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matthewtkachuk · 2 years

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if it's not you - kevin hayes

When a promotion at work calls for you to transfer back to Philadelphia, your ex-fiancé offers you the guest room of the home you used to share. What could possibly go wrong?

pairing: kevin hayes x reader

warnings: angst angst angst, relationship breakdown, talk of marriage and babies, low key plus size reader (and mention of exercise as an unhealthy coping mechanism), travis konecny sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, the over romanticization of spaghetti bolognese, smut

word count: 11k

a/n: here's the first half of a fic i've been working on for months, sorry not sorry for what i've done. in loving memory of my dearest k @danglesnipecelly who wanted either roommate kevin or ex kevin and instead i murdered her with both

Everyone you knew said it was a terrible idea.

Your mom, your best friends, the coworkers you were leaving behind, even Jimmy and Brady said it was a terrible idea. Jimmy and Brady, who share a single brain cell.

Deep down you recognize for yourself just how bad of an idea it was, but that knowledge was locked deep down beside the residual hurt and the love that you pretended had died long ago.

Maybe you were a masochist, deriving a sick sense of pleasure from torturing yourself like this. Or maybe you were just fucking stupid, naive and ignorant, unable to conceptualize all the ways things could go wrong.

Or maybe you just really missed him.

No matter the reasoning, and no matter how many people in your life tried to convince you otherwise, you were transferring to your company’s Philadelphia office, and the spare bedroom you were moving into was in the house you’d once lived in with your ex fiancé.

It was nothing, really, you tried to convince yourself. Just Kev being Kev, lonely what with his buddy and roommate Nolan shipped off to Vegas, and it’s not like you would find a place with cheaper rent than “free, as long as you promise to make dinner now and then.”

You can’t really explain why you reached out in the first place, with only a handful of conversations occurring in the months since you called off your engagement. Part of it was the excitement of it all, you’d gotten so caught up in it all that the second you left your boss’ office your thumb was hovering over his contact in your phone. That hadn’t been the moment you’d called him, though.

No, you’d celebrated the way you’d been forced to grow accustomed to without Kevin in your life - a drink with a few select coworkers and a phone call to your mom.

Maybe some part of you thought you owed it to him, to give him a heads up that you were returning to his city once again, a warning of sorts. Maybe you expected hesitance in his tone, a lack of warmth in his reply.

Kevin’s never really been that predictable though, and his response is nothing short of pure excitement. It’s here that he suggests you move in, at least temporarily, much to your surprise. You tell him you’ll think about it because it’s a big decision, but you’re certain you’ll tell him ‘thanks for the offer, but I have to decline.’

Certain, that is, until he ends the call uncharacteristically soft, nothing but sincerity on the tip of his tongue as he speaks, “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

You call him back the next morning and tell him you’ll do it.

Philly’s got an edge to it that you’ve felt drawn to since the first time you set foot in the city. You were sixteen, at some pop punk concert at the Mann your best friend had convinced you to sneak out of the house for. There was something in the air then, and for a moment, in the midst of a high energy show, with everyone around you screaming in unison, you’d felt it. A draw and a pull and a sense of belonging that you didn’t feel again in your hometown.

Not until you were a freshman at Boston College, stumbling into a cute guy with a loud laugh and a thick accent at a house party after a big hockey win.

You feel it again, pulling into the driveway of a very expensive house in a very rich neighborhood of Philly. Your house. Or at least it was, once. You remember the excitement of flying down to Philly twice, touring a dozen different houses before settling on this one. It was the bright and open kitchen that had stolen your heart the minute you’d stepped foot in it. He’d asked his teammates' opinions, but you know that even if they hadn’t all mostly agreed, he would have bought this one for you.

There was a time when Kevin would have done anything for you, if you only asked.

Your SUV is full to the brim with your clothes and the few personal effects you had kept - the majority of your things had been sold or donated when you’d committed to the transfer. It’s weird, to be parking this car in this driveway, as if you’d never taken Kevin’s grandmother’s ring off your finger, as if you’d later slipped on the wedding band to match.

Your ring finger is as bare as it has been for more than a year, though, as you flex your fingers against the steering wheel, willing yourself to move on from your thoughts. They’re not productive, they only serve to further break your own heart. You can’t let it go, though. Not here, not in front of this house. No, you need to sit in it for a moment, collect yourself, take it all in and let yourself wallow in it before you face what was once your dream home.

Kevin comes outside as you’re pulling bags from the trunk, wrapping you up in a hug that feels too real, too genuine, too meaningful. You lean into it against your better judgement, squeezing your arms around him tightly, as if you could put both of your broken pieces back together with a single hug. You have to stop yourself from telling him you missed him, certain he doesn’t want to hear about how you’ve been wallowing your way through life without him.

He has to stop himself from welcoming you home.

“You don’t have to help,” you tell him as he starts grabbing some of your bags. The look he sends you tells it all and you shrug sheepishly, “Thanks.”

With your former fiance’s help, your things are taken inside in only a few trips despite your attempts to prolong the feat. Without the distraction of hauling your things in and then scurrying back to your car, you’re forced to look around at what had once been your home. You’re not surprised to see not much has changed. Between the interior designer he’d hired and your own input, Kev had remarkably little to do with the design of the house.

As you shift side to side on your feet, feeling incredibly awkward and out of place, you spot a frame on the mantle, nestled in beside photos of his siblings and parents and nieces and nephews. The frame blends in perfectly, the exact same metal as the others around it, but you really didn’t think the subject belonged anymore.

Because the photograph contains your and Kevin’s smiling faces, his arms wrapped around your shoulders with your hands settled on his forearms, the sparkling ring glinting on your ring finger, with a beautiful sun setting over Cape Cod.

“It was my favorite,” he says simply and something inside of you breaks. It all kind of hits you then, not for the first time certainly, but it hits you all the same. That photo shouldn’t be the only one that contained you in this living room; there should be beautiful pictures of a wedding day, of you in white and Kevin in his best suit. Of his nieces and nephews in flower girl dresses and little ring bearer suits. Of a little baby boy or girl of your own.

It’s too much and you can’t keep the facade up any longer.

“I’m gonna go start putting things away,” you lie, quickly turning and rushing past him before he can see the telltale look of despair on your face.

“Do you want me to order take out tonight? I can get from that Italian place you like.” It’s an olive branch and a peace offering and an honest to goodness suggestion all rolled into one and you know you shouldn’t be acting like this. You know that if you couldn’t handle it, can’t handle it, you shouldn’t be here at all.

And so you pause in the doorway, still unable to look back at him. “Sure Kev, you know what I like.” It slips out, the easy casualness of it all because it’s how you used to answer when he’d posit the question of what you wanted from whatever restaurant you were ordering from. It was a comfort, really, that he knew you so well he didn’t have to think twice about getting you something you’d enjoy.

It makes the moment feel even heavier than it needs to, even heavier than it had a moment ago when you’d spotted that old familiar photo on the mantel. You don’t know how to take it back, though, don’t know how to explain that you didn’t mean it that way. The silence stretches between the two of you awkwardly in ways it hadn’t ever really in the entirety of your relationship. Even when things were falling apart it hadn’t ever really felt like this.

Like you were two strangers and not people with a long and drawn out history.

You won’t look at him, but he can’t stop the way his eyes track your every move, your words rattling around in his brain. Did he know what you liked? Or did you change your favorite pasta dish like you’d changed the address on your driver's license? Was it still penne alla vodka or did you prefer alfredo now? Did you still take sugar and cream in your coffee or had you kicked the caffeine habit entirely?

For a long time he’d thought about what it would be like for you to step foot back in this house, your presence filling the empty rooms in a way no one had been able to since you’d left. He’d tried, letting Patty move in, and then the girls who’d treated his front door like it was revolving rather than made of wood.

With the door to the spare bedroom clicking behind you softly, you toss yourself onto the unmade bed and cry. You cry for the past, you cry for the present, but most of all you cry for the future that you’d both robbed yourselves of.

When he knocks later to let you know the food has arrived - as if you hadn’t heard the doorbell and the subsequent booming nature of his voice - you’ve stopped crying but your face feels puffy. Kevin has the good sense to not mention it as you move with practiced ease around each other. The silverware is in the same spot it always has been, and so are the glasses. Even the Brita water filter is in the same spot in the refrigerator and it all makes your heart ache more.

Not for the first time, as you sit across from the man you thought you would get to love forever, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing here.

Kevin notices. Of course he fucking notices, what with the way he can’t tear his eyes off of you and the way he used to know you better than the back of his hand. He knew what you looked like first thing in the morning and he knew what you looked like with happy tears streaming down your face the night he’d proposed and he knew what you looked like with your bags packed, shutting the door behind you for the last time.

He notices but he doesn’t do anything because it’s not his place. It’s not his job to anticipate your feelings when you aren’t capable of verbalizing them or to reassure you that your fears are unfounded. Not anymore and it hasn’t been for a long time. He hates that it’s no longer his job or his place and he hates that you’re both in this position and more than anything he hates that you left him and this is what it’s all come to. You home but not really home, only here because of the very job that had torn you apart to begin with.

His heart is heavy and yours is too as you stare at each other from across the too large dining table, both wondering if you were making a mistake as large as the one you’d made when you’d let each other go.

Really, living with Kevin in a totally platonic, non-romantic way is both harder and easier than you thought.

It’s harder because you had grossly underestimated how badly being near him would make you want him. You should have known the dull ache in not being his anything anymore would only grow and multiply when the temptation to touch him increased with every interaction. Once a throbbing pain you could ignore by throwing yourself into the job you had chosen over him, now it was constant, unyielding and unforgiving - sharp reminders of what choosing yourself had cost you.

In some ways, it’s so similar to before, the feelings still bubbling under the surface but never boiling over. In the early days after your breakup you’d wondered if you would love him forever despite it all. In a cold and bare apartment in the middle of New York City you knew you would, heart aching and face tear stained. You’re reminded of the hurt in those moments as the weeks pass. Truthfully you don’t remember how to be his friend. For the majority of your adult life he’d been your best friend, sure, but he’d been your best friend in the way only a romantic partner can be.

And yet it’s not the same because in those quiet moments where once you would have leaned into the comfort of his embrace, you find yourself violently ripping away. Because even though your brain is well aware of all the hurt and the need for things like boundaries and space, your body is several steps and many years behind.

It feels wrong to see him soft and warm in the morning light of the kitchen without slipping in behind him and wrapping your arms around his body, your body nearly giving into the urge of its own accord before you can shake the feeling off and head for the coffee pot instead. It’s downright torture to walk past the back of the couch without slipping a hand into his hair and pressing your lips to his cheek.

The feeling is mutual, even if you don’t know it, as he has to resist the urge to press his body against yours while you reach on your tip toes for something in the cupboard or stand at the sink, washing dishes.

It’s easier in that you breathe a little easier in his presence, sleep a little better too. Being around him is as natural as breathing, probably too natural if you were honest with yourself. You catch yourself leaning in a little too much to his innocent touches, slipping up and almost telling him you love him when you say goodnight or he leaves for a string of away games, nearly curling up against his side when he puts a movie on in the living room.

Although sometimes sleep doesn’t come that easy. Not when you spend half the night tossing and turning, micro analyzing every interaction with the man asleep only feet away from you. From the smallest touches to the accidental slip ups that have you stuttering out an apology neither of you are sure you mean, you go through every second of it and wonder how you could have done things differently. On nights like this the guilt threatens to eat you up from the inside out. You run through hundreds of scenarios in your head, from the sweetest reunions to the harshest endings, ones where you sever the ties so completely you can never come back from it.

These nights are the worst when you have to haul your ass out of bed early in the morning to get to the office for eight.

Several months into calling what used to be your spare room home, luckily for you, isn’t one of those nights, but it doesn’t mean the exhaustion seeping into your bones is lessened any as the clock reads several minutes past two a.m. You toss onto your left side, then your right, then on your back, huffing and puffing with the energy of each turn. The pillow is fluffed and turned to the cold side multiple times as the minutes pass and pass. You count sheep, recite the alphabet backwards and forwards, even put on ambient music and then a sleep podcast.

Nothing helps, and you grow more and more exhausted. Until your sleep addled brain decides the best course of action is to slip into the bed that used to be yours.

The house is quiet and dark as you sneak down the hallway, feet cold and silent against the hardwood floor that you’d hated when you’d first moved in. “I like carpet,” you’d grumbled. Kev had only laughed, pressing his lips to yours and promising you that he’d buy you all the area rugs you could possibly want.

Kev doesn’t say anything now as you slip into the master bedroom, not until you’re pausing a few steps away from the bed with so many memories attached to it. Of you moaning and writhing beneath the sheets, of midnight kisses when he got back from a game at home, of lazy Sundays and breakfast in bed - even if the toast had been burnt and the coffee cold.

The comforter is different, but you should have expected that. There’s less pillows, but you should have expected that too. You were the pillow monster after all, adamant that you needed more than the customary two.

He wakes with a fright, and you’re reminded of when he made you sleep with the lights on after watching the first Paranormal Activity in theaters. “I don’t care how much I love you, if you were ever just standing at the foot of the bed watching me sleep I’d kick you in the face.”

“S’wrong?” he slurs, voice heavy with sleep the way you remember it being in the morning, warm and soft, gooey like honey.

You feel so foolish then, you had no business waltzing into this bedroom. What were you expecting, really? It wasn’t his job to make sure you had a good night’s rest. Not that he had when you were dating, more often keeping you up late into the early hours of the morning with his head between your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit, before shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here. I-” You move to leave the room and pretend you’d never opened that door, but his large hand comes up to encircle your wrist.

“C’mere,” he says, using that grip to pull you in closer. You go willingly, slipping into bed beside him and letting him pull you into his chest. You fall asleep seconds after closing your eyes, drifting even closer in your slumber.

You wake up first, comfortable and warm and secure, but you sneak out before he even has a chance to wake.

He thinks he dreamt the whole thing.

Though your relationship with Kevin had been born out of a chance encounter at a house party, it had really developed around food. Your early dates had been dinners after hockey games, you in his jersey and he always wearing a backwards BC hat, legs linked under the table. Sometimes his teammates wouldn’t pick up on his very obvious social cues that it wasn’t an open invitation, and you’d have to squish between Kev and Johnny on one side of a faded booth.

Later, the venue became the kitchen. That’s not to say the two of you didn’t enjoy a nice night out together, or didn’t indulge in more than your fair share of take out, because you certainly did.

It’s just, you’d grown up with your parents cooking together in the kitchen, witnessed many sweet moments of adoration and love - even if things weren’t always perfect with their marriage, they never missed cooking Sunday dinner together. It was one of the things you were most grateful for in your childhood, and something you’d always vowed to make part of your future relationships.

Of course with his hockey career, Sunday wasn’t always feasible, and neither was a strict once a week schedule, but you’d always leaned into the moments you could.

Kevin wasn’t ever really the best cook, absolutely spoiled by his mom’s skills in the kitchen and then the dining plan at BC and then you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he was always well fed. What he lacked in skill though he absolutely made up for in enthusiasm and willingness to be bossed around by you.

“I like when you tell me what to do,” he’d smirked at you once during the first years in New York together, dutifully cutting vegetables for your casserole.

And then you’d fallen in love with this very kitchen, with its marble detailing and offwhite cabinetry and gold handles. The built in butcher block and the sink in the island, the stainless steel, french-door refrigerator and matching stove. Enough space for you and Kevin to cook together in harmony while your own children could look on in awe at how much their parents loved each other.

You’d envisioned all those moments here in that kitchen and then you’d watched them disappear like smoke.

Now you were half a year into living with Kevin, still dancing around the feelings you never let go of, picturing some other woman cooking with him at the kitchen island, their children watching them the way you always thought yours would.

It was an accident, you repeat to yourself over and over again. That mantra on a loop as you sit on your bed in Kevin’s guest room, trying and failing to keep your breathing even. The problem is you can still taste his lips on your tongue, can feel his stubble beneath your hand and the ghost of his touch on your hips.

It was an accident, the way his hands found the skin just above your jeans as he attempted to move past you in the kitchen. The way your body lit up under his touch, the way you leaned into it all. Muscle memory, really, as your lips met his right around the time your hands slid up his shoulders to cup his face.

It was an accident, how you stepped even closer, pressing the entire length of your body against his. The growl deep in his chest as he held you tightly to him. The slip of his tongue inside your mouth, the scrape of your teeth against his lips.

And then nothing, as you’d stepped back in a panic with eyes wide and chest heaving.

You’d turned and ran back to the sanctity of this bedroom, your untouched plate of food entirely forgotten.

The sound of the front door is not easily mistaken, and soon you realize you’re all alone in the house. Suddenly there’s only one person you want to hear from.

Grabbing your phone, you slump to the ground with your back against the closet door, knees pulled to your chest while you hear the familiar sound of the dial tone.

“Hello?”

You sigh, the familiar voice of one of your oldest friends like music to your ears. “Jimmy?”

The background noise fades as you can only assume he’s separated himself from whoever he was with. He says your name softly, an edge of confusion laced within it, “Are you okay?”

You sigh again. The truth is, you’re not even sure if you’re okay or not. Being near Kevin is as good for your soul as it is harmful to your heart. Unadulterated pleasure at being witness to his bedhead in the morning once again, sweatpants hung low on his hips as he leaves the bedroom you’d once shared, yet the sharpest pain as you try to exist together in this house, yet so, so apart. Every day you break your heart, yet every day you heal a bit of it too.

“I’m not going to say I told you so,” he says minutes later after you’ve gotten everything you needed to say off your chest.

You groan a little, Jimmy’s always been a bit of a know-it-all. “Stupid Harvard,” you grumble under your breath. He laughs, not at all offended and very used to the chirps.

“You know I love you, but...”

“But you told me so,” you sigh again. “I don’t know what to do Jimmy.”

“Talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Truthfully, there’s a long list of worst case scenarios, and you’ve already run them in your head a hundred times.

Kevin doesn’t come home until darkness has descended on Philly. In the meantime you’ve had two mental breakdowns and ten imaginary arguments with him in your head. You’ve written down every important point you want to say four times, the four pieces of paper crumpled in the garbage can more than enough proof of that.

You’re sitting on the couch when he comes in, your entire body freezing as you brace for a fight. It never comes, though. Kevin acts like nothing’s wrong, like he didn't have his tongue down your throat only a few hours ago. He’s picture perfect normal, asking you if you want to order take out tonight or if you’d already taken something out for supper. You stumble through your responses but he never breaks.

It hurts more than you thought it would, certainly far more than it would have if he had yelled and screamed the minute he walked through the door. He even sits down on the other end of the couch, arm outstretched and entire body looking so welcoming, so enticing. As if you could just curl up against him like you used to do so many nights before.

You don’t, though. You stay scrunched up on your little corner of the couch, body rigid and face emotionless until you give in and go to bed alone, with far more questions than answers.

Right when things started going wrong, you’d taken up running. Truthfully it was more of a brisk walk interspersed with moments of sprinting that usually left you out of breath and cursing yourself for not being more in shape. It had been silly, a way for you to attempt to fit into the mold of the stereotypical WAG. Part of you thought if you were just able to get in shape, shed a few pounds, that you would be able to save your relationship.

It’s stupid, now that you look back on it, but you’d been so convinced that your size was going to be the downfall of your relationship. If you could only push past your hurt and your ego, you’d realize it was a breakdown in communication above anything else.

Regardless, you’d kept up with it, slowly turning into more of a runner and less of a walker. It hadn’t done much for slimming you down, but you felt healthier, didn’t feel like your heart was going to burst out of your chest or like you’d never pull enough air into your lungs ever again after a short jaunt.

You find yourself running again, a strange sense of nostalgia and heartbreak washing over you as you make the same old, familiar trail around the neighborhood. More houses have come up, some have come down, new cars and new families all around reminding you that while your world may have ended in the brick house four blocks away, it had continued to spin for everyone else.

When you return, Kevin’s just leaving for practice. The air is thick with tension and awkward energy as you carefully dance around one another. The desire to shower is so strong, but as he steps into his shoes you can’t help but blurt out, “Are we not going to talk about it?”

He looks alarmed, face frozen in the expression it had been before you spoke, but his eyes told the wildest tale all on their own. You’re sure your eyes match his own - wild, crazy, disbelieving. Where he had been unable to believe you’d just asked that, you’d been just as bewildered that the words had actually left your mouth.

“What?” he says stupidly.

You gulp and run a hand over your forehead, before repeating yourself. “Are we really not going to talk about it?”

His jaw clicks as he ponders your words, eyes sliding to the box under the television that reads the time. “I’m sorry, I-” he pauses, words perched at the very tip of his tongue, “I have to get to practice.”

“Right,” you nod slowly, “Well have fun with that.” You turn on your heel and head in the direction of the guest bathroom, determined to wash off not only the sweat of your run, but the awkward tension of the conversation from your skin.

Weeks pass without any more slip ups, but without any more explanation, either.

Somehow, you get better at shoving your feelings down, even as Kevin does nothing to help quell them. You gain more comfort in your position at work, you grow and learn and thrive, even as the little voice in the back of your head reminds you the only reason you’ve made it this far is because you let Kevin go.

Slowly, Kevin’s life reintegrates with yours. It starts with a few of the boys lingering in the doorway when picking Kev up for the bus or the plane, new eyes curious and old stares hardened against you. An errant happy hour after work sees Kevin meeting your new subordinates and coworkers as well as your friend Emily who you referred to jokingly as your ‘work wife’ when the two of you had been dating. He waves off all your apologies, far more concerned with getting you home safely than anything else, and when he tells Em it was good to see her, you think he means it.

From there, the boys start to make more frequent appearances at the house, as you imagine they’ve been doing in the time you’ve been gone. Their hesitancy gives you pause, makes you feel like maybe you’re interfering with Kev’s life - a brick wall where there used to be a doorway.

Soon, it’s not uncommon for at least one Flyer or two to be hanging around in some capacity. They’re all polite enough, offering you a smile and a greeting. Of them all, G is probably the most genuine, telling you a bit about his kids and always reminding you Ryanne would love to see you.

You can’t step back into that world though, certainly not when you are neither wife nor girlfriend, but rather the pathetic ex being shown more kindness than you think you deserve. And so you always smile, but decline any efforts to include you and hide in your room until they leave.

Travis isn’t so friendly.

From the first time he sets his eyes on you once again, there’s nothing but contempt behind them. It’s such a startling difference from how he existed in your memory - friendly, kind, excitable. Now his stare is burning and unsettling.

You do your best to ignore it, hiding away in your room and only coming out when necessary.

It’s like Travis is lying in wait as he all but pounces on you when you leave the sanctity of the guest room an hour or two after getting home. “Travis,” you state politely while trying to edge around him toward the kitchen and a glass of water. He replies with your name in a tone far less cordial. Something about it all has the hair on the back of your neck standing up and your body moving into a defensive position; you’re pretty sure you’re in for a fight whether you want one or not.

“What do you want Teeks?” you ask after a minute long staredown that feels like an eternity. There’s no mistaking the way his jaw clenches as his nickname leaves your lips.

“You can’t keep hurting him like this,” he says simply. Your posture relaxes when you realize you’re not in for a verbal lashing, but then you’re confused. Hurting him? By simply existing?

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act so surprised or confused. You know exactly what you’re doing,” he replies, but doesn’t elaborate further, shouting that he’s coming when someone calls for him. Travis walks backwards a few steps, his eyes never leaving yours before he’s shaking his head and rejoining the others.

You can’t stop thinking about it though, the conversation replaying over and over in your mind. What exactly did Travis think you were doing, and why was it hurting Kevin? Was your presence really that toxic, your existence here, in this house, that painful? You can read between the lines, fluent in the art of never saying what you mean, and so you know that Travis (and likely everyone else) thinks you have ulterior motives, like it’s fun for you or some sort of game the way you dance around Kevin, lost in the memory of what it’s like to have him and lose him.

And so you pull away even further. Gone are the nights spent separately but together on the couch. Conveniently, work picks up around the same time, giving you the out of late nights in the office where you return so exhausted you do nothing but shower and fall into bed.

You start looking for apartments to rent once again.

It works for a time. Kevin’s busy being a superstar, you’re busy avoiding him - the perfect scenario, really. But he’s not stupid, he knows something is going on, that there’s something you’re not telling him.

“You’re not holding up your end of the bargain, you know,” he states offhandedly on one of the rare occasions he has to speak with you before you flee in the morning. You pause with your hand on the coffee pot and turn to him with your eyebrows raised. “Home cooked dinner, remember?”

Gulping, you turn back to the task at hand, fixing up your travel mug of coffee just the way you like it. With a tone that feels clipped and forced, you reply, “Right, how about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date.”

“Something smells good,” Kevin’s loud voice breaks the silence you’d been cooking in.

You shrug, stirring the sauce briefly before pulling a noodle from the pot to test. He can’t help the smile that breaks out upon watching your face scrunch up thoughtfully before you sigh, “Needs another minute. Think you can set the table?”

He does as he’s told; he always was the type to ask ‘how high’ when you told him to jump.

“Tastes good, too,” he states later while sitting across from you at the dining table the two of you only ever used when his mom was in town. There’s an open bottle of wine on the table between you, but you can’t help but shift your eyes toward the wine rack behind him, thinking you’ll likely need another soon.

“It’s just spaghetti bolognese,” you shrug self-deprecatingly. It’s not like it took a whole lot of effort, or like you’d slaved away all day at it.

He appreciates it all the same though, smiling genuinely at you before softly speaking, “It always reminds me of sophomore year.”

Though the memory of being so in love during your college years is a painful one now, what with how it all ended, it still brings a thoughtful smile to your face. You had hated living on campus, your freshman year roommate was a total snob and you despised the lack of privacy, and so you’d rented an apartment nearby sophomore year with a few friends you’d met in an intro econ class. Kev had spent all his free time at your apartment rather than his own space, not that you had minded.

To celebrate your first anniversary, you’d sexiled your roommates and made him the very meal you were now eating.

For a moment you’re embarrassed, it’s not that you’d exactly forgotten the memory, but it hadn’t been on your mind as you’d started cooking. It was just quick and easy, and in all honesty, you’d probably be able to make it in your sleep by now. He doesn’t bug you, though, doesn’t say anything stupid or make you feel like you were in the wrong.

It’s quiet then, the only sound being your playlist quietly playing through the speaker in the kitchen from where you’d forgotten to stop it. Quiet, that is until he opens his mouth.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s a statement, not a question, but you freeze with your fork midair just the same.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, prim and proper, hoping he lets it go. That wasn’t really Kevin’s style, though, not until the last few months before the end of your relationship. When he’d let you speak in half truths and responded in kind, if either of you spoke at all. Before then, he was a straight-to-the-point, never go to sleep angry kind of guy, and so you knew your hopes were unfounded.

“Cut the shit.” His body language mirrors his tone of voice, shoulders slumped and expression melancholy.

“Nothing, work’s just picked up and I’m a little stressed about some deadlines. No big deal.” You avoid his eyes, carefully twirling some spaghetti around your fork.

He says your name with such conviction that you almost break, bottom lip twitching with the desire to pout. You swallow down whatever you might have said alongside a bite of your food. A low growl leaves his throat then, alongside the slamming of his fist on the dinner table, the silverware rattling in response. You flinch, but finally meet his eyes and is that not what he had wanted? “What’s. Going. On?” His words are short, and his temper is too, but beneath it all is a desire to know that you’re okay.

Part of you wonders if it would be better to double down. To insist that he’s crazy, that nothing’s wrong. It calls back a bit too strongly to the last set of fights between the two of you right before you left with your bags backed and an empty ring finger. When you danced around the truth, hinting and implying and speaking in tongues rather than admit your insecurities. There were many nights in the time since where you wondered if you’d just dug in a little deeper, let him in a little closer, if things wouldn’t have ended up the way they did.

Another part of you kind of wants to hash it all out, right here, right now. Inside of you is that sweet eighteen year old who fell in love with a gentle giant at a house party and she’s practically begging on her knees for you to let her speak. To let her carve out the heart that still beats for him and place it neatly on the table for him to take. You can’t though. Not while the you with her bags packed and the shattered pieces of her heart stuck together with a shoddy bandaid stands in front screaming to get out of here.

And then there’s you, as you are, sitting at this dinner table that holds so many memories - the first night in the new house, birthdays, anniversaries, the laughter of his nieces and nephews. You are sad that it’s come to this, broken at the idea of the distance between you expanding far past the length of the dining room table, confused that now he’s choosing to talk about it when it was fine for months to skirt around the issues.

“Now you wanna talk about it?” you can’t help but snap. Kevin reacts like you’ve slapped him, flinching and grimacing and you know you haven’t been wrong that it was purposeful the way he’s avoided it all.

It doesn’t temper his attitude though, his grip on his fork only tightening as he speaks through a tense jaw, “Yeah, I do. So talk.” And you really want to latch onto the anger and the hurt you feel licking up your spine and wield words like a knife. But what right do you have to do that? To throw things back at him. He’s not your fiance, not even your boyfriend anymore. Just an ex with a big heart, letting you stay in the house you picked out until you find your own brick house with a bright open concept kitchen and someone new to cook dinner with in it.

And so you decide to be a little vulnerable. Sighing, you ask, “Do you regret letting me stay?”

Though the syllables are anything but complex, the question is not an easy one and neither is the answer. He’s silent for long enough that you start to wonder if you’ve said something wrong. He lets a hand run down his face, squeezing his chin for a second. “Why are you asking me that?” Kevin might not be the man warming your bed every night anymore, but he still knows you better than anyone else and he’s sure there’s something more going on here than a little doubt and insecurity.

“Can you please just answer the question?” you snap again. You’d feel bad about it, but you can’t feel anything beyond the anxiety that’s causing your heart to race in your chest.

“No, I don’t,” he says finally and you really don’t know if the emotion you feel is relief or grief. They’re so similar, sisters not twins in the way they both cause your jaw to unclench, your shoulders to drop.

“Why don’t you regret it?”

His expression falls just the tiniest amount further, and if you didn’t know every line of his face so intimately, you probably wouldn’t notice. “I’m only going to ask you one more time,” he speaks through a clenched jaw, “Why are you asking me all this?”

You swallow hard then, the image of Travis with a snarled mouth just outside your door so clear in your mind. “Travis said something,” you admit softly. He curses softly under his breath, rising from his chair and crossing the space between you quickly before pulling you up along with him. The weight of your hands in his is as comforting and grounding as you remember, though you focus your gaze on where your limbs are linked. He squeezes your fingers, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up into his eyes.

“His heart’s in the right place,” he says and you can’t find it in yours to disagree. You know that Kev was as broken by the break up as you were and you know that you left the mess for the likes of Trav and Nolan and everyone else to clean. The thing is, you know this and you’ve already been feeling guilty about this, but to have such a harsh reminder thrown in your face hit you that much harder. “None of this has been easy for me, you know. Nothing has, not since... well...” Not since you left. “But I will always want what is best for you and that’s why I invited you to stay and that’s why I want you to keep staying here.”

You feel it, all the words unspoken between you, all the hurt and the anguish and the yearning. You feel it, and yet you allow him to pull you in for a heavy hug, one where his every emotion pours out of every inch of his skin. Squeezing him tightly right back, you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart, inhale the heady scent of his aftershave, memorize the feel of him all around you, invading every single one of your senses.

“We’re okay right? You still mean a lot to me and I don’t ever want us to feel like strangers.” You may not have Kevin in the way you used to, but you can’t ever go back to watching his life from the sidelines. It’s another sliver of vulnerability and he swallows it up greedily. One hand slides to the underside of your jaw, cradling your face in his large hand as he tilts your head backwards just a smidge. He presses his lips to your forehead in a motion that you feel all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“We’re okay, baby. We’re okay.” The pet name slips out without much thought from him, but he doesn’t take it back and you don’t make a big deal out of it.

And you are okay. You resume watching tv on the couch separately but together, the inches between you slowly fading until you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder while some terrible action flick plays on. The home cooked dinners ramp up too, a mix of old and new favorites enjoyed at the dining table, with good conversation and even better laughter. Somehow, Ryanne even convinces you to come to a few home games, and it doesn’t even make you feel that strange or that much of an outsider - especially not after a cold beer during warmups and a cuddly Gav on your lap for most of the game.

You’re okay but you’re not okay because you do all these things as a side character in his life. No longer are you a starring cast member of the Kevin Hayes Show, the smarter half of the A plotline. You’re a C plot at best, a minor background character who delivers the punchline that is your new relationship or lack thereof. There are no hands on thighs or asses or breasts when you sit on the couch together, no pretext or motive behind watching the film like there once was. When you cook those dinners, you don’t have to ward off wandering hands and stolen kisses that distract you long enough for the smoke detector to start beeping. Ryanne is a friend but so is Kevin and the family box doesn’t hold the same comfort it once did.

It’s still hard and it still hurts, but you’re navigating a life with Kevin that isn’t a life with Kevin. Not the kind you’d always imagined and dreamed of, that is.

It’s an old habit, the way you pull your favorite navy suit of his from his closet, hanging it carefully on the hook on the back of his door. You used to do this, before; set out a suit for him to wear for his game while he was at morning skate. There’s no real explanation for why you do it now, except, maybe, that it feels right to do so. Like maybe you could lean into it for a moment and pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong, that you’d never been hurt.

That feeling doesn’t last long, not as you return to the living room and curl up on the couch, old reruns of some sitcom playing on tv while you pretend you’re not waiting for him to come home.

Home.

What a strange word, with an even stranger connotation. Once this house had been your home, the bedroom he now sleeps alone in had once contained your shared bed, his closet that is no longer full once held your work clothes alongside his suits, his ensuite once boasted your toothbrush alongside his. And then it had been cruelly taken from you, the very rug you now stand on had been pulled from beneath your feet. It had been your doing as much as it had been his, of course, but the point remains the same. This was no longer your house, so when did it become home to you once again?

Although, was it the brick and mortar that felt like home or was it the person?

You don’t have much time to dwell on it before he’s back, time fading as he grabs a bite to eat and then heads to his room for a nap. Once upon a time, he would have begged you to join him, probably copping a feel in the process. Once upon a time, you used to fall asleep with your head on his chest.

When he emerges a while later, you have to pretend like you’re not caught up in the memory of it all by the sight of him in that suit. Like you don’t remember the press of that belt buckle into your stomach, or the slide of those lapels under your fingertips. He thanks you with that big dumb grin of his, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he leaves for the arena.

You don’t go to the game; he’d never invited you to and you were still too stuck on how to co-exist within this space without crossing boundaries that it never even occurred to you to ask instead, but that doesn’t stop you from watching from the couch. The sweater you wear is old, nearly a decade old in fact, a souvenir from the first year you’d known Kevin. It’s a Boston College hoodie, the maroon and gold lettering long since faded, something you’d borrowed from him when you were still ‘just friends’ and hadn’t ever given back. Not even when you left him.

The game is a good one, you think, even though you’ve only got eyes for number thirteen. Some time between the first and second periods, you’d cracked a bottle of wine, and by the time Kevin comes home, you’re well on your way to downing a second bottle. It’s late, and if you’d been sleeping you’re certain you would have woken up from the sound of him bustling through the door.

“Jesus, you didn’t drive here did you?” you snap as he trips over his own discarded loafers.

“Ubered,” he shrugs, before he’s lighting up with a grin. “You really do care.”

“Of course I care, Kev,” you reply earnestly, and all traces of laughter are gone immediately from his face. There’s a tension then, and you’re not sure if it rests in the weight of your words and their implication, or if the tension has existed here all along. Truthfully it’s likely a mix of the two, but you don’t dwell on it as you lift from your spot on the couch and approach him. There’s no mistaking the look in his eyes as he takes in the sweater you’re wearing, his old number on the sleeve.

The stubble on his cheek looks so inviting to your tipsy mind, your fingertips flexing with your desire to cup his jaw. You come together, then, unsure of who exactly took the first step forward. It doesn’t really matter though, not with your entire being caged within his arms. It’s gentler than you can remember ever being with Kevin before, almost as if you’re both parcels stamped ‘fragile, handle with care’ and one wrong move will result in pieces of shattered glass on the hardwood floor. It’s intimate and warm and comforting, your head pressed against his chest, like not a single other thing matters in the world.

As you pull apart you press a chaste kiss to his adams apple where the top button of his shirt has been undone. It’s like something is set off within you from just that simple touch, as you suddenly feel the urge to kiss every inch of his skin. Slowly and methodically, you unbutton the rest of the way down, kissing the newly revealed flesh after every one comes undone. It’s gentle and reverent, the way you practically worship at the altar of his body.

He lets you do it without any sort of protest or movement, hands awkwardly dropped at his sides until you reach the last button and pull the bottom of his shirt to untuck it. It’s like something has awoken in him too, as he reaches for you, pulling you up to him where he’s leaned in as well. One hand cups your cheek, thumb gently rubbing at your cheekbone, while the other tangles in your hair as your lips meet. He tastes like beer and honey, and on anyone else it would be a strange combination, but you can’t get enough of it even as your hands slide his shirt off his shoulders.

As the garment drops to the floor, Kevin’s reaching for your sweatshirt, calloused fingertips brushing against your skin as he helps you take it off, the kiss breaking for only the time it takes for the offending item to leave your body. From there he walks you to his bedroom with practiced ease, and if his tongue hadn’t been down your throat, you might have allowed yourself to wallow in the hurt that comes with the knowledge of how he’d gotten all that practice.

As it stands, you can barely remember your own name, so caught up in the feel of his bare chest and the gentle roll of his hips against your own.

You’re overcome with emotion when he lays you down so gently, so carefully, against the sheets of his unmade bed. His kiss is soft and sweet, but yet still so inexplicably heavy you feel it all over your body. He’s gentle still as he makes his way down your body, ridding you of your leggings and underwear and settling between your thighs.

There’s a reverent look on his eyes as he presses gentle kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, and you can’t help the way his name falls from your lips, pleading. He smiles up at you then, a tender grin on his face as he says, “Yeah, baby, I know what you need.” And he does, finally pressing his mouth to the ache between your thighs. You sigh contently, the feeling one you’d sorely missed all these months, curling one hand into the hair atop his head and lacing the other with his fingers on your hip.

He coaxes you through one gentle orgasm and then another, humming and moaning against you in clear pleasure, asking and pleading for you to ‘give him one more’.

When he pulls back from your body, chin gleaming and chest heaving, you instinctively begin to turn onto your stomach, into his favorite position to have you in. He stops you, one hand sliding to cup your chin as he presses his lips to yours solidly, “Wanna see you.”

It sends a rush of longing through you, and so you settle further into his pillows, wrapping your arms around him and reeling him in. It’s a stretch as he fills you, little whines escaping your lips until he’s fully sheathed within you. You’d be content to lie here forever like this with him, but moments later he’s pulling your leg to wrap around his waist while he slowly begins to move.

There’s a moment, though, of almost full clarity as your hands tangle in his hair while your head is thrown back. He pauses, eyes boring into your very soul, open mouths doing nothing but passing air into each other’s lungs. He’s not moving but you feel him, every inch of his body and mind and love and it’s everything you could never say, every word you likely never would. It’s everything and he’s everything and you never want the moment to end.

It does, with a flex of his hips and your nails scratching at his scalp, his chain hovering and dragging over your breasts as you find salvation together. “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he groans into the skin of your neck, kissing and sucking and biting.

You fall asleep in his arms, sweaty and tired and content in a way you’ve been a thousand times before, the way it should always be.

The harsh morning rays of the sun tell a different story. You come into consciousness with the feeling of being completely encapsulated by another’s warmth. On instinct, you press back against his still naked body, preening as his arm tightens around your waist in return.

Until you remember this isn’t your bed or your home and the man asleep next to you isn’t your fiancé anymore. Guilt and shame and self-loathing bubble in your gut as the harsh realization settles in. It descends into panic as you try to plot your way out of the hole you dug with your bare hands.

It all only worsens as Kevin begins to stir, a mumbled ‘morning’ in your ear that you feel like a buzz of electricity down your spine. It would be so easy to lean back into the warmth of his body, the comforting weight of his hands, the soft press of his lips to your skin.

But none of that is yours to want anymore.

Kevin’s more than a little disoriented, as sleep lets him shake free of her clutches, he comes to a few realizations of his own. You’re here, in this bed you’d once shared. Your naked frame is pressed to his own and the scent of your shampoo is everywhere. For the briefest of moments he lets himself hope, lets himself believe that this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the one where you come home to him and you stay. In this bed, in these sheets, in this home. But you’re not replying to his morning greeting, and then you’re pulling from his embrace, movements jilted and awkward and hurried. “What-”

“This was a mistake,” you blurt out, hopping back into your pants and eyes frantically searching for your shirt. The memory of your sweatshirt hitting the ground in the kitchen has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before you’re slipping on a hoodie of his that was lying on the chair.

He sits up in bed, the sheet falling to pool at his waist and you have to force your eyes to remain above his shoulders. Truthfully, it’s not that difficult considering your eyes are focused on the wall behind him. He’s a little defensive, and a lot indignant as he all but asks you to repeat yourself. “A mistake? You’re gonna call this a mistake?”

“Yes, a mistake. You were just lonely and horny and that’s my fault because I've just been hanging around here like your shadow.” It’s the best you can come up with, some half-cocked explanation with more holes in it than a screen door. It’s flimsy like one too, rattling in the wind that is Kevin’s anger.

He gets up, slipping on a pair of underwear and stalking towards you with an unreadable look in his eye. “Horny and lonely? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Horny and lonely, Kevin. And- And if you need me to leave the house so you can pick up, I can do that or- or I’ll stay in my room and-“

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want to ‘pick up’.” He sounds disgusted with the idea, disgusted with the way you’re talking right now but you can’t stop yourself.

“Well clearly you should be, there’s no other explanation for last night.” You’re doubling down on your bullshit, unwilling and unable to listen to the voice inside of you that is screaming your love for him. It had been long buried, tucked beneath the hurt and the sadness and the anger, but last night had brought it to the surface. Everything about Kevin is so drawing to you, from the soft warmth of his body to the hard expression on his face, but you swallow it down.

“No other explanation?” He shakes his head in disbelief, the image of you in bed next to him quickly lighting up in flames, pooling into ash at his feet. “Tell me the fucking truth.”

You inhale sharply and he knows he’s hit his mark. It’s satisfying, the way he cuts through your bullshit, but the satisfaction doesn’t last. Because while he’s thinking about everything that could go right, you’re still hung up on everything that went wrong. On the last few months of your relationship, but especially on that final fight that nailed the very last nail in the coffin.

For a minute you’re back in this house, a few rooms over, a little younger.

“I don’t know what I want to do!” you shout, dragging your hands down your face. The argument isn’t a new one, in fact it’s been a recurring disagreement, ever since you were first put forward for the promotion. It’s kind of a big deal - a leadership position at your age is almost unheard of, but it was your name put forward, and your position to accept.

“I think you do, I think you’re just too much of a coward to say it out loud. There’s two choices here, baby,” the way the pet name leaves his lips is a mockery of the syllables, the frustration and the anger that’s been building for months finally coming to a head, “either you stay with me, or you take the job and go. We both know what you’re going to choose.”

You can’t help the way you go immediately on the attack, the fear of losing everything before you so great, it’s got you completely and wholly irrational. “I can’t just sit around here and raise your babies and post on instagram and have a stupid lifestyle blog. I’m sorry that I can’t be the perfect wife and go to all of your home games and decorate stupid jean jackets.”

It’s not what he’s asking you to do, not really. He’s asking for you to finally make a decision and stick to it. He knows and you know and everyone else around you knows that this is the fork in the road of your relationship. His schedule is insane enough, there’s no way you’ll be able to handle a long distance relationship. It’s less than 100 miles between your front door and New York, but it might as well be oceans away with how little you’ll see each other. And he knows, he knows this is an amazing opportunity for you, a once in a lifetime shot, and though he wants to beg you to stay, he knows he needs to let you go. He loves you more than he cares for himself and he wants your every dream to come true. Above everything, he knows you need to go to New York and you need to take this opportunity and you need to leave him behind.

He knows all this, and yet it still stings as you all but tell him you don’t want to have his children. Kev’s wanted to be a dad for as long as he can remember, and he’s wanted you to be their mom for as long as he’s known you. For the better part of a decade, he’s pictured babies, and he’s pictured you loving them and holding them and raising them. He’s pictured half of you and all the best parts of himself together. It’s a dream he’s slowly been letting go of in the time that’s passed since you first brought up the promotion, but to have it so neatly and completely taken from him is staggering.

“I never asked you for any of those things,” he argues, one hand gripping at the curls at the top of his head. “I know you’re driven and I know you’re smarter than me or anyone I know. And that’s why I know you’re going to take this job and you’re going to leave me. I want you to have everything that you want.”

“But what if what I want is you?” You’re hysterical now, though this is not a new argument, it’s never reached these levels before. You feel it, deep in your bones that this is it, that this is the end of something beautiful and magical. The relationship is slipping through your fingers, grains of sand falling and falling and falling until your hourglass is tipped over and empty.

“It’s not,” he says simply. “It’s not enough.”

There’s a final note in his voice and you know he’s not going to change his mind and you know you’re not either. Because truthfully, you were probably always going to pick the job and the future. You’d just hoped that the two of you could find compromise along the way. Although a large part of you always knew it wasn’t meant to last, that you would never be the kind of girl who was good enough to marry the likes of Kevin Hayes. No matter how much you loved him, nothing would ever change the fact that you didn’t have the look or the lifestyle or the wealthy family to fall back on. You knew that he would grow to resent all the things that once made him fall in love with you, that your contrarian ways and your ego and your goals and aspirations made you incompatible with the WAG life. You knew that when he said it wasn’t enough, he really meant you.

You don’t compromise; you accept the position and move out two weeks later.

And then you’re back here, a little older, a little wiser. And so you shake your head, backing away slowly. “It doesn’t fucking matter, Kevin. Okay? It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m still me and you’re still you and you told me that it wasn’t enough. Okay? So it doesn’t matter.” He goes to follow you but you put your hand out in an attempt to keep the distance, “Don’t. Okay? Don’t. I’ll give you your sweater back, I promise, but I need some space.”

“Okay,” his voice shakes as he speaks, “Have your space, but please come home.”

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #kevin hayes fic #kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes imagines #kevin hayes x reader #shelb writes

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hanamakkiss · 4 years

Text

Pros and Cons

Matsukawa Issei x reader

summary: Being childhood friends with Oikawa and Iwaizumi had few perks, it's all worth it when one of those perks came in the form of one(1) Matsukawa Issei.

Where Matsukawa gets a nickname.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: yall rmb y/n talking about a hot vb boy? yea also makki is a lil shit but everyone loves him UPDATE: reuploaded sorry😓😓😓

You had made it a point to visit trainings whenever you were free now.

Always popping up whenever the coaches left, Matsukawa’s eyes were instinctively drawn to you when you entered, not that it was hard, considering how much ruckus you made.

After greeting everyone generally, you spent some time chatting with OIkawa when you head whips around to-

Kyoutani?

Oh right, this would be the first time you met him after anticipating it for so long. Matsukawa gestures to Makki about your actions and the two of them pause to watch the show.

Prancing over to the cropped blonde, excitement coming off in waves, "Kyouken! I've heard so much about you! I-"

"Stay away from me." he practically growled.

You froze in your tracks.

"Huh?" your head tilts, taking a step towards him.

"Why?"

Another step.

The growling intensifies, "Or else."

"Or else what? What are you going to do to me?"

Another step.

You're standing directly in front of him now, eye to eye. The sound of balls impacting a gym floor has ceased. Matsukawa tenses, holding his breath.

A second passes, then five.

Kyoutani turns and sprints out of the gymnasium.

Jolted by the sound of feet slamming against the floor, you turn around, head resting on your palm, "Oh dear, I don't think he likes me very much. What a pity," you basically spat the last word out. The contrast between your words and your sinister smile sends shivers down his spine.

Wow. He lets out a low whistle, that sure was something. For a second there, you had the same menacing aura Oikawa sometimes sported. He doesn't know if the stuttering of his heart was fear or attraction.

Somewhere nearby he hears Oikawa's laughter get cut off by a yelp and a stern warning. ("I told you to stop influencing her! Now look at how weird she is!")

Makki comments what he thought, “What, the fuck?”

“Amazing, isn’t she? I thought her that mysELF-“ Oikawa is cut off by a blow to the stomach.

“Shut up, stop looking so proud of yourself, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi scowls.

By this time you had made your way back to them, all smiles. “Sure hope I get to talk to him again someday,”

Makki snorts his water out.

The morning for the study session arrives.

As Matsukawa strolls to your house, he briefly wonders how the day might go. He figures it might become a little awkward if it was just the two of you, so he's thankful that Makki would be present.

Your house comes into view when the devil himself texts him.

He doesn't have to wait long before he got his answer. Just as he presses the doorbell, his phone chimes again.

Ah fuck. He doesn't even have time to curse him before the door is swinging open.

"Hi," you greet him, "welcome, to my humble abode," you usher him in with a flourish.

Ah shit, he takes off his shoes, here we fucking go.

Making his way to your bedroom he takes note of the frankly absurd number of houseplants that filled the place. Every free window, corner and crevice was stuffed with greenery. He vaguely remembers a flourishing garden in the front yard too.

Entering your room was no different, every available space on your desk and windowsill had small succulents and tiny flowering plants. He takes a moment to study while you set up the floor table.

“Doesn’t... having a lot of plants diminish your oxygen level at night...?” Your head whips around, scowl already in place.

“That’s just a myth. Plants don’t produce enough carbon dioxide at night to suffocate, otherwise how would forest animals survive?” The agitation with which you reply clues him in that you got this question too often.

“Also, if that works I would have already died,” you add on as an afterthought.

His eyebrows shoot upwards as he blinks slowly, “Um, alright, good to know?”

You grin in response, patting the floor next to you, “Sorry about the mess, I don’t have many friends who visit,”

“Judging by how much time you spend with us, I was starting to think you didn’t have any others,” he teases, eager to clear the awkward air.

“Eh, that’s true,” you shrug, “you guys are kind of my only friends in Seijoh,”

Oh shit, did he just overstep? He cringes inwardly when you interrupt.

“Why else would I spend so much time with a bunch of idiots?” the playfulness of your tone allows him to relax.

“Considering how well you mesh with us, doesn’t that make you an idiot too?”

Your smile drops, making a noise of indignation as your own joke is played against you. He just laughs as he avoids your smack, opening his textbook.

The previous conversation still weighing on his mind, he contemplates asking you about it.

“What is it.” You don’t even look up.

“What?”

“I can feel you staring at me, and your finger tapping is really loud,” looking up, you scrunch your face at him. “If you wanna say something, just say it.”

“Mmmhm alright then, if you don’t mind, are you on bad terms with your classmates?”

You stare back blankly, “Not...as far as I know?”

“Do you not hang out with any of them?” Are you not friends with them? You sense the unasked question.

“Well...” you trail off for a few moments, contemplative, before looking him in the eyes, grimacing.

“It’s... kind of due to Kawa?” at his confusion you rush to explain, “Not that he did anything! It’s more of... us being so close? Even platonically,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“They’re nice until they find out I’m close friends with Kawa and Iwawa. Then they either outright hate me, or get close to me in hopes of a better chance with him. Not all of them are like that though! But, at a certain point it’s easier to avoid that problem entirely rather than sifting through. Some girls look really nice, I just don’t know how to talk to them, I transferred in so late, after all.” you laugh sheepishly.

He hopes he isn’t letting his indignation show on his face.

“Does he know?”

“God no, that’s kind of a bastard thing to do, isn’t it? Hey, did you know I can’t have any girl friends cause they’re all crazy over you? That’s kind of fucked up yea? He can’t even do anything about it.” You wave a hand in the air, dismissing the idea.

“What about Iwaizumi,” he tries.

An incredulous look, “You think he would understand that? He barely even looks at girls! Actually, now that you mention it, a sizeable portion of the girls who befriended me had a crush on him. Guess it’s because he’s intimidating,” you nod along to your own words.

“So you’ve just been alone this time?” He can’t wrap his head around it.

“I haven’t been alone! I’ve got you guys, don’t I? I wouldn’t change that for anything,”

The look of happiness you pin him with causes his heart to flutter, but he’s not entirely convinced.

Sensing his unease you soften, “Besides, there’s only a few more months left, I can handle it,”

He exhales his frustration, letting the topic go. Nothing much he could help with anyway. The only thing he could do now was stay by your side, if you need him.

“Thank you for your concern,” You pat his hand comfortingly, the sides of your lips tug upwards, and you speak the next words gravely. “But,” breath bated, he waits for you to continue.

“sometimes, it really do be like that.”

He attempts to flip the table, causing you to scramble for cover, choking on your laughter as you do.

The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, asking each other questions here and there.

A few hours pass when both phones chime, breaking your concentrations, “Oh! Makkun’s at the convenience store now, whaddya want?”

He tells you his order and while you type it in, he observes your figure.

You’ve got a thing for nicknames, he’s always wondered about it.

“Hmm? What? Oh, yea, I guess I do, what about it?” Looking up, your gaze is pointed.

“Huh?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

“You said I got a thing for nicknames? What about it?” You leaned towards him, a teasing grin forming.

He feels himself begin to instinctively draw back before forcing himself to still. “Just like Oikawa, was what I meant.”

At this, your grin deepens, “Well, duh. Who do you think he got it from?”

Interesting. He nods in understanding.

“Well,” he drags the word out, mirroring your grin, “you don’t have a unique nickname for me, are we not close enough?”

Your smile turns into an O as you process his words. He’s right, you never really thought about it.

“Huh. I guess not. Do you want one?”

Stupid of him to admit, but he didn’t expect you to ask him that, and he takes a moment to decide. Did he want a special nickname from you? Is that asking too much? Moving too fast? Just as he’s about to reply, you make the choice for him.

“You know what? I’m gonna give you one anyway. Just give me some time to think.”

He just shrugs, accepting, and goes back to doing his work.

Some time passes and he sneaks a glance at you. A cute furrow nestled between your brows, you doodled in your notebook.

“I’ve got it!” You slam your hands on the table, shifting to place more weight on your knees, leaning far across the table now.

His pencil slips out of his hands from the sudden eye contact.

“How about,” you pause for effect, so close now he could count the light freckles on your cheeks, “Issei?”

The sound of his name coming out of your lips causes his brain to short-circuit. He never knew it could sound so sweet.

“Well?” You probe, “It’s kind of a cop out but I like how it sounds,” you sound it out a few more times with different intonations.

He thinks he might die.

“Hey, you okay? If you don’t like it you can let me know, yanno?”

“It’s fine,” he chokes out, “go ahead.”

“Great! Then-“

The doorbell rings.

“Oh! He’s here! Be right back!” You don’t wait for a reply before leaving.

Matsukawa has never been more thankful for Makki’s impeccable timing. Lucifer used to be an angel, he supposes.

He passes a hand over his face, willing his cheeks to cool down.

He composes himself just in time for Makki and you to enter.

Makki lets out a hum of appreciation, “Mad oxygen in here,”

He turns to you, “Say, isn’t it bad for you at night?”

“Oh my god, do the two of you share one braincell?”

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #matsukawa imagines

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 10

3rd Person POV

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than Harry, Ron, and Hermione had thought. In the weeks that follow he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he had cracked it.

Every time they pass the third-floor corridor, Harry and Ron would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy is growling inside.

Whenever Harry passes Quirrell he gives him a small smile, and Ron started telling people off for his stutter.

Hermione and (Y/n) had more on their minds than the Sorcerer's Stone. Hermione had started drawing up study schedules and the two had been color-coding all their notes. Ron and Harry watch in amazement as (Y/n) launches into some complicated Potions thing at Hermione's request and the brunette begins jotting down notes.

Harry and wouldn't have minded, but Hermione kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snaps.

"That's not ages," (Y/n) pipes up, "that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminds her. "Anyway, what are you four studying for, you all ready know it all!"

"What are we studying for?" (Y/n) exclaims. "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into our second year? They're very important, we should have started studying a month ago."

"I don't know what's gotten into me," Hermione chimes in.

Unfortunately, the teachers seem to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione and (Y/n). They pile so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It is hard to relax with Hermione and (Y/n) next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron bursts out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library windows. It is the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky is a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there is a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who is looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he hears Ron says, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffles into view, hiding something behind his back. He looks very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he says, in a shifty voice that gets their interest at once. "An'what're you lot up ter?" He looks suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," says Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St —"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looks around quickly to see if anyone is listening."Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," says Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone, apart from Fluffy -"

"Don't rope me into this," (Y/n) says, not looking up from her potions notes.

"SHHH!" says Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, studens aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"

"See you later, then," says Harry.

Hagrid shuffles off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" says Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry wonders.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," says Ron, who'd had enough of working. He comes back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slams them down on the table. "Dragons!" he whispers. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," (Y/n) comments, still gazing down at her notes, Snape had told her that he was giving her a more advanced exam than everyone else's. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709."

"Everyone knows that," Ron agrees. "It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got of wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" asks Harry.

"Of course there are," says Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles have spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" wonders Hermione wonders aloud.

. . .

When they knock on the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they are surprised to see that ll the curtains are closed. Hagrid calls, "Who is it?" before he had let them in, and then shuts the door quickly behind them.

It is stifling hot inside, and (Y/n) rolls up the sleeves of her shirt and Fang jumps into her lap.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," says Harry, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "We were -"

"Not me, just to be clear," (Y/n) interjects and Hagrid glances gratefully at her.

"Wondering," Harry continues, "if you could tell us what's guarding eh Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowns at him. "O' course I can't," he says. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — Is'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might want to tell us," Hermione begins."But you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," she finishes in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitches and they can tell he is smiling."We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione continues. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swells at the last words and Harry and Ron beam at Hermione, (Y/n) scratching Fang behind the ears.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that . . . let's see . . . he borrowed Fluffy from me . . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments . . .Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticks them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asks.

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knows Ron and Hermione are thinking the same as he is. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" asks Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," says Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry mutters to the others, (Y/n) rolling her eyes. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," says Hagrid. (Y/n) notices him glance at the fire, and she looks at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" But she already knows what is. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, is a huge, black egg. She nudges Fang off her and crouches in front of the fire.

"Ah," says Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er . . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" (Y/n) asks, studying the black egg.

"It must've cost you a fortune," Ron pipes up, crouching beside (Y/n).

"Won it," answers Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" wonders Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," says Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the eggi n the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hagrid looks very pleased with himself, but Hermione doesn't look pleased at all. "Hagrid," she exclaims, "you live in a wooden house!" But Hagrid isn't listening. He is humming merrily as he stokes the fire.

. . .

So now they have something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he's hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighs, as evening after evening they struggle through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. And it was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brings Harry a note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Ron asks.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispers.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. (Y/n) turns to give him a glare and the blond scampers off, reminding (Y/n) of a little ferret.

Ron and Hermione argue all the way to Herbology and in the end, she agrees to run down Hagrid's with the other five during morning break. When the bell sounds from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them drop their trowels at once and hurry through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greet them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid ushers them inside.

The egg is lying on the table. There are deep cracks in it. Something is moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

The five draw their chairs up to the table and watch with bated breath.

All at once there is a scraping noise and the egg splits open. The baby dragon flops onto the table. It isn't exactly pretty, Harry thinks. It's spiny wings are huge compared to it's skinny jet body, it has a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezes, a couple of sparks flying out of it's snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmurs. He reaches out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snaps at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" exclaims Hagrid.

"Hagrid," says Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid is about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leaps to his feet and runs to the window.

"What's the matter?" (Y/n) asks.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

(Y/n) bolts to the door and looks out. Even at a distance there is no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

. . .

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the last week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and (Y/n) very nervous. They spend most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urges.

"I can't he'll die," Hagrid says. "He's too little."

They look at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week, smoke furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There are empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," says Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron mutters in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," says Hermione loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bites his lip. "I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turns to Ron."Charlie," he says.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agrees that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week drags by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry, and (Y/n) sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appears out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he says, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There is a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" (Y/n) says, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The six of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's till dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love, Charlie

They look at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," says Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloak's big enough to cover three of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other five agree with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) rush up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispers, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

The other three try to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," says Iliana gently, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sits bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he says in a hoarse voice. "Oh no — oh no —I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

The others didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

. . .

"It's too late to change the plan now," (Y/n) murmurs to the others. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl."

"This could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert," Harry adds. "We'll have to risk it, and we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They find Fang sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they go to tell Hagrid, who opens a window to talk to them.

(Y/n) crouches beside the large boarhound, scratching behind Fang's ears.

"I won't let you in," Hagrid puffs. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they tell him about Charlie's letter, his eyes fill with tears, although that might have just been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

The 'baby' bangs its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) walk back to the castle, feeling as though Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

. . .

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do.

It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd have to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against teh wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," says Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate comes ripping noises that sound to (Y/n) as though the teddy is having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobs, as Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione cover the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and step underneath it themselves."Mummy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew.Midnight ticks nearer as they heave Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another— even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry pants as they reach the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them makes them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrink into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other, ten feet away.

A lamp flares.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, has Malfoy by the ear. "Detention!" she shouts. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) are coming — they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seems the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air, did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able do breathe properly again. Hermione does a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," (Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister. "You know that's my thing."

Chuckling about Malfoy, they wait, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks come swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They show Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all help buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione shake hands with the others and thank them very much.

At last, Norbert was going . . . going . . . gone.

Harry and Hermione slip back down the spiral staircase and (Y/n) grabs the Invisibility Cloak. She darts down the stairs when she hears a noise coming from the end of the hall and throws the Cloak over Harry and Hermione.

As the figure steps out, Filch's have looms suddenly out of the darkness. "Well, well, well," he leers at (Y/n). "You are in trouble, aren't you.

Harry and Hermione watch in shock and horror as Filch grabs (Y/n)'s upper arm and begins dragging her down the corridor.

Word Count: 3574 words

#hermione granger x sister reader

12 notes · View notes

blueberrypossum · 3 years

Text

Another Night hidden within the Stars

(GN)yokai cop x Dastardly Danny

Hey yall! I've had the wonderful opportunity to collab with @greaser-wolf and man has it been a wonderful experience! You are truly a lovely person and thank you again for the drawing!! This was super fun to write, with Danny and how he talks he's a challenge that I loved taking on. Hope you all enjoy!!

This story is gender neutral, but with it being fancy I will be putting tux/dress so then you, the reader, can wear whatever you want on your date with Danny ( also suspenders will be in the tux category and dress suits will still be in dress, hopefully that is okay with everyone because I do want to put detail into your outfit).

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There are cuss words and also mention of sexual content along with yearning and making out!!!

Word Vocabulary:

FC- favorite color

Take a powder- Get lost or lay off

Crumb-A jerk, no fun

Eager Beaver- Someone who excited about something

Cut a rug- Dance with me

Dead Hopper- A bad dancer

Jive dancer- A talented dancer

You could feel yourself slowly growing impatient as you waited outside of the restaurant, your foot tapping against the concrete with a jittery rhythm. Dastardly Danny was never the late type, he would make the joke of being fashionably late whenever he and the rest of his crew had a runin with trouble, but you knew by now that he would make sure his schedule was clear the days you would meet up. Especially after the time he and his friends literally rode to the place you were meeting up in a snail cop car, a sheepish smile curling against his mouth.

You remember the awful paperwork for that one.

The night of the Hidden City glistened around you as you leaned against the building, your hands rubbing up against your arms to create some friction of warmth. Even with the outfit you had on, the nights were slowly getting chilly due to the change of seasons above.

The bag you held against your side started to vibrate and for a second you thought it was going to be that purple wearing rat, telling you that something had happened or that he was going to be fashionably late, but it was actually your boss from the police station. You cleared your throat before you clicked on the answer button.

“Yes, chief?”

“Hello Y/N, I was seeing if you would be free tonight to work an extra shift?”

You balled your empty hand into a fist as you jumped from your spot against the building, your eyes glaring to the side as if you could see your boss there, looming over you with a smile that practically said: “ If you don’t say yes to this then I will give you paperwork that is stacked so high that the humans above can see it.”

You let out a breathy sigh as you explained, “I’m sorry, chief, but I have plans tonight and I really cannot cancel them.” You turned on your heel so that your shoulder was leaning against the wall instead of your back.

You could hear the anger and frustration behind his voice, “Are you sure that whatever is so important cannot be rescheduled?”

“No, it cannot.”

You almost jumped right out of your body as a voice behind you answered for you. Your face started to blush against the amber lights of the restaurant as Danny was now leaning his head against your shoulder, a wicked grin on his face as he continued to talk.

“Sorry there, chief, but being a cop can be a real pain in the neck, so take a powder and let me and the dame have our night, alright?”

You opened your mouth to apologize to your boss, to say that your boyfriend had just had a little too much to drink and was now saying whatever came to mind, but the tall rat’s hot breath against your neck made you stiff as a board. You swallowed and suddenly you felt parched as Danny took the phone from your hand and hung up on the chief of police and placed the phone back into your bag.

“Ya know you can get lockjaw if ya keep that mouth open for too long,” he chirped as he took your hand into his.

“You’re….You’re late,” you stammered out, your mind foggy with the possible fear of losing your job and also how Danny’s suit was cleaner and seemed to cling to his body tighter than before.

He bent himself over and kissed your hand as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“Actually, love, I still have about two minutes. Would ya like me to walk away and come back and get ya flustered all over again?”

“Oh hush up, you could’ve gotten me fired and he could've figured out your voice,” you commented, your heart almost futtering out of your chest as his lips met your hand. Always so formal, strange how a gentleman could also be a thief.

Danny rolled his eyes and let out a ‘tch’ sound as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was glistening against the fallen lights of the town, the color bringing out the color in your eyes. Danny was surprised that he still had his balance as he took a step back. No matter how many times he lays his eyes on you, you can always somehow leave him breathless.

He intertwined his arm with yours as he chuckled out, “Yer boss is a bloody crumb, darling, and if he could recognize my’ voice, toots, then there would be more criminals in yer holding cells.”

“You know I can just turn you three in and get that raise, right?”

“Ah but you would never do that to us, especially me, sweetheart,” he purred as took your chin gently into his hand and kissed you. All the stress that had built up within your body for the past few days melted away as he pulled you in closer to the kiss, your knees almost going weak as you felt him smile against your lips. His hand was careful against your cheek, as if his destructive and dangerous life would break you, even with you being a cop. His whiskers tickled your face and you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss, causing Danny to bring you closer to him at the sound of your happiness.

After the kiss, he planted one against your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You look ravishing tonight, ” He purred as he led you over to the door, his arm already extending it to open it for you.

You let out a sigh as you pushed the fabric you were wearing down to wash out the wrinkles.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” You asked as Danny told the hostess the fake name he placed for the dinner reservation. As the hostess turned around to grab a few menus, Danny let go of your arm and ever so slowly danced his hand from the nap of your neck, down your spine until it planted itself onto your tailbone as he whispered into your ear, “Oh sweetheart, if we weren’t in this restaurant, I know exactly what I would be having for dinner instead.”

He smirked as a pretty shade of red crossed your face and even tinted the edge of your ears as the hostess turned back around and told you both to follow her. Danny had to practically drag you since your mind was nothing but a haze of embarrassment and desire.

The tall rat yokai pulled your chair for you and you thanked him as he pushed you closer to the table and took a seat himself.

You took in the sight of the restaurant with a look of awe. The eating house was colored with wine and gold and the building was buzzing with life of friends and family and lovers just like you and him. You both had made sure, with the help of a worker there, that no cop or detective had placed a reservation at the restaurant, so no more looking over your shoulder or horror stabbing you in the gut when you watched yokais whisper and look over at you.

Danny watched as you took it all in, an almost lovesick expression crossing his face. Everytime you both went out he would remember the first time you both met, with your pistol shoved into his face. Dating a cop was something that never crossed his mind, he always thought he would date a thief such as himself or maybe a regular citizen of the Hidden City. But, when you first chased him, screaming his name at the top of lungs, he knew it was love at first sight.

He did hate the secrecy though, even with the thrill of getting caught was something he got high off of, he did want to show you off to the world, he wanted to take you out everywhere without any of your coworkers finding you. At least you both got to do this, and he knew how to mark you as his.

The option of you quitting your job raged inside his head, the sheer thought of it made him mad. He would never let you give up your passion, how hard you’ve worked for your position at work, even though you said you would be fine with it, he wouldn’t be, and knew that you secretly wouldn’t be either.

“So, I heard about that heist you did a few days ago, how did it go?” You questioned as you laid your head in your hands, your elbows supporting your weight. Danny let out a gust of air as he also leaned in, taking in the breathtaking sight that was you.

“Don’t even get me started, sweetheart. Leonard is doing the chores for the rest of da month for the stunt he pulled during it,” the rat groaned and soon a waitress came up and Danny ordered one of their expensive wines, once she walked away, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wine, huh? That heist money really working itself off, isn’t it?” You played at him and he let out a low gruff as he smirked at you.

“Only using the money for good, right?”

“Oh and I’m considered good?”

Danny gave you a hungry look and for a moment you thought he was going to get out of the chair and eat you up in one bite, but all he did was bring his hands together on the table as he leisurely spoke.

“Of course.”

Oh titans above how was I so lucky to land him.

You both ordered your meals and continued to have small talk. One thing you both decided to agree on was that Danny would talk about opposing gangs that were doing heists and robberies and then would tell you about them the next stop they were going to, with this you were given praise and extra cash at work and giving The Mud Dogs less competition in the playing field. It made Danny warm inside to see you have an interest in his job and it made you bashful when he would compliment you on your job.

In the background of your conversation was the beauty of musicians playing their hearts out for those who were out on the dancefloor, the restaurant was flooded with intoxicated laughter and the tapping of shoes against the wooden floor. The wine was slowly getting to you after the third glass and you couldn’t help but to start giggling after every word you said.

After the waitress took your plates and left the check, you and Danny had to fight over who would pay.

“You paid last time, I'll pay it,” you ordered as your fingers tried to swipe it from his hands, but he was a lot quicker than you and he let the bill twirl in between his fingers as he stared at you.

“Not a chance, eager beaver, the deal is that you bring your decked out self and I get to gawk at ya until I need to pay the bill,” he insisted and was about to pull out his credit card before he felt your fingers touch his and soon the bill was gone from his hands and all he could do was glare lovingly at you as you giggled in your seat, the piece of paper shoved under your hands.

“Yer not gonna give up, are ya?”

“Isn’t that what you like about me?”

His eyes traveled over your body slowly, hardly an ounce of urgency in them as he took in every inch of you. The curve of your waist, the way your outfit was flushed against your body like water to paper, how there were still love marks on your chest and barely above your neck from your last visit with each other. Desire was blazing through his eyes as they finally met yours.

“Oh sugar pop, there is a whole list of things I like about you,” he growled and he took pride in the way you squirmed in your seat.

He eyed the dancefloor and then back at you and gradually got himself out of his chair until he was next to you, his hand extended out.

“How about this: You cut a rug with me and you get to pay, deal?” He asked. You looked down at his extended hand and then back at his smug look, wondering if the wine had somehow gotten more to him then you.

“Oh please, you know I have two left feet. If we danced your feet would be sore for weeks from me stepping on them,” you joked out, but he didn't move.

“If ya were a dead hopper, I wouldn’t be askin. That or else I get to pay the bill,” he challenged. You didn’t know if it was the pride you held or from the extra glass of wine you swigged down, but you took his hand and let him lead you to the dancefloor.

The music buzzed through your ears as you held tighter to his hand. You had fought bad guys, you had been in blazing shootouts, you’ve seen life be taken away right in front of your eyes. But dancing seemed to be the hardest challenge to muster up courage to master. Danny gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he took you both to the middle of the dancefloor.

He took the hand he was holding and extended your arm with his, while his other arm went around your waist, bringing you almost dangerously close. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and his cologne drained through your nose.

“Danny, what if we get caught? Everyone can see us,” you whispered. Many eyes were peering at you two, some just being distracted by the new movement you both caused and others eyeing the rat as if they recognized him. Fear started to snake itself around your body, almost trapping you once again in that constant fear of being discovered.

But, the love of your life gently tapped his nose against yours as he shushed you so quietly that you could barely hear it. His calming scent and even breaths washed over you and you felt yourself relax. No one has ever made you feel like this, no past lover, no family or friend, Danny wasn’t just a breath of fresh air to you, he was a whole new world to you.

“Hey, just let me show you off for just a few minutes, just this once, doll. Then we can go back to being Romeo and Juilet, I promise,” he purred and you silently nodded as he swept you off your feet. It almost seemed that the musicians took notice in the new lovebirds and the music picked up to match the tense and eager atmosphere, even the yokais around you took hints and their own moves started to change.

Both of your dance moves were slow at first, the rat yokai letting you get used to him taking the lead, with his quick feet and swirls and twirls, you were a little shocked at how well he was. He held onto you though, taking in your cautious swings and how your eyes were on your feet instead of up. Danny knew he was selfish for asking this out of you, he knew that you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him. But the way you looked on the dancefloor was almost bewitching. Your tux/dress flew silently around you, the tone of your (FC) shined against the spotlight that twirled overhead, and your eyes almost seemed to glow in the scarlet and golden room, outshining and blinding anyone else around him.

He knew then he was deeply and terribly in love with you.

“My eyes are up here, toots.”

“So is that sarcastic mouth of yours.”

“You really do crack me up, dollface.”

He then let go of your waist and swept you away from him, the only thing connecting you two was the interlocking of your hands. Starlight seemed to bounce off you because he quickly brought you back to him, a little noise escaping your mouth as it felt as if you were dancing on air for how light he made you feel. He was behind you now, his mouth dangerous close to where your neck connected with your shoulder. His breath created goosebumps across your body as a feather kiss was placed against an old love mark he had given you days ago. Your heart seemed to go crazy within your ribcage as he twisted you around, your chests once again flushed against each other’s. Danny took several steps to your side and you quickly joined him, the wine and your wit gradually giving you confidence and soon you both were laughing, as if there was no one else in the restaurant, in the city, in the world.

He took notice in your new found bravely and he swiped his arm under your rump and lifted you up, his smile growing wider as a flood of giggles escaped your mouth as you looked down at him.

“Hey look! I’m finally taller than you!”

“Aye, don’t get used to it!”

He brought you back down and in one swope he dipped you, his strong hands holding you firmly as your back bent against him. It almost felt like a dream, a wondrous and unbelievable dream that you thought if you made one wrong move, you would fall out of bed and this would no longer be real. But the way he effortlessly pulled you back up and looked into your eyes with a lopsided grin, you knew that this wasn’t just a dream, it was a dream come true.

The song smoothly started to transition over to a much more tamed and kinder music that had everyone’s swaying hips go slower and closer. You were still giggling as Danny brought you against him and suddenly it was very cozy between you two.

You let the melody consume you as Danny lightly drifted you throughout the dancefloor, his face ever so slowly getting closer to yours. His hands were roaming your back as he brought you ever so closer to him to the point you both were barely missing each other’s toes. Suddenly it seemed like you both were spinning around each other until his lips barely slipped over yours.

“Look who’s become a jive dancer,” he said silently against your lips and a little groan escaped your lips at just hearing him talk to you like that, every word he ever whispered to you in private with no wondering eyes would burn you to your core.

“I had a good teacher,” you joked back as your hands wrapped around his neck, your nails every so slightly digging into his fur. You felt him lose his breath against your face and his own fingers dug into your lower back and suddenly it felt as if you both weren’t close enough. You both were never close enough.

“Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?” He asked as he leisurely twirled you and brought you back to him.

“Maybe. But it's nice to hear it from such a dreamboat like you,” you said against his lips and he dipped you once again, but you barely made it pass his shoulder as he pushed his mouth against yours. A whirlwind of emotions surfaced throughout your body as your hand came up and caressed his face, your stomach dropping to the floor and your heart traveling up your throat.

He separated himself from you for just a second to bring you back up on your feet before attacking your lips again, one of his hands on the nap of your neck to tilt your head more up.

You were aware of the suspicious and judging eyes that fell upon you both, but for the first time, you didn’t care. He made you worry less, he gave you such an intoxication that not a single bottle of alcohol could ever get you as drunk as he did. The aftertaste of wine drifted onto your lips and you moaned into his mouth, grinning evilly as he shifted in his spot. His tail soon curled around your waist so that his other hand could go to the side of your face.

He detached himself from you for just a second to say, “ Ya better pay that bill before the only thing yer wearing is that smile.”

The world seemed to freeze before you as your hands slipped off of him and walked him over back to the table, the bill trembling in your hands as you paid for it, all while feeling Danny’s hand place itself lower than your back. You can feel sweat slowly start to build over your body as he opened the door for you and followed you out the door.

And before you knew it, you were back at your place, and once Danny closed the door behind you, he pounced, as if he wasn’t the rat, but the cat. His hands traveled over your outfit as if it burned his hands and couldn’t keep them in one spot and his kisses were slow and teasing, causing you to squirm under his touch. You couldn’t breath, you couldn’t hear anything, all you felt was the buzzing against your fingertips as they dug into his chest, your hands had already done the work to undo his tie and his undershirt.

The door met your back and Danny was panting against your lips, his mind had gone completely blank except for you, he only thought about you and this moment, how it might be days until he saw you again. The thought of not seeing you stabbed him in the gut, and he’s known that feeling before, and it’s not a good feeling. He missed hearing your laughter, he desired to see your glistening eyes look at him, he wanted to be with you. It drove him nuts, no, it drove him insane at the thought of it. That once he woke up from your bed, he would have to sneak out early so that no one would see him leave your home and would have to race back to his apartment instead of laying with you and getting to wake up with you in the morning. He’s never been here when you woke up, he’s never been able to see your eyes flutter open and for the first thing for you to see in the morning was him, he’s never been able to see the morning light shine against your features as if the sun was trying to capture your face. He’s never been able to share the first cup of coffee with you, to see his pjs shirt draped over you like a blanket as you watch the morning go by, as he would watch you with loving eyes. And that’s what drove him to kiss you harder, that’s what pushed him to pull your head back and for him to replace your old love marks with new ones, it’s what forced him to savor every second of this, to cherish what you give him tonight, he would cherish every damn second you gave to him in secret.

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt dastardly danny #rottmnt dastardly danny x reader #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #Spotify

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yourcreepyneighborhoodelftwink · 3 years

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As the Hero fell upwards through the sands of time, the days rewinding like the gears of a clock, he landed calmly on the cobblestones of Clock Town Square, at the dawn of the first day. He had been through this many times before, and had grown accustomed to reliving the same 3 days, helping the same people with the same schedules, slowly making more and more progress each time. At least he didn't feel an enormous time crunch, even with the threat of the moon hanging above him, he was always able to rewind the days, and could take days to rest, to sleep or ride Epona or play with the inhabitants.

He rarely did, but it was nice that the option was there.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Tatl getting his attention with a soft tinkling sound, looking over at the stand near the Deku flower, and the note pinned to it.

"That's certainly new…" she said cautiously as they approached, Tatl reading aloud to Link.

The pair exchanged a confused and frightened look. It wasn't signed, but they knew exactly who left the note for them.

BEN sat on the edge of the field, their boots hanging over the barrier where the grass turned into sand, looking out at the canyon leading to the beach. It had been so long since they had entered their game, only playing it from the outside. Perhaps they had been showing too much love to Breath of the Wild lately and not enough to the dark masterpiece of their former prison, or perhaps it was the only world they could enter that felt truly real, where the sun was warm and the wind blew. They HAD become a bit spoiled, learning that adding weather effects and random wind blowing did wonders to immersion when they entered a game.

They closed their eyes, speaking up before looking behind them.

"You didn't have to rush over here. "as possible" doesn't mean "instantly", you know…" BEN said gently, lowering their ears with a guilty smile.

Link frowned softly, keeping his distance from the elf. He couldn't draw his sword AND sign, after all, so he would have to make due. "You didn't specify. I've learned better than to provoke you."

BEN couldn't exactly blame his caution. It's why they were here, after all. "My bad. I'll be more specific next time. But I suppose it's neither here nor there now…"

"...is there something you want, BEN? " Link asked, clearly a bit anxious by being asked to meet.

"...a few things. I won't lie and say there isn't a favor I'd like to ask the both of you-"

"Like you have any right to ask Link for anything, at this point!" Tatl quickly interjected, turning red in anger. "You've terrorized us for no good reason, revealed truths we didn't need to know, and then just left us alone one day!"

"-BUT," BEN continued, "that isn't my main reason for being here. First and foremost... You're long overdue for an apology from me."

Link and Tatl looked at each other in confusion. "...pardon? " Link questioned.

"...I've been doing a lot of thinking and self reflecting lately. Especially because I finally have reason to want to improve myself. And I think I've gotten pretty far in trying to right the wrongs of my past, and try to change as a person. But I still never gave the both of you a proper apology, or even an explanation for how I treated you…" BEN sheepishly said.

Link looked down at the seated person, absolutely dumbfounded. All the times he had been attacked by BEN came instantly into his mind, only to not even be able to so much as scratch them in return, even the might of a Goron doing nothing to them. All the times he had been followed and told he was insignificant, worthless, a joke of a hero, told he was nothing more than a bland, boring conduit for the player of a game in a world far grander than his own. Only for BEN to just... Disappear one day. Gone. Vanish into thin air, and only return occasionally, seemingly at their leisure. Something... Didn't add up to him, and he wasn't sure what on Earth made them suddenly stop tormenting him, and now want to make things right.

"...I'll hear you out, at least," Link finally said, stepping forward to sit next to him. If nothing else, were he going to harm Link, BEN would have done it by now.

"Not that it makes us all hunky-dory yet," Tatl offered, settling on Link's shoulder.

BEN smiled softly, letting out a relieved breath. They stayed quiet for a moment, deciding their words carefully. "I'm not... Sure where to start. So much has happened to me. I guess I should start when we first met. When I first entered this game. It was my favorite game, and with me when I died," they started.

Tatl interrupted, jingling softly. "...when you died?"

BEN nodded softly. "When I died. I was just about your age, Link, about 12. More specifically, when I was murdered. Father simply... Got tired of me, I suppose. He tricked my religion's leader- we refer to him as The Father- into thinking it was my time to Ascend when it wasn't. The whole explanation of my belief system isn't important in this, just that I was robbed of something very important and sacred to me because of it."

"That sounds horrible," Link signed.

"It was... And I was only 12, and not the greatest at understanding or expressing my emotions... I was so angry, absolutely furious at losing that chance, as what had been done to me. I've always had a strong sense of justice, if you can believe it. I don't easily stand for people wronging me. But when I died, my spirit was trapped in this game. All that rage bottled up, with nowhere to release it... Until I started releasing it on you. Very unfairly."

"I'll say," Tatl said, though there wasn't much bite behind her words.

"Eventually, someone played the game, and I was able to break free, find someone else to torment. And after that, start lashing out at everyone who had hurt me, making them

PĄŸ,"

BEN continued, their voice glitching out just a bit at the final word.

"...i moved on to more innocent people after that. I was out of control. To the point where my goddess, Luna, intervened. She stopped me herself, gave me a new body, made me into a young adult so I wouldn't be trapped as a child forever, and I carry the souls of everyone I hurt in my blind sadism, until I join her again one day. And I've worked hard to be a better person now. I've found so much to make my life wonderful, and to make the most of my second chance…" BEN trailed off.

"...but you still want to make amends to everyone you've hurt," Link finished for them.

"...I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't think I can be forgiven. But I really AM sorry for how I treated you. Both of you. Of everyone I've lashed out at, you're the least deserving of it. No matter WHAT'S happened to me, it's NO excuse for how much I've hurt you. And even if you never forgive me, I would love the opportunity to make it up to you…" they finished softly.

"...would you excuse us for a moment?" Tatl asked, flying a slight distance away. Link glanced over at BEN before rising to his feet to follow, and speak with the fairy alone. BEN politely stayed looking forward, allowing them the privacy.

"...do you believe them?" Tatl asked.

"...yeah. They seem genuine," Link admitted.

Tatl nodded softly. "I do, too. There's much simpler ways to trick us or convince us if that was their intention. Even if they said they wanted a favor, this is a lot of lengths to go to for just that…"

"I wonder what they want," the hero mused, glancing over at BEN.

"...maybe ask? Perhaps you can also ask a favor of him, test his sincerity," she said.

"What would that be? " he asked.

"Well, you've said you're curious about his world, whatever it is that our entire world is only a game in, a small part of. Maybe you can ask to explore his world. It'd give you the opportunity to spend more time with him and let him earn your trust, anyway," she offered.

Link nodded softly, then whistled to get BEN's attention. "Alright, BEN, we've talked it over. First, I want to know what favor it is you want…"

"Actually, it's a favor specifically from Tatl," they explained.

"Wait, me?" she questioned.

"...my daughter has watched me play this game a lot. And she's absolutely fallen in LOVE with you, she ADORES seeing you on screen. Her first birthday is in a few months, and there's... Circumstances about my life, and now hers, that will make her very different from other children, with so many secrets to keep. She could really use having a companion by her side, a friend to offer wisdom and company and help when she needs it. A copy of you, like how I copied Epona, to watch over her and make her feel less alone…" BEN said.

"...you have a daughter?" Link asked.

"And a boyfriend. Soon to be husband," BEN explained, holding up their hand to show off their ring.

Tatl let out a soft chime at this. "Well... I'm certainly flattered you think I'd make a good companion to her…"

BEN smiled softly. "I don't expect an answer today, don't worry. There's still a few months before her birthday. And I understand if it's not something you're comfortable with…"

"...we have a proposal for you, in that case," Link began. "You want to make amends to us. We're admittedly curious about this world outside of our own. So, let us explore. Show us your life, and what lies outside this "game", and earn our trust. Then we'll consider it."

BEN thought this over. They'd have to be careful, but this wasn't impossible… "...I can't completely remove you from the game. I'd have to copy you, then merge the copy and your true self after. It's basically the same thing, though, you'd keep the memories and everything. And you'd have to do EXACTLY as I say, I... REALLY can't have attention drawn to myself or the people I live with. If there's something that catches your attention, you can't gawk, just stay calm and ask me. And there's going to be a LOT, the real world is nothing like this one. Hylian sign doesn't match up with any sign language in my world, so you'll at least be able to speak freely. But if you can do that, and trust that I'm keeping us both safe when I tell you to do something... I'll happily show you around."

Link considers this, then nods. He holds out his hand to BEN, who shakes it.

"Then we have a deal."

#the hero of thunderthighs #creepypasta #ben drowned #fic #fanfic #(y'all deserve to know the Google Docs title for this is 'uh-oh BENny-wenny done a fucky-wucky')

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 4 years

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The Maze Trials: A Gally Fanfiction

Pairing: Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, first girl the Glade has seen. Tougher than she looks and more than ready to prove it. Since day one her and Gally have been at each other's throats. Fighting constantly and not just with their words.

(Gally fanfiction which will include smut. It also has an actual story line. Think of it as an AU to the original Maze Runner. It'll mostly follow the main story line with some changes. Mostly focusing on Emi and Gally and their relationship.)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the distance beyond the smoke from the flames I could see a few figures coming towards us. They were walking quickly. Once they got beyond the smoke I could see that it was Gally leading the way. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him. In that moment I didn't care about the grievers. I didn't care Gally had called quits on us. All I cared about was the big angry builder coming straight for us.

"Gally" Thomas said timidly.

Gally's answer was a severe right hook knocking Thomas to the ground. Several of the boys grabbed Gally pulling him back from the boy on the ground.

"This is all you Thomas! Look around!" Gally shouted angrily.

"Back up!" Fry shouted.

"You heard Alby! He's one of them! He's one of them and they sent him here to destroy everything and now he has!" Gally shouted furiously as he fought back the gladers holding him.

"Look around Thomas! Look around! This is your fault!" Gally continued to shout.

I moved to pull the gladers away from Gally making myself the only barrier between Gally and Thomas. Gally continued trying to scream and rant at Thomas. I grabbed his face making him look down at me. His eyes narrowed like he was about to turn his words on my instead of the other boy.

"Thomas! No!" Chuck and Teresa shouted from behind us.

I turned around quickly to see Thomas fall to the ground with a griever stinger sticking out of his stomach. I darted toward the boy falling to me knees beside him as Teresa ordered Chuck to get the other syringe. He was seizing. His eyes rolling back. I pulled the stinger out of his stomach and tossed it a few feet away.

"It's going to be okay. It'll be okay." I whispered as I held his face in my hands.

Chuck came running back with the syringe. We quickly stabbed it into his skin giving him the medicine.

"Take Thomas and Teresa to the pit." Gally practically growled.

I jumped to my feet to look at him. Who does he think he is? He's not Alby. He isn't our leader. I opened my mouth to chide him but he grabbed my arm roughly as he dragged me behind him to one of the barely standing huts. He opened the door then pushed me inside. He stepped in slamming the door behind him.

"Gally?" I questioned watching him start to pace.

He put his finger up at me then continued pacing. He turned towards me taking three large steps to put himself right in front of me. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. He was so on edge I was actually scared of what he might do. To my surprise he grabbed each side of my face holding me still as he crashed his lips against mine. I instantly melted into him. His arms moving to wrap around my waist as he pulled me closer. After everything that happened knowing Gally was safe was all I needed. I knew this kiss was the same for him. We shared too much to just completely fall out of each other's hearts.

He pulled away leaning his forehead against mine. We stayed like this for a few silent minutes just enjoying being close to one another again. I had missed him warmth. His touch. His lips.

"Gally" I whispered.

"Please, I just want to stay like this for a little longer." He whispered back tightening his arms around me.

"I do too but you know we can't. The Glade is literally on fire. We have to figure out what to do." I said quietly holding him just as close as he was holding me.

"I already know what to do." He said simply.

"What?" I asked looking up to lock my eyes with his.

"I don't want to talk about it. It'll just piss you off and I'd rather just hold you for what little time I have left to do so."

I pulled myself out of his arms stepping back so I could glare at him. He sighed crossing his arms over his chest.

"All I can say Emi is choose your side. Thomas or me. Just know that no matter what I will always love you." He tried to look stern but I saw the softness in his eyes as he watched me.

"What are you planning?" I asked hesitantly.

"You'll have to wait till tomorrow to find that out." He said simply then turned and left back out the door.

It didn't take long for Gally to take complete control of the Glade. The only ones not in his circle was Minho, Newt, Chuck and myself. We all stood to the side watching the others move about doing whatever Gally had ordered them to do.

"Can't you talk some sense into him?" Chuck asked me.

"He doesn't listen to me anymore." I said sadly.

"Then what do we do?" Minho asked.

"We wait for Thomas to wake up then see what he has to say." I stated matter of factly.

---

The night and most of the next day was incredibly long. Gally kept us mostly out of the loop but we had caught on to what he was intending to do for the most part. We were able to get away from the other gladers and make our way over to Thomas and Teresa who were still locked in the pit. We huddled around the bars as soon as we saw that Thomas was awake. He looked at us grimly before moving closer so we could hear him.

"It's not a prison. It's a test. It all started when we were kids. They'd give us these challenges. They were experimenting on us. And then people started disappearing every month one after the other like clock work." Thomas started to explain.

"Sending them up into the maze." Newt said.

"Yea, but not all of us." Thomas said grimly.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

There was a pause before Thomas continued.

"Guys, I'm one of them. The people who put you here. I worked with them. I watched you guys for years. The entire time you've been here. I was on the other side of it. So were you." Thomas said stopping to look at Teresa.

"What?" She questioned him.

"Teresa, we did this to them." Thomas told her quietly.

"No, that can't be true." She whispered shaking her head.

"It is, I saw it as well as you." Thomas turned to me this time.

"I'm sorry?" I asked him.

"I saw you. The day they took you from me. The day they separated us. I felt completely lost without my twin sister." He said with a ghost of a smile.

"We really are twins?" I asked him.

He nodded.

"Why would they send us up if we were with them?" Teresa asked pulling Thomas' attention back to her.

"It doesn't matter." Thomas whispered.

"He's right. It doesn't matter. Any of it. The people we were before the maze they don't even exist anymore. These creators took care of that. What does matter is who we are now and what we do right now." Newt said glancing between all of us.

Then he turned to look straight at Thomas.

"You went into the maze and found a way out." Newt told him in amazement.

"Maybe if I hadn't Alby would still be alive." Thomas said trying to hide the pain he felt.

There was a pause as Thomas and Newt stared at each other.

"Maybe but I know if he were here he'd be telling you the exact same thing. Pick your ass up and finish what you started. Cause if we do nothing then that means Alby died for nothing and I can't have that." Newt spoke passionately never tearing his eyes away from Thomas.

Thomas sighed then nodded.

"Okay, okay, but we gotta get threw Gally first." He stated.

Instantly all the heads turned to look at me.

"What? I'm not gonna be able to talk sense into him. I've already tried that." I said matter of factly.

"I have an idea." Minho spoke up.

"And that is?" I asked leaning closer to him.

"We know Gally is going to try and banish you. We give the spears to certain people then use those people to catch them by surprise. We get you free then get out of here." Minho explained quickly.

We agreed that it sounded good enough then broke off to not draw too much attention. Chuck, Newt, and I went back to the rest of the gladers. Gally sent one of his builders to help Minho bring Thomas and Teresa to him. He had set up two wooden poles in front of the doors. The rest of us stood around them watching Gally pace.

The builder Gally sent came back holding a bound Teresa. Minho tossed a fake unconscious Thomas to the ground. They didn't seem to expect anything.

"This is such a waste." Gally said as he looked at both Thomas and Teresa.

"Gally!" Winston said suddenly making most of us turn to look at him.

"This doesn't feel right man." He told Gally.

"What if Thomas is right? What if he can lead us home?" Jeff asked.

"We are home. Okay? I don't want to have to cross any more names off that wall." Gally said walking closer to Jeff.

"You really think banishing us is going to solve anything?" Teresa asked him.

He turned to face her.

"No. This isn't a banishing. It's an offering." Gally said quietly.

"What?" Both myself and Teresa asked in shock.

The builder holding her moved to tie her to the wooden post.

"Gally! What are you doing?" Teresa asked frantically as see was tied up.

"You really think I'm gonna let you and Thomas back into the maze? After what he's done? Look around you." Gally spoke towards Teresa.

He then turned to the other gladers.

"Look at our Glade. This is the only way. And when the grievers get what they came here for. Everything goes back to the way it was." Gally stated like he'd never been more sure of anything.

Newt, Minho, and I shared a look. Newt nodded making me turn to see Chuck a few feet away loaded down with everything we needed.

"Are you listening to this? Why are you all just standing there? He's crazy!" Teresa said turning around on the post.

"Will you shut up?" Gally asked calmly.

"If you stay here the grievers are going to come back. They're gonna come back and keep coming back until you're all dead." Teresa stated harshly.

"Shut up! Tie him up!" Gally ordered finally loosing his cool.

"Did you hear me? I said tie him up!" Gally shouted at the two gladers who hadn't moved.

As they pulled Thomas up he suddenly "woke up". He elbowed them both to make them let go then he grabbed the spear out of one of their hands. He used the spear to his the glader knocking him to the ground. Newt moved pulling out his knife. Chuck tossed me a spear. Teresa kicked the boy who had tied her up. Gally started forward but Minho gently placed his machete on his shoulder to stop him. Frypan quickly cut the ropes holding Teresa as Chuck ran towards us. Thomas, Newt, and I stood at the entrance to the maze. Our weapons at the ready. Teresa and Chuck both getting behind us. Minho slowly rounded Gally as he made he way over to us.

"You're full of surprises aren't you?" Gally asked.

"You don't have to come with us but we are leaving. Anyone else that wants to come now is your last chance." Thomas said loudly towards Gally.

I watched as the keeper of the builders scanned the faces until he stopped at me. I could see the clear pain and betrayal all over his face.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to scare you." Gally said to the gladers behind him.

"No I'm not trying to scare you. You're already scared. Alright, I'm scared. But I'd rather risk my life out there than spending the rest of it in here. We don't belong here. This place is not our home. We were put here. We were trapped here. At least out there we have a choice. We can make it out of here. I know that." Thomas spoke sparking life and awe into all of us.

Winston was the first to step forward. Then Clint then Jeff. A handful of others followed all coming to stand behind us at the entrance. The only ones left were mostly the builders and a few slicers.

"Gally, it's over. Come with us." Thomas said.

"Good luck against the grievers." He said as he nodded.

I felt the tears falling. I stepped forward but Newt grabbed my arm holding me in place.

"Gally, please come with us. Come with me." I pleaded trying to blink away my tears.

"I love you Emi" he said quietly then turned his back to me and walked back towards what was left of the Glade.

I was pulled by Newt as everyone started running. I forced myself to turn away and run with the others. I tried to push Gally out of my head but all I could see was his pain filled face and all I could hear was his last words he'd just spoken.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #the maze trials #the maze runner #gally imagine #gally smut #gally #gally x reader #tmr gally #original character

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sparkie96 · 4 years

Note

How do you feel about an AU Chreon, Leon's 9 months pregnant and has been kidnapped, And Chris comes to save him but he going into labor... and their B.O.W's (I got the idea from some movie I've seen about a deaf girl and her mom going into labor in the bathroom... I can't remember the name of it, but it's good) Sorry this is so long, I hope you enjoy it :)

(Yeah, I’m not really good at that kind of stuff and that movie made me a bit uncomfortable so...

I have a preview of an upcoming fic if that makes up for it?)

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And yet, here he was, in a hospital room with a peeved and annoyed Omega. The peace was over and the old Leon was back, glaring at Chris as he held their son, feeding the baby. He couldn’t read Leon as easily as he could before, the Omega’s body language a bit more difficult to decipher than before. Leon’s eyes were obviously angry, but at the same time, it looked like the scowl he always wore.

The doctors and nurses fluttered in and out of the room, checking on Leon and the baby, offering to fetch Leon food and running tests just to make sure both the mother and child were in perfect health. They acknowledged Chris as well, of course, asking if he needed anything and how he felt about being a new father.

“You two must be so happy!” One of the nurses gushed, “Congratulations!”

Leon merely hummed in reply, not looking Chris in the eye at the moment and instead focused on the little television at the foot of the bed, watching whatever it was that they had put on for them. Either way, he couldn’t look Chris directly in the face without wanting to punch him in it. The nurses and doctors finally gave them privacy, congratulating them once more before closing the door behind them, going out to tend to the other patients.

It was quiet, neither speaking to the other. Chris cleared his throat, trying to get Leon’s attention, but the Omega deliberately ignored him. Ollie cooed as he fed from his mother, Leon gently pulling him off to burp him. Chris watched intently, making sure Leon didn’t try anything that would end up hurting the little baby. Or maybe he was watching out of his own paranoia, to make sure Leon didn’t try to pull something that would end up hurting Chris.

“So…” Chris began, “Ollie is absolutely perfect.”

Leon raised his brows for a moment, but said nothing in reply, rocking the baby in his arms slowly. His attention was focused solely on the little one, pretending Chris wasn’t right there in his space. He was afraid he might do something he might regret if he looked up at the elder.

Chris sighed, “You’re mad at me.”

“You think?” Leon asked with a dark chuckle, “Boy, I can’t imagine why!”

“Hey! You can’t be mad at me! I wasn’t the one who assisted an international terrorist!” Chris hissed.

“She was a key fucking witness, you Fuckwit!” Leon argued, “You let the actual terrorist walk free and then had me fucking facilitated! And then, you fucking took me to your home and fucking took advantage of me!"

“One: Ada has been involved with numerous terrorist organizations and worked with the likes of Wesker and Neo-Umbrella. You could have apprehended her at any time, but each time you let her walk after you two exchanged goo-goo eyes and played Patty-Cake! Two: Simmons is clean, we found nothing. Three: You had yourself facilitated! That was on you!” Chris hollered, the commotion disturbing Ollie’s nap and making the baby cry loudly, "And I took you home because no one else would-!"

Before they could go any further, another nurse came back with Leon’s lunch, both Chris and Leon freezing and looking at the nurse. The man apologized for interrupting them, asking if everything was alright in here. Cold blue orbs met equally cold brown briefly, exchanging angry looks as Chris gave a nod, and a faux smile, telling the nurse that everything was just peachy. They were just having a conversation...a very loud conversation and had accidentally woken the baby from his nap.

The nurse beamed, setting the tray of food down on the little side table next to Leon’s hospital bed. Leon gave his own faux smile, noticing the nurse examining him. The man canted his head, asking Chris if Leon was one of those facility Omegas. He recalled Chris mentioning it prior to the baby’s birth, saying that Leon was one and had been prepared for these kinds of things.

“Oh...yeah. He is.” Chris confirmed, “Why? Is there something wrong?”

The nurse looked to Leon again, the Omega clearly confused and annoyed, “I don’t know...but aren’t those types of Omegas supposed to be...happy and sunshine and rainbows twenty-four-seven? Leon seems a bit more...doom and gloom. During the birth, he seemed a tad...feral.” The nurse explained.

Chris scoffed, “What? No! He was in pain! Of course he seemed feral! Birth isn’t exactly a ticklish process! He’ll be fine once I get him back home! Right, Leon?”

Leon looked between the nurse and Chris, giving an even bigger smile and a nod, looking more unhinged than friendly, “Absolutely! I am absolutely ecstatic about the birth of our precious baby boy! I cannot wait to go back to my Omega duties and care for my mate and child!”

The nurse raised a brow, a bit disturbed at the unnatural smile Leon wore and the overly happy and kind of robotic tone that Leon spoke with. He merely shook his head, mentally saying that maybe he was just a bit too tired due to the long shift. He apologized for his prodding and congratulated them on the birth of their child before excusing himself from their hospital room.

Chris gave Leon a look, “Yeah...I think that was definitely convincing. Not at all suspicious…” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, fuck off.” Leon said with a sigh, digging into his lunch.

________________________________________________________________

Leon and Ollie were kept overnight, Chris not leaving their side for even a second. Leon asked exactly what had happened between now and China, saying that his memory had been really fuzzy after China. He could only minimally remember the facility, up until a certain point. And then it was nothing but painful white noise, drawing a blank.

Chris held Ollie as he contemplated telling Leon the truth. He then told him what had happened without going too in depth with the details, saying that Ada Wong and Neo-Umbrella had been disposed of, Ada having been killed by suits in a helicopter and the facilities in the gulf had been taken care of. Piers had been lost in the process...thanks to Ada's pet project, but they had been in the process of looking for him, saying that it was possible that he could still be alive. Or at least locate a body so his family could have a body to bury in New England.

Then, there had been news that Leon had gone "feral" and due to his behavior, the courts and DSO had facilitated him. Helena had been incarcerated for assisting Leon and Ada in the attacks and agents within the DSO had been arrested as well for helping and colluding with Neo-Umbrella operatives, including Ingrid Hunnigan for assisting Helena and Leon after Tall Oaks.

Leon listened intently, feeling sick to his stomach at the news. Christ...he failed Helena, Hunnigan, Adam, the people of Tall Oaks...and even Ada. Christ, how had Simmons gotten away with all of this? Why would Ada do this? Wasn't she above all that?

"As for the facility bit...they had me fill out paperwork and then made me wait two to three months until you were "Fixed" and showed up at my doorstep all Stepford Housewife out." Chris explained, "What do you remember happening?"

Leon tried to remember but grunted, holding his head in pain. He tried...he really did, but he only had small flashes of memory, the sound of a machine, a loud whining sound...bright fluorescent lights...almost like...Christ! Why the Hell did his head hurt so much? Why couldn't he remember?

"I don't know...I can't remember…" Leon admitted, "Head hurts like a bitch to try…"

Chris hummed, "That might be due to the electro shock therapy they put you through while you were there." He explained, "You showed up with these marks on both of your temples, and Dr. Policki said that it was all part of your treatment."

"Yeah, cause that's legal…" Leon replied sarcastically, "So...when can I go home?"

"You and Ollie will be dismissed tomorrow morning if all the tests look good and you feel good enough to do so." Chris explained.

"And what about you?" Leon asked, wondering if the Alpha had previously understood what Leon had been implying.

Chris caught on, "You don't have an apartment to go back to...or a job. They ransacked the apartment and your office...you live with me now for a reason." He reminded him, "Legally, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, I own you."

"I'm not property." Leon growled, "I should be able to come and go as I please."

"Not anymore." Chris pointed out, "Not after all the shit you've been involved with. You were considered a threat to the public...hell, you're technically still a threat now that the hypnosis wore off. The government stripped you of everything and declared you feral."

Leon scoffed and shook his head at Chris, asking the man if he was serious. Chris only gave him a look, saying that he was dead serious and Leon wasn't going anywhere unless he had an escort or Chris was with him. He was lucky to be allowed to go outside at all. Leon argued that he wasn't a threat...because he didn't have anything to do with the Tall Oaks incident. Yes, he shot the president, but the man had already turned by the time he did so, and he even hesitated when he did so. That it was Simmons who was behind everything.

Chris shook his head, waving Leon off, "Leon, enough." He said sternly, "The BSAA and the DSO have their evidence that you and Agent Harper colluded with Ada Wong and caused all of this. From Edonia, to Tall Oaks."

Leon narrowed his eyes, "What...the Hell is Edonia?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Chris sighed and shook his head again, "I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

"Why? How can I be responsible for any of that if-?"

"Enough!" Chris repeated, "I don't...just, for once in your life, shut up. Please."

"No! You're accusing me of something I didn't do! I was arrested for shit I had no involvement in and now you, a man I thought I could trust, won't even let me explain myself!" Leon protested.

"What is there left to explain?" Chris asked, "We have all the evidence. The DSO does too and you've already been convicted, done your time and now you're serving your sentence. Just stop before you make things worse for yourself."

Leon let out an over exasperated growl of frustration, choosing to shut up and sit back in the bed. He crossed his arms and merely glared up at Chris. The Alpha gave a sigh and relaxed in his seat, looking from Ollie to the Omega, watching Leon.

This wasn't going to be smooth sailing from here on out.

#Thirsty Thursday #upcoming ao3fic #Starting Anew #Leon S. Kennedy #Chris Redfield #Ollie Kennedy Redfield #Eventual Chreon #Angst #and then Happy Ending #Preview #Omegaverse AUs #alpha/beta/omega AU #Send Me Asks

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scarluxia · 3 years

Text

Let's talk about some Adventures I had in Phoenix, AZ in 2015. It came up in my FB Memories and even though I determined to let everything from last decade go, this one still rankles. I got "in trouble" with these people for being open about my experiences on my Facebook because, even though I hadn't mentioned names, they didn't like me "putting their business out there".

CW for ableism, depression, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and I'll try to put all that in the tags.

My partner, Loki (yes real name), and I had been urban camping in Portland, OR for about a month. It had gotten cold and rainy to the point where we couldn't safely stay living outdoors, and Loki's father (who didn't approve of me) had demanded he come back to California and live with Loki's uncle. He made it quite clear I was not welcome, so I ended up going to Arizona because I had a friend who was willing to put me up. She and I had known each other since 2008 and I figured I would be safe with her. At the time, Loki was much more easily influenced by what his family wanted, and we ended up having kind of a nasty set of conversations over whether he was abandoning me.

While in Portland, my wallet had been stolen so I had no ID or SS card. I had reported it stolen of course, but had received no response until I was leaving Arizona.

My friend in Arizona had two young sons, a husband, and a boyfriend. Now, I have some sensory issues that make it so I have a hard time being around children. High pitched noises hurt me to my bones, like, even now I have to leave the room if my son gets overly excited and starts shrieking.

I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, which was where the kids would go when they woke up and where the TVs and entertainment consoles were.

Anyway, they wanted me to contribute to the household and whatnot but I was severely depressed and I think I've provided all the context I can remember? If the rest of this doesn't make sense, please know that there was a part 1 but it came up in my Memories on a different day and i didn't think I would be rehashing it.

So I couldn't do work, couldn't do anything anyone had asked me to do to satisfaction because various things that did not, in fact, depend on me. Maybe I wasn't being enough of a ~team player~, I don't know. But anyway, I did my best with what I had. Sometimes, because of THE EXTREME FUCKING SENSORY ISSUES THAT COME WITH AUTISM, I would get overwhelmed by the kids screaming. Two little boys, barely school age, and their parents sat them in front of a TV and gave them controllers. That's it. They had toys in their room, sure, but they weren't getting outside. I suggested taking them out a couple times, but firstly, I didn't know the area and wasn't about to go out alone, and secondly, I can't split in half and I'm not in good shape, so even if I had known the area, I wouldn't have taken TWO small children outside to run around where they could run out of the designated area. I'm kind of anal that way, I guess. But Woman A (mum) and Man B ("uncle") never got off their arses to help me take them outside, and Man A was at work.

Oh, yes, parental interaction with the kids. Woman A loved her sons very much. But at their age (3 and 5), they both should have been toilet trained. They should have gotten at least two hours outside every day. They threw fits when they weren't allowed to play video games because, instead of games being a special treat that was earned with good behavior, they were toys carelessly tossed at the kids to keep them out of everyone's hair. Conversely, and bizarrely, reading to them WAS a special treat. The father woke up, played games, basically brushed off his kids, and went to work. Same when he got home for lunch, and he *ordered* us to have them in bed by the time he got home for good. The mum did somewhat interact with them, but mostly just wanted them out of her hair. I wasn't so nice because I'm not good with kids in general and also loud screeching HURTS, IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP. (Same with snoring, or any noise made when I want to sleep.) This isn't me being a ~diva~, it is an actual manifestation of a mental disability.

Woman A was of the opinion that "everyone who lives in a house with kids automatically becomes a coparent", maybe because she wasn't willing to actually parent her kids herself.

Note from the future: I still disagree with the idea that "anyone who lives in a house with kids is automatically a co-parent". Parent your own kids. I don't expect my dad to parent my son when we go visit him and he made it quite clear when I was pregnant that he would not take on a co-parenting role (because his wives 30-50 years ago had handled the babies and he doesn't really know how to calm them down beyond entertaining them)

She got a really bitchy look on her face whenever I (who have been around children, especially TROUBLED children, all my life) made any sort of suggestion. Well sorry, lady, but it's not like you're doing such a great job with them. Y'all act like you barely want anything to do with them. Like they're cute and little and fun to snuggle, but actually teaching them anything? Forget about it, just toss em a controller and hope they don't kill each other in the game or real life. Meanwhile, they have no outlet for their natural physical energy, no real outlet for their curiosity. They're going to grow up stupid and sedentary, with "no one paid attention to me during childhood except when it was convenient for THEM" to deal with. The older kid recently got on meds for a condition that, from what I observed, was likely much more nurture than nature. And what everyone ate, my God, those kids were the only non-overweight people in the house, and it's little wonder! I bought ACTUAL NUTRITIONAL food for everyone, and the adults look at me like I'm from some demon dimension. I made a light comment about how I'd never eaten anything like what they had growing up. You know, boxed potatoes, veggies out of a can, white bread, sugary peanut butter. And Woman A was like, "well YOU don't have kids."

Um, no, but my father did.

I have a kid now, am working part time at min. wage because my boss sees my performance as so-so (plus she's been forced to give me a raise every time the County of Where I Live raises the minimum), in a single-income household, on as much Family With Kids welfare as My County will allow, and I still wouldn't feed my kid that crap LOL

Spoiler alert: they made me use all my food stamps on their household and then kicked me out later that month so... When I bought food I bought HEALTHY food, like, I've been on food stamps my entire life... Also, WIC specifically pays for WHEAT bread, fruits & veggies, and they do let you get peanut butter without sugar so idk what was going on there with them.

My father was a SINGLE PARENT raising a daughter in America after 20 years of living in Europe and raising kids with his previous wives. Well, up until the divorces, anyway. I was the only kid he ever got to keep. He told me things about how the others had been raised compared to how I was raised, and I saw the outcomes of different parenting styles in my peers as well. My father was a very poor man whose trade had been outsourced and who struggled to support us for years. And yet, we never went hungry, and he never fed me boxed potatoes. Never fed me sugary peanut butter, white bread, or veggies out of a can.

Ok I understand canned veggies are better than no veggies, and not everyone can get fresh, but you CAN get frozen in AZ. I always had fresh or frozen growing up.

It wasn't because we were living in the lap of luxury. It's because...

HE FUCKING VALUED OUR HEALTH OVER CONVENIENT, CRAPPY, NUTRIENT-FREE FOOD!!!! This is not a difficult concept. He ALSO read to me every night, despite having what I now realise was a very grueling day at work just to put said healthy food on the table. I didn't get to watch TV or play computer games (edu-tainment, the only kind I was allowed) until after all my homework was done. I can't remember if I was a particularly active child, but I'm sure I had the OPTION!!!! TO GO OUT.

Meanwhile, when I was at various stages of my life, I met kids whose parents shunted them from guardian to guardian because they didn't want to deal with them, kids whose parents were kind and supportive but rubbish at enforcing discipline, kids whose parents were abusive in every kind of way, and kids whose parents did their best.

You know, I wasn't raised perfectly. My upbringing lacked social grace and included some toxic ideas about womanhood that I've only been learning to overcome recently in my adulthood. But DON'T FUCKING ACT LIKE I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RAISING KIDS JUST BECAUSE I DON'T CURRENTLY HAVE ANY. I have my own life, the lives of my peers, and a wonderful online community of new parents raising children in kind and socially aware ways, to draw inspiration from. I can go to any one of them, and to my own parents, and ask "hey does X seem weird to you?" And they'll give me their honest opinion, which *is valuable*. I have even mapped out a general idea of how to get through some parts of my children's lives, and I'm not even planning to have kids for at least another few years. I mean, honestly, it used to be "I don't want kids ever", but dear gosh, if I can have any part of raising someone in a manner that defies procrastination culture, entitlement culture, and everything wrong with the way my husband and I were raised, maybe it wouldn't be a complete horror. If I can ensure that not all hope for the next generation is lost, hey.

Anyway, I've gone off topic...

I also had some issues with the men. Man B just didn't seem to like anything ever. I had no idea what Woman A saw in him. I remember one time he tried to tell me, a Christian, that I can't tell people what a "real Christian" is because it ~invalidates their identity~. Excuse me, no. It doesn't work that way. There are things that Christ taught, and anyone who blatantly goes against them IN THE NAME OF CHRISTIANITY, IS NOT A REAL CHRISTIAN. And yes, I realise this entire rant has been very judgey and technically I'm not supposed to do that either, but it's not like I'm saying they're going to Hell. Just that their kids are going to be sluggish and stupid, and I can't understand how these people have the gumption to try to lecture anyone else about life when they're not even TRYING to get their own lives together.

Yeah so they tried to lecture me about how I was "letting" Loki mistreat me and how I cared more about "socializing" with my estranged husband (I have separation anxiety) than helping around the house e_e They also implied I used depression as an excuse to be lazy.

Man B was supposedly "super employable." Well, okay, even though his "job hunt" seemed to consist more of sitting around playing video games, he was larger than my father (who is 6 ft tall with a protruding gut and weighs 240 lbs at last count) (My father and I are both 60 lbs above our ideal weights. But we're working on it!), and never seemed to get past the phone-screening process.

Now, Woman A told me that Man B was looking for work and that her family and some friends looked down on him for being a freeloader. Probably because she was anxious about me thinking the same. But here's the thing: I wouldn't have cared. Honestly. If you want to sit around playing games all day in your married girlfriend's apartment with her and her husband playing video games all day, go right ahead. If you want to bake three potatoes at a time and take them back to your room for a snack, hey, more power to you. But don't piss out the window and call it rain.

I don't care how employable you are, where you live, who you're living with, or what your lifestyle is like. It doesn't affect me in any way. But don't act like you're doing something you're not just to appease someone's judgmental family. That doesn't ever end well.

Now, see, I clearly have a problem with people who do that. I don't hide many aspects of myself, though I will refuse to answer a question if I feel it's none of someone's business or if they're just asking it to be a judgmental asshole. I refuse to compromise myself or my safe space to accommodate someone who can't make peace with who they are. Hell, you know me! You know my show!

Wait, this is Tumblr, so you might not know my show. It's a YouTube storyboard dedicated to processing and mocking some spiritual and psychological abuse I've undergone in my life. On Facebook, it was one of the things I was known for at the time because I was constantly posting clips and art, and trying to recruit voice actors.

I sell anyone out who I catch lying to me about anything! That's nothing new! And these people knew that about me. For SEVEN. FUCKING. YEARS.

So anyway. Woman A has a lot of great short term goals but no actual follow through because "I'm just not in the mood right now." No judgment there. I've totally been there. The only problem is when it gets ME in trouble.

"Let's walk the dog." "I'm not in the mood." Okay, then the dog doesn't get walked because I can't figure out my way around the place alone.

"Let's do the dishes." Woman A doesn't let me know when the washer stopped. Okay. Then the rest of the dishes don't get washed.

"Let's take the kids outside." "No I'm too tired." Okay, then they're going to be RUNNING AROUND THE APARTMENT SCREAMING WHICH MY EARS CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE so bye I'm just gonna borrow your room and isolate myself for a bit.

"Let's go to the gym!" "Maybe later." But later never comes.

Do you see where I'm going here? As for the men, they BOTH complain that they're "doing too much" around the house. Okay, probably fair for Man A, who works full time and deserves to come home to a clean house. But Man B. Wtf. You literally do nothing, except when you do, and when you do, we're meant to throw you a parade? That's not how adulthood works, or so I've heard.

Note: All three of these people are older than me. I was 24? at the time, fresh out of trade school, on my own for the first time in my life. (Maybe 2nd? I ran away when I was 17 but ended up with my grandparents so idk if that counts.) Woman A was 26 at the time and had been married since 2008, had experience with office work and parenthood, etc. Both men were older than her. I was a chronological adult with the life experience of a teenager, so I felt comfortable saying that.

So did I mention that I'm sleeping in the living room during this stay? And the adults don't go to bed until like 2 AM, which means, because of my disability, wherein I cannot sleep if there's any sort of non-ambient noise, *I* don't get to sleep until AFTER 2 AM. And the kids? They come in the living room screaming at 6 AM. Yep. Okay. Living on 4 hours of sleep, for the mathematically challenged. That and dealing with the emotional turmoil of being separated from my husband when I've got high separation anxiety in the first place. All my pain, everything, it's up to 11. and I'm supposed to contribute but there's not really anything that allows me to contribute.

So what do they do? They ambush me. Call a "family meeting" to tell me absolutely everything that's wrong with me, after WEEKS of telling me what a big help I am and how grateful they are to have me around. Tell me I'm letting my "social life" get in the way of me helping around the house. Hmm. Social life. You mean, VENTING IN MY SAFE SPACE (Facebook, no names named) AND TRYING TO MEND THINGS WITH MY HUSBAND??????????????? Okay. Well since you guys treat your woman like shit, you clearly don't understand or appreciate devotion to one's spouse. Seriously. Woman A told me she used to have extreme separation anxiety with Man A, and that he would brush off her emotions as irrelevant. Her solution was to make it a poly relationship and take a lover WHO TREATS HER THE EXACT SAME WAY. I'm serious. She got no emotional support from either of them. They basically just threw pills at her and trained her to lie down until her feelings went away.

And she had the gall to lecture me (24 at the time) about how Loki (19 at the time & from a pretty horrific family) treated me. LOL ok. Log. Splinter.

As she knew, I'm monogamous. I do have some opinions on polyamoury based on individuals I've gotten to know who are in those types of relationships, but those opinions are irrelevant to this series of rants. Except one, which is pertinent: if you're going to take another lover, they should provide something that your existing lover(s) don't. If you're suffering from low emotional support and you just find someone else who doesn't emotionally support you and who treats you like a child who can't be trusted??? What are you even DOING? Like, she told me NEITHER of her men trust her judgment. What the fuck is a relationship without trust? And don't even try "dick too bomb" as an excuse when you tell me you haven't gotten laid in months and your husband is using your condoms on Woman B.

They don't support you. They don't trust you. And yet YOU'RE telling ME that things with my husband won't get better unless I follow your lead and take another lover? HELL TO THE NO. My husband has his faults, but if I tell him Person X can be trusted, he believes me.

Except for his ex-girlfriend whom he tried to add to our relationship when he tried to be poly, months later. That went Badly.

Or maybe he just knows I'll deal with them myself, with my hot, hot temper, if they turn out not to be trustworthy. He also doesn't treat me LIKE A CHILD. And while I sometimes point at things and make small motions when I can't physically talk, or sometimes even use baby talk when I'm feeling cutesy, I DON'T POINT AT A PIECE OF PAPER AND GO "THE CARRRRRR!!!!" IN AN INCREASINGLY HIGHER PITCH BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY, "Honey, I think we missed the car payment this month. Can you double check while the agent has you on hold, please?"

Okay, being a dick about losing words due to stress was not my finest moment, but at the time, I was just so appalled by how they treated her and how she allowed them to treat me.

So basically these adults who are nowhere near having their lives together, and aren't even really trying, put me on blast for not having everything running perfectly when THEY expected it to.

Let's reiterate. I couldn't get a job because I had no ID or social security card. I was waiting for them to be returned to me. I couldn't walk the kids or the dog, go to the gym, or complete all the household chores because no one would guide me. I need that guidance because of various components of my disability, which I really hate admitting to because I'm super fucking prideful, but I figured hey, she's not neurotypical either. These people will understand.

Their response when I brought this up? "You're an adult. You should know better." Sure, okay. But you should know that a child ought to be potty trained before he turns 5, or even 3; that kids need to run around, are entitled to their parents' attention and consistent discipline, and need!!! healthy!!!! food!!!!

Oh, discipline! So, she would send Older Boy to his room over misbehaving. But rather than enforce time-out, she'd go, "oh, I think I'm being too haaaard on him," and just... Relinquish. He's not about to learn anything that way, ma'am.

They called me trying to reconnect with the person I love more than almost anyone on this earth "obsessing over your social life". Well again, you treat your woman like shit, so MAYBE my undying devotion to the person I love goes a LITTLE bit over your head.

They told me that the household should be my first priority. Except no, because I am an autonomous person and my FIRST PRIORITY is, was, and ever has been the love of my life, whomever that may be at the time. That is 70% of my personality. I'm pretty sure anyone who had ever met me can vouch for my extreme devotion, and this woman had known me for SEVEN. YEARS. I'm not going to throw away 70% of myself to do an impossible task that no one will help me with.

They told me a lot of things I wasn't doing right, and for those of you who also struggle with anxiety and depression, you know that being told for weeks that everything is okay and you're so great and so helpful, and then being told that you're rubbish at everything... You know that that is hurtful. Devastating, even. I wanted to kill myself. I said that. I said that and expressed my feelings about some other things, in my safe space, without naming any names.

And even though I was posting in my safe space, I was polite about it. I was as gentle and rational as possible. I wasn't calling anyone out. Not like I am now. I wasn't trying to lead a witch hunt. I was just overwhelmed and trying to express my feelings. Trying to get myself not to kill myself. I had to tell myself over and over again that it's not what Loki would want for me.

In the morning, they woke me up and kicked me out. Said it was rude for me to say I don't care about their household. I never, NEVER said that. I said "Loki is my first priority." Something along the lines of "that's just how I am and I shouldn't be vilified for it." That doesn't mean I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. IT JUST MEANS THAT MY PRIORITIES WILL *NEVER* BE WHAT SOMEONE ELSE WANTS THEM TO BE. I AM A PERSON. I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT TO PRIORITISE, AND I HAVE THE RIGHT TO LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!

I MEAN, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. MY NAME IS *SIGYN*. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLES EXPECT?! WHY THE HELL SHOULD YOU HAVE FELT THREATENED BY ME SAYING ANYTHING IF I DIDN'T NAME NAMES AND WAS ACTUALLY RATIONAL? IF YOU SAW THIS, *MAYBE* YOU WOULD HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE PISSY, BUT NOT THEN!

They kicked me out after having asked me to buy them all food. I had used up all my food stamps. Because I hadn't anticipated this at all. I hadn't known they would take such offence to my existence, to my ways. To the fact that I value the man I married more than I value... Whatever they wanted me to value, I guess.

Fun fact: I ended up in a women's shelter after this, and one woman told me to actually kill myself because she was tired of hearing me cry at night.

They said I hadn't made any effort to get my life on track. Because I can just snap my fingers and make my ID appear. Because I can just manifest the money for a replacement. They said all these things that left me almost unable to breathe, in retaliation for me posting that I was suicidal.

Later, Woman A told me that this had been a long time coming and that they were trying to make room for Woman B and Woman C, both of whom were willing to have sex with the men, which is something that I would not. I feel the first woman I met at the shelter was accurate when she said they basically kicked me out because I wouldn't sleep with them.

I also later found out that my ID and SS card had been returned to sender. The Portland PD called me and told me. So my father came to the conclusion that the people I had been staying with sabotaged me from the start. For a while, I didn't feel it, but last night I dreamed about it, and the dream made me angry. I didn't deserve to be treated that way. And I really had to get all this off my chest, so for those of you who didn't immediately whip out your tiny violins, thank you.

#ableism #depression #rejection sensitive dysphoria #sensory sensitivity #child neglect #child abuse #resource insecurity?#i forgot about the part where someone tried to mansplain Christian gatekeeping to me #emotional abuse #polyamory but make it toxic #suicidal ideation

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