessed with you from the first day. Love followed quickly once I started to get to know you through your dreams. I can't seem to talk to you when I'm awake. I think the reality of you is too much for me to take after a lifetime of isolation, but all I want is to be with you, in all ways, always and forever, to love and protect you, to be one with you. I'm sorry." "Why are you sorry? Can't you tell I feel the same way? Ever since you invaded my dreams and started saving me, I've become obsessed with you too. I go to sleep each night, knowing that you'll be there to keep me safe, even though you can't say so during the day. I could tell the feeling was there somehow, that we were connected on a deeper level. I've been longing to meet you on that deeper level, and now, suddenly, here we are." "You love me too?" I asked incredulously. "Yes," he said simply, and even though he had no body at the moment to express it, I felt the warmth of his smile on me anyway. I moved towards his warmth, and he moved towards me. We met in the center of our dorm room, still hovering just off the floor, and with no transition our bodiless bodies merged into a single being with two silvery tethers anchored at opposite sides of the room. There are no words to describe the unity we experienced in that moment. Pile every description imaginable of physical and emotional intimacy on top of each other, squeeze them all together, multiply all of that by any impossibly large number you can think of, then magnify it all again by an equally impossibly large number and you still won't approach it. Neither of us were prepared for it, and like the first time Cullen had hugged me, I found myself suddenly abruptly awake in my body in my bed. The only difference was that this time, Cullen was awake too. He launched himself, naked and erect, out of his bed and across the room to mine. I had thrown my blanket off, and his beautiful bare body landed on top of me, his mouth seeking mine to devour me. His gigantic cock leaked onto my stomach as he ground his crotch into mine, only my briefs separating us. He moaned his frustration into my mouth as we kissed, then he sat up and back, reached down, grabbed the opening in the front of my briefs, and with a grunt, ripped them open and yanked the remains out from under me, leaving me as naked as he was.

He laid himself fully down on top of me again and our legs intertwined. He kissed me again, and we were touching all along the length of our bodies, from feet to crotch to mouth. His cock ground down into me and my hips pushed myself in turn up into him, trying to somehow physically force our bodies to merge as our essences had in the moment before we awoke. Given our frenzy, we didn't last very long, and we shot together allowing at least part of our physical selves to merge into one as we mixed our cum together between our heaving bodies. As amazing as the orgasm had been, as amazing as it was that I now knew this beautiful body on top of me held a soul that loved me in a way that I had never felt before, my eyes started to fill and tears began to drip down my cheeks with sadness, because I knew that I would never be able to experience in the waking world the unity we had shared as we slept. I looked up at Cullen, and saw tears to mirror my own. I was with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I'm not entirely sure how we got through the next few weeks. We somehow got through classes and kept up some semblance of normalcy during the day, but it all seemed remote and unreal, because at night we left our bodies behind and merged together until dawn. After a while, it became harder to determine where I ended and he began. Our body language, speech patterns, and ways of thinking became similar to the point that at times it felt like we were one person living in two bodies. Thanksgiving approached, and with it the inevitable family obligations. We had become so detached from life outside school and each other that it was almost a surprise when it was time to part and we realized we should have made plans to avoid the separation. There was no help for it, though, so off we both dutifully went, to our individual destinations. Wednesday night was misery. I was back in the place I had grown up, that I hated and that hated me. I went to bed early, eager to experience the all-consuming love that I had discovered with Cullen, only to discover that I was unable to reach him fully. We had a vague sense of each other across the distance, but we couldn't seem to connect. I spent the night lonely and aching in my heart. Thursday was just as bad, spending Thanksgiving Day with my perpetually distant parents. It made no sense to me that they would want me here today after years of not really caring whether I was around or not. I had someone now who wanted me and I wasn't with him. The night was another one of yearning and a futile struggle to connect with Cullen in our dreams. Friday the separation became actual pain. My head hurt, my heart hurt, my body and soul ached to be with Cullen. I begged off the Black Friday shopping trip, knowing I would not be able to bear the long drive to the nearest town that was large enough to have decent places to pointlessly spend money on meaningless gifts. My parents drove off and I went back to my old room and flopped on the bed. After the last two frustrating nights I was feeling defeated and depressed, and I began to resign myself to not being with Cullen again until Sunday. I eventually felt myself drifting off to sleep, only this time, for the first time in months, I actually slept and dreamed. Except it wasn't a dream, it was a horrific nightmare, the details of which I didn't remember upon my panicked awakening except for the sensations of terror and profound loss. I curled up on my side, hugged my pillow, and sobbed uncontrollably at the feeling that if I didn't do something drastic, I would somehow lose the connection Cullen and I had found. I couldn't let it slip away, to become just me again instead of the unity of us. I had slept longer than I had expected to and it was already late afternoon. Knowing my mom, my parents wouldn't be back from the shopping frenzy until late so I had hours left to be undisturbed. Dropping off to sleep had almost become second nature to me, so it was easy for me to roll over and take back control of my unconsciousness. One thought was uppermost in my mind. I had to reach Cullen, no matter what. My eyes closed, my breathing deepened, and unlike earlier in the day, I slipped sideways out of my body as I fell asleep. This time I had a new determination and started to fly across the miles to my obvious starting point in my search for Cullen – the room that we shared. I felt pulled tight across the distance from my body, but I held on to where I was through the familiarity of the location. Uncertain what to do next, I hovered once again in the place that was ours, where I could feel him all around me even without his being there. I knew my sense of time was distorted when I noticed it was dark outside. I had been here simply contemplating Cullen, and hours had drifted by without my realizing. I began to notice, too, that my sense of him was growing stronger rapidly. My excitement and longing for him grew with each passing moment until the door opened, and there he was. I could tell he was as angry and frustrated as I had been. I moved to surround him and comfort him, but he couldn't feel me there. He sat on his bed for a little, but his tension didn't seem to be allowing him to relax. He turned to his travel bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, opened it, and drank some straight from the bottle, then went and sat on *my* bed and put his face into my pillow, breathing in deeply through his nose. He hugged the pillow to his chest and a tear dripped down his cheek. After a bit, he got up, tossed my pillow back on my bed, grabbed the bottle and headed out the door. I followed wondering where he was going. His goal turned out to be the top floor lounge at the back of the dorm, where very few people bothered to go. It was deserted, since it was the Friday evening after Thanksgiving. Cullen drank some more wine and gradually seemed to relax. By the time the bottle was empty, he had propped himself up across a couple of chairs and was staring blankly at the wall. Bit by bit his eyes closed, and then there he was, slipping sideways out of his body to join me. "You're here!" he said with surprise. "I've been waiting for you. I pushed and pushed to get here across the distance. I wasn't sure where I was going to go from here. The distance is difficult, but you came back, and you're here, and now we can be together again." And just like that we were. We were one again and our joy was endless. The unity of ourselves into a single being was a miracle, and all the sweeter for having been denied it the last two days. The only things that marred our joining were the silvery cords heading off to different places, Cullen's to his body in the chairs just next to us, and mine to my far away self. We were one. We needed to be one. All other parts of us were one. The cords needed to be one too. We were tugging on my silvery cord in an attempt to push it into his, when suddenly there was a sensation of severing, and an unattached tendril reeled in from a distance, flailed around as if seeking purchase, then laid itself down over Cullen's cord and into his body. ***********

We awoke with a start, disoriented from being in an unaccustomed place, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep on the chairs, and still drunk from the wine. We felt such an overwhelming feeling of happiness and well-being that we wished we could tell someone, but we knew no one would ever really understand. As I stumbled back to my room, I knew that the other bed would be remaining empty, but that was ok. I was with my love and I was within my love. We were one person forever. I was one person with no further need for two bodies. I undressed for bed and looked down at my body as usual and for the first time, happy with what I saw. I was masculine and strong in my body. I was loved and protected in my soul. I was Cullen McCathers.

Source: “Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)”

#possession #astral projection #soul #roommates #love #permanent #maletransformationblog

[doublerainebow]

Robin and the Whore (Nightwing)

I wrote this, like, back in 2016. I figured that I should bring these fics back since I’m back in the DC hell hole.

Contains: Prostitution

~ Masterlist ~

Heh, it’s ironic how things turn out sometimes.

It was late at night when I was finally able to walk back home to my shit excuse of an apartment, though I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be so simple. I was assaulted by a group of men that I had asked to get kicked out at my work since they were being too rowdy. That, and they didn’t have enough money.

What’s my profession, you ask?

I’m a prostitute, of course.

Funnily enough, I did try and fight back when they first jumped me, but after a while, I just… lost the will. After all, no one would care if a prostitute died while being raped in an alleyway.

It’s too bad fate wasn’t so kind to let me die after making me live this shitty life.

“Why… did you save me?” I croaked out dully to the masked hero as he cradled me gently to his chest.

Strange. I don’t remember ever being treated so tenderly.

“No one deserves to be treated like that,” he whispered. “Can you tell me where you live?” He asked gently.

I mumbled out my address deliriously and allowed myself to be carried by the vigilante. I was just too tired to give a fuck.

Nightwing looked down at the woman cradled in his arms, a pained expression on his face as her words echoed solemnly within him.

Had Blüdhaven fallen so far that this poor woman thought that she didn’t deserve to be saved?

He shook his head. The most important thing right now was to bring her home.

Nightwing knew of where she lived. A shady apartment along a shady street. He vaguely remembered going there for a couple of drug raids.

It took him a while to find her apartment, but when he did, he was awed by how terrible it was. Her apartment was small, and the walls were barren and drab. An old CRT TV sat in the corner of the cramped living room—mind you there was such a thing called an HD flatscreen TV nowadays—and an old Dell laptop sat atop an unattractive, old couch.

Poor girl, he thought as he gently laid her down on the couch. Maybe he should wait for her to wake up.

I blearily opened my eyes, noticing that I was staring up at the ceiling of my apartment.

“Wh… What…?”

“You finally awake, miss?”

I shrieked in surprise at the additional voice and soon found myself on the floor of my apartment.

“H-hey! Are you okay?”

I opened my eyes tentatively to find a masked hero looking down at me with concern. I traced the blue bird symbol that sat upon his chest, recognizing it instantly. Blüdhaven’s very own hero, Nightwing.

I pushed aside the hand he held out for me to grab onto and stood up on my own. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I responded as I turned away from him, brushing the hair out of my face. “Look, I appreciate that you helped me and all, but I’m fine. Really. I’ve… been doing this for a while now.”

Nightwing shook his head. “I think you need help, miss. No one deserves to live a life like this,” he said, vaguely gesturing around himself. “Nor do they deserve selling their body to earn a crap living,” he tried to reason.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Life’s an ass. Sometimes we just gotta live with whatever cards life hands us,” I responded bitterly, still refusing to look at the vigilante.

“Then why not take the chance to get help when it’s here?” He asked.

My world paused as I considered what he said. Was I really going to accept help from a total stranger when everyone else I knew abandoned me? Was it worth the risk of possibly being abandoned again?

I turned to look at the vigilante. His hand was stretched outward for me to take.

Before I realized it, I found my hand in his.

I let out a scoff as soon as I regained my senses. “Fine, I’ll play your game. How about I live with you for a month? If nothing changes, then you let me go, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Nightwing smiled. “Deal.”

Next thing I knew, I’m standing in a pretty spacious condo. Papers were strewn here and there, and boxes of various sugary cereals were lined up nicely against some of the walls. Some of the cereal boxes were even arranged in a small castle.

Getting my things together was easy as Nightwing would only let me bring clothes that weren’t skanky to high well, and I didn’t really own any personal possessions.

“You can put your stuff into this drawer,” he directed as he began to empty out a drawer for me. Hesitantly, I placed my bag into the drawer. “You can also take my bed, I’ll sleep on the pullout. The bathroom is just right there. And as for food…” He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I hope you’re okay with cereal for a few days… or weeks. Unless you can cook.”

I settled myself down on a stool by the kitchenette. “Only a little bit. Nothing too fancy.”

Nightwing smiled gently as he began to peel off the domino mask from his face. “Well, since you’ll be living with me for a bit, I suppose it’s only appropriate that you know who I am.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Dick Grayson.”

“Short for Richard, right?” I asked as I shook his hand.

Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s usually not the first thing people say to me when I introduce myself, but yes, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson.”

I smiled wryly. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. Sorry, when you meet and bed a lot of Blüdhaven and Gotham royalty, you tend to be a bit… indifferent about meeting the top one percent.”

Dick nodded understandingly. “Makes sense. Despite being a part of that one percent, I get tired of meeting snobby, rich people,” he chuckled. “Anyways, what’s your name?”

I felt my smile leave my face as I gave a noncommittal shrug. “Don’t really remember my birth name, if I ever had one. People usually just call me Velvet, if that’s something you want to call me.”

The easygoing smile also left Dick’s face as he heard my answer. “Isn’t there something you want to be called?”

I shrugged again. “Not really, no. I don’t really care.”

Dick went silent as he began to think. “What about I call you Hester? Hester Hawthorne?” He asked.

I raised my brow. “Hester? Not really a name you hear in this day and age, but what do I know.”

“She’s the protagonist of The Scarlet Letter,” he explained.

Dick looked at me expectantly. I only stared back blankly. “Am I supposed to know what that is…?”

“You’re never heard of it?” Dick asked in surprise.

I shrugged. “I’ve lived off the streets for as long as I can remember, Dick. Of course I’m not gonna know things you probably had a high education about,” I replied plainly.

Dick stood up to grab a book from one of his shelves and handed me a book with a fancy looking “A” on a black background. “It’s a classical novel,” he explained. “It tells the story of a woman who endures through her punishment.”

I gently examined the book in my hands curiously, flipping through the pages a few times, though the words made no sense to me. “This… is the first time I’ve held a book,” I whispered as I fingered the pages. “I don’t even know what these words say or mean…”

“… Would you like me to teach you how to read?” Dick asked gently as he placed a hand on my arm.

I looked up hesitantly at him, taking the time to actually examine his face. “Can you do that for me…?”

Dick grinned kindly at me. “If it’ll make you happy, then why not? But, not right now, of course!” He gestured to himself. “I need to shower and change into regular clothes first,” he chuckled.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just be here, I guess,” I said, my attention returning to the book as Dick left me to my own devices.

It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve been here, and I can already feel things changing for me.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson #nightwing

[aam-loves]

I really don’t know how I managed to turn supposedly spooky event in a piece of Halloween fluff, but here it is with graphics for Tricks and Treats of Riverdale, Theme 3: Seasonal Celebrations 🙈 I hope you enjoy it🖤

Save us on Halloween

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It’s Sunday late afternoon, Betty is relaxing on her couch watching TV and combing her daughter’s hair. Rosie is 7 and she resembles her father too much. Red hair and freckles immediately show her relation to Archie Andrews. And who would have thought that Archie, with his golden heart, puppy brown eyes and all kind nature, turned out to be the biggest asshole. He abandoned his then yet unborn daughter pursuing career of a music star and following a raven haired heiress of Lodge empire. At least his father stayed by Betty’s side and Fred adored his granddaughter.

Since then Betty moved to a small but cozy apartment for not wanting to stay with her parents and worked in a Bookstore, again, to be further from her parents’ influence. She’s had enough of those and look where it got her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Betty furrowed her brows and came to their door. On the other side stood her neighbor , Jughead Jones, holding his son’s hand.

“Betty, hi, save us, please”

———————————————————————

Sunday afternoon Jughead Jones is sitting frustrated at his kitchen table, his laptop in front of him and the rest of the table piled with essays to grade. Oh, he wishes he had an office, but he only could get a small apartment with the wage of an English teacher and being a single father. He turned his eyes to Ethan, his 7 year old son sat with colorful books. Well, at least here he took after father. Unlike Jughead, his eyes were brown and skin a bit darker. When Toni said she was pregnant, he was nervous, but excited. Despite being raised in a shitty family he always wanted one of his own. He and Toni were just hooking up from time to time, so her decision probably was expected, but it wasn’t welcomed. When Toni informed him that she didn’t plan to keep the baby and she thought she met someone to settle with, a girl, he begged to keep the child at least until birth. She gave them up pretty easy, not looking back or contacting them right after Jughead walked out of the hospital with his son. He changed busy New York for small quiet upstate town and gave up his editing job for being an English teacher at Riverdale High and writing his novel when he had time.

He loved fatherhood and thought he did pretty good job, at least he wasn’t an alcoholic trying to involve his son into gang like his own father. But the school Costume contest for Halloween caused him headache. He looked through Halloween costumes online and was shocked by its price, he certainly couldn’t afford it for a one time occasion. Then he started looking through ideas for Halloween costumes but they were either complete trash or too difficult to create for him. So he sat there at his kitchen table, a frustrated sigh escaped his mouth. It seems his last resort was to go asking for help from Ethan classmate’s mother, Betty Cooper.

———————————————————————

“What’s wrong?” Betty is instantly worried, at least they look healthy, so they are not injured or sick. “Come in, guys” she ushers them inside her apartment.

“Ethan!” Rosie yells, happy to see her friend.

“Ethan, why don’t you join Rosie and watch TV, while me and you dad solve the problem”

“Okay, great” Ethan smiles and sits besides Rosie on the couch.

Betty turns back to Jughead “So...”

“Yeah... uh... sorry, I came unannounced, but this costume contest drives me crazy” Jughead mumbles sheepishly.

“Costume contest....oh my god! I totally forgot!” Betty realizes.

“So you don’t have a costume too...?”

“Jesus, no! And where do I get one? They are so expensive!”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jughead agrees “and I searched for ideas for handmade costumes and they either look like crap or are too difficult create. I may be good with words, but crafting is not my theme”

“Well... crafting is not a bad idea, maybe we can make something work together?” Betty smiles and blushes a little. And Jughead smiles in response.

After a couple hours of brainstorming and looking through various diy tutorial they agree on Woody and Jessie from Toy story, Ethan and Rosie seem to be perfect for impersonating cartoon’s heroes. Then they hurry for some late shopping at dollar store and thrift shop. They returned to Betty’s apartment by dinner and decided to order pizza and have a sleepover for children. When Ethan and Rosie were tucked in bed Betty and Jughead started to work.

Jughead watched fascinated how Betty were sewing yellow lapels on a white shirt for Rosie’s costume. Her bottom lip between her teeth, brows slightly furrowed, concentrated on her work. He always thought she was an angel, beautiful, smart, she got his sarcastic humor, was a perfect mother and her cooking skills... mmmm that was something else. But he never tried anything, as much as he wanted it, she was too good for him and if no one from all the bachelors fighting for her attention caught her eye, he obviously could hope for nothing here. But at least he could look and be her friend, that was better than nothing.

They finished costumes by midnight, Betty walked Jughead to the door, he will come in the morning to pick Ethan and they will walk them to school together.

“Goodnight, Juggie” she hugged him and lingered a little longer.

“Night, Betts. See you in the morning” he leaned to kiss her cheek.

She wanted so desperately to turn her head and feel his soft lips on hers, but couldn’t find the courage once again.

Betty’s crush on Jughead started after about a week they knew each other. She admired him for such a brave decision to raise a child by himself, he was smart and so interesting to talk to. Always kind and attentive, and so, so handsome. Men shouldn’t be so handsome. She melted under his blue eyes and her hands always itches to tuck the lock of midnight hair constantly falling over his eyes. She liked to care about him and Ethan like about her own family, often inviting them for dinners, knowing that two men would probably live on burgers and takeout without her. But Archie leaving gave her so much self doubt that she didn’t dare to ask Jughead if he felt something more for her. Sometimes it seemed so, but he never made a move and she was afraid of getting her heart broken again.

———————————————————————

Rosie and Ethan didn’t win the contest, but they happy without that, going for trick or treat with their friends. They had sleepover at Betty’s again, children exhausted from a busy evening were sleeping soundly on Rosie’s room, while Betty and Jughead sat with almost finished pizza and beer in front of the tv. It was probably two beers that gave her courage to do something, or may be it was just the sight of him, dressed in all black, his shirt clinging to his lean defined body, Holy hell, English teachers shouldn’t be so good-looking and sexy, she couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Juggie, I think I forgot to show you my costume!” she blurts.

“Huh? Why didn’t you wear for trick or treat with children?”

“Oh... I... it wasn’t appropriate”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll just show you” she murmurs and retreats to her room.

Jughead is waiting for her on the couch, still a little confused, but when he sees her coming down the hall all the air escapes his lungs.

Betty is wearing a fucking cheerleader uniform and she looks damn good in it. The skirt probably didn’t look so short in her high school days, but her legs are stunning, so he doesn’t complain. She’s foregone the thermal and wears only a top, which sits tighter than on a teenage girl. The look complete with knee high socks has him speechless.

Betty is blushing and biting her lip. She is approaching him slowly and almost regrets her decision when she sees his shocked face.

“Oh crap, I spoiled everything, didn’t I? Shit, I shouldn’t have... I’m so sorry, Jug... I ...” she starts babbling nervously.

But then his hand is on her hip, his thumb rubbing slowly on a strip of bare skin above her skirt.

He clears his throat “wow...” and looks up in her eyes. And when she sees his irises blown with desire she can’t help but smile slyly.

“Mr. Jones, I think I skipped a little too much English lessons because of cheer practice, is there a way how I can make up for it?”

“I can think about couple of ways...” he plays along.

———————————————————————

“Mom, dad, let’s dress as Adams family this year!”

“Oh, Ethan, that’s a great idea” Jughead encourages his son.

“Mom, what do you say?” Ethan turns his eyes to Betty, it’s almost 3 years by now that Ethan calls her “mom”, he got used very fast as did Rosie with Jughead, but her heart still skips a bit and fills with warmth every time.

“Oh, honey, but Morticia has black hair”

“We’ll buy you a wig!” Rosie supports her brother

“Come on, Betts, that’ll look great, family costumes, we’ll crash them all” Jughead is excited as his children by now.

“But Morticia is so tiny and I’m fat, it’ll look hilarious” Betty pouts.

Jughead then envelopes her in a hug “Baby, you are not fat, you are pregnant, and I dare say you are the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world, and I also think that Morticia was pregnant once or twice herself, she got her children some way” he smirks.

“All right, you win guys” she rolls her eyes

“Halloween shopping!” Rosie and Ethan cry in unison.

#riverdaleevents #bughead #riverdale #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper and jughead jones #fanfiction #halloween #bughead fic #halloween fluff #aaml graphics

[monikafilefan]

Accidental Admission

Since it’s Mulder’s birthday, and I literally cannot remember nor find if I ever posted this on here, I’m sharing a fic I wrote last year to celebrate 1013!

tagging @today-in-fic

——

FBI Bullpen

10-13-1999

3:06 PM

“Ready, Scully?” Mulder asks, already half out the door. He whirls his jacket around his shoulder, sliding his arms through in haste.

She’s running late for the meeting. They both are. Yet, for once it’s her fault since she’s purposely stalling.

“Yep,” she tosses out over her shoulder, pushing the chair out with the backs of her knees. Knowing she can’t leave just yet, her heels stay perfectly planted to the bullpens floor.

Mulder turns and eyes her from the entryway, just waiting to stake his usual claim on her lower back.

“Oh!” She looks away from his gaze and pretends to gather their paperwork. “Go ahead without me. I forgot to print out the final autopsy results,” she lies, and feels his pending debate burgeon. “I’ll be right behind you, Mulder,” assuring him softly, knowing that he will leave but will take his sweet time doing so.

“Uh, alright. I’ll wait for you there.” He sounds confused as one, two, three seconds pass while Scully pretends to click through her files on the computer.

Finally, she hears his shoes move through the hallway, so she quickly grabs the card and pen she’d hidden under the files and starts writing feverishly.

Scully has always hidden Mulder’s birthday card somewhere in the office for him to use his investigative skills to find. He’d returned the favor after her cancer remission and it’s been an annual game between them—a tradition of sorts ever since. However, that’s not possible this year, so she decided last night to make due with their current situation and surprise him at the end of the day today.

To anyone else a simple card with a few rushed out thoughts scrawled out may seem minuscule. But to them, it’s the little things that mean the most.

After glancing up at the bullpen clock and noticing that nearly five minutes have passed, she hears Mulder’s distinct footfalls heading her way, so she hastily finishes the fluid motion of her pen without much thought.

“Crap!” She moves over and props the card up on Mulder’s keyboard.

She snags the files and beats him to the doorway. “Sorry, Mulder, I’m ready,” she mumbles, breezing past him while avoiding his questioning stare.

—

Twenty-four grueling minutes of not so subtle ass chewing later, Mulder and Scully walk back to their desks and Mulder groans at the new pile of unfinished background checks waiting for him.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” he grumbles while cracking his neck.

Scully can’t help but laugh as she says, “Don’t worry, Mulder, I won’t let you suffer alone today.”

Mulder looks over to see her gesturing to the card in front of him and he smiles.

Feigning shock that she yet again had remembered his birthday, he opens the generically labeled Hallmark birthday card and reads attentively.

Scully watches his smiling green eyes flick across her words while she leans against the side of his desk. Watching Mulder read is secretly one of her favorite things to do, so when she catches his eyes narrow abruptly and stop moving, she thinks she must have made a rare spelling error. It wouldn’t surprise her with how fast she had written out her thoughts to him. She hadn’t even attempted a re-read before she stuck the card next to his lime green alien cup and hurried out to the meeting.

But as she studies his expression, she can tell he’s scrutinizing something over and over. Something that isn’t just a misplaced letter. That impossibly cute smirk he’d worn since he picked up the card is now being replaced with an all out grin. Her brow arches as she searches her memory for what that something could be.

She remembers writing her usual birthday wishes to him, explaining her plans to bring him dinner, and adding in her special words of affection for her friend at the end like she always has.

The last comments, ‘You’re my best friend, and even though you call me at all hours of the night, I’m still happy to see you in the morning,’ flash in her mind. Then each time, without fail, she would sign his cards with a ‘Love, S.’

Just as she’s about to question whether he is profiling her by analyzing her sloppy penmanship, Mulder proudly lays the card open on his desktop for the world to see and steps into her, just a breath away. He leans his face into Scully’s, pressing a warm and gentle lingering kiss directly on her mouth, engulfing hers with his own. His soft, plump lips caress hers for the briefest of moments while “more” is the only thing that enters her mind.

She gasps as he slowly pulls away, grinning in glee. Her eyes widen at his blatant actions of affection at work and barely comprehends that he’s speaking.

“Oh, Scully, me too. Me too,” he murmurs just inches from her mouth with his face aglow. Ignoring her stunned expression, Mulder brushes around her hip and grabs their hotel receipt. “Gotta run this to Kersh’s secretary so we’re not chewed out again. Be right back.”

At that, he walks out and leaves a shocked, confused, and now aroused Scully in his wake.

She snaps to attention, wildly searching the room for witnesses, and reaches over to examine the card when she sees none. Her eyes move rapidly along each word and as she makes it to the very bottom, she now reads what he did. Her jaw drops and heart pounds even harder than when his lips covered hers.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers while re-reading the phrase again and again. Scully worries the card between her fingers, then folds it up, and lays it back on his desk.

She cannot believe she’d written down her actual hidden feelings rather than her thoughts. Instead of the familiar signature of ‘Love, S,’ she had written, ‘I love you. Love your S.’

She’s completely embarrassed as her stomach tumbles somewhere near her knees, and feels her cheeks flush with instant heat. She walks to her own desk and slowly sits while she nervously taps her manicured nail along her freshly kissed lip. She can still taste him and can’t help but crave more.

She quickly runs through the scenario of what will happen when she faces him again.

Mulder could think she just meant that she loves him like a best friend would love him. Yet she instantly rejects that notion, since she’s never written nor said those particular words to him in all the six years and seven months that they’ve been best friends.

So, she decides that the most appropriate response to her fast and furious writing will be a tight hug followed by a, “Happy Birthday, Mulder.”

But because he knows her so well, and because she doesn’t want to ignore it anymore, she’ll just smile his way, gaze into his knowing eyes, and lick her lips to savor the taste of her accidental admission.

——

#msr fanfic #mulders birthday #fluff

[calliopewritings]

leaving you

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Slytherin!reader

Word count: 3.8k

You’ve been left by people you care about before, but now you’re tired. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, angst, swearing and light making out.

-

Same old, same old, I thought as I settled myself at the Slytherin table, watching my family owl slowly reach me. She dropped the letter, and off she was again. I sighed deeply and opened the envelope. Only one person ever wrote to me, and it was my stepmother whenever she’d found a new problem with my existence. Written in harsh cursive was:

Y/n

I’ve found that you’ve been slacking off at school lately.

I expect you to straighten up if you wish to keep staying in my house. You have been spoilt for long enough. It’s no secret that your father never knew how to say no, but I do. 

I can’t help thinking he’d be disappointed looking down at you from his resting place. 

This is your last chance to get it together. 

- Mrs Y/l/n

Yet again I sighed, not even surprised at the content of the letter. It wasn’t anything new for her to guilt me about my father's death, and it certainly wasn’t surprising that she wanted me out of the house. Two years ago, I may have been affected by this, but her condescending letters had become quite a common occurrence, to the point where I wasn’t even affected by it.

I guess you could call her my evil stepmother. After my mom decided to leave my dad and me, he’d met my stepmother. She insisted that she was the woman for him, and somehow he’d found that refreshing. I, on the other hand, did not find her refreshing, perhaps because she made it very clear that she did not like me and my presence at all. All it took was for my dad to cancel on her once because he had to take care of me, for her to decide that I was the enemy. 

I left the great hall in a hurry, wanting to work on my essay for potions after deciding that I still very much so, needed a house to live in. 

-

Exhausted, I slumped onto a seat next to a nice Ravenclaw I’d exchanged a few words with before. The potions classroom was quickly filled up, and as a certain Pansy Parkinson passed me, she made sure to bump my shoulder. “Very mature,” I snickered.

“Attention! I know you must all be very excited about the Triwizard Tournament, but your studies must come before that,” Professor Snape started, to which some students groaned. 

“With that out of the way, I will be assigning you seatmates today that I’ve deemed appropriate, and to hopefully avoid the chattering about the ball”. At that statement, it was my turn to groan. Pairing up meant there was a small chance I’d be working with Parkinson, which was the last thing I needed.

I let out a sigh of relief when I heard Parkinson’s name called out with someone else’s name. I relaxed a bit until: 

“Y/l/n and Malfoy!”

Parkinson's eyes were at once daggers, and they were aimed right at me. I instantly wanted to just disappear. I’d obviously be dealing with Parkinson anyway. 

Begrudgingly I got up from my seat and went to sit beside a tired-looking Malfoy. 

“I’ll be returning the essays that were due last week now. Some of you have done well enough, but I expect more,” Professor Snape spoke. He quickly made the rounds and everyone had gotten back their work. I looked down at mine and saw a big ‘A’ for acceptable. Not what I’d hoped for, but at least I didn’t fail. Still, I needed to up my game if I didn’t wanna live on the streets.

From behind me, I heard Parkinson scoff and I turned to see what the fuss was about, only to find her looking directly at me. “Acceptable? Really Y/l/n? And you’re sure you’re at the right place? I mean look around. I don’t get why Professor Snape would put you, who’s so clearly way beneath average, with someone as brilliant as Draco,” she remarked, followed by a taunting grin.

Beneath average? No, not even… way beneath average, she’d said. I was usually pretty good at keeping my calm and ignoring her, but for Godric's sake, I was on the brink of being kicked out of my home, abandoned again, and I realized I’d had enough. 

So I got up from my chair and looked into her dark eyes that didn’t do much to hide the ugliness of her personality. Although she looked surprised that I reacted at all, she quickly regained her posture and put on a challenging smirk.

“Yea? Well, at least I’m not an annoying bloody prick. Merlin's beard, does anything even go through that thick skull of yours?” I growled. 

Then, an inch from her, close enough to punch her in her annoying face, I spewed: “Speak to me again and I’ll feed you to the dementors, got it?” 

Defeated and embarrassed she huffed out: “Yea, alright, whatever”.

Somewhat satisfied, I turned around, but before I could even get to my chair I heard a loud: “Stupefy!” From behind. Before I could act, I felt a sharp pain in my back and then everything went black.

-

I woke up in the hospital wing, my whole body aching. I tried to get up, only to be met by warm hands pushing me down again. 

“You’ve got a concussion, Dearie, don’t move too much,” said Madam Pomfrey, as she handed me the water from the nightstand. “Sorry,” I muttered and accepted the water.

“You have a visitor, but he’ll have to leave soon. You need rest, Young lady,” she scolded.

My face retorted to a look of confusion as she went to get my visitor. It’s a he? My closest friends here are both girls, and they probably aren’t aware that I’m in the hospital wing yet, seeing as they’re in Hufflepuff and were in Charms class when it happened. 

My thoughts were interrupted as a blond boy stepped into view. “Malfoy?” I asked, shocked. 

“Yeah, well spotted,” he remarked, unimpressed. “Sorry, stop pouting,” he sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Not even realizing I was pouting, I quickly stopped, embarrassed. 

“I came here to apologize,” he spoke up. “For Parkinson, you know. I realize it was my fault. She only acted the way she did to get my attention or some bull crap”.

“What?” I asked confused. 

“I believe you heard me Y/l/n,”

“Yeah right, Uhm, I’m sorry, but you don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault that Parkinson is a complete dung brain,”

“Careful with your words there Y/l/n, the Malfoys and Parkinson's are close,” he warned. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t think you’ll do anything,” I smiled.

“And why’s that?”

“You came to apologize”. A small smile grazed his lips, but only for a second. 

“Also, Y/l/n? We’ve got a group project coming up,” he finished and left looking smug. 

-

“Okay, Let’s do this!” I insisted, bouncing on my feet. “Teach me the stuff Malfoy. Be my mentor,” I said excitedly. “Calm it Y/l/n,” he replied, a calming hand on my shoulder. 

“Just get your book out and we’ll work on this. I’m doing well in potions, this shouldn’t be that hard”.

“I know, you’ve bragged about that one too many times, but listen Malfoy, I really need an O on this one,” I pleaded. He rolled his eyes at my desperate antics and mumbled a “sure”.

Ignoring him I turned to the potions book and started reading up on everything I thought necessary, but much to my dismay I was interrupted after about 15 minutes of peaceful reading, by a certain blond throwing crumpled up paper at me. 

“Malfoy please,” I whined. He grinned, happy to have successfully disturbed me, “What do you even need that O for anyway? You’re doing fine in potions,”

“Since when were you the nosy one? Back to work Malfoy,” I dodged his question. He eyed me sceptically but turned his attention to the work seconds after. 

-

The potions classroom was empty except for Malfoy and I. It was Saturday, so most were out playing around or practising quidditch.

Nose stuck deep in my potions book I was interrupted by the blond boy across from me. I sighed and looked up from the book. It had become quite a common occurrence for him to interrupt our peaceful studying, and usually, it was just to make a bratty remark. 

“You know,” he started. 

“I could’ve made our school proud. If only there wasn’t a stupid age restriction on the goblet,” he huffed, slumping in the seat.

“And despite the age restriction, the Potter boy was chosen anyway. He must really be the chosen one, huh?” he mocked, grinning. 

Raising an unimpressed brow, I gave him a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure Malfoy, but we wouldn’t want anything happening to that pretty face of yours now, would we?” I teased. 

I trained my eyes on the potions book again, ready to continue studying. I failed to notice his flustered reaction and the blush spreading from his ears, but looked up when I heard: “You want me to curse you, Y/l/n?”

Grinning I decided to push my luck a little, “Think you can even do it?” I challenged. He smirked and pulled out his wand, “Such a brat,” he smiled at me, standing up. I made a run for the exit, giggling as I made my way down the corridors, Potions long forgotten. 

Behind me I could hear Malfoy slowly catching up, laughing too.

“You’re dead Y/n!”

-

Walking into the potions classroom to study with Draco as usual, I put down my books and took a seat. I noticed that Draco wasn’t there yet, but decided I could just read up on some stuff before he came, I opened my books. 

10 minutes had gone by when Draco finally stepped into the room. 

“Hey, Draco, did anything happen?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business anyway,” he snapped as he took a seat opposite of me. 

“I-… I’m sorry,” I uttered before hesitantly going to get the ingredients for the potion. Draco pushed himself off his chair and went to gather the other ingredients. 

As I searched the shelves, I couldn’t help but wonder if Draco was okay. He seemed off, and if anything had happened, I wanted to help. Though it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk at all. At least not to me. Maybe I’d done something wrong? But I couldn’t think of anything I could’ve done to hurt or offend him. 

Maybe he was just having a bad day… yet still, I couldn’t help but worry, maybe- 

“Gallopin’ Gorgons!” I yelped as the glass vial fell to the floor, glass shards everywhere. Lost in thought, I’d accidentally tipped one of the vials. I hastily bent down to pick up the shards, but yelped once again, as a piece pierced my hand. 

I hurriedly picked up the last pieces from the floor and went to throw them away, but as I stood and turned around I hit a wall. A wall called Draco Malfoy. I stumbled backwards and almost fell, but a pair of hands gripped my waist. 

I slowly opened my formerly closed eyes, just to realize that I was pressed tightly against Draco, my hands gripping his shoulders as one of his hands were on my waist, the other holding onto the table.

“You’re bleeding,” he breathed, and that’s when I looked up at him. We were much closer than I thought. If I’d moved a centimetre or two, our noses would’ve touched. 

I wasn’t sure who had moved, or if we both had, but suddenly I could feel his breath on my lips and butterflies going crazy in my stomach. A little closer and- 

“You should go to the hospital wing,” he suddenly said, as he went to gather his books. Stunned, I watched as he packed up his things and went to leave. He stopped at the door, “Go see Madam Pomfrey, alright?” And then he left. 

-

I went to the library early to study but was quickly joined by my two good friends from Hufflepuff. 

“I’m so excited for later! Will you be cheering for us, Y/n?” The brunette asked me. She was, of course, referring to the quidditch match later that day. Hufflepuff versus Slytherin. 

“You’re playing against my house though,” I reminded her. She responded with a pout, “Anyway, it’d mean a lot if our favourite Slytherin would be cheering us on”.

“I know,” I sighed, “I’ll see if I can make it. I’ve got a lot of studying to do”. Earlier that day, Draco had approached me about the assignment. 

“I’ll do half, you do the other half. No need to go to the potions classroom, I won’t be there. See you for the presentation, Y/l/n,” and then he hurried off. I’d stood there for a while, processing his words. He must not have wanted to work with me, I thought.

“Y/n?” I heard a voice and broke out of my trance. “Huh?” I questioned. Both the girls were giving me worried looks. “We’re going to go practice, ok?” 

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” I told them. They hesitantly gathered their things and left. 

Get yourself together Y/n, I huffed and turned to the textbook. A paper fell out as I was flipping through the book looking for the right page. Curious, I picked it up. 

On the paper was a beautifully drawn flower, and I instantly remembered the day it was drawn. We had been studying outside, and as I looked at Draco’s notes, I noticed that he’d drawn one of the flowers surrounding us. 

“That’s beautiful,” I whispered without realizing. He turned with a questioning look, but when he saw what I was looking at, he hastily closed the book. “Why’d you hide it? It was really pretty,” I assured him. 

Red in the face, he handed me the drawing, “You can have it if you want, it’s whatever. Just get back to studying,” he said. Beaming, I accepted the drawing and slid it in between the pages of my potions book.

Suddenly I felt like crying. Why didn’t he want to talk to me? Or look at me. Bloody hell, he didn’t even want to be in my presence. 

I looked down at the bandages wrapped around my hand and sighed. 

It was just a matter of time before he left anyway.

-

Pushing my way through the flock of students heading to the great hall for dinner, I made my way to the library, just as I’d done the past week. I’d decided my time was better spent studying than eating, I’d have a snack or two throughout the day, but skip the meals to study for the presentation in potions. 

I needed an O, I had no choice. I couldn’t leave home, the house I grew up in. And although she wasn’t always kind, I couldn’t lose my step-mother, the last person I had left. I couldn’t be alone. So it was decided, no sleep, no food, just studying, that was my only priority. 

I stumbled as a hand grabbed my arm, and started pulling me towards the great hall. I struggled against the grip, but couldn’t find the strength to break free. I was pushed down to sit at the Hufflepuff table, and that’s when I realized it had been my friends pulling me. 

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You’re eating with us today,” the brunette told me firmly. “Actually I need to study, so-”

“Don’t argue, because you’ll find you can’t win this one,” the other girl interrupted. “Do you think we’re stupid, Y/n?” They turned toward me. “I- I don’t… What’s this about?” I wondered. 

“You haven’t been eating, Y/n, actually, you’ve been off the entire week, so now we eat,” she insisted. Worried I looked around to see some Hufflepuffs looking weirdly at me, “I’m a Slytherin, I shouldn’t be at the Hufflepuff table,”

“Are you kidding? You’ll be-” 

Their voices faded out and I froze as I suddenly made eye contact with a very familiar blond from the Slytherin table. I realized that the time spent with him had been more precious to me than I’d realized. Our study sessions were what I’d looked forward to every day. 

I was so distracted by the new source of happiness that I’d failed to notice how he’d gotten bored already. Despite all these feelings, I was surprised to find I didn’t feel anything when we locked eyes. He, however, seemed to feel something, as worry flashed through his eyes, quickly replaced with a blank stare. 

“Y/n! Listen to us!” I snapped out of my trance to look at two now fuming girls. “I have to study,” I told them, hoping my voice didn’t waver as I stood from the table. However the brunette stood as well, quick to grab my hand, “ we want to help you, but if you leave now, I’m not sure we can do much more,” she professed. 

Pulling my hand out of hers and grabbing my books I forced out an,  “Okay,” as I dragged my body out the great hall. 

-

The annual letter from my step-mother dropped onto the bed, right next to my outspread potion books. I reached to grab it, my hands shaky from either malnutrition or fear. 

Y/n

For your own sake, I hope you’ve studied well. If I see any less than an O on your next project, and I’ve heard from Professor Snape that you have one in Potions very soon, you will have to find somewhere else to stay. 

You must know that your father would be very disappointed. Your mother left because she didn’t want to deal with such a disappointment, and I’ll have you know I’d happily do the same, perhaps that wench was right about one thing. 

- Mrs Y/l/n

I hadn’t realized the tears were trickling down my cheeks, until one dropped, wetting the letter. I pushed off of the bed, not bothering to put on my robes, I hurried out dressed only in my skirt, sweater and Slytherin vest. 

Tears blurring my vision, I ran, unsure of the destination. In the end, I found myself on my knees next to The Black Lake. Still, on my knees, I crawled to the water’s edge, splashing a refreshing wave of the water on my tear-stained face. 

I looked down and froze when I saw my reflection. I had prominent dark circles, and you could tell I hadn’t been eating. I looked dead. I’ll always be alone.

Then I screamed. I let everything out, and quickly after, the tears started streaming again as I cradled my head in my hands, still lying in the cold grass. They all leave.

A muffled voice called out to me but I didn’t respond, only when a strong pair of hands gently grabbed me and pulled me to my feet, did I react. “Y/n,” a familiar voice breathed. 

I looked up and came face to face with the one person I thought I didn’t want to see, Draco Malfoy. Yet when I looked at him, even if it was just for just a second, I was relieved to see him. The feeling of relief quickly passed, however, replaced by anger, fueled by unanswered questions. 

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped as I pulled away, out of his grasp, surprised to hear my own voice so hoarse. He reached out again, hesitant, “Y/n, please. You need to-”

“I don’t need people to tell me what to do,” I interrupted, feet staggering backwards. The tears had stopped flowing, but I could feel a new wave pressing on. I needed to go back inside, I wasn’t done studying. I had to-

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. Surprised, I looked at him, only to see him looking impossibly small. 

“Why? You left,” I reminded him.

“I- I know, but I-”

“You’re not sorry,” I told him, my voice rising. 

“Y/n, yes I am-”

“Stop lying, Draco!” I yelled, “If you’re so bloody sorry, then why did you leave me?” I yelled, my voice cracking in the process, and the tears started flowing anew.

He grabbed my arms, and I started trashing to get out of his grip. “Let go of me! Draco-”

“Listen to me!” He yelled, desperation evident in his voice.

“Please, Y/n…” And at that, I gave up and slumped against his body. “I shouldn’t have ignored you… I- … I was scared,” he croaked, and curious I looked up, to see tears rolling down his cheeks. My heart broke at the sight, and my first instinct was to wipe them away, but I held back and listened. 

“I really enjoyed spending time with you… like, a lot… I was scared because… “ he gulped, eyes flickering away to look somewhere else. Hesitantly, I moved to finally wipe away the tears, gently caressing his cheeks. 

“I was scared because I realized… I realized I was in love with you,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “It doesn’t justify leaving you, and I really am sorry, please believe me. I was just so stupid and I-”

I interrupted him for what must’ve felt like the hundredth time that day, but this time, with a peck on the lips. 

He looked stunned for a second, and I was just about to apologize when he pulled me back in. Our lips met again, but this time the kiss was much more passionate. 

His hands held my waist almost desperately, pulling me impossibly closer against him. My hands had drifted from his cheeks, to tangle themselves in his blond locks. Our lips moulded against each other as if meant to be. The moment ended, as we parted to breathe, our foreheads resting against each other. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I really am,”

“I know, Draco, I believe you. I’m sorry I yelled at you”. He chuckled, which in turn made me giggle too. “I think I deserved that one,” he laughed. 

I went in for a quick kiss, “Please don’t leave me, Draco,”

“You’re not going to lose me. I won’t ever leave again, I promise”. I smiled, “Thank you, now let’s ace this potions presentation,”

“Are you going to tell me why it’s so important,” he questioned as we walked back inside, hand in hand. “Depends, if I do, is there a prize?” I teased. A smile made it’s way onto his lips, “Hugs and kisses?” he offered. 

“Deal,” I told him, leaning up to give him a peck. His face reddened, and I ran ahead of him, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Hey! Come back here,” he yelled after me. Laughing, he picked up his pace, and came to sling an arm over my shoulder, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Love”.

#harry potter #draco #draco malfoy #ff #fanfiction #x reader #x fem!reader #draco x you #draco x reader #angst #fluff #swearing #making out #draco malfoy x y/n #reader insert #draco x slytherin!reader

[fullmoonpieces]

leaving you

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Slytherin!reader

Word count: 3.8k

You’ve been left by people you care about before, but now you’re tired.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, angst, swearing and light making out.

-

Same old, same old, I thought as I settled myself at the Slytherin table, watching my family owl slowly reach me. She dropped the letter, and off she was again. I sighed deeply and opened the envelope. Only one person ever wrote to me, and it was my stepmother whenever she’d found a new problem with my existence. Written in harsh cursive was:

Y/n

I’ve found that you’ve been slacking off at school lately.

I expect you to straighten up if you wish to keep staying in my house. You have been spoilt for long enough. It’s no secret that your father never knew how to say no, but I do.

I can’t help thinking he’d be disappointed looking down at you from his resting place.

This is your last chance to get it together.

- Mrs Y/l/n

Yet again I sighed, not even surprised at the content of the letter. It wasn’t anything new for her to guilt me about my father's death, and it certainly wasn’t surprising that she wanted me out of the house. Two years ago, I may have been affected by this, but her condescending letters had become quite a common occurrence, to the point where I wasn’t even affected by it.

I guess you could call her my evil stepmother. After my mom decided to leave my dad and me, he’d met my stepmother. She insisted that she was the woman for him, and somehow he’d found that refreshing. I, on the other hand, did not find her refreshing, perhaps because she made it very clear that she did not like me and my presence at all. All it took was for my dad to cancel on her once because he had to take care of me, for her to decide that I was the enemy.

I left the great hall in a hurry, wanting to work on my essay for potions after deciding that I still very much so, needed a house to live in.

-

Exhausted, I slumped onto a seat next to a nice Ravenclaw I’d exchanged a few words with before. The potions classroom was quickly filled up, and as a certain Pansy Parkinson passed me, she made sure to bump my shoulder. “Very mature,” I snickered.

“Attention! I know you must all be very excited about the Triwizard Tournament, but your studies must come before that,” Professor Snape started, to which some students groaned.

“With that out of the way, I will be assigning you seatmates today that I’ve deemed appropriate, and to hopefully avoid the chattering about the ball”. At that statement, it was my turn to groan. Pairing up meant there was a small chance I’d be working with Parkinson, which was the last thing I needed.

I let out a sigh of relief when I heard Parkinson’s name called out with someone else’s name. I relaxed a bit until:

“Y/l/n and Malfoy!”

Parkinson's eyes were at once daggers, and they were aimed right at me. I instantly wanted to just disappear. I’d obviously be dealing with Parkinson anyway.

Begrudgingly I got up from my seat and went to sit beside a tired-looking Malfoy.

“I’ll be returning the essays that were due last week now. Some of you have done well enough, but I expect more,” Professor Snape spoke. He quickly made the rounds and everyone had gotten back their work. I looked down at mine and saw a big ‘A’ for acceptable. Not what I’d hoped for, but at least I didn’t fail. Still, I needed to up my game if I didn’t wanna live on the streets.

From behind me, I heard Parkinson scoff and I turned to see what the fuss was about, only to find her looking directly at me. “Acceptable? Really Y/l/n? And you’re sure you’re at the right place? I mean look around. I don’t get why Professor Snape would put you, who’s so clearly way beneath average, with someone as brilliant as Draco,” she remarked, followed by a taunting grin.

Beneath average? No, not even… way beneath average, she’d said. I was usually pretty good at keeping my calm and ignoring her, but for Godric's sake, I was on the brink of being kicked out of my home, abandoned again, and I realized I’d had enough.

So I got up from my chair and looked into her dark eyes that didn’t do much to hide the ugliness of her personality. Although she looked surprised that I reacted at all, she quickly regained her posture and put on a challenging smirk.

“Yea? Well, at least I’m not an annoying bloody prick. Merlin's beard, does anything even go through that thick skull of yours?” I growled.

Then, an inch from her, close enough to punch her in her annoying face, I spewed: “Speak to me again and I’ll feed you to the dementors, got it?”

Defeated and embarrassed she huffed out: “Yea, alright, whatever”.

Somewhat satisfied, I turned around, but before I could even get to my chair I heard a loud: “Stupefy!” From behind. Before I could act, I felt a sharp pain in my back and then everything went black.

-

I woke up in the hospital wing, my whole body aching. I tried to get up, only to be met by warm hands pushing me down again.

“You’ve got a concussion, Dearie, don’t move too much,” said Madam Pomfrey, as she handed me the water from the nightstand. “Sorry,” I muttered and accepted the water.

“You have a visitor, but he’ll have to leave soon. You need rest, Young lady,” she scolded.

My face retorted to a look of confusion as she went to get my visitor. It’s a he? My closest friends here are both girls, and they probably aren’t aware that I’m in the hospital wing yet, seeing as they’re in Hufflepuff and were in Charms class when it happened.

My thoughts were interrupted as a blond boy stepped into view. “Malfoy?” I asked, shocked.

“Yeah, well spotted,” he remarked, unimpressed. “Sorry, stop pouting,” he sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Not even realizing I was pouting, I quickly stopped, embarrassed.

“I came here to apologize,” he spoke up. “For Parkinson, you know. I realize it was my fault. She only acted the way she did to get my attention or some bull crap”.

“What?” I asked confused.

“I believe you heard me Y/l/n,”

“Yeah right, Uhm, I’m sorry, but you don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault that Parkinson is a complete dung brain,”

“Careful with your words there Y/l/n, the Malfoys and Parkinson's are close,” he warned.

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t think you’ll do anything,” I smiled.

“And why’s that?”

“You came to apologize”. A small smile grazed his lips, but only for a second.

“Also, Y/l/n? We’ve got a group project coming up,” he finished and left looking smug.

-

“Okay, Let’s do this!” I insisted, bouncing on my feet. “Teach me the stuff Malfoy. Be my mentor,” I said excitedly. “Calm it Y/l/n,” he replied, a calming hand on my shoulder.

“Just get your book out and we’ll work on this. I’m doing well in potions, this shouldn’t be that hard”.

“I know, you’ve bragged about that one too many times, but listen Malfoy, I really need an O on this one,” I pleaded. He rolled his eyes at my desperate antics and mumbled a “sure”.

Ignoring him I turned to the potions book and started reading up on everything I thought necessary, but much to my dismay I was interrupted after about 15 minutes of peaceful reading, by a certain blond throwing crumpled up paper at me.

“Malfoy please,” I whined. He grinned, happy to have successfully disturbed me, “What do you even need that O for anyway? You’re doing fine in potions,”

“Since when were you the nosy one? Back to work Malfoy,” I dodged his question. He eyed me sceptically but turned his attention to the work seconds after.

-

The potions classroom was empty except for Malfoy and I. It was Saturday, so most were out playing around or practising quidditch.

Nose stuck deep in my potions book I was interrupted by the blond boy across from me. I sighed and looked up from the book. It had become quite a common occurrence for him to interrupt our peaceful studying, and usually, it was just to make a bratty remark.

“You know,” he started.

“I could’ve made our school proud. If only there wasn’t a stupid age restriction on the goblet,” he huffed, slumping in the seat.

“And despite the age restriction, the Potter boy was chosen anyway. He must really be the chosen one, huh?” he mocked, grinning.

Raising an unimpressed brow, I gave him a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure Malfoy, but we wouldn’t want anything happening to that pretty face of yours now, would we?” I teased.

I trained my eyes on the potions book again, ready to continue studying. I failed to notice his flustered reaction and the blush spreading from his ears, but looked up when I heard: “You want me to curse you, Y/l/n?”

Grinning I decided to push my luck a little, “Think you can even do it?” I challenged. He smirked and pulled out his wand, “Such a brat,” he smiled at me, standing up. I made a run for the exit, giggling as I made my way down the corridors, Potions long forgotten.

Behind me I could hear Malfoy slowly catching up, laughing too.

“You’re dead Y/n!”

-

Walking into the potions classroom to study with Draco as usual, I put down my books and took a seat. I noticed that Draco wasn’t there yet, but decided I could just read up on some stuff before he came, I opened my books.

10 minutes had gone by when Draco finally stepped into the room.

“Hey, Draco, did anything happen?”

“No, not that it’s any of your business anyway,” he snapped as he took a seat opposite of me.

“I-… I’m sorry,” I uttered before hesitantly going to get the ingredients for the potion. Draco pushed himself off his chair and went to gather the other ingredients.

As I searched the shelves, I couldn’t help but wonder if Draco was okay. He seemed off, and if anything had happened, I wanted to help. Though it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk at all. At least not to me. Maybe I’d done something wrong? But I couldn’t think of anything I could’ve done to hurt or offend him.

Maybe he was just having a bad day… yet still, I couldn’t help but worry, maybe-

“Gallopin’ Gorgons!” I yelped as the glass vial fell to the floor, glass shards everywhere. Lost in thought, I’d accidentally tipped one of the vials. I hastily bent down to pick up the shards, but yelped once again, as a piece pierced my hand.

I hurriedly picked up the last pieces from the floor and went to throw them away, but as I stood and turned around I hit a wall. A wall called Draco Malfoy. I stumbled backwards and almost fell, but a pair of hands gripped my waist.

I slowly opened my formerly closed eyes, just to realize that I was pressed tightly against Draco, my hands gripping his shoulders as one of his hands were on my waist, the other holding onto the table.

“You’re bleeding,” he breathed, and that’s when I looked up at him. We were much closer than I thought. If I’d moved a centimetre or two, our noses would’ve touched.

I wasn’t sure who had moved, or if we both had, but suddenly I could feel his breath on my lips and butterflies going crazy in my stomach. A little closer and-

“You should go to the hospital wing,” he suddenly said, as he went to gather his books. Stunned, I watched as he packed up his things and went to leave. He stopped at the door, “Go see Madam Pomfrey, alright?” And then he left.

-

I went to the library early to study but was quickly joined by my two good friends from Hufflepuff.

“I’m so excited for later! Will you be cheering for us, Y/n?” The brunette asked me. She was, of course, referring to the quidditch match later that day. Hufflepuff versus Slytherin.

“You’re playing against my house though,” I reminded her. She responded with a pout, “Anyway, it’d mean a lot if our favourite Slytherin would be cheering us on”.

“I know,” I sighed, “I’ll see if I can make it. I’ve got a lot of studying to do”. Earlier that day, Draco had approached me about the assignment.

“I’ll do half, you do the other half. No need to go to the potions classroom, I won’t be there. See you for the presentation, Y/l/n,” and then he hurried off. I’d stood there for a while, processing his words. He must not have wanted to work with me, I thought.

“Y/n?” I heard a voice and broke out of my trance. “Huh?” I questioned. Both the girls were giving me worried looks. “We’re going to go practice, ok?”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” I told them. They hesitantly gathered their things and left.

Get yourself together Y/n, I huffed and turned to the textbook. A paper fell out as I was flipping through the book looking for the right page. Curious, I picked it up.

On the paper was a beautifully drawn flower, and I instantly remembered the day it was drawn. We had been studying outside, and as I looked at Draco’s notes, I noticed that he’d drawn one of the flowers surrounding us.

“That’s beautiful,” I whispered without realizing. He turned with a questioning look, but when he saw what I was looking at, he hastily closed the book. “Why’d you hide it? It was really pretty,” I assured him.

Red in the face, he handed me the drawing, “You can have it if you want, it’s whatever. Just get back to studying,” he said. Beaming, I accepted the drawing and slid it in between the pages of my potions book.

Suddenly I felt like crying. Why didn’t he want to talk to me? Or look at me. Bloody hell, he didn’t even want to be in my presence.

I looked down at the bandages wrapped around my hand and sighed.

It was just a matter of time before he left anyway.

-

Pushing my way through the flock of students heading to the great hall for dinner, I made my way to the library, just as I’d done the past week. I’d decided my time was better spent studying than eating, I’d have a snack or two throughout the day, but skip the meals to study for the presentation in potions.

I needed an O, I had no choice. I couldn’t leave home, the house I grew up in. And although she wasn’t always kind, I couldn’t lose my step-mother, the last person I had left. I couldn’t be alone. So it was decided, no sleep, no food, just studying, that was my only priority.

I stumbled as a hand grabbed my arm, and started pulling me towards the great hall. I struggled against the grip, but couldn’t find the strength to break free. I was pushed down to sit at the Hufflepuff table, and that’s when I realized it had been my friends pulling me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You’re eating with us today,” the brunette told me firmly. “Actually I need to study, so-”

“Don’t argue, because you’ll find you can’t win this one,” the other girl interrupted. “Do you think we’re stupid, Y/n?” They turned toward me. “I- I don’t… What’s this about?” I wondered.

“You haven’t been eating, Y/n, actually, you’ve been off the entire week, so now we eat,” she insisted. Worried I looked around to see some Hufflepuffs looking weirdly at me, “I’m a Slytherin, I shouldn’t be at the Hufflepuff table,”

“Are you kidding? You’ll be-”

Their voices faded out and I froze as I suddenly made eye contact with a very familiar blond from the Slytherin table. I realized that the time spent with him had been more precious to me than I’d realized. Our study sessions were what I’d looked forward to every day.

I was so distracted by the new source of happiness that I’d failed to notice how he’d gotten bored already. Despite all these feelings, I was surprised to find I didn’t feel anything when we locked eyes. He, however, seemed to feel something, as worry flashed through his eyes, quickly replaced with a blank stare.

“Y/n! Listen to us!” I snapped out of my trance to look at two now fuming girls. “I have to study,” I told them, hoping my voice didn’t waver as I stood from the table. However the brunette stood as well, quick to grab my hand, “ we want to help you, but if you leave now, I’m not sure we can do much more,” she professed.

Pulling my hand out of hers and grabbing my books I forced out an,  “Okay,” as I dragged my body out the great hall.

-

The annual letter from my step-mother dropped onto the bed, right next to my outspread potion books. I reached to grab it, my hands shaky from either malnutrition or fear.

Y/n

For your own sake, I hope you’ve studied well. If I see any less than an O on your next project, and I’ve heard from Professor Snape that you have one in Potions very soon, you will have to find somewhere else to stay.

You must know that your father would be very disappointed. Your mother left because she didn’t want to deal with such a disappointment, and I’ll have you know I’d happily do the same, perhaps that wench was right about one thing.

- Mrs Y/l/n

I hadn’t realized the tears were trickling down my cheeks, until one dropped, wetting the letter. I pushed off of the bed, not bothering to put on my robes, I hurried out dressed only in my skirt, sweater and Slytherin vest.

Tears blurring my vision, I ran, unsure of the destination. In the end, I found myself on my knees next to The Black Lake. Still, on my knees, I crawled to the water’s edge, splashing a refreshing wave of the water on my tear-stained face.

I looked down and froze when I saw my reflection. I had prominent dark circles, and you could tell I hadn’t been eating. I looked dead. I’ll always be alone.

Then I screamed. I let everything out, and quickly after, the tears started streaming again as I cradled my head in my hands, still lying in the cold grass. They all leave.

A muffled voice called out to me but I didn’t respond, only when a strong pair of hands gently grabbed me and pulled me to my feet, did I react. “Y/n,” a familiar voice breathed.

I looked up and came face to face with the one person I thought I didn’t want to see, Draco Malfoy. Yet when I looked at him, even if it was just for just a second, I was relieved to see him. The feeling of relief quickly passed, however, replaced by anger, fueled by unanswered questions.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped as I pulled away, out of his grasp, surprised to hear my own voice so hoarse. He reached out again, hesitant, “Y/n, please. You need to-”

“I don’t need people to tell me what to do,” I interrupted, feet staggering backwards. The tears had stopped flowing, but I could feel a new wave pressing on. I needed to go back inside, I wasn’t done studying. I had to-

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. Surprised, I looked at him, only to see him looking impossibly small.

“Why? You left,” I reminded him.

“I- I know, but I-”

“You’re not sorry,” I told him, my voice rising.

“Y/n, yes I am-”

“Stop lying, Draco!” I yelled, “If you’re so bloody sorry, then why did you leave me?” I yelled, my voice cracking in the process, and the tears started flowing anew.

He grabbed my arms, and I started trashing to get out of his grip. “Let go of me! Draco-”

“Listen to me!” He yelled, desperation evident in his voice.

“Please, Y/n…” And at that, I gave up and slumped against his body. “I shouldn’t have ignored you… I- … I was scared,” he croaked, and curious I looked up, to see tears rolling down his cheeks. My heart broke at the sight, and my first instinct was to wipe them away, but I held back and listened.

“I really enjoyed spending time with you… like, a lot… I was scared because… “ he gulped, eyes flickering away to look somewhere else. Hesitantly, I moved to finally wipe away the tears, gently caressing his cheeks.

“I was scared because I realized… I realized I was in love with you,” he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “It doesn’t justify leaving you, and I really am sorry, please believe me. I was just so stupid and I-”

I interrupted him for what must’ve felt like the hundredth time that day, but this time, with a peck on the lips.

He looked stunned for a second, and I was just about to apologize when he pulled me back in. Our lips met again, but this time the kiss was much more passionate.

His hands held my waist almost desperately, pulling me impossibly closer against him. My hands had drifted from his cheeks, to tangle themselves in his blond locks. Our lips moulded against each other as if meant to be. The moment ended, as we parted to breathe, our foreheads resting against each other.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I really am,”

“I know, Draco, I believe you. I’m sorry I yelled at you”. He chuckled, which in turn made me giggle too. “I think I deserved that one,” he laughed.

I went in for a quick kiss, “Please don’t leave me, Draco,”

“You’re not going to lose me. I won’t ever leave again, I promise”. I smiled, “Thank you, now let’s ace this potions presentation,”

“Are you going to tell me why it’s so important,” he questioned as we walked back inside, hand in hand. “Depends, if I do, is there a prize?” I teased. A smile made it’s way onto his lips, “Hugs and kisses?” he offered.

“Deal,” I told him, leaning up to give him a peck. His face reddened, and I ran ahead of him, suddenly feeling shy.

“Hey! Come back here,” he yelled after me. Laughing, he picked up his pace, and came to sling an arm over my shoulder, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Love”.

#harry potter #draco #draco malfoy #x reader #reader insert #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fem!reader #fanfiction #draco x you #angst #fluff #swearing #making out #suggestive #draco x slytherin!reader #slytherin!reader

[trulisthetic]

Hey you.

So yesterday I found the folder of pics from Samos. And today I dug up a few more, and this post happened. Not that it’s something big. I wish I could give you a real present today.

Anyway.

It took me forever to decide what to write on this post, I mean 1) we’ve been through some crazy crap and 2) I didn’t know what was appropriate for a facebook post cause your parents might see it or something. But then I decided to post this here so that we would be among strangers, and my hands were untied. Quite literally untied, because it means that I have to write this in English, and you know how much better I can express myself this way. Unfortunately, I get extra extra when I speak in English. So be prepared, this is about to get real sappy real quick.

You are my sunshine. (Yup. I meant REAL sappy, REAL quick.) But dude, you ARE. Every time we’re in the same room, it’s like I instantly light up, like I turn into the most dorky and quirky version of me. It’s just so fun, so honestly fun. I don’t wanna say that you’re the most optimistic person, cause sometimes you’re not, but despite that -and I don’t know how to explain this exactly- but you make everything seem more happy, and more fun, and infinite times more colorful, and I honestly have no idea how you do it, but it just happens. And for some reason it makes sense, too. Like, of course you would make everything brighter. It’s you.

One of my earliest memories of you is us walking our dogs together at the park and being so awkward around each other. And then we had our first sleepover and I remember snuggling against you and squealing in delight that we went passed the awkward stage, and you asked Erik “Is she usually like this?” and he was like “Yup”. I remember us acting together, and how funny it was to see you on stage wearing my stockings and OMG when I forgot my lines during our scene and we laughed our way through it! Or when I kissed you at rehearsal and you set it was wet - which by the way, it wasn’t. You’re just too gay for this world, so suck it (that’s what she said! Hehehe). And all those times we improved together, my personal favorites being the sheep-shepherd one, and the Pier-Chloe one (“I’M GAY!” XDXD ). I also had so much fun that time we went out at the school dance and got lots of different drinks to try, and then danced all night- and I don’t know if you remember this but you stepped on me and said “Oh my God, honey, I’m so sorry!” and then literally bent down to hug my waist. Which was like, the softest thing I’ve experienced.... and then you fell asleep on my shoulder at the buss stop, and it became the second softest. You’re such a precious being. Bonus moments, New Years Eve that one time was pretty great, or the afterparty of Jordan at Pezodromos. Also when you guys surprised me for my birthday, both times (with the picture frames, and the guinea pig. best presents ever). And that time you got me that purple candle just because “you saw it and it reminded you of me”. And that time we went to that gay club with the bananas everywhere. And that time we dressed up sexy and instead of going out we sat inside and drank vodka and watched gay porn... and then Adam recorded the entire phonecall of you getting home (tell me we still have that!) and I slept over and hit on her. Such fun. And while we’re on the subject, you know what I realized the other day? That you are a gay guy and I am a straight girl - and yet we have kissed each other, and I have also kissed your ex girlfriend. So that’s also fun.

Your birthday last year was the BEST, coolest ever. Even though I don’t remember, like, half of it. I’m sorry I don’t remember you blowing the candles. I’m also sorry that I put vodka in your dorky friend’s wine, and that I -apparently- smudged chocolate cake on your door... and nothing else. I also loved that time we won two stuffed animals playing the claw and were so elated about it. And all the times we just cuddled on the couch and watched shitty stuff, and you played with me or Adam’s hair. That time we ate oregano chips and played charades of the movies we watched together and stuff... or when we were all bawling our eyes out at Leonardo DiCaprio drowning. All the times we played Pes To Me at the park, all the times we went out and ate together, or I cooked my crappy toasts for you. Samos. All of it. Even though thinking about Erik now makes me sad, Samos is where I really got to know you best, and I’m forever grateful for that. Remember that sunset on the picture above? How I wanted to stay on the port and watch it, but you wanted to go back because there was a hot guy with a skateboard? Well, you asshole, I could care less about the sun or the colors of the sky. I just wanted to stay there for as long as I could, because it was just us, the waves, your favorite music playing, my head on your lap and your fingers in my hair. Which I realize sounds pretty romantic, but you get how I mean it. It was me and you. And I think that is my favorite memory with you, believe it or not. That sunset you couldn’t wait to run away from 😂😂

There are times... that you don’t speak that highly of yourself. You say you’re not smart enough, or not pretty enough, or not funny enough, never enough. I don’t know what this “enough” means. All I know is that my life would be way darker without you. I’d have missed so damn much. And this past year that we don’t hang out as much, I still have all those memories to recall and be thankful for, you know? And then, everyday stuff happens and I find myself thinking “Oh, he would love that” or “he does that too”. You’re kinda still with me. So as far as I’m concerned, you’re still my best friend.

Still. I miss having fun with you. And I miss you.

So, happy, happy, HAPPY birthday!

Η αλήθεια είναι ότι όταν ενθουσιάζομαι λέω σε πολλούς ότι τους αγαπάω. Αλλά εσύ είσαι από τους λίγους που το εννοώ.

#thank you for everything