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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY THREE || THE ORIGIN OF BLIND OBEDIENCE 2

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + mention of violence + mention of hell + mention of killing + mention of fire + mention of burning + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 16 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but….

↳ previous episode : the origin of blind obedience

↳ next episode : accomplices

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, this isn’t by best piece of work since it’s been a while (taking a break does affect my typing skills, i can’t lie ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ) but i hope you enjoy this episode and for a hint of the next and final episode, it will be about Y/N’s past...like a time line may i say...NO MORE HINTS FOR YOU ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai : 5:04-5:17

Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku : 3:56-4:05

Binding Curse Spell number sixty-one: Rikojokoro : 2:08-2:14

Destructive Curse Spell number fifty-four: Haien : 6:08-6:12 (but if you have read the manga...you know what Sukuna did)

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better…

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“That’s a bit rude to say, don’t you think? Have some respect child,” the woman uttered in annoyance before you violently pushed your katana forward causing your opponent to be shoved away to some distance leaving space between you both.

“Respect goes both ways, you drag,” you replied back as you processed to raise your katana with a hint of excitement lingering within the blade as your cursed energy began to automatically flow to the black blade like the river you were near right now within the domain you were in.

“Don’t you think we should take this fight outside? I don’t want your little friends to get in the way,” your opponent queried. However, that question went from one ear to the other ear for you as you began to figure out what the plan was right now since you and your classmates were now dealing with two to three opponents.

‘Time...how much time do I have....how much time do I actually need?’

“It’s not good to daze out during a battle, what happens if I suddenly attack you?” the opposition taunted, yet you still didn’t have some sort of reaction like she wanted, causing a frown of irritation to gradually appear on her face.

Suddenly, you began to transfer some of your cursed energy to your arms and legs before swiftly pushing the ball of your right foot to push yourself forward before processing to swing your katana down, surprising the women in front of you as she quickly raised her metal tonfas to narrowly block your ambush, only for your other hand to reach the side of your belt to speedily unhook the polearm that was hanging on the side before fully swinging it towards the side of your enemy’s body.

Utilising some more cursed energy, the polearm immediately extended causing the metal pole to harshly smash into the side of the woman’s hip causing her to groan loudly in pain before hurling downwards like she was going to vomit, only for your foot to suddenly make contact with her stomach as you used your cursed energy to enhance the strength of your kick causing your opponent’s body to be thrust forward at a rapid rate as it pushed itself passed the wall of the domain you were in.

“You guys make sure to deal with that curse and the domain, I’ll handle her!” you shouted at your classmates in a panic before forcing yourself past the barrier of the domain that you were in to run after your attacker leading you to come back to where you were in the beginning, under Yashachi Bridge.

Currently, in front of you, was the woman crouching down while coughing in pain as she clenched her stomach causing you to take a few steady steps towards her body while raising your polearm over your head leading the woman to her to raise her head only to see the murderous look in your eyes causing a large wave of utter terror to consume her.

From all the years she had taken care of you, never once did she ever come to view the look that you were wearing right now. When you were just a child, you were somewhat of the quiet type and never really had the effort to make any friends yet for some reason, people were able to come up to you for help and you would gladly offer your guidance to them. From her view of you, never once you had expressed such extreme emotions as you did now.

“When did- When did you become like this?” your opponent muttered while groaning in pain causing you to look at her with a lack of emotions as you began to slowly detach yourself from every memory of the woman that was at the lowest point right now. “When did you get this strong in such a short amount of time?” she questioned angrily, before slowly coming back up on her feet before raising the metal tonfas that now had a noticeable slanted side causing you to realise that your katana had cut through the metal.

However, before you could even observe your opponent’s weapon further, she suddenly came forward towards your direction, leading you to lower your polearm to use it as a guard which caused her right metal tonfa to come into contact with the dark blue metal. Quickly, you forced your foot to dig into the soiled ground to hold onto the dominance you had in this fight before swinging your other hand to make use of the katana you had in your other hand only to suddenly make your opponent come to view with the handle but without the blade that was usually there.

“Oh...sorry...I forgot I activated the technique,” you announced in a low tone causing your attacker to look at the ‘weapon’ with complete confusion in here eyes before an unexpected gust of wind came causing a few pink petals to come into view as the flowed past both of you and the woman you were fighting.

“But you didn’t activate your domain expansion...how are petals surrounding us right now?” your opponent stuttered as more petals began to surround you both leading the woman’s eyes to widen as she was coming to the realisation that she was now going to be en-caged by the flowery technique.

“Why should I tell you? It’s more fun to keep a few secrets here and there, you know,” you answered as swiftly slide the handle back into the wooden sheath that was hanging behind you to proceed using your free hand to grab the upper area of the pole before violently pushing the pole forward causing the metal tonfa to be released forcibly from her tight grasp following by you thrusting the polearm forward which lead to the sharp blade to slit a cut on the cheek of the woman in front of you generating a wince out of her.

Continuing your sequence of attacks, you let your upper grasp from the polearm go, causing you to pull your hand back, spawning a large wave of petals to follow along, leaving no time for your opponent to react as a multitude of petals from behind to beginning cutting her left arm in the process with no mercy whatsoever.

Screaming through the pain, your opponent attempted to pull her arm away from the surprisingly brutal attack, only for the petals to keep it anchored in the pink wave leading more slashed to be produced in the process before all of the pink petals separated themselves out into single petals to act like normal petals falling from cherry blossom trees when in reality, you were the one controlling them.

Now with her one side covered in blood and cuts, the woman’s grip for her left metal tonfa was getting weaker and weaker by the second, unable to keep a hold on the only weapon she had right now. “You’ve become a monster…” the woman muttered as she observed the horrid sight of her arm before turning back to look at you, only to find your arm raised up like you were pointing at her.

“Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai,” you chanted quietly, leading the familiar high-density of cursed energy being discharged from the tip of your index finger to form a concentrated bolt of lightning causing your opponent to use her right hand to grab something from her pocket before throwing it towards the direction of the sparking blue blast causing the thunderbolts to explode destructively leading the ends of the light to hit the ground causing massive cracks and indents to be created.

‘Shit...maybe I shouldn’t use as much cursed energy like that again…’ you thought as you tutted at the result of the women’s defence before facing forward again to check the smoke that was soon clearing.

‘The use of jewels condensed with cursed energy is something she can do...I completely forgot about that. If I can recall, they can be used like bullets meaning they are fast...a little too fast for the petals…’

As expected, there was a sudden hint of light coming through the smoke leading a few jewels to shoot through the smoke before it cleared, leading you to rapidly gather enough cursed energy to your hand at a speed you rarely needed to be at.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku!” you shouted leading a large clear rectangular wall to swiftly manifest in front of you, blocking the jewels as they exploded the split second they made contact with your shield leading a massive gust of wind the rush past. Without any sort of hesitation, the wall suddenly disintegrated while you swung your arm up leading the pink petals around you to follow your lead as you noticed the woman’s shadow moved up as the smoke continued to clear itself as the petals moved past it leading to your attacker’s eyes to widen once she noticed you were following her movements even when she was in the air.

Once you moved your hand to the right, the wave of petals began to move the same direction, causing the lady to notice that the massive wave was now behind the body leading you to swing the same arm downwards to engulf her as your raised the metal tip of the blade of your polearm to where you last saw her body before it disappeared within the sea of petals.

“Binding Curse Spell number sixty-one: Rikojokoro!' you chanted once again, leading to your cursed energy to manifest a spark of yellow energy on the tip of the polearm’s blade, which summoned six thin, wide beams of light that harshly slammed into the midsection of your opponent, causing her to fall from the sky resulting in her body slamming to the ground to which then you could observe how much damaged the petals have generated.

From your sights, there was a multitude of cuts to the woman’s body, all over her legs to the apples of her cheek, making the one you had caused earlier seem like a minor training injury as blood began to slowly descend from each opened wound which was too many to count. However, it seemed as if the woman wasn’t going to give up easily as she shockingly began to sluggishly lift herself up with her feet.

“You...heartless child...is this what you jujutsu sorcerers’ stand for? You...have never...asked...for what we want, and here you are...stabbing us without question...Y/N, we need you for what we want to achieve, don’t you want to know...what that is?” your opponent muttered, leading blood to drip from the corner of her mouth once she managed to stand on her feet leading you to smirk before a giggle began to emit from your mouth, shocking the woman, who you once used to call your mother, as fear began to cloud her expression once again.

“You expect me to ask! That’s the funniest thing I have heard to date hahaha, don’t make me laugh, you drag,” you responded before covering your mouth with your free hand as petals began to flutter around again as if they didn’t cause the horrific injury scattered around the woman’s body right now.

“Understand this, you can’t ‘need’ me...don’t drag me into your plans,” you mentioned with the smirk widening before transferring your cursed energy away from the polearm causing it to narrow back down into the small section just like how it was handed to you by Gojo before hooking it back to your belt. “Me, a monster? I can understand why you would call me that, it is expected from you curse users and cursed spirits haha,” you muttered in a taunting tone before opening your palm leading to some of the petals flying about to come towards your hand.

“Let me admit, I realised this quite late...or maybe it’s because of the mental state that I am in right now. The crown that I have been given by the people within the jujutsu world isn’t enough for me...being a queen on the chessboard isn’t enough yet I don’t have a god complex like Gojo Satoru...there are people below me and will forever stand below me...and you are one of them,” you announced before laughing in front of the women’s face as more petals began to gather within your open palm.

“Sukuna may sit on his throne but I will forever stand on my feet like I always do for my domain expansion...I hold the four pillars of the jujutsu world meaning the clans are within the palm of my hand...yet...they can burn within the second I want them to,” you sinisterly explained leading the petals within your palm to start burning.

“Remember this even after your death, you drag...I will always win...because I am L/N Y/N… the head of the L/N clan...I...will...always...win, see you in hell when I get there,” you stated with venom lasted into your tone before standing sideways as you used your other hand to grasp onto the flame before pulling it back like a sting of a bow as the fire manifested itself to shape like a large arrow

“Destructive Curse Spell number fifty-four: Haien,” you whispered before shooting the flaming arrow towards the woman causing the burned petals to stab the woman within the chest before it consumed her body with its violent flames leaving you to view the gruesome slight with no emotions present at all on your face as petals began to manifest from the flames before joining with the other petals that were flowing around the area you were in.

Taking the handle of your katana out, you allowed the petals to gradually merge together to generate the black blade that was supposed to be there before sliding it back in its wooden sheath.

“Should I run?” you question yourself in a quiet tone, as you turned your head back to see the forest that was standing behind you, opening its arm to let you escape again and disappear from the world of jujutsu sorcery like you had since the beginning. However, in the back of your mind, you knew that Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were going to come looking for you, yet by the time they had the chance to, you would have been gone by then...gone somewhere far away.

“Should I run?” you whispered again as if you were waiting for someone to answer your question. However, as you had expected, nothing but the wind answered you leaving you in a state of confusion but weirdly peaceful as well. Now that you thought about it, this was the first time in a long time you were able to be alone with yourself and your thoughts due to you being disturbed by Gojo or anyone within the Jujutsu Tech institution as well.

Steadily, you turned your body to fully face the forest that was now tempting you to run into.

Slowly, you took one step forward.

423 notes · View notes

quietlyimplode · 3 years

Note

do you take fic requests bc if you do could you do something like how in bw nat flinches when dreykov goes to hit her the first time and maybe when clint first meets her or something all she does is flinch and super submissive??

Hey Anon. Not sure if this is exactly what you’re thinking; I think there’s a strong correlation between why Natasha flinched and Dreykov being the ultimate abuser; I think that she would be able to differentiate him and Clint. I’m not sure she would have as violent reaction to someone she didn’t know, because that reaction (I think) is one borne of repeat trauma. Sooo this is a 5+1 touching on that reaction.

Warnings for: child abuse, child death, red room musings, domestic violence, child trafficking, black widow spoilers, and ptsd. (3045 words)

Forged.

Everything is so overwhelming. There are girls screaming, men with guns. She holds on tightly to Yelena and makes her stand behind her.

The guns have lights on them and she can’t follow them all.

There’s so many people, it’s loud, and confusing and Natasha just wants to cry.

Pain only makes you stronger.

But her chest hurts. It’s a ball of panic that hasn’t gone away since Mama Melina said she was sorry.

She tries to school her face so that it’s devoid of panic; but it’s hard. Yelena is holding her hand hard.

It happens quickly.

They grab Yelena and she yells and screams for her, tries to pull her back but they hit her in the face.

Disoriented, she loses track of her sister, the pain in her heart intensifies in panic and she catches sight of blonde hair. She rips the picture in her hand, and runs over to her.

She knew it was going to happen. She didn’t think it would be like this. She thought they could stay together.

“Take it.” She yells. “Take it.” And shoves it into Yelena’s hands. She’s pulled away and so is Yelena.

She can’t help the feral noises that break free from her body.

She doesn’t cry though.

Pain only makes you stronger and she is in so, so much pain.

She’s lined up with the others and is made to step forward.

She sees him; the man from Cuba. The one Papa Alexei embraced. He walks up to her.

He smells of cigars and strong cologne and it takes everything she has to hold his gaze and not turn up her nose.

The man grabs her head, and she flinches hard against his hands. He gets closer and there’s something in her that remembers this man.

“The Red Room is your home now,” he tells her and looks her up and down, gaze lingering.

He pushes her into a line with 3 older girls and she bites the inside of her mouth as hard as she can to stop herself hyperventilating and panicking.

Pain. She reminds herself.

Pain.

There’s four girls with her. The biggest of the guards is closest to her and three more stand over the others. Of course, they think it’s her, that she’s the ringleader. They’re not wrong, but it does make her think that she should perhaps try and stay under the radar a little more.

They’re all standing in front of Dreykov who exudes anger. She can count the number of times on her hand that she’s had to stand in front of him, this is the first time in her nightdress. She’s self conscious all at once and she crosses her arms around her body.

“Stand front!” The guard yells, gun in her face. She startles, as she drops her arms down to her sides, fists clenching.

Svetlana glances tentatively at her and she bows her head.

Dreykov hasn’t said anything and they’re all awaiting punishment. She knew she shouldn’t have smuggled in the Nutella but she was so excited about the new taste, the deliciousness of the spread that she could share.

He turns to face her and her blood runs cold.

“Kill them.” He says looking directly at her, his face curled in a snarl.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head hard.

He laughs.

“Fine.” He looks to the other four.

“Kill her.” He says and ducks his head towards Natasha.

Svetlana is closest, the guards step back as she steps forward, intentions clear and Natasha can see the smile that plays across his face.

Sadists.

She’s old enough now to know to use the environment to protect herself as well, knows this room and, has taken stock of all the things in the room that could be used as a weapon. She assumed, of course, that they would be used against her, not that she would have to use them against the others.

The first punch comes from Odette, a kick from Sevenya, and attempted restraint from Clara and Svetlana. Natasha protects her head, trying to find an opening where she can get one of the girls between her so the other three have to go through her first.

It’s Clara that she throws on the floor in the way of Odette and she narrowly avoids a letter opener thrown at her head. It clatters for the floor and she scrambled back to pick it up. Holding it in front of her, she looks at the others. It’s not malice on their faces but fear.

Dreykov looks on in amusement and then looks at his watch.

Natasha waits for Odette to attack again. She was always the most impulsive. She spins to the side and kneels and feels the letter opener slice across her femoral artery, she knows she’s hit it when the gush of blood accompanies it.

She has no time to ponder it as she tries to pull the weapon out, Clara is on her again. Natasha kicks up catching her under her chin, the sound of skin hitting skin, her bare foot tingling. She pushes Clara back, adrenaline fading and fatigue setting in for all of them. Sloppy punches end up in hair pulling as Natasha swings her legs up and around her neck. Maybe if she knocks her out, she won’t have to do it.

“Enough.” Dreykov’s voice is clear and she detects the anger on it.

He pulls his gun and shoots Clara and Odette.

She flinches at the sound and almost vomits as she sees Clara take her last breath.

“Leave now. You have no place in the world, as such you may take nothing and have nothing. You will be searched on entry and exit.” He says, enunciating every word.

Natasha attempts a glance at the other two girls but they won’t meet her gaze. They all know what being searched means.

The bodies of Clara and Odette are dragged out one door as they leave through another.

Natasha stretches. The apartment on the west side is sunny and she lays on the floor basking in the heat like a cat. She should get up and get something to eat, her stomach letting her know that it’s time, but this position is so relaxing and soothing that she ignores it; just for now. Closing her eyes she listens to the lull of slow paced music she put on earlier.

She given herself two days to do nothing. She’s sure that she’s off the radar and knows that her body and her mind needs rest. If only it worked that way.

Being on the run isn’t new. Being a fugitive from the red room and staying low is fine. She just needs to decide what she wants out of life; these are the bigger decisions that she’s putting on the back burner. Just for now.

The sun sets low and the slow growl of her tummy, lets her know that it’s truly time to get up; tend to herself and find the Thai place that knows her order when she walks in the door. A fact that she’s not sure she should be worried about.

Pulling on a jacket, she turns to set her own locks, and then moves to the door to lock it with her keys.

A bang, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a yell make her flinch hard, dropping her keys to the floor. A flash of a guard and her head whipping back from a punch is almost identical to the sound she just heard, and it takes her a second to get her breathing under control. Natasha feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up, knowing the likelihood of what she’s just heard.

She’s got a choice to make.

Help, and potentially expose herself.

Do nothing, and more red on her ledger.

Bucking courage, she walks inaudibly down the hall. Locates the sound where there’s the faint sound of crying and the low rumble of a mans voice.

She knocks, loudly and confidently.

There’s silence, before the door opens ajar, and she pushes it into his face and walks in.

“Bitch what do you think you’re doin?” Comes the drawl as he follows her.

“Did you hit her?” She asks voice low and dangerous.

“What?”

“Did you, hit her?” Natasha points to the crying woman, whose face is swollen and red.

“Who do you think you are?” The man stands over Natasha and stares down at her. She cocks her head and stares back. He goes to grab her and she turns her body, grabbing his hand and twisting, making him drop to his knees.

She twists again hard, and he grunts and cries out. There’s a strong smell of cologne, the same as Dreykov and she snaps. She breaks his hand and punches him in the face. Hears the crack of fist against cheek and shouts at him.

“How dare you?” She grunts at him, standing over him. She punches him again.

“You think it makes you more of a man?”

There’s blood on her knuckles.

The woman is asking her to stop; and she’s crying harder.

Natasha knows what she’s done, she’s not upset with herself.

She squats next to the man with the broken nose and bloodshot eyes; blood spattered making for a gruesome scene. She gets close to his face.

“Nod if you can hear me.” She says. He nods; a short dip of his head.

“I will kill you if you ever touch her again.” She promises.

“I know where you live.” She nods to the mechanic jacket hanging, “I know where you work.” She stands up.

“I will be watching.”

Clint watches Natasha playing chess against herself and holds up the takeaway.

“Come play against me,” she invites and he laughs.

“You think you can take me?” He asks.

She finally looks up to him and grins.

“Always.”

He puts the paper bag down on the stove and laughs as she sets it up again.

“I haven’t won once, doesn’t it get boring playing against me?” His eyes twinkle at her as he looks at her, both of them smiling.

Natasha opens as she always does by moving her pawn. Clint copies her move.

She’s about to make her second move when they’re interrupted by the smoke alarm chirping and a small flame coming from the paper bag on the stove.

He laughs. Says something about not knowing the stove was still warm and waves the tea towel across the smoke alarm.

It takes him a moment, but he realises she’s not joking with him. In fact.

She’s frozen.

“Natasha?”

There’s a whine and a choked noise.

“No. Nononono.” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Make it stop. Make it stop.”

He’s scrambling now.

“Please?” He looks to where she’s looking, the smoking bag, a flame.

“Make it stop.” She repeats again.

His heart drops and he finally gets the tiny flame under control, dumping it in the sink. She’s staring where it was. Eyes blank, body tight.

He moves over to her and reaches over to her.

Natasha flinches at his touch; his hands retract quickly.

“It’s ok, Natasha.”

The haunted look doesn’t leave her face but she stands and moves away.

“Yeah, it’s ok.”she repeats back.

She leaves for the bedroom and he follows her tentatively,

“Just. Give me a minute.” She requests and shuts the bathroom door.

He sits on the bed waiting for her to emerge. He stays until he hears the tap run, and the door unlock.

When she emerges she looks the same as before, face relaxed, mask on.

“You ok?” He asks, tentatively.

“Fine.” She nods.

Clint nods with her.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks tentatively, not really knowing what to do next. The fact that she’s freaked out on him and managed to pull herself back together in the space of ten minutes is suspicious, and he feels he needs to walk on eggshells around her.

She shrugs and melts into the couch, knees to her chest.

“Wanna tell me what that was?” He ventures, sitting next to her.

“No.”

It doesn’t leave any space for probing, so he stops talking. Let’s her figure it out herself.

She uncurls herself and stands.

“Actually. I’m just going to go home.” She nods to the chess set. “Thanks for the game.”

He stands alongside her.

“You sure?” He asks, it’s not right he knows. He should keep her here, make sure she’s ok. But. They’re not there. He’s not her confidant. He’s not the one she goes to.

Natasha nods.

“Thanks.” She grabs her coat and makes for the door, passing through the threshold, pausing slightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

By the time he reaches the door frame, she’s gone.

Natasha has done hard things in life. She knows she has. Her whole childhood was lucky survival, and she knows it. But this. This is intentional bravery and even if she dies she knows it’s the right thing.

Being in front of him, is possibly the hardest, most confronting and perhaps masochistic move she could have taken, but given the short time frame Melina gave her, she didn’t see another way.

As he talks to her.

As he goes to touch her face.

It takes all of her not to react.

To be still.

To remember to breathe.

She asks about her mother because she can’t help it, and he tears the knife through her soul.

She wasn’t unknown. She was Natasha and all the other mothers who fought for orphaned little girls. She buries it deep, masking her face, unable to stop her eyes watering.

He makes Antonia uncover herself, and she’s ripped apart again.

Natasha carries the scars of her death on the inside. Antonia carries them on the outside.

She can’t believe what she’s hearing, seeing and wants with every once of her being to say she’s sorry. Of all the deaths she’s being responsible for, Antonia’s is the one she needs to atone for the most.

She’s alive and it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing.

Dreykov taunts her as she knew he would and sends Antonia away. It’s enough to make her mind flip back to the plan.

Finally, the opportunity to shove a gun in his face. She knows it won’t work. But the little voice inside her head thought maybe, just maybe she would be stronger than the pheromone lock. She wasn’t strong enough as a child to fight back when they took her from her bed, or when she wanted with every once of her being to protect others; but she thought maybe being separated from him, being older, grown; she wouldn’t be subjected to the same weaknesses.

She was wrong.

She can’t pull the trigger.

She can’t stab him through the heart.

And as he touches her and peels the knife from her fingers, she can feel the panic welling inside her.

She’s traipsed into the lions den, full of confidence but she’s nothing compared to science and manipulation. Despair fills every inch of her as he’s close enough to smell. The old sickly cologne that haunts her nightmares, that makes her snap into rages when she gets a whiff of it on any other man, and as it’s paired with the smell of a cigar, she’s torn back to him grabbing her face and telling her the Red Room is her home.

She is home.

She tries to outrun it but he’s going to turn her back into a mindless automaton. Not with trigger words this time. Not with pain. Or fear, or even threats. It’s all chemical. She has no choice.

Her whole body shudders in visceral pain as he gets closer to her, talking to her, saying her name.

Her voice is low as she keeps up the charade.

Sever the nerve; and it will be ok.

Sever the nerve; and he will have no control.

But.

As he raises his hand to her, she can’t do it. She flinches away and she’s so disappointed in herself. Old habits, isn’t that what they say?

She’s 10 and her eyes are black.

She’s 11 and her body knows not to bruise so easily.

She’s 12 and can take a punch easily.

Natasha bites down heavily on her cheeks drawing blood. It’s grounding. He moves away from her and mumbles something about Melina.

Control.

Control the narrative. Make him say what she needs. This is not about her.

This is not about her trauma.

She breathes heavily as he reiterates the plan to her and she tapers the panic.

Bait him.

Make him cooperate.

She can do this.

She can do hard things.

The television plays and the heater whirs as Natasha sits on the big chair reading her book. She sips the sweet drink she prepared for herself and pulls the blanket up. There’s a softness about the night, and it’s built on not having any competing priorities. Not having to be anywhere the next day.

She’s alone but it’s peaceful, and allows her to mull over the words she reads.

“Being kind to yourself is the greatest kindness.” Is the quote that sticks in her head, and, as she picks up the chocolate on her left, she’s knows it’s the truth.

For once, her brain is calm and she knows the safety of this place. Clint would call it a controlled environment but she prefers to think of it as safety.

In the life of a spy, there’s no place safe enough, no turning off the low level anxiety that always follows her around, but somehow; here, she can.

She looks out the window and admires the trees atop the mountain she can see, marvels in the low fog that gathers around and has a life of its own as it moves around outside in the darkness.

There’s no light pollution, except what’s coming from inside the house.

She glances at the time, glad she made the connection, the phone call she’s expecting not breaking the peace or make her flinch at the unexpected noise permeating peace.

Natasha sets down her book and picks up her phone. One minute.

Right on cue it rings.

She smiles.

“Hey.”

All my fic.

#black widow spoilers #the black widow movie #natasha romanoff #clint barton #black widow #widows #Natasha flinching #general dreykov #my fic #ask away #prompts #child abuse tw #ptsd #domestic violence tw #child death tw #tw red room #red room horribleness in this one #black widow fic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 6.

Summary: Ransom and you attend a wake for his great-nanna Wanetta, with the rest of his family. The knives are out, and they’re sharp…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So here it is, the penultimate chapter to this series! One more to go post this, plus an epilogue. I can’t believe it’s almost over…

Word Count: 9.5k (oops)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 5

You'd managed to get through Christmas fairly well. The days leading up, Ransom had been a little suspiciously sneaky but you didn't give it a second thought, really. Things between you and your captor were more than amicable, they were pleasant. But, despite the cohabitation and this new found demeanour in him, Ransom wasn't above reminding you that you were still under his eye. And under his eye you were indeed, all day long. He watched you as you read, as you cooked, as you wrote in your journal. Oddly, not once showing interest in your musings but working away on his own.

Christmas morning, the two of you had spent a few lazy hours in bed, Ransom waking you with kisses over your bare skin, stripped down and tired from the evening before where he worked you over until you couldn't move, crying out his name near midnight, his breathless, tired voice telling you 'Merry Christmas' before he slept. After an easy egg and toast breakfast, the two of you were sitting around the lounge, the fire burning, the tree lit, soft music played in the background, watching a fresh layer of snow falling outside. You were reading Dickens' holiday classic, aloud while Ransom sat next to you, idling running a long index finger over your neck in slow and soft, up and down strokes, listening to you. Suddenly he'd stopped and removed the book from your hands.

"I have something for you," he said, a slight eagerness to his tone. He slipped away for a brief moment, pulling a box, intricately wrapped, clearly not by himself, from under the tree. You'd never noticed it there, not once and you wondered when he'd put it there or if he'd hidden it in the very spot this whole time.

The red leather box sat heavy in your hand as you read the gold inscription on the top. With an unsteady breath, you lifted the hinged lid and hitched your breath at what sat inside. A white gold necklace, with two interlocking rings in a signature Cartier design glistened back at you. The screw motifs which were set in ideal oval shaped rings studded with diamonds that twinkled in the light sat snuggly inside against black velvet.

You were stunned. The gesture far too expensive and in your mind inappropriate. But you also thought it was absolutely gorgeous, and you wondered how he'd come up with such an expensive idea. You'd not mentioned anything of the sort in your time together, in fact, you hadn't had jewellery on bar your ball studs in your ears now.

You looked up from the delicate piece and your eyes met expectant ones. "It's beautiful," you spoke softly. "Thank you."

"Let me put it on you," he sat next you whilst taking the box from your hands. He gently pulled it away from the box and unclasped it, settling it around your neck as you moved your hair out of the way, thin tendrils framing your face. Your robe slipped off your shoulder and you felt his soft lips against your skin, down your neck and along your shoulder. "Let me see you," he spoke softly.

You turned in his direction and you saw the way he admired the way the piece sat across your chest, the silk robe you were wearing over your barely-there nightgown gaping open. As his eyes blatantly roved down between the valley of your breasts your own flicked across his casual, lazy-Christmas morning form, his broad chest and shoulders clad in a white thermal, sweats hung low on his hips.

"Perfect," he whispered, leaning towards you.

You were not a bought woman, no; you were his victim, his roommate, his co-habitant, his lover, his partner, his... Oh for Christ's sake you could go on with the labels that did or didn't make sense, were mutual or not, had or didn't carry the weight of a proper explanation. Right now, you were going through the motions and emotions.

"I like it, a lot, thank you again," you replied as his lips grew closer to yours. "I've never had such an expensive gift before."

His lips ghosted over yours, "There's plenty more where that came from, Sweetheart."

The implication of his words had hit you like a freight train as you realised just how many more ‘occasions’ he was planning on the pair of you spending together. New Year, Easter, Spring Break, your birthday, his birthday, summer, Memorial Day. It sparked so many conflicting opinions within you that you were glad of the distraction when he moved, his fingers delicate as he undid the ties of your robe and led you down on the rug before his lips had traced a path down your body and soon he’d had you crying his name, sheer bliss coursing through your veins.

Later that day, you'd made dinner for him, a reminder of how Christmas used to be when Wanetta and his Grandmother shared the festivities. After the quiet meal, he had expected you to join him for a shower, no doubt as pay back for him going down on you earlier. When you'd respectfully declined stating you needed to wash the dishes, he sneered and sulked off. You'd made sure that when he was gone long enough, you were able to get things set up for your gift. Now was the time to show Ransom how gifts of meaning and purpose were to be given and hopefully received. Not that it was going to make a blind bit of difference to your situation, not in the grand scheme of things anyway. You'd finished cleaning and putting everything away and headed into the lounge where you stoked the fire and then made your way back into the kitchen for your supplies. The hot cocoa burning hot, the slices of bread, tongs and a small serving of butter, complete with freshly blended cinnamon sugar. You knew he would come find you when you were not waiting in the bedroom for him. If Ransom Drysdale was anything, it was a creature of expectation and habit. You'd heard him coming down the stairs, that one spot with a creak carrying his footfall. You straightened up your things, setting up the tongs and tray of treats nicely before covering them with a cloth napkin, standing between the coffee table and the fireplace, and waited on baited breath for the tirade you thought was coming. He had turned the corner, his face stern with evident hard lines, his bare chest on display, hair still wet from the shower. You could smell him as he entered the doorway, that scent that you'd soon come to realize made you heady and needy. You waved him over, a hunt of excitement to your tone, "come on, come sit." “I don’t want to sit, Sweetheart, I want you like I had you before dinner. Crying my name with you under me.” He stood just inside the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest, sweats hung low on his hips. He wore no shirt just to entice you, but you weren't giving in so easily. "I'll say your name as many times as you want, but first, I need to give you my gift." You chose then to look at him with big eyes, sincere yet seductive.

It was a stare off between the two of you, he not budging and you popping your hip out to one side as you folded your arms over your chest. He had his fun, now you wanted to enjoy something and gift giving brought you joy.

Like a child told to apologize for hitting another, he hung his head and sulked over. You could tell it pained him to obey your request. But you again saw through his facade. You knew this meant far more to him than anything he'd ever received.

But he'd never tell you that. Not that you thought anyway. “Oh stop being so you, Ransom, for just five minutes.” You snorted exasperatedly at his petulant nature. “It’s Christmas.” With a roll of his eyes that would make any toddler jealous, he took to his knees sitting on his heels. With a smirk, you joined him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, "Merry Christmas, Ransom." You pulled the napkin off the tray revealing the contents of your gift. His eyes moved over the tray, first seeing the mugs of cocoa, topped with whipped cream that was beginning to melt into the warm liquid. The tongs, the bread, the small pinch bowls of cinnamon sugar and the soft butter. With his mind occupied, you managed to grab a throw and wrap it around the two of you. He blinked, and you could see that he was fighting the smirk that was threatening to cross his handsome face. “Toast?” He finally asked and you nodded, smiling. "I couldn't go get you something, not that it mattered, so this was the next best thing." A flicker of something darkened his face, and for a moment you thought you saw regret flash in his eyes, just like the day he had marked your face but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. "Just enjoy it, even if you can't say anything about it, just...." you shrugged, "remember." That night, after the toast with cinnamon butter and cocoa from scratch were shared, he had his way with you, delightfully slow, once more by the fire, you again crying out his name and he yours, over and over again. By the time he finished, you were both boneless and breathless, his body covering yours until he rolled over and the two of you slept by the fire, wrapped up in each other's arms, the heavy throw around your naked bodies.

Christmas had been nice. Maybe, somewhat enjoyable, you'd admitted to yourself. Of course, the wrench of not seeing your family had weighed like a stone in your gut, compounded by the fact that thanks to the lie you’d been forced to tell Blanc, they thought this was your choice. That you were staying away from them because you wanted to, when nothing could be further from the truth. You missed your mom and dad goofing around over presents, still trying to tell your now well grown-up sister and you Santa had been. You ached for the usual family politics that manifested when your uncles and aunts descended for dinner. You longed for your sister to be complaining about how fat she was going to get…

"We have to go," Ransom’s deep baritone caught you completely off guard, making you jump as you stood staring out of the large French windows over the garden from the master suite.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath to centre yourself, your heart racing at the speed of light from your fright. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror above the fireplace and found yourself wishing you’d done a better job at covering up the ugly scab and green bruising on your face.

You followed Ransom in his tan coat, pin striped slacks and a black cashmere sweater as he strode from the room. You felt nervous, anxious, scared. This was the first time you were leaving the house in two months. He led you to the garage where you started walking to the SUV he'd taken you in but he stopped you short, calling out to you, "not this time, Sweetheart." He stood at the passenger door to his vintage BMW. You swallowed and walked towards the door he was holding open for you. Wordlessly, you sank into the passenger seat and reached for your belt. Pulling it across your lap, you adjusted the pencil skirt and blouse you'd tucked into so as not to wrinkle it, your soft black peacoat bluky in your seat. The car roared to life, throbbing beneath you, the hum of the engine might, in other circumstances, have excited you. But now, the only thing filling you was dread. The first time you’re out of your "castle", and it's to go to a wake, for Wanetta Thrombey.

Go figure. ***** The silence in the car was stifling. Every so often Ransom stole a glance at Y/N to find her simply staring out of the window, at one stage reaching up to wipe her eye. He didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t an idiot. Over Christmas he’d caught her numerous time completely zoned out, as if she was somewhere else, just like she had been moments before they had left. And whilst she’d done her best to keep her tears and attitude at bay, she’d been clipped with him a number of times which he’d simply let slide and instead of reminding her about her attitude, he’d pressed her to tell him what was wrong. She’d quietly admitted that she missed her family, something Ransom simply couldn’t understand, so in the spirit of their recent candid openness, he’d asked her bluntly why she needed them so much when he gave her everything she could possibly ever want. At that she had snorted, and taken great pains to explain to him that just because he failed to understand something didn’t make it any less valid of a feeling to someone else and then she’d deftly changed the subject, and he’d allowed the conversation to steer elsewhere.

And now, the first time she’d been anywhere but the inside of his house and strictly the garden for months, they were headed to spend time with his shit-head family. The irony was staggering when you considered it. He eased his beloved beemer onto the main road and pushed his foot down on the gas, weaving himself in and out of the light traffic obnoxiously fast. But he wasn’t known for his patience, he had somewhere to be and in his mind; the faster he got there the faster he could leave, keen to spend as little time with his family as possible. About halfway into the journey, Ransom felt that familiar cold feeling in his stomach as he pulled off the freeway and on to one of the smaller roads. He could drive this journey with his eyes closed but it was the first time he’d been back to the mansion since... well, since IT had all gone down. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he could feel himself getting, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car with a force that made his knuckles white. He was jolted however, with the feeling of a hand on his arm and his head turned slightly to see Y/N looking at him. She didn’t say anything, and no sooner had he registered her touch she moved her hand dropping it back into her lap, eyes focussed downwards as his turned back to the road. He swallowed, that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of remorse once more washing over him. Despite everything he had done to her, she was still voluntarily lending him comfort.

Ten minutes later, he swung up the tree-lined driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. His jaw set hard as the mansion came into view, and low and behold his mother, standing on the front steps, a cigarette between her fingers as she exasperatedly texted on her phone. A meek voice came from the seat beside him, "its going to be okay." But he couldn't decipher if she were talking to him or herself. He cut the engine, his hands still on the wheel as he sighed and hung his head, before he turned to her. “I don’t need to warn you about trying anything do I?” He asked, ignoring her effort to placate him. "No," she replied quietly. “Good.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin between his thumb and finger, pressing as soft kiss to her lips, the action as much for him as it was for the benefit of his mother who was watching the pair of them. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He gracefully unfolded himself from the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him and strode to the front of his car, waiting for Y/N to catch up. Her face was set, an expression he’d seen countless times before when she’d been fearful and acting under duress. He watched as she took a deep breath and drew back her shoulders whilst he reached for her hand. Obediently, she took it and together they strode towards the large wooden door, his mother watching them as they approached "You're late," Linda scoffed.

He paid her no mind and pulled Y/N along his side. “I’m sure Nanna won’t mind too much, you know, on account of her being dead.” He retorted sardonically.

You stood by his side, your eyes watching Linda and she turned her attention to you, her eyes narrowing a little, a strange expression on her features, almost as if she was sussing you out. But, as her eyes flicked to your injured cheek before they darted to Ransom who still had a possessive grip around your hand you realised with horror it wasn’t you she was suspicious of. It was the bruise on your face, more so how it had gotten there.

You cleared your throat. “Funny thing,” you gestured to it and her eyes snapped to yours, “too much Scotch and I tripped. Face first into the corner of my vanity."

Okay, so it wasn’t a complete lie…but you still felt sick to your stomach at how quickly you’d jumped to his defence.

“Sure.” Linda arched an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you getting at, Mother?” Ransom looked at her, his jaw set and Linda rolled her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing really, I just find it extremely odd that you get an interview with this girl to clear your name and she ends up in your bed, only after she’s done a complete hatchet job on all of us first.” She dropped her cigarette end to the floor before she looked at him shrewdly.

“For which she published an apology.” Ransom’s voice was flat and carried an undertone of annoyance to which Linda paid no attention.

“Because you’re really the type to forgive and forget so easily.” She scoffed as Ransom gave a dramatic sigh as his mother continued, her head now turning to you. “You know, I could hardly believe it when Blanc told us you were with him, and then I saw you with my own eyes and now here you are again…“

“What do you mean, when Blanc told you?” Ransom frowned as his hand contracted almost painfully around yours, a warning no doubt to remain silent. His mother had hit the nail on the head, proving that she knew her son a lot better than you, and no doubt he, had bothered to give her credit for.

“Her disappearance was all over the news, more so because they’d linked it to that god-awful cretin of an actor, Lucas Lee.” She turned back to look at him. “But, no sooner had they done that he was cleared thanks to a cast-iron alibi and low and behold, a few weeks later Blanc turns up.” Linda raised her brows, her gaze fixed on Ransom. “I told him where to find you-“

“Gee, thanks.” Ransom drawled and she glared at him, before he rolled his eyes and gestured with his hand for her to continue.

“And obviously he did as he came back a day or so later, saying that to his surprise you-“ her eyes flicked to yours then and you swallowed “-were seemingly there, of your own accord.”

“I erm,” you fumbled on your words and felt Ransom let go of your hand, his palm warm as it now rested between your shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for another lie, one that this time you’d spun before and you shrugged, licking your lips. “I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I came to realize that despite my scathing feature, Ransom intrigued me. I wanted to get to know him more. One thing led to another and I figured if we kept our relationship quiet for a while, I'd save myself the spit on my face from my family and people like you.”

“People like me?” Linda arched a brow, her lips quirking up at one side. “

“I didn’t mean…” You shook your head, quickly taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“A tad, but I’ve had worse.” Linda’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like amusement as she reached into her pocket for her packet of cigarettes. “But, what I don’t understand is, why let your family believe you were missing, dead even?”

“I, well, I was under a lot of pressure at work, and everything just got too much and needed to escape, from everything. Ransom told me to stay with him for a while to get some head space and I didn’t mean to cause anyone any hurt or upset and-“

You stopped dead as you felt Ransom curl his hand round the back of your neck, giving a squeeze in warning. You were rambling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Sweetheart,” his voice was softly spoken as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “it’s none of her business.”

Linda looked at you for a moment, before she turned to her son and shrugged, popping another cigarette into her mouth. “I’ve long since given up trying to understand anything you did.”

“Well, like the judge said,” Ransom moved, his hand now on the base of your spine as he turned and guided you to the large door of the house, “not of sound mind.”

In the spacious drawing room, the rest of the family was gathered around. There were no others at the wake, Wanetta having outlived everyone she knew. You knew Ransom would offer no introductions, but that wasn’t an issue, you knew everyone anyway from your extensive research into this fucked up family. The fire burned in the background, and Ransom’s father, Richard, lounged in an arm-chair, a young woman who you presumed to be the au-pair Ransom talked about with disdain, perched on his lap. Walt was perched in another arm-chair, his wife Donna stood behind him, clutching a half drunk glass of wine, their son Jacob absent from the room. Marta and Meg were perched on the couch with Joni flitting about, a crunch from a carrot stick heard from across the room. You walked in and immediately felt the daggers in your skin as all eyes turned towards you. The knives were out and you swallowed, adjusting your sleeve, feeling Ransom's presence behind you.

“Here…” you felt Ransom’s hands gently pulling on the shoulders of your coat and he slipped it from your body, gently pressing another kiss to your cheek. You turned to look at him, offering him a small smile before he moved to hang the coat up on the stand at the far side of the room.

“Y/N, right?” Marta was the first one to speak as she stood up, and you nodded, not bothering to ask how she knew your name. It was a given she’d have read the article, and it was also a given thanks to the conversation moment’s ago with Linda, that the rest of the family had also been briefed on the fact you were ‘with’ Ransom. What clearly hadn’t’ been anticipated from the not-so-covert surprised glances that were being shared, was that he would have brought you today. “Can I get you a drink?” She continued and you smiled.

“Please, erm, a wine would be great.”

“Red or white?”

“She prefers white.” Ransom spoke and Marta’s eyes darted to his. You instantly felt his entire body language stiffen and you turned to him, the distaste evident on his face, his entire aura radiating utter disdain and bitterness.

Marta simply took a deep breath, her expression flat, but her eyes fierce as they remained in a silent stand-off.

“Can’t she speak for herself?” Meg scoffed and Ransom pulled his eyes away from Marta, turning his glare to his cousin.

“Is explaining what a lady prefers to drink considered sexist as well now or…”

“He’s right,” You jumped in quickly, smiling at Marta. “White is great, thanks.”

Marta nodded.

“Hugh?” She looked at Ransom and you blinked at the use of that name and then realised, of course, she’d once upon a time been the help. That said, you knew she was saying it simply because she wanted to, not that her status required it and there was an amused look on Ransom’s face as he turned to her.

“Beer.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself at his lack of manners, but from the expression on Marta’s face she’d been expecting it, and to be honest, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t been. Her lips curled into a sarcastic grin as she turned and headed out.

“You should try it, Donna. It’s got camomile and lavender in. I swear by it.” Your ears then picking up on a conversation between Walt, Donna and Joni and you turned your head towards them, Ransom’s arm curled round your waist, hand resting heavy on your hip. Joni bit down on the carrot stick she was holding with a flourish of her hands. “It’s my favourite thing FLAM have done.”

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't go under given you're no longer receiving Dad's money.” Walt interjected and Joni rolled her eyes.

“Shows how much attention you pay, Walt. When I released that new line of bath-bombs and candles, sales, like literally, went through the roof.”

“Bath-bombs?” Walt frowned.

“Yeah, they’re like little cakes if you will of dried soap and fragranced that you drop into a-“

“I know what they are.” Walt rolled his eyes as Marta appeared, handing you your drink which you took with a thanks. “I was commenting on the fact you said you’d launched a new line.”

“Oh, yeah.” Joni munched her carrot stick some more. “I got the idea from Gwyneth Paltrow when she released that candle scented like her vagina.” At that you choked on your drink and hastily avoided looking at anyone in the room as various groans and loud protests from the males hit your ears.

At that point Linda walked back into the room and sat down in a chair not far from where you were sat and she smoothed down her trousers before she peered up at Ransom.

“How’s the book coming along?” She asked, peering from over the top of her wine glass as she sipped from it.

“Fine.” Ransoms shrugged. “Few little blocks here and there but I’ll work through them. Granddad always told me sometimes it pays to take a step back and pause, ideas often come when you’re not expecting them.”

Linda smiled, and you were pleased to see that, for once, it appeared genuine, as if she was actually looking at her son with something more than ambivalence. And then, the moment was ruined as Meg burst out laughing.

“You’re writing a book? What’s it called? ‘Ransom’s Guide To Being An Asshole’?” She snorted and Ransom took a deep breath.

“Eat shit.”

“Original.” Meg replied drily rolling her eyes, “you know, I'm jealous of all the people that haven't met you.” She stated as her eyes turned to you. “Seriously, what the fuck do you see in him? Why on earth anyone would ever want to be in the same room with him, let alone share his bed is completely beyond me.”

“Tell me, Meg, when was the last time you got laid?” Ransom turned to her, a smirk on his face. “And your dildo doesn’t count.” “Fuck you, you fucking prick.” Meg seethed before she turned to look at you, her face angry. “You know, it must be serious if he’s bringing you here; he normally just keeps his fuck buddies on speed dial.”

“And throws the money on the mattress.” Walt mumbled.

At that, Ransom tensed and he turned his face towards his Uncle, his nostrils flaring. But before he had time to answer back, Richard let out a derisive snort and Ransom instead turned his head to his father.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Ransom shot back, “Tell me, how much do you pay the barely legal whore sat on your lap?”

“You little shit.” Richard spat as the poor woman in question shifted uncomfortably, her mouth falling open as the insult Ransom had shot at her registered.

You stood stock still, a warm and uncomfortable feeling washing over you as the family continued to bicker. You could feel a headache coming; this was becoming too much for you to cope with.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Linda groaned, almost lazily from her spot on the chair. “Is it too much to ask that one of our family deaths goes by without starting another feud?”

"Oh that's rich, coming from you!” Richard, turned to her. Linda met her ex-husband’s glare with a completely blank expression on her face, before she scoffed.

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous glasses?” She demanded, referring to the spectacles that adorned Richard’s face, the style being something you would attribute to Harry Potter.

“So I can see.”

“You never needed glasses in the entire thirty-four years we were married.” She scoffed.

“I did.” Richard shrugged, a snarky grin curling at one side of his mouth and you instantly recognised that expression as being one Ransom sported a lot. “Just preferred it when I couldn’t see your face.”

Linda’s mouth dropped open and you felt yourself bristle as you took a breath.

“Are you actually gonna let your dad say that to your mom?” You glanced up at Ransom. His head turned slowly towards you and the expression of anger on his face at being called out made your blood run cold. You recoiled a little and your eyes immediately darted to the floor.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

"This is fun," Jacob snickered as he, from out of nowhere, waltzed into the room and took a seat in the corner of the bay window, never once looking up from his phone. “Ransom once more manages to spark an argument.”

“Y/N meet Jacob, the poster child for the pro-choice movement.” Ransom gestured to the teenager in front of you who merely rolled his eyes as both Walt and Donna began to yell and hurl insults back at Ransom.

“Says the guy whose birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.” The teen mumbled back.

“Ooh, good one, which one of your alt-right, KKK loving buddies did you learn that from?” Ransom quipped, and in a quick change of decorum, the room erupted with slander and jabs being shouted and tossed about, most of the commotion being pointed at Ransom.

It was a cacophony of noise and sound, which infiltrated your head, making your brain buzz and crackle like the wick of a dynamite stick and it was too much. After months of quiet with no one to listen or talk to bar Ransom, it was overwhelming and you felt sick.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” You mumbled, seizing the chance, as he was distracted.

You made your way into the hallway where you stood, your back leaning against the dark wooden panelling, taking huge gasps of air. Your chest hurt, your head was spinning and your legs burned but those deep breaths didn’t help. Your hand slapped against your chest, hoping to ebb the sting. Soon, lightheaded, and with a slight spin to the space around you, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder through your blouse. Your head turned and you saw a sweet pair of eyes looking at you with worry.

“Let’s get you some real air, come on,” it was Marta, coming to your aide.

She took you outside, to a covered patio, with wicker furniture and heating lamps. The rush of cold air hit your flushed skin and a different sting erupted through your lungs as the bite of winter’s breath filled you.

“Here.” The young woman handed you a tartan blanket, which you took with a grateful look, still not quite able to form any words. She helped you sit down on one of the chairs and made sure the blanket was snug around your shoulders as she took a seat opposite you.

“They’re a little overwhelming, but you get used to it,” she rubbed a small hand up and down your back.

You just looked at her, your eyes watering as you came down from your panic. You had no desire to get used to it, to any of it, but as per anything in this fucked up situation, you were no doubt going to have to, like it or not.

The breaths you took became longer, deeper, the peak of panic now steadying out leaving you feeling shaky and exposed.

“I’m sorry, that was…”

“You don’t have to apologise. With what’s happening inside, this is normal.” Marta softly smiled with a chuckle. “I’d be worried if they weren’t screaming at each other.”

“Can I ask you something?” You looked at her, speaking softly.

“Of course.” She replied, just as hushed.

“Why did you do it? Have everyone over? You don’t owe them anything.”

The former nurse rubbed her palms on her pants, “well, it’s what Wanetta wanted. She sorta came with the house and it was her last wish, for the family to come together. I think she thought after everything that happened something might have changed?” Marta shook her head at the audacity of the sound of it. “She didn’t say much more, but Allan had given me her will and that’s all it read. Things would remain the same but she wanted them here after she was cremated, for a final goodbye.”

“I admire her optimism.” You stated flatly and Marta laughed before she gave a heavy sigh, a sad smile on her face.

“Well, she loved them, not that any of them cared, not in years. The only one I ever noticed take mind of her out of want and not duty was Ransom.” She kept her eyes on yours as she spoke, genuine care coming from the sound of her. “But that was before…when he…with Harlan.”

You glanced away, not totally surprised but still a little shocked so to speak that someone else had noticed there was a little shred of humanity buried underneath all his asshole bravado. You leaned forward on your thighs, elbows resting there as your hands wrung together, a nervous habit you’d recently developed.

“Can I ask YOU something?” Marta wondered. You nodded, your stomach knotting, hoping I wasn’t what you suddenly thought it could be. “You’ve spent time with Ransom. I read your article and your apology. Do you believe all of this? The not of sound mind?” Her eyes were sorrowful but held a glare of contempt at the circumstance.

“Uh…” you started but the opening of the patio door caught both of your attentions and the man in question stepped outside, your coat in his hands.

“I was worried,” he stated, opening your coat for you as you automatically stood to receive the gesture. You had no doubt his worry was genuine, but whether it was for you or what you may or may not have revealed was another question.

“I needed some air,” you admitted, “Marta came to my rescue.”

“One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity there ain't nothing can beat teamwork.” Ransom quipped in reference to the chaos of the family being together, chaos he narcissistically enjoyed partaking in.

You looked up at those daring blue eyes, “Mark Twain.”

He quirked a brow in agreement before his eyes flicked to Marta and then back to you. “Was I interrupting something, Sweetheart?”

There it was, that warning tone in his voice. You were on thin ice. You stuffed your hands into your peacoat pocket and shook your head.

“No.” You cleared your throat as you held his gaze. “Like I said, I just needed some air.”

As he stood there, his eyes searching hers he took a deep breath as she gazed back up at him, fear simmering within those deep globes. Ransom reached out, pulling her to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as that’s all it was.”

Recognising his comment for what it was, half concern and half warning, she nodded against his chest. Without so much as another glance at Marta, he turned, his arm looped possessively over her shoulders as he led her back inside. He walked slowly down the hallway, stooping slightly to speak into her ear. “From now on, you don’t leave my sight, you got that?”

“Yeah, okay.” She whispered and nodded.

“Good girl,” he smiled, tipping her face up with on finger under her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

*****

The next hour or so passed reasonably uneventfully. Ransom was careful to keep as much distance between him, Y/N and the rest of the assholes in the room as possible. When the buffet was served, he watched as she picked at the plate of food she had selected, not eating a terrible amount. She’d gone in on herself again, and he found himself a little disappointed if truth be told.

“We’ll leave soon.” He turned to her and she looked at him, “you’ve behaved today, I’m impressed.”

At that she rolled her eyes. “Is going back to that fucking house supposed to be a reward or something?”

At that Ransom felt a surge of anger and he glared at her, the nerve in his jaw twitching. “Don’t push me, sweetheart.” His voice was low, and a growl but to his surprise, instead of recoiling at his outward hostility and warning she simply sat up straight, her shoulders squaring and met him with a filthy look of her own.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Oh we already played that game.” His lip curled back in a snarl. “Several times.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Walt leaned forward a little to pick up something off one of the plates on the table by Ransom and he took a breath, his eyes still trained on Y/N before he turned to his uncle.

“Are you not dead yet?”

“Do you have to talk to everyone like that?” Joni sighed. “God, Ransom.”

“Well I thought the guys who bust his leg might have caught up with him by now, no such luck.” Ransom shrugged.

“Listen here you little shit,” Walt leaned over the table, but no sooner had he done that he suddenly began coughing on whatever food he had in his mouth.

“I’m listening.” Ransom quipped as Walt continued to splutter, Donna hastily hitting him on the back.

Jacob, who wasn’t even looking at the table, too engrossed in his phone, then spoke. “What did you eat, Dad? Wasn’t anything he gave you was it? I mean he did kill Grandpa so I wouldn’t put it past him to poison you either.”

A deadly silence spread across the room as Ransom took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cousin, his hand clenching into fists. Besides him, Y/N let out a shaky breath and her head turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he leaned back in his chair and when he spoke next, his voice was icy.

“Not of sound mind.”

“Yeah, we heard. Loaf of bullshit if you ask me, but then again an expensive lawyer can get you off most things these days.” Walt snarled.

“Enough!” Linda yelled, her hand smacking on the table. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Besides him, Y/N had begun to tremble, and Ransom glanced at her to see she was taking deep breaths, her chest heaving, face stony as she stared at the wall opposite, where a picture of his Nanna Wanetta was hung.

“Oh shut up Linda!” Walt turned to her. “Everyone here knows he’s guilty as sin, even you! Why the fuck he’s even here is beyond me. And as for you...” He turned to Y/N and she gave a start, her eyes flicking to him. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead as there ain’t no gold to be digging for. She got it all.” He pointed his fork at Marta and then that was it. Y/N let out a hell of frustration, standing up that quickly her chair tumbled to the ground behind her, the plate clattering to the floor by her feet.

“You think I’m with him for his money?” He glared at Walt, the entire room silent as all eyes focussed on her. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea. I’m with him because I have-“

At that Ransom’s hand shot out and curled round her wrist, his grip tight in warning and she jerked away from him, glaring down at him with a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“The whole lot of you are fucked in the head.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. You’re nothing but a bunch of self-entitled, narcissistic assholes. After everything you've been through, you can’t even find it in your cold dead hearts to come together honour a member of your family that died without reducing the entire event to some kind of sick, twisted game of one-upmanship. Each and every one of you are all about yourselves, and what you can do to out accomplish the other. As far as I’m concerned each one of you can fuck off and die. You disgust me."

She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face before she turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Ransom blinked, watched her leave, a slam of the door behind her. He stood there for a brief moment, processing what had just happened. He looked back to his family with a smug shrug and at that he headed quickly after Y/N, his mother's obnoxious and loudly over dramatic gasp bouncing off his back as he too slammed the front door.

****

It was your turn to stand there and act like a petulant child as you leaned against the hood of the Beemer, cares and all fucks be damned. You were tired, you were angry and God damn down right fed up with this entire family and their bullshit. You didn't even make eye contact with him as Ransom as he approached the car. You simply moved to your door, slipped in as he did and waited for him to start the car. You felt his eyes in him, heard him open his mouth to say something but rather he just took in a breath and started the engine. You sat there, your arms crossed over your chest, knees at an angle, pointed towards your door, away from him.

A rumble of a chuckle escaped his chest, "Oh Sweetheart, that was really something."

"Just drive," you spat out, turning your head to him in annoyance. Now he didn't find you amusing, this new air of confidence about you. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a stern gaze.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned, pulling around the drive to the long road before the main. You didn't care. You raised your brows as if you were silently emphasizing your demand, it was not a request, even in the slightest.

The bare trees and snow covered ground began flying by your window, clearly Ransom laying the pedal to the floor as you shook your head.

"What the hell was even the point of going today? It was blatantly obvious that they didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be there. If you wanted to mourn Wanetta, we could have done it from the confines of the prison you like to keep me in. Or was this just another shitty way for you to torture me? Huh? Was that amusing to you, Hugh, making me spend an afternoon with your fucked up family, whom you hate, when you’re keeping me from mine? God, you really are a twisted son of a bitch.”

Your tirade set his skin on fire, you could see the tinge of red flushing his skin as he white knuckled the wheel, his hand on the gear shift squeezing the hell out of it as you spoke. Then very quickly you felt your body lurch forward as he slammed on the breaks. "What the fuck did you just say?"

“What, are you deaf?” You blazed. “I asked why we were there? I mean I thought we were going to pay respects to your Great-Nanna, because stupid me actually believed that you felt something, you know, some kind of sorrow that she was gone, and I actually felt sorry for you at first when we got in there, and they were unloading all their vile little opinions and digging in at you and-“

"Now you listen to me you little bitch," he spat, cutting you off. "I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your pity. I don’t care what my family say to me, or think about me. And I certainly don’t care what they think or say about you”

“Oh my god, you are…” You shook your head, looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t pity, Ransom.”

“No, because that’s what it sounds like.” He seethed, his hands curling round the steering wheel.

“Of course it does.” You scoffed. “Because that’s probably all you’ve ever felt towards anyone else isn’t it? Pity, because they’re never going to be as good as you, or have the things you have. Well you might be rich in money terms but fuck, in everything else you’re a pauper. Have you ever truly empathised with someone? Like have even once fully understood what someone else feels? Their sorrow, their happiness, their joy?”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

You sighed, considering your options. You knew what you wanted to tell him-that the fact he wasn’t loved as a child left him incapable of the simple emotions normal people met, but he was calling you out. And now, it was play it soft or rip it off like a band-aid…

And despite the feeling of foreboding washing over you, you chose the latter. You were tired of playing his mind games, tired of this whole situation. And whatever fucked up punishment he was going to inflict on you, well, it couldn’t be worse than anything he’d already done, you’d take it.

“You don't know how to be happy, or how to love Ransom, because you've never seen it. You've never experienced it. You just breeze through life thinking you can take what you want when you want, and it doesn't work like that.”

“You’re starting to really piss me off. If I wanted a therapy session, I’d pay for one.” He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”

“See, this is what I mean!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You just asked me to elaborate, so I did, and know because I’m saying something that you don’t like or don’t wanna hear, you’re resorting to being an asshole. Every time I think I’m getting through to you, I…” You fell silent, swallowing as he glared at you, nostrils flaring and you took a deep sigh, knowing that this was pointless. “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t-“

“No, you clearly got something to say, so go on. Say it.”

“What, so you can punish me when we get back for pissing you off some more?”

At that his face faltered and he took a deep breath, hanging his head. When he raised it again to look at you, his face was softer and he looked out of the windscreen, licking his lips. “I’m not…gonna punish you, okay.”

“How do I know?” You whispered, shaking your head. “How can I trust that you’re not just gonna lock me back in that damned basement and come down when you want to fuck me and-“ “Because I’m not!” His voice rose. “I don’t want you down there anymore. So I’ll ask again, you think you know so much about how to love,” he framed the word with his fingers, "then tell me what you think it means.”

“Fine, you wanna know…I’ll tell you. It's going on dates, it’s fun, its surprising, it’s feeling like you can’t breathe if the person you are in love with leaves you. It’s not about owning them or breaking them or how much you buy a person or throwing money at them, it’s showing them you know how they are, that you understand what they appreciate and what they need and what they want, a lot of times without being told.” You took a deep breath, watching his face, his expression never faltering. “Love is something that can't always be explained. It's that feeling of family, of having your person. Someone your heart and soul changes for, grows with. Love is a mother's hug or kiss goodnight, a father's ball landing in your mitt with a joyful laugh and smile. Love isn't forced or taken. It's given and received. It's...."

"Fresh hot cocoa on a rainy day when you have nothing left in a world that hates you,” he spoke softly, and when you realized what he'd said it stopped your thoughts cold. Did that mean what you thought it meant? That he loved you?

You were lost for words, but before you could protest and tell him he was wrong, he sighed and looked at you.

“You asked me before why I brought you today. That’s why. Because they hate me. And you make me feel fucking safe around those pieces of shit.” Your breath caught in your throat whilst your mind raced for how to respond. The tension and suspense filled the air about the two of you. You stared at him, his eyes soft, expectant, darting over your features with a bouncing worry. The reaction time between his words and your next move was merely a minute but you had quickly found a way to capitalize on this moment. You threw your belt off and kicked your heels off in the process, moving over the gear shift and the centre console into his lap, the center seam of your skirt tearing as you straddled him. "Wha...." his words were cut off by your lips on his, your palms over his softly shaven face, fingertips sliding into the hair behind his ears. Immediately, your tongue slipped deep inside his mouth, lolling around with his. His hands found your waist and gave you a squeeze. You came to your knees as best you could in the small space and continued to kiss him while trying to inch your skirt higher. He'd guessed what you were trying to do and you felt his hands move from your waist to the tops of your thighs, fingers trailing down quickly to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to above the curve of your ass where it bunched. He didn’t ask or question your sudden burst of confidence or seeming desire, just as you’d banked on, instead he was quite happy to go with it, as usual always ready to fuck you any which way he could. Your hands trailed over the soft material of his sweater and down to the end of it, where it met the top of his slacks. You lifted the clothing slightly to ghost over his skin causing him to flinch before your finger tips found the button and zip of his flies. That maddeningly smug smirk spread across his face and your lips crashed back to his, a furious clash of teeth and tongue, your hands still fumbling with his pants. He was half hard before you even got him free, no doubt from the heated exchange the two of you had to get to here. As you palmed his girth in your hand, your brain switched from playing him to wanton need, a basic primal instinct of desperation to release the toxic stress your body held. His big hand and thick fingers trailed over your hip, your ass, down your thigh and finally cupped your heat and a deep ferrral growl emitted from his chest as he'd realized you'd worn nothing under that skirt. He dipped two fingers inside you straight away and you cried out, "fuck" as your body bent back away from him, keening at the feeling. “Fuck, baby, you’ve had nothing on under here all day?” His fingers curled inside of you and you groaned, your head rolling back as your hips pushed forward, thrusting against his hand. You couldn't use your words, you looked down at him with your pupils blown and your bottom lip between your teeth. You gave him a squeeze instead and he quickly lurched you into the steering wheel with his chest, his fingers falling away and both hands tearing your blouse open, buttons flying that will never be found. His nose tucked between the valley of your breasts and he inhaled between your fleshy mounds, his tongue dipping against the underside of your thin bra. His hands each palming an ass cheek and squeezing so hard, it delightfully stung. With what little space the two of you had to move, Ransom pulled you down into his lap, the need to feel you wrapped around him dangerously feral. It took no time for that single motion to get his head then every inch of his shaft deep inside you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he ground out. He didn't care the mess she would make or the way he'd cum so hard he'd leak out of her, no, he wanted to fuck her senseless and that's exactly what he'd do. His heels cemented themselves into the footwell of the car as his hips jutted upward, her body curling in on him. “Harder, please Ransom.” Her voice croaked as she begged him and with a growl that was animalistic his hips picked up their pace as he rutted up into her quickly and harshly. His mouth devoured the tops of her breasts, nipping at her nipples through the material of the lace that covered them while her fingers scratched at the back of his neck, tugging at his hair. In contrast to the cold winter conditions outside, the air inside his beloved car was now hot, fast steaming up the windows, drops of condensation trickling down towards the door sill a perfect mirror image of the sweat that was now sliding down the hollow of her throat and beading on his brow. He could feel her walls begin to squeeze him tighter and tighter with each thrust. His hands curled round her hips, pulling her down onto him as he leaned back, raising his ass off the seat slightly, spearing up into her as deep as he could. "Ransom," you started to shake senselessly, you were crashing fast and hard and there was no slowing down. "Fuck, baby, just like that," you'd heard him say over the blood that rushed to your ears, deafening you, as you came, gripping him like a vice. Your body gave way as your hands sought purchase to ground yourself from entirely collapsing, finding the lapel of his camel coat, white knuckling it with one hand while the other slapped against the damp window which felt like melting ice against your heated palm. A noise burst from your mouth, a half scream, half choked wail, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever made before and you opened your eyes to see Ransom’s icy blue’s locked onto yours, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. His voracious pace continued until the end when he came with a primal growl, his hips raising off the seat far enough to jolt your head against the roof of the car. You felt him fill you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside, and then some. The air was heavy with the sound of panting as the pair of you came down from the intensity of the moment, The both of you desperately trying to breathe despite the humidity. Your hands curled over Ransom's shoulders as he sagged back in the seat, his hands smoothing up the outside of your thighs. You swallowed hard as his eyes focused on yours. You leaned forward and kissed him slowly, softly, his mouth and body languidly responding. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and took a deep breath before you went straight in for the kill, the reason you’d instigated this entire fuck, to capitalise once more on a seeming chink in his armour. "You said you feel safe with me." He stilled underneath you, his hands gentle as they now rest on your hips and his eyes locked onto yours, widening as he realised his admission. "Do you want me to feel safe with you? To trust you?" You continued, not giving him a moment to deny it. He nodded slowly in reply. "Prove it," you stated. "How?" His voice was croaky as he cleared his throat, a slight frown furrowed his brow. "I want to see my family again." He looked at you, and you kept your eyes locked on his, a challenge to him to make good on his word, gambling on him actually wanting you to trust him as he had taken great pains to demonstrate through various means over the past few weeks. This was it, the moment where you would find out exactly what he truly wanted- someone to love and trust him, or someone to fear and obey him. He let out a slow breath through his nose and his eyes flicked over your shoulder before they returned to yours and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod. But a nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

**** Part 7

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #knives out #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert #dark fic

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura imagine #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #dabi #bnha fanfiction #bee.writes

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

hi I was on u-tube and saw a bakugou playlist for when he can’t sleep and I thought well , since I just hit 200 followers ( tysm;3 I love everyone who even took the time out of their day to press follow ) why not bring them this idea of y/n not being able to sleep & bakubabe lending his beautifully different services

also abt the sero line I have in here— I personally think it’d be cool if he just learned Spanish because, he has an interest in other cultures and languages but I don’t really see him being actually hispanic

also I really like writing baku bc he’s so rough with everything he says & I kin him so he’s the easiest so, I hope no one thinks I write him too much

Reader with bad mental health & bakugou lends a hand in his own way

No one cares and no one ever asks. Or at least that’s how you felt while standing here in your last period class your hands balled up in fist tightly held at your chest

Your head was pounding and body was aching you couldn’t describe why you were feeling so horrible all of a sudden but

you just were

maybe it was from all the nights you couldn’t fall aleep due to overthinking

maybe it was the way you got stuck on your phone or even your head dropped low eyes trailing over words in a book just trying to find something to take your mind off the fact that you were struggling

whatever the case was

right now in this last period class this wasn’t helping

“ look shitty woman “ you heard the boy huff “ I want to get a good score on this paired project and right now your fucking this up for me “

his anger was visibly present even if his voice was low to where only you could hear the annoyance that sat in it had everyone looking around for the culprit of the sudden change in the air

“ and I don’t like fuckups so get whatever you have going on together and let’s do this —ok? “

you shook your head and let out a soft ‘ok ‘

the fight ending quickly with bakugou staring down on you his hands on his knees face made up in anger “ you keep finding a way to fuck with me “

“ I didn’t even do anything to you “ your voice was soft and tired

his eyes squinting before sighing

“ I didn’t do anything to anyone “

“ cut this shit out right now “ he pulled you up off the ground hands in fists gripping at your shirt standing you up with his muscles alone “ get to your room — sleep off whatever the fucks going on with you “

His eyes dead set on you as you walked off everyone from the class watching as you failed to gain the strength to open the big doors that led you to your shared dorms

“ sero plea— “

“ got it hermosa “

“ really dude “

“ look it’s hot — and just cause we’re in japan doesn’t mean I can’t show off my online spanish lessons “

“ whatever “ denkis voice whined as he shook his head holding the other door open for you “ gonna get some sleep y/n ? “

you ignored the two boys head hung low as you walked to your room door

the strength appearing in your body as you opened it but, quickly dispersing when you found your bed.

Your face hitting your favorite pillow hand coming up to cradle underneath it as you sat on your knees butt high in the air tears coming out pouring into your blankets “ I won’t show — I won’t show it — I won’t get bad again “ you repeated like a chant

The light from outside disappearing as the day grew into night

several footsteps heard departing from your door when you didn’t answer the knocks . Their low calls of dinner was done , lunch was in the microwave , that you’d missed movie time , that you missed denkis attempt of asking jirou out , and todorokis miss understood question of what ‘ cuddles ‘ were when denki offered her his body to do so

“ and you assholes didn’t just think to open the door? ”

your bedroom door swinging open in a crash as the knob hit the wall behind it creating a hole

“ fucking assholes bothering me with this shit “

“ we didn’t even call you out of your room “

“ you came over to her room on your ow— “

bakugous hand moved swiftly to slam the door in their faces

“ bakubro we’ve been trying to get in there all day and your just—“

“ gonna close the door on us “ denki finished in annoyance “ seriously I just know y/n needs my charm right now “

he pouted behind the door “ it always cheers her up and I like her lau— “

“ didn’t ask to hear your fucking crush story charger base “

“ ass — kiri let’s go “

“ so no sleepy boob pics?“

bakugou stiffened hearing the purples freaks voice

“ so I came with you guys because you said she was sad and usually when girls are sad they don’t dres— “

bakugous voice was guttural as he put his forehead to the door voice loud enough for the boy to hear

“ hey — hey purple nurple “

“ I-uh — yes bakugou “

“ come here “ he could hear the small shuffle of feet to the door as he smirked softly

“ put your tiny head to the door — actually press your whole body up to the door —all the way “

“ are you trying to help me get one of y/n’s bras god —- of all people to help I never thought it’d be bakugo—“

“ hey just shh ok — you don’t want to ruin it right and make her wake up right “ he groaned inside his mind

“ she’s slept this long and through all of this— I can’t get you her bra if your loud right purple zit “

“ so so smart “

“ ok so here it is “

the room grew silent as bakugou pressed his palm as low as he could placing it on the door away from his standing body breathing in to suppress his anger so , he didn’t let out a major blast due to his mood

sighing before he felt his hand grow sweaty tiny pops coming out

“ hey bakugou —is my princess ok ? sounds like popcorn in there are her tit—“

it was quick as the door had a hole in it the newly created circle having black burn scratches on it as mineta laid burnt on the floor once purple body now black and smoke wafting off it

Bakugou squatting as he put his left hand above the hole to steady himself and his right one reaching out through it as he grimaced in pain at the stretch his fingers finally wrapping around minetas short body fingers interlocking around his neck as he looked through the new hole in the door eyes piercing into the boy he held

his voice low and dominating “ you ever come back to her room on some creep shit — and I blow your fucking brains out do you hear me “

“ y-yes sir “ mineta let out dazed “ I will stick to yao-“

“ that goes for all the girls you hear me — guys included I know your a little pervy fuck you can’t get your hands on girls underwear you’ll move on to dekus shitty tidy whities”

mineta was silent as bakugou threw him back on the floor watching as he crawled off

his body relaxing as he shook his mind burning.

head in his hands before wiping his face in exhaustion and standing up and turning to you when he felt the air in the room shift , his hands out in jazz hands and a fake smile on his face.

“ ta da “ he was met with your sitting body your pillow covering him from seeing you .

your face dropping in shock moving from his tall figure that stood inching over to the now huge hole that he was trying to hide from you

“ k-katsuki “

“ I told you about that “

“ s-sorry “

“ again I told you about that shit “ his gaze was hard on you

“ do it again and i’ll tell shitty hair to harden in the next hug he gives you — since you and that crappy puppy boy are always touching “ he mumbled

“ bakugou why are you — why does my door have a hole in it “

“ don’t worry about it “

“ h- w-how can I not worry about it my doors black“ you screamed in confusion “ it used to be brown bakugou “

“ bakugou it used to be this — bakugou — katsuki oh my gosh i’m sorry — god do you ever shut the fuck up and just be thankful “ he mocked you soon converting back to his anger ridden voice

“ and whats with this pillow take it away from you — I wanna see your fucked up face “

you sighed bringing the pillow from in front of your head his eyes having a look run through them that you couldn’t figure out but you knew it had something to do with how puffy your eyes felt . Even if they weren’t puffy or couldn’t get puffy you’d never known for a fact because it still felt like they were .

You two stared at each other as the silence grew louder him shoving his hands in his pocket before taking out the packet of pills he’d gotten for you shaking them to show you it wasn’t a weapon like Mr.Aizawa thought after finding him returning to school late and shaking him down like a police officer

his hand putting them on your desk

His other one throwing the water he found in the kitchen to your bed “ not throwing you the pills — need you to move around so you gotta come get em‘ “

your face showed no emotion as he nodded understanding the new tense and uncomfortable emotions thats were present “ ... ok — well got a green headed vegetable to go bully so “

you watched as his hands gripped the door swinging it open as you dropped your head eyes moving to the water in front of you “ why can’t I do anything right “

you cried “ why can’t the world — the days — the stars fucking align for me to feel good for once huh “

you felt even more tears prickle your eyes as your voice grew louder “ why can’t I talk to people without having this voice in the back of my mind screaming — raging like its having a party — why can’t I sit in silence without having to stand up every five seconds and move around because my body screams for attention — for movement because i’ve been sitting still for 5 seconds “

you heard the faint click of the door mouth still moving as if he were still there

“ why can’t I speak what I feel when people ask me“ you laughed shortly “ not like they do — because they can’t tell I just mask so well “

you let your face start to feel heavy and tense as you continued your crying rant into the empty room “ and most importantly why was I so bad at everything “ your eyebrows furrowed

“ why am I so bad at today ? “

“ just a day really ? “ you heard the taller males voice came out questioning

“ just today that’s what your worried about “

“ well I “

“ tch “ he shook his head before turning to face away from you his face dropping into a look he didn’t want you to see.

“ I-i’m sor— “ you knew he didn’t like you saying sorry or even using his first name you two had established that when he finally accepted your friendship or in his words

‘ you can hang around —like shitty hair but one sniff of blabber mouth and your gone ‘

“ I didn’t mean to spill to you I just — I — you can go —no one gives a shit anyways “

“ I will “

your body grew sad at his quick response

“ tell me what your most upset about “

your answer came quick as you let your brain take over “ I wake up in the middle of the night and can never fall back asleep when I do “

he moved to your door for a second time opening it to leave before pausing for a second speaking something to where you couldn’t hear much less make out

“ just knock “

he shook his head before closing the door softly to rival his usual mood.

Your body shaking when you finally realized you’d spilled out your mental thoughts to bakugou letting your body calm down before you grabbed the pills and silently thanked your friend before feeling yourself at some time finally fall asleep

It’s been days since you last felt that horrible it never stopped but you were able to hide it even more and live out your life the happiest you could

until one night you found you beating yourself up surprisingly not in real life but in your dreams

a loud gasp leaving your mouth as you sat up calming down only to bring your knees to your chest arms wrapped around them in a hug

your back moving to the wall to feel comforted after only feeling your cold hands and body wrapped around yourself

“ what I would give to have something warm “

‘warm ‘

your mind raced to bakugou trying to push the thoughts out your mind of him actually being a caring boyfriend who could help you like he did nights ago with bringing you medicine, a boyfriend who would let you snuggle into him and take all his warmt—

stop the track cause that song will never play you thought as you started to think about him again face made up in determination and focus as you tried to remember what he said that night feeling stupid when you finally remembered your quirk

the quirk that brought you pain and contributed to your mental health

your quirk allowed you to take pictures of everyone’s last moments you’d spent together with your thoughts

it was good in some aspects like right now when you could finally remember where sato helped you hide your candy bars from yourself so you wouldn’t indulge in them 2weeks ago

at the same time you can see your problem with it when the last moment you had of your mother was her kissing you goodbye before shapeshifting into a fire extinguisher and landing in your fathers hands as he screamed at you to run out of your home and get more help the last image you seeing of your father was him spraying the fire extinguisher all over the stove in hopes to calm it down before it spread but he couldn’t

it didn’t help when the pictures replayed in your mind like video home movies that you didn’t want to watch

whenever your quirk was used everything spun in your head like a movie reel the downside was it made you watch every single picture you’d taken until you found the one you were looking for

it didn’t take long before you finished your mom and dads memory and got to bakugous last moment you two spent together

you zooming in reading his lips turning up the volume on the moment as he spoke “just knock “

“ just knock ? “ you sat confused in your spot on the bed shaking off your quirk taking as long as needed to process his words only to be even more confused and just knocking on the wall twice between your two shared dorm rooms.

You never paid much attention to him being your neighbor it’s not like you needed him for anything so right now you were a bit curious in why he reminded you that you two shared walls

Eyes closing while you waited for whatever was supposed to happen

“ guess he didn’t mean it like th—“

your body softened when you heard music fill his room and overflow into yours

You heard the drums kick in as the lyrics played muffled through your wall

‘I listened to the cure

I listened to the cure

and then I cried ‘

your eyes widened before you felt your body relax against the wall eyebrows made up in content

eyes watering when you heard your two soft knocks returned on the wall behind you

you let your body go tenseness leaving as the song played moving to grab your phone with shaky hands seeing his name light up on your screen

Godzilla wannab

‘ no one gives a shit about your life right ? ‘

you cried even harder when you saw the message fit the song perfectly the words you spoke a couple days ago as if your were singing the lyrics

you looked around your room before falling on the dent he left in your wall grabbing your phone and zooming in on it to take a picture and sending it to him

Godzilla wannab

sorry your room was just so ass you needed some redecorating be thankful people tend to cry when I redecorate—just ask deku

you laughed as you seen him prepare to send a new message your heart swelling when you read it

Godzilla wannab

look this is gonna sound sus as fuck but

you bit your lip at the new message

‘ if you can’t sleep come over — your rooms cold as fuck and I know that pillow your hugging’s not doing shit ‘

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

Text

Messages || Part 1

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word count: 9,099

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus experiences a major bump in his relationship that he’s never experienced before. It’s easy to be confident in a working relationship when being together is a daily habit, but when the relationship turns long distance after summer is over, he just doesn’t know how to keep himself afloat.

Warnings: Sex scene :o (mainly at the end), tiny bit angsty

A/N: Hello everyone! :D This is part one of a two part arc within the crystal ball series so I hope I make sense in saying that Messages part 1 and Messages part 2 will both count as part 4 and 5 of the crystal ball XD (this one is long and part 2 might be just as long so I hope that’s ok :D) (also also this is officially the first of the 500 next part request… so 1 down, 499 to go XD) I hope everyone’s holidays went great!

Posted: 12/31/20

Masterlist

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

Severus stood in front of his shelves of books, looking for new titles to introduce into the curriculum but none caught his eye. He ran his finger along the spines, dust coming off each one in a long streak and collected under his nail. They were all worn, their binding fabric once rich in texture now flush and smooth as the hard cover underneath. Their once-golden names rubbed off from excessive obsessive use from years of studies during and after his time as a Hogwarts student. His eyes followed his finger as he tried reading the titles, hoping one would spark a memory of a passage easy enough for his students to grasp.

I should introduce the Odd-Stir Method to the fifth years after winter holidays. I think Rotus explains it best – though I doubt they’d be able to get over his outdated terminology… I’d have to give them translation sheets though… Perhaps E. K Nimgo uses more appropriate language… even the densest of dunderheads should be able to understand her phrasing.

He’d reached the very last shelf and stood, clutching only two books from his collection and sighed, not entirely certain that his efforts to make brewing easier would even be appreciated. He wiped his finger on the rough fabric of his black vest and sighed, realizing he’d just created a very visible grey streak across his chest.

He heard a soft giggle and looked up, blushing at the beautiful woman leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, watching him intently. Severus smiled and shook his hair to cover his face. He tapped the books in his hand with his finger, trying to draw her attention away from him in embarrassment. “Should I even try this year?”

She pushed herself from the doorframe and walked over to him slowly with a finger tapping her chin as if in thought. She slid her hands under his arms and pushed her face into his shoulder blade. “No – In fact, maybe take a break from teaching and stay here with me this year.” She’d been begging him for several weeks now as their summer fun was coming to an end.

He wanted so badly to say yes… But Dumbledore won’t allow it. It’s still too soon after… He sighed. He ran his hand along her arm and pulled it away, freeing himself to face her. “Help me pack these?” Her smile dropped and he almost winced. “You know I’ll just throw them in,” he whispered.

She nodded and gave a slight smile. “You’re so awful at packing, Sev.” She took the books from his hands and planted a kiss on his unready lips. Her smile widened at his look of joyous surprise and laughed. “You act like a schoolboy receiving his first ever kiss every time I do that.”

He pressed his palm to his mouth until he felt his stupid smile fade and frowned at her, removing his hand. “I do not. Besides… it’s hardly my fault.” He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her in for a proper kiss. He let his lips linger on hers and made sure to speak low, just how she liked. “I can’t control what you do to me.”

She bit her lip and pulled her chin down, looking up at him with innocent eyes that sparkled wickedly at him. Merlin help me. He slid his hands down her sides and played with the hem of her skirt, loving the invisible sparks of lust and tension popping in the air.

The flames of the candles scattered around the room flickered under the influence of their accidental magic, brought on by their subconscious need to dim the lights and set their favorite evening mood. His living room had never held any romance to it until her. It was the one room in the house whose floors were maintained perfectly clean. It was the one room where they constantly found themselves on the floor of.

A soft tapping from the kitchen pulled his eyes away from hers. Merlin, I didn’t mean literally. He sighed. “I have to answer back.”

She dropped her arms that had snaked their way around his neck and folded them over her chest. “I’ll go pack these into your trunk.”

He watched her march out of the room and listened to her footfall on the stairs, heavy with anger. The door to their room slammed and he headed into the kitchen. A large brown owl sat on the rim of the empty potted plants outside and tapped its beak to the window again.

“Silence already!” Severus swung the window open and took the letter from the owl’s beak. “Tell that man if he wishes to be enraging he’s doing a fine job. Next time he hands you a letter, wait for the next one.”

He tore the envelope open and read the fourth letter sent to him that day. ‘I forgot to remind you the lists will be sent out next week, though if you have the required textbooks ready, the sooner the better this year.’ Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and walked back into the living room, scribbled the title of the textbook his students had been using for the last three years and folded it up, not bothering with a new envelope.

He marched back to the owl and held the note out for it to take. “Try not to come back – or better yet, get lost on the way.”

It hooted and took the note, tapping the window once more for the apparent pure satisfaction of seeing Severus scowl and fluttered away. He closed the window with a tight snap and pulled the curtains closed. He headed out of the kitchen and looked around.

Where is she? It was around this time he’d normally sit down to read at his chair, only to be interrupted and asked to join her on the small couch instead so she could lean on him while she entertained herself with her own books – or on busy days, her work.

Severus crossed the room and headed into the foyer, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He called out her name and listened. Silence.

He looked down at the long rug covering the center of the staircase. She’d found it on sale a couple of weeks ago and bought it for ‘the house’ claiming she was tired of the loud clomping of shoes on the stairs. Looking at the rug – along with the new matching towels and pillows and cushions for the couch – had made his chest feel unpleasantly tight for the first few days… Now he always felt a slight smile coming on when he noticed them. It was her way of moving in, knowing full well he was too scared to ask her to live with him in his grotty hovel of a house.

He headed up the steps and opened the door to their bedroom. She was laying on his side of the bed, face down on his pillow, with his books left out on his cluttered night stand. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. He closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly at the end of the bed for a few seconds.

This is all my fault. If I’d never… Merlin. I regret everything but you. “I’m sorry,” Severus whispered.

She pushed herself up onto her forearms and turned to him, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Oh Sev. Please don’t go… You’ll be gone for so long – ten months! I’m going to miss you so much! It’s going to be so hard not coming home to you every day… Everything’s going to be so much harder without you around.” She closed her eyes and fell back onto his pillow, shaking more violently than before. “Who’s going to make me soup after I finish ranting about how awful my boss is?”

He could barely make out her muffled attempt to lighten the mood and smirked, trying not to feel the growing hurt of seeing her so upset. Severus moved to the side of the bed, holding in tears that mirrored her pain, and kicked the open trunk away. He knelt on the bed and pushed her on to her side, holding her tight the moment she sat up for a hug.

He stroked her hair and bit his lip. “It only seems hard now.” He swallowed thickly. “Trust me, you’ll forget you even want me around.” He forced out a chuckle. “You might even forget I exist.”

Her hands clawed his back, pulling him closer. He let her pull him onto the bed, careful not to crush her with his weight, and allowed her arms to keep him in her sweet embrace. She was still crying into his neck and all he could do was kiss her head and press his hands into her back, pulling himself closer. As much as his heart broke when she cried, a small part of him warmed at the idea of being wanted so bad it hurt.

He was used to his brain turning on him, trying to convince him she didn’t actually care for him, despite checking to make sure he’d eaten when she got back from work, asking how he’d slept every morning, and every other little show of affection. It often times told him the small frown she wore was because of him, something he’d done wrong, despite her whole face brightening at the sight of him. All summer he’d felt like he was sitting on the edge of his seat, dreading the day she’d wake from her trance and leave him. It was hard to accept his luck when all his life he’d had anything but that.

And now here she was under him, crying over the pain she swears she’ll feel not seeing him every day… and he can’t help but want to cry over just being loved so openly and plainly. He felt guilty.

It won’t last. He closed his eyes and held her closer to him, attempting to focus on her rugged breaths of sorrow and not the cruel words ringing in his ears. We’ve only spent three months together, no one could ever feel this way for me in such a small amount of time… Not me… Not Snivellus… Not ever.

She’ll forget about me after the first month apart – less even. I’ll only cause her pain for a handful of weeks and then… then she’ll be perfectly fine without me. He pulled away as her sobs calmed and kissed her smooth salty lips with the same longing he knew he’d feel the whole almost ten long months without her. “Everything will seem normal in a matter of months. I promise you won’t feel this for long.”

She wiped her eyes and gently pushed him off her, curling up to his side and shook her head. “No. It’ll hurt this bad and worse.” She sniffed and draped her arm over his middle, pulling him closer. “Will you go over the plan again?”

He nodded. “We’ll write letters every day. You’ll visit me every weekend at the Three Broomsticks. And twice on as many weekends as I can.”

She lifted her head and kissed his chin. When she pulled away, she was finally smiling up to her eyes behind her glimmering tears. “Promise me?”

The way she looked at him, with love and hope and need, made him want to melt on the spot. I promise you anything. He swallowed. “Of course.”

She pulled away and she was no longer smiling, instead searching his eyes for something. “I really will miss you, Sev.”

He nodded and sat up, feeling the strange tightness in his chest again. He felt goosebumps on his arm despite feeling no chills, and his shirt seemed oddly restricting again. “I’ll make us dinner. Anything you wish.” He kissed her cheek and turned away, swinging his legs over the bed. He stood and crossed the room to the door, opened it, and left, giving her just enough time to mumble ‘something creamy’ before he closed the door with a snap.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stood over his trunk and started unpacking his things. The chamber was quiet and cold with new shining webs decorating the corners and connecting rows upon rows of glass jars. The fireplace cracked in the corner, vaguely illuminating the cavity he called his office, filling the air with the scents of cherry firewood, thickly sweet.

I should thank her for the new wood. She’ll surely gloat about being right, though just imagining her smiling is enough to be worth it. Severus grinned to himself and took out a folded piece of parchment where he’d been keeping notes on what to send in his letters since he’d left her at Kings Cross station. He jotted down the ‘thank you for the new fire wood’ she’d snuck into his trunk to help him relax and slipped it back into his vest.

“Ah, Severus. Finally here I see,” McGonagall’s voice echoed in. She stood on the threshold with hands on her hips, looking around at the state of things. “You’re normally on the first train back – You will be dusting won’t you? I’d give you my spell, but as you so kindly pointed out last year, it’s inelegant wording might disorganize your… ‘systemized assortment of components’… or as I call it – clutter.”

Severus rolled his eyes and faced her. “I had business.”

She arched her brow. “I see. Well welcome back, and I suggest you get started with Poppy soon, unfortunately several vials went bad over the summer – something about cheap valerian and the Ministry’s fat pockets – she’s been raging about it since she arrived. Afterwards I think Pomona’s having trouble reviving her oleanders.”

Severus nodded and waited until the crisp clacking of her heels could no longer be heard before gathering what he needed and headed out to his usual pre-term duties as the school’s only Potions Master.

After a long night of replenishing the hospital’s stocks, an early morning brewing Come-’Round serum, and an annoying evening spent with Sprout and her plants, dinner rolled around and he hardly noticed the maddening levels of screaming and laughing and talking coming from the house tables full of old and new students.

“Severus,” McGonagall drew his sleepy attention to her. “Albus mentioned you expressed an interest in taking over monitoring the corridors at night.” She took a sip from her goblet.

Severus frowned. “I mentioned the need to double down on dawn and dusk hours. Not – ”

“That is a marvelous idea. I’m sure you will keep plenty of nosy students out of trouble this year.” She sipped her goblet again.

Severus blinked several times at her. “D-did you just hand over the entire position to me?”

She continued drinking as if he hadn’t spoken and turned back to her food, glancing over at him every so often to check if he was still glaring at her.

Severus grumbled to himself and turned back to his food. I miss ONE meeting and suddenly every tedious responsibility is handed off to me. Of course.

Soon the Great Hall was emptied of students as their prefects led them to their houses and Severus prepared himself for a short night’s rest. He spent three hours walking between corridors from one house entrance to the next, catching at least five students out after hours walking about the castle in the dead of night, and two in the early hours before the sun rose.

He sat back at the high table with a groan and stretched out his legs. The morning light filtered through the tessellated windows high above the tables and reflected off the maple-glazed sausages and glittering butter that melted over his toast.

A familiar wood owl soared down and landed on the top rail of his chair, hooting happily with an elegantly ribbon-wrapped note clutched tight in his foot. Severus suppressed a grin, keeping his usual scowl plastered over his face, and took the note, quickly unraveling it from its pink satin bindings.

2 September

My dearest Severus,

You have not replied to the letter I sent yesterday. How was the train ride and our first night apart in months? I missed you more than you could ever imagine. You said I’d be glad to have the bed to myself, but for the second night in a row I have missed your warmth and your embrace. I fear to even wash the sheets and erase your all too alluring scent… Although I will. When did we last wash them? A week ago? Please fake your death and come back to me.

Love,

Your already forgotten girlfriend.

‘Girlfriend’, his heart skipped as his eyes reread the word. He felt a strange forgotten ache deep in his core, of sleepless nights as a student wondering if he’d ever have someone to call his. It was within these very stone walls that he’d muttered curses under his breath at any student that pointed out the fact he was alone and would forever be alone. He’d been wrong, and it was a pain he wished he could go back and relieve from his younger self. He took out his quill, flipped the note over and smoothed it’s curves on the dark oak table.

2 September

My unforgettable girlfriend,

I’ve officially taken over monitoring the corridors at night. It seems McGonagall is trying to remedy my insomnia with hours of walking the halls like a soul-lost mummy in the deep caverns of Khufu’s temple. I caught seven just last night, and apparently my reprimands were deemed ‘unfair’ and ‘dumb’ by these pests we call students.

Severus

He paused.

Also, thank you for the logs. They were nice, but I will switch them out soon for something more menacing.

He folded the note and handed it back to her owl, who had been intently watching his quill feather jitter as he wrote. Her owl took the note in its beak and joined the dozens of other owls leaving through the windows.

Although the letter had suppressed his stress for a few minutes, it soon bubbled back up as the bells rang for the start of lessons. As he’d expected, none of the students had done an ounce of studying over the summer, resulting in the floors being covered in melted stirring rods, the high ceilings dripping with fluorescent watery syrup, and six cracked cauldrons from high-tempered concoctions.

But of course I’M the one writing to the ministry about replacing six cauldrons. If it were up to me, each one of those brats responsible would be writing apology letters begging for new cauldrons themselves. He started writing out the letter towards the Ministry’s Educational Mayhem Funds Committee explaining the need for new ones and how he would supposedly prevent the need for more. Perhaps suggesting teaching dogs instead is not a reasonable approach.

He skipped dinner and by the time it was a quarter to nine, he set out patrolling the corridor and this time checked every broom-closet twice. He slept, and by dawn was up again, pacing floors until the smell of eggs and citrus filled the passageways, wafting in from the kitchen vents.

Breakfast, he sighed. He made his way down and took his usual seat. At some point between his first and second poached egg-topped buttered crumpet the familiar aspen-feathered owl landed on his chair, delivering a newly ribboned note.

3 September

My hardworking boyfriend,

I do not envy those under your authority. I’m sure in the coming week, everyone will remember how strictly you rule the corridors and classrooms and will choose to stop breaking the rules. Perhaps slapping the desk harder while you yell will really make them quiver in their shoes. Speaking of heavy hands… will I see you at the end of this week? I miss visiting Hogsmeade and especially the butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. This weekend will be a MUCH needed break from work and everything that reminds me of my boss’s red warty face. He’s driving me mad. Come down and hex him for me, won’t you Sev?

Yours always,

A previous pest.

Severus chuckled and replied immediately.

Do not tease, especially since the weekend is two days away – it feels like a lifetime when imprisoned within these walls. I shall see about a room at the Three Broomsticks. Regardless, Saturday for lunch. Noon exactly.

Severus

He handed the owl her note and stuffed the new ribbon in his pocket with the other. ‘Heavy hands’. He pressed his elbows to the table and his fists to his growing grin. He was sure Sprout would let him pick a few of her bluebonnets to take with him. It’d be a lovely surprise he was sure she’d more than appreciate.

He pushed away from the table and made his way out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons. His first lesson of the day was in a few hours. The first years are probably running Pomphrey dry on the Dreamless Sleep elixir. She’ll likely ask me about it this weekend… If I get started on it now –

The library doors opened and a shrill voice called out to him. “Oh! Professor Snape!” The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher came marching up to him with a determined look about her. “I was told to seek your advice – Professor if you have the time.”

Severus kept from rubbing at his temples and breathed out in what almost sounded like a groan. “In what are you seeking council?”

The new professor shook her head, her large bun bobbing from side to side, and placed her hands on her hips. “The library does not stock extra copies of the books I have assigned as required textbooks. I was told you’d had this problem when you first began teaching?”

Do not remind me. “Ah… yes. The library will not stock books outside the Ministry’s recommended reading. You could try convincing… Dumbledore,” the word rolled off his tongue distastefully. “But the Headmaster prefers leaving it up to the professors to figure out.” Severus turned to leave.

The woman laughed. “Is that your advice? Figure it out myself?”

Severus turned back and narrowed his eyes. “If the books you are seeking… are not stocked. Then they are not from the list the Ministry has provided you – as I’m sure you know, as we receive updated lists every summer. That means either your book is considered too dangerous – ”

“It’s not! I would hardly call unicorns and counter-clockwise counting clocks dangerous when – ”

“Or,” Severus interrupted, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “They are too expensive. If some students cannot afford the textbooks, then it is your job to provide them or incorporate them into a learning plan.” Severus turned on his heels and started walking briskly down the dungeon stairs.

“And am I supposed to make a learning plan after term has already begun!”

He kept walking without turning back. “That IS the situation you find yourself in. Yes,” he yelled back. How many more of these incompetent teachers will Hogwarts endure before Dumbledore allows me the position? Talk about maddening ‘bosses’.

Severus hadn’t even sat in his chair for more than a few minutes before his fireplace burned with flames alit with minor Floo powder.

“Severus.” McGonagall’s voice drawled from within the flames.

Severus pinched his eyes closed. “Minerva,” he hissed.

“As much as I enjoy watching new teachers flop around from task to task, it is not me that applies for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position every summer. Perhaps showing some initiative would propel Albus to take you more seriously next year.”

He could hear the amused smile in her voice. He seethed in his chair for a minute. “Last time I ‘showed initiative’ I was given the whole bloody task. I am NOT filling my schedule with her poor attempt at education.” He thought for a moment. “Unless.”

McGonagall sighed. “What do you want, Severus.”

“I will be gone this weekend. Saturday and Sunday… And sometimes other weekends as well.”

The bright green flames flickered over the cherry firewood and a log fell, sparking tinier flames for a few seconds before the larger ones engulfed them.

“Alright.”

The fire cracked and then died down to the normal short flames that he liked. Well that solves that.

~ * ~ * ~

Severus stared at the densely grown purple wildflowers that filled the smallest planter in the greenhouse. The cool blues and purples of the bonnet-shaped petals made his mouth turn up in a smile, mirroring the very same one he knew he’d receive if he showed up to his date with these in hand. He clipped diagonal cuts into the stems and wrapped them in the two ribbons he’d kept from her letters. The pure pink of the ribbons shined brightly among the mellow blues of the flowers. Perfect.

Severus carefully tucked the bouquet in his inner cloak pocket and headed out towards the gate. Not feet from the door of the greenhouse he heard Madam Pomphrey calling his name from the castle doors.

“Ah! Severus! Glad to catch you before you left.” She waited for Severus to approach her. “The first years have just about drained my supplies of Dreamless Sleep. Minerva suggested having some flown in from that new shop across from Zonkos but I refuse to give the students anything I wouldn’t just make myself.”

Then why have ME make it? Severus sighed. “Of course… I’ll have that for you Monday.”

“No sooner?”

Severus refrained from frowning. “No sooner.” He turned – noticing Pomphrey’s eyes glancing down at the purple pollen smudged on his black cloak – and headed towards the gate.

~ * ~ * ~

Hogsmeade was busier now than it was when Hogsmeade trips started for students. He guessed it was because there was only one month during the year where there were no loud and screaming children bumping into people out on the streets or taking up unnecessary room in shops. If he’d realized just how pact the day would be, he’d have suggested meeting in the room he had gotten instead of out on the street.

He sat on one of the benches near the Three Broomsticks and took out his small journal, hunching over to see his small writing. On Mondays and Wednesdays I can help plan defense lessons in the mornings, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays will have to be in the evenings, so those days will have to be plans for the following day which means this Monday or Wednesday I’ll have to help plan two lessons… Sunday I can get back early… I’ll only be able to brew a fourth of the stock… I can catch up on it next Sunday if my visits with her are just Saturdays… at least for only a week or two. He quickly scribbled down his plans.

Two hands pulled his hair up out of his eyes, and he found himself staring at a pair of shiny heels. He trailed his eyes up her legs and looked up, squinting at her smiling face already diving down for a kiss on his forehead.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Severus quickly stood and took out the flowers he’d picked just for her.

She smiled so bright her eyes glowed with delight. “Sev!” She took them and jumped onto him, clinging onto his neck.

He felt his face go red and cleared his throat, acutely aware of just a few stares pointed their way. She didn’t let go of him, however. She held on tight and all he wanted was to breath her in so desperately. To pick her up and twirl her and never let go, but there were so many people. He forced a simple hug and pulled her away. The room! It should be available already.

“What’s that little smile on your face for?” She arched a brow, hugging her flowers tight.

Severus bent down and pushed her silky hair behind her ear, gently tracing his lips on the soft ridges of her ear. “Room? Now?” Am I a barbarian? I haven’t seen her all week and all I can muster are two single-syllable words? He pulled back and watched as her teeth bit down her plump lower lip.

“Take me away, Severus,” she whispered.

His brain had turned into dense fog and all he could think to do was nod and take her hand, leading her inside. He slinked past groups of people thunderously enjoying their early morning drinks and up the stairs, gripping her hand tight, making sure not to lose out on a single second of feeling her skin on his.

He pulled out his key and slipped it in the lock, turning it until it clicked, and opened the door. The room had a single bed and closed curtains, which was really all they would need tonight. What if she was expecting something better? He couldn’t afford any of the nicer, larger rooms available.

He turned and watched her saunter in, paying no attention to the room and only to him as he closed the door with his heel. Her intense sultry eyes eyed him up and down as she bit her lip, taking him in like a cold sweet treat left out for her to have on a hot summer’s day. His face went red again, and he could remember the feel of her hands all over him, begging him to give himself to her to do with at her whim.

Did she lick her lips? He swallowed.

“My Severus,” she whispered.

Mind blank, he lunged for her lips and they both fell onto the bed. His hands roamed over the fabric of her dress, outlining her figure with a yearning need. She moaned and squirmed under him, making his temperature rise with desire. In one swift move, she had him pinned down, her knees straddling his hips. Her lips teased light bruises onto his neck and a deep moan escaped his mouth.

Before the new hour had even struck, they were already under the covers in an embrace deeper than ever before. Physically, the positions were the same, needy and wild; emotionally, his soul couldn’t get enough. Her scent, her touch, every minute sound that escaped her lips, breathy or fierce, sent a fire down his body. He’d missed her so much.

“Severus!” she moaned in his ear, holding him down with a shaky grip. Her body tensed with pleasure and finally relaxed onto him, limp with euphoria.

He shivered and closed his eyes, keeping the same steady rhythm that had undone her. His hands gripped her hips and pushed her down as his heels dug into the mattress and his own hips pressed up. She was huffing in his ear, moaning, whimpering. And with the same sudden flowing energy, he followed in her pleasure. He wrapped his arms around her as the waves washed over him and hugged her tight as their breaths caught and their rhythmic movements ceased, fully satisfied.

He smiled and chuckled, laughing louder as her giggles bubbled out as well. “The room was a good idea.”

“I see you can form sentences once again.” She laughed and pushed herself up to kiss his face.

He blushed, wishing she hadn’t noticed how utterly speechless her presence had left him in only a single week of not seeing her. “Yes – well – ” Merlin, a sentence! Finish a sentence. He cleared his throat. “Lunch? Er – Would you like to send for some lunch to have in here?”

She bit her lip, poorly hiding a wide grin, and nodded. “You can go order for me. I’ll be right back.” She took her clothes and headed into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar like she always did before a shower.

He dressed quickly, headed down to the bar and ordered two meals and a few drinks. It only took a few minutes to receive his order despite the crowd of wizards and witches sitting at tables talking with friends. He flicked his wand and the meal led the way back up the stairs and into the room.

The rest of the day was spent eating and laughing on the bed, talking about mainly her work or things she’d added to his house – or ‘the’ house as they had been ‘sneakily’ calling it. He liked it, maybe this summer it could be ‘our’ house. After several drinks and hours spent in each other’s arms, they got ready for bed.

Severus wrapped his arms around her, squeezing them between the mattress and her back, and rested his head on her chest. He closed his eyes as she played with his long hair, curled it in her fingers, and smoothed it out with her palm. Within seconds sleep seeped into every corner of his mind.

~ * ~ * ~

Although breaking the news that he had to leave early that Sunday had soured their last hours together, Severus felt far more relaxed as the week went on. His memories of her warmth and softness were renewed and he could put more focus into his work, knowing what the ends of the weeks would more or less look like now.

Of course he had told her that the following weekend date would have to be canceled if only to ensure that the rest would remain free. He still had potions to restock in the hospital wing that took several days to brew single batches. And that lesson plan, he grumbled to himself.

The full week that followed had felt like one long trek up a mountain, only to reach the peak and see more mountain to climb. The weekend was spent slumped over one of his brewing tables with an elbow dug into the wood and his head glued to his palm. He stirred and stirred for hours, waited for the potion to turn purple, and then stirred for longer.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to replicate the feel of her fingers brushing through his greasy tendrils, and sighed, wiping his hand on his trousers. The room was quiet except for the slow pop of bubbles and he knew if she’d been in the room he’d have had to demand she leave, unable to brew under the tight squeeze of her hugs. He lifted his head off his palm and wrapped his arm around his middle, hugging himself close as his other hand stirred.

Once the tall jars were filled and stoppered, he walked them down to Madam Pomphrey’s office and headed to dinner. His eyes narrowed on a group of students suspiciously whispering to each other. Hufflepuffs. It was no coincidence dessert tonight was the Hufflepuff favorite, honey-stuffed bear biscuits. Their house door was only a corridor away from the kitchens and there was always left overs of this particular dessert for some reason. Sprout denied having anything to do with it, Of course.

He waited in his office watching the clock and smiled as the hands marked the start of After Hours. He stood and smoothed out his teaching robe, preparing for an eventful night of patrolling. He started with the other houses first, going from top floors to the bottom, and allowing the Hufflepuffs plenty of time.

He finished his dungeon rounds and headed up to the main corridor. He crossed it with a light stroll, and turned the few corners into the Hufflepuff and kitchen passageway. The kitchen door was left ajar, and a creamy warm light seeped into the shadows. Severus stalked through the dark and pushed the heavy kitchen door wider, observing the chaos in secret.

Six Hufflepuffs stuffed the cookies into sheer golden bags and tied them around their hips by the stings like valued coin. Two were reaching for the jars of deep golden syrup placed high above cabinets while the others overloaded the biscuits with slices of grilled pear chunks.

He stepped into the kitchen and held his hands behind his back, glaring at the back of their heads. He could see their shoulders tense one by one until they all stopped their movements and turned around ever so slowly.

Severus licked his lips and lowered his voice to a growl. “Detentions. Scrubbing cauldrons and boiling devilpods.” Severus flicked his wand and every last treat disappeared from their sticky hands. He marched them to their house door and slammed it hard behind them.

He was half way to his office when it suddenly dawned on him. Six detentions? Where in Merlin’s shiny bald head would he fit six hours of detention supervision in his schedule? His hands fisted at his sides and an angry growl roared out of him into the darkness.

“Shhh!” A portrait hushed from up the nearest stairs.

Potions. Severus stalked down the dungeons stairs. Lesson Plans. He threw his office door open. Detentions! He slammed the door shut and glared as a jar threatened to topple off his shelf. “When does it end!” he snarled.

It was two weeks into the first term and his patience had already run dry. If he wasn’t going to see her this weekend either, then there was no reason to hold out on punishments for misbehaving brats. There was no more scraping the bottom of the barrel for mercy for any student or coworker.

His words dripped with venom, his actions were sharp, and what little restraint he had shriveled and died. Everywhere he went the whispers followed, ‘Careful, Professor Snape is coming this way.’

~ * ~ * ~

20 September

Of course. Next weekend it is then. I miss you, Sev.

Yours Always

Severus sighed and pinched his eyes closed. The guilt in his gut had clawed its way into his veins and was now circulating his whole body, making him cold with worry. This was the second weekend he canceled on her and after expecting anger, she’d delivered a short but loving message showing how much patience she had for him.

20 September

I’m sorry. I miss you too. I’m sorry, truly.

Yours, Severus

He handed his reply to one of the school owls in the owlry and watched it fly off into the greying sky. The wind was chilly as it brushed passed his nose and hair, sending goosebumps down his arms. He stuck his hands in his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut as more guilt shivered up his core. She hadn’t yet mentioned the fact he wasn’t replying every day to her letters anymore, and that made him all the more scared. Was that her way of telling him she had expected he wouldn’t keep up with his promise?

Merlin, I’m an awful boyfriend. He forced a trembling laugh. Couples were supposed to hug and kiss and lay in each other’s arms and talk often weren’t they? He didn’t know anymore. It had seemed so easy over the summer. He’d felt so proud when she called him her boyfriend, especially when he knew he was doing everything right. Bringing her flowers, helping her with work, complimenting her every morning and night before and after work. He’d felt he earned the title.

But I don’t deserve it now. He barely talked to her, had broken all his promises, kept canceling on her, I keep disappointing her. He began walking down the spiraling stairs down the owlry, hardly taking in his surroundings, mind haunted by his past. Words floated in his head, voices that made him tense with rage. ‘Stop lookin’ Snivellus. You’ll never find a girl who’ll ever want you.’ The walk from the owlry to the dungeons was a tormented blur.

His office glowed green as the fireplace flames waved on an old burnt log, an inch high and ready to fizzle out. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and picked up one of the cherry wood cuts. He wrapped his arms around it and carried it into his room, placed it in the fireplace, and shot red sparks from his wand into it.

It caught fire instantly and soon a thick sweet scent filled the air. He wrapped his cloak around himself, still feeling the cold chill from the outside, and fell onto his mattress, pressing his face into his pillow. He welcomed the summer memories, allowing them to fill every crevice of his mind.

He missed the way she looked at him. Missed the way his heart skipped every time she did. He closed his eyes tighter and started to sob into his pillow. I miss her hugs. I miss her warmth. He couldn’t even explain to himself how much he missed just rambling to her about small unimportant things and blushing when she actually paid attention to him. It was hard to experience the fullness of their relationship over letters and two-day visits alone. And even harder now that he couldn’t even keep up with that.

He wiped his face and huffed roughly, turning onto his back. He felt exhausted and depleted and it didn’t take any effort at all to close his eyes. He gave one final sigh and – Fuck. I have essays to grade.

~ * ~ * ~

28 September

I’ll see you soon! Same room, order dinner, bring it up, and close your eyes! No peeking and no barging in! I’ve got a little surprise…

Severus smiled and put the letter in his pocket. He picked up the bronze key that she’d slipped into the envelope and ran his finger over the smooth edges. She’d picked the same room he had gotten them. Either she was as broke as he, Or that room actually meant something to her now. He leaned back in his office chair and crossed his arms, holding the key close to his heart.

There was a knock at the door and he quickly slipped the key in his pocket and sat forward. “Enter.”

McGonagall pushed the door open. She stepped in and sighed happily, looking around at his dusted shelves and turned, quickly erasing her look of satisfaction. “Well, Severus. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I must. Your requests to hold the meetings for week days next month have been denied. There are too many teachers and everyone is busy most class days.”

Severus gave her no response and stared at his hands as they began to tremble. He squeezed them into fists and pressed them to his knees.

She looked him over from across the room and frowned. “However, like always, Hogsmeade visits will be kept free… The meetings will be held on the weekends between Hogsmeade visits, and there are only two…” She stood for a few seconds, still looking at him, as if having expected some note of frustration from him, or any sort of disgruntled response. “You’ll only be missing two weekends…”

“I’ll have missed four in total by next month,” he whispered.

McGonagall crossed the room and waved her hand over the empty space in front of his desk, summoning one of her office chairs to sit in. “Might I ask what it is you’re missing out on?”

Severus leaned away and kept his eyes down, his hair falling over his face like protective curtains. McGonagall and him had never talked about anything other than lessons, Hogwarts, or the Ministry. She hardly knew anything about him and he had never asked a thing about her.

“Does it have something to do with whoever you gave those flowers to?” She smiled when he scowled at her. “Poppy might have mentioned…”

Severus looked away again, deciding to fix his energy on glaring at his burnt fire log and the bit of charred entrails he’d accidently dropped last time he prepared a potion in here.

McGonagall stood up and waved her hand over her chair. “I’ll see to it that after October, you get the weekends free, as you requested.” She looked around at his unswept floor and tisked. “Let me know if you need that spell I mentioned.” She fixed her emerald green hat and left his office.

Severus stared at the door and nodded. He had no doubt she’d keep her word. Some bad news… but mainly good? Maybe I won’t entirely ruin tonight with this.

~ * ~ * ~

The Three Broomsticks was just as crowded as before, except the wizards all looked like they’d stopped bothering to take any sort of sobering tonics. Severus ordered their dinner, sparing no expense. Cheesy onion rings, three types of dips, a lettuce salad, fruit salad, battered fish with onion gravy and mash, toad in the hole, two drinks, and garlic chips to share. It was a feast of everything she loved and anything she could be in the mood for tonight and anything they wouldn’t eat he was sure she’d be glad to take back with her.

He waved his wand and followed the trays up the stairs, hissing at rowdy wizards that almost bumped into the food as he went, and stood outside the door. He closed his eyes and knocked. He heard it open and a surprised gasp.

“Are we dining with the Queen?”

Severus’ lips pulled up into a coy grin. “I’m dining with a queen.”

She giggled and pulled him in by his cloak and shut the door behind him. She slid her arms around him from behind and pressed her chin into his shoulder, holding him close. Her breath fanned over the ridges of his ear as she spoke low and quiet. “Then you are my king.”

Severus bit his lips and opened his eyes. There were a few candles hovering around the room and red sparkling petals on the floor. He could feel himself shaking with anticipation and before he could tempt himself, he moved forward and placed the trays of food on the table by the closed curtains.

“Turn around, Sev.”

He let out a shaky breath. Whatever the surprise. I don’t deserve this. He swallowed and spun on his heel slowly, dragging his sight along the floor and stopped at her silver heels. His eyes trailed up her legs, her curves, her glowing face, and flowing hair. She wore silver lace that sparkled with her eyes and a sheer flowing green night gown with feathers at the cuffs and hem of the wide trail.

A heat started burning at his core, and his face flushed red with color. She was wearing his house colors again and an immediate rush of greed flowed through his veins. Since he was young it had been instilled in him what those colors meant. Silver and green were a Slytherin’s pride, a Slytherin’s territory, it meant it was Slytherin owned.

He trailed his gaze all over her body. “Mine,” he growled.

She bit her lip and slowly let the sheer gown drop and pool at her feet. He crossed to her and let his hands roam over her soft skin and plump curves, squeezing and gripping with need and want. She pressed herself closer, putting pressure on his hardened member and looked up at him. He met her eyes and whimpered; her eyes sparkled with a wildness that sent shivers down his spine.

“I need you,” he huffed, his voice low. He reached down and squeezed her curves, pressing her closer into him, feeling the pressure on him mount and the tense heat between them rise.

“I need you too, my wonderful boyfriend,” she whispered.

His breath caught in his throat. ‘Wonderful boyfriend.’ He looked at the deep red petals on the bed and pulled away. He squeezed his hands together, trying to stop the shaking but all it did was make it spread down his whole body.

She frowned with concern. “Severus?”

His breath came out in huffs and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot stinging tears run down his icy cheeks, cold with dread. I have to tell her now. I can’t wait ‘till after. I can’t… I can’t –

“Severus?” she repeated more urgently and pressed her palms to his jaw. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks and wiped away the river of tears. “Tell me,” she whispered.

He sniffed and sat on the edge of the bed, bending his head low enough for his hair to fall forward, shielding him from the world. “I’m not a good boyfriend,” he sobbed. “I haven’t been responding to your letters… I’ve been canceling our dates… And – I have to cancel two more. I can only see you during Hogsmeade visits next month and – ”

She sat next to him on the bed and pulled him into her, rubbing her hand up and down his back gently. “I know you’re busy, Sev. That doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Your job as a professor keeps you in the castle… and that’s ok…”

“It’s not ok…” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. “You were crying all summer and I promised you – ”

“I was just scared, Sev. I’m so sorry. I was so upset and I missed you so much already that I made you promise me something you couldn’t keep, just to make myself feel better…”

He nuzzled closer and ran his hand down her arm.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Sev. I should have asked you to send me notes and messages only when you had time… I shouldn’t have put you in a position to cancel dates we’d planned before the school year even started… You’re everything I want. I promise… Dates on Hogsmeade visits sound wonderful.”

He sobbed once more, taking in her words. He didn’t feel she had any hate or loathing, only understanding and care for him. He wasn’t used to this. I don’t deserve her. And yet here she was, giving herself to him, accepting him, caring for him, even after he’d broken his promise and disappointed her countless times. He let his nose trail up her neck and pressed his lips to her warm skin. She tilted her head in response, exposing more of her neck for him and all he could think to do was kiss her tender skin harder.

She giggled and pushed him away with a wink. She moved herself up the bed and laid back against the pillows, moving her finger to motion him over. He followed her, kicking off his shoes and kissed her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He crouched over her, cornering her, and moaned when her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands ran up and down his thighs as his own hands tore at the delicate lace she wore, unwrapping her like a gift.

He leaned down and began marking her with needy kisses, leaving red marks all over her chest and replacing the ones that disappeared with newer ones. She held him close, encouraging more as her hands played with his long hair. He let his tongue slide out and licked over sensitive areas with hunger. With every moan she gave he grew harder, finally needing to undo the buttons of his constricting trousers.

Her hands found him, and released him from his pants. He groaned and pressed himself against her while her fingers got to work on the buttons of his jacket, vest, and shirt. He slid himself between her lips only, rocking himself, groaning as their bodies began to grind with eagerness.

He tore his mouth away from hers and shrugged off his clothes quickly, sliding off his trousers and pants and threw everything out of his way, unable to keep from her any longer. He closed his eyes and moaned as he slid in slowly, enjoying himself fully. He looked down and pulled back out just as slow and made sure he was fully slicked and glistening before pushing back in all the way and cuddling into her open arms.

“I love you Sev,” she moaned.

He moved his hips slow as he held her, savoring every sensation. He was warm and secure in her arms, like he often felt when they cuddled in bed after long days. He hugged her close and closed his eyes, moaning into her neck with every push he gave. He felt close to her, confident in their shared affection for each other and he realized there was never anything to fear. He moaned and trembled in her embrace as he built up their pleasure slow and steady, knowing soon the romantic mood would dissolve into pure lust and need. He needed to show her how much he loved her with every pleasurable push he gave.

She’s getting wetter, he couldn’t help but notice. Nor could he help the sudden throb he gave at that thought. I need her. He pushed his hips harder and whimpered at her moan. Her hands tangled in his hair and pulled, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. The slow give and take of his movements turned into hard pounds sending more vivid waves of pleasure throughout his body and hers.

Severus pressed into her, holding her tighter, pounding faster, making sure every wave was immediately replaced by the next. He groaned and held her locked in place as every ripple of pleasure was followed by his name moaned in his ear. He breathed out shakily as her legs wrapped around his waist squeezed tighter and her back arched. Her nails raked across his back as he pounded harder, faster, until her breath caught and her muscles stiffened.

He throbbed as she tightened around him and pushed harder as she relaxed under his weight, letting him press his body back into her inviting curves that cushioned him so perfectly. His breathing was rugged, gasping, trying hard to hold out longer, feeling the pleasure begin to boil over. He dug his face into her neck as the final tidal wave crashed over him and the perfect rhythm he had going broke with every throb he gave deep inside her.

“You’re made for me,” he gasped, shuddering as the wave washed over every nerve in his body. He relaxed completely and her arms held him tighter as she rubbed slow circles on his back.

She pushed his chin up with her finger and kissed his nose. “We’re made for each other. Soulmates.” She whispered.

The message from fate couldn’t be any clearer as they caught their breathes and breathed each other in. They had thoroughly enjoyed not only each other’s bodies, but their hearts and souls as well in this blissful evening.

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

Masterlist

(Part 4 of The Crystal Ball)

—–

@wow-life-love4

@x-avantgarde-x

@dandyrua

----

General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot

@bionic-otp

—–

Thank you to those who requested a fourth part and for all the lovely comments on part three and messages in my ask box (which I will answer in the coming days :D )!

#severus snape #pro snape #severus #snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus x reader #severus x you #snape x reader #snape x you #snape fanfic #snape one shot #snape x fem!reader #severus snape one shot #snape fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #fan fiction #snapedom

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

Text

The Girl at the Library Chapter 1

Short Fic - Levihan

Themes: College AU, Library, Fluff, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Female Hange Zoe, Student!Levi

Word Count: 5730

Chapter: 1/3

Warning: Mild Language

Read on Ao3 - The Girl at the Library

Summary: Levi is a college student who needs help on his research paper. Luckily, Hange is a book worm and works at the library.

Levi was stressed and annoyed, mainly because he was in college. Of course with college comes infinite amounts of homework assignments, 100-question exams with astronomical amounts of topics on them, unnecessary research papers, and staying in a dorm room with a kid that happens to have no problem inviting his friends over every night to hang out and party with no regards to his sullen roommate.

Levi had a paper coming up. He had to come up with a topic, find sources, and finish his paper by the end of the semester. With three weeks left to go, he decided he’d rather get it over with. He began his brainstorming in the study lounge at the center of his dormitory floor. He was starting to stress. He sat on the big yellow leather couch in the way-too-bright study lounge with his laptop in his lap. He tapped his pen against his head as he tried to think of an idea.

“You have to write about a topic related to your major,” The professor explained. “This is the one and only paper you will have assigned this semester. I suggest you get it done as early as possible.”

If only it were that easy. He had the rubric pulled up in one tab, and a ton of “How to pick a research topic” websites in others. His major was pharmaceuticals, a field he was inspired to take on because of his mother. She was very ill when he was very young, so they were in and out of hospitals. He was sitting on the edge of his mother’s hospital bed when a nurse came in the room to administer her medications.

“This is…” His memory was blurry. “This medication will help… and make you feel better.” And it did. 9 year old Levi was fascinated. This one little pill or bag of what looked like water helped his mother feel better. Within hours, his mother’s skin went from pallor to beige. Her hands were warmer. She looked more awake, more alive. She didn’t wince at Levi’s touch. She was in less pain. She got better, like the nurse predicted.

Since then, Levi always asked questions whenever they visited the hospitals again and again. “What kind of drug is that?” “What does it do?” “How long does it take to take effect?”

Levi recalled the memory with a deep sigh. He missed his mother. She was at home, not too far away. Levi never had the time to travel the hour through the big city to visit her. When he did have free time, he spent it studying or sleeping. He felt his heart twinge at this. She had sacrificed everything to help him attend college and to give him a good life.

Now with his head cloudy, he went to reach his water bottle in his backpack. He opened the lid and took a sip. At that moment, he could hear some obnoxiously loud students throwing tennis balls back and forth to each other. He recognized these kids too, they were some (of many) of the lovely visitors his roommate had over most nights. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, Levi’s water bottle spilled all over his laptop, a tennis ball on the floor next to him, and some worried voices approaching him. Within seconds, the laptop started to steam and the screen went black.

His laptop was fried, he determined. He felt heat start to rise inside of him.

“Oh my god, man. I am so sorry,” One of the kids said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah, man. We didn’t mean to.”

Levi took a deep breath and stood up. These kids… were gonna pay.

He closed his broken laptop and stood up. These kids were much taller than him, but looked to be easily intimidated by Levi’s presence.

“Do you have the money to pay for this?” He sneered, getting very close to their faces.

“Eh… no, but we have jobs! We can pay you back over time,” One of the kids trailed off. They seemed to be intimidated by the short man. “You live in 112 right?”

Levi nodded, his face heating up with anger. “This laptop cost me a lot of money.”

“We get it, man! We said we’re sorry,” the other kid explained. “We’ll pay you back or whatever.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked. He was extremely pissed. These kids should not be throwing balls at each other in the hallway. Also, they spilled his water which made a mess. “Which room are you both in?” They responded with 118. The one kid explained they get paid on the 15th and 30th of each month. Luckily, their pay day was 4 days away.

“I’ll stop by Tuesday, the 16th,” Levi decided, before gathering his things and heading to the stairs. He began to walk through the campus. Fuck, now where was he gonna go? How was he gonna find his topics? His computer was fucked. Putting it in rice wouldn’t have helped. He was so occupied having a debate with himself about where to research, he almost missed it. If he looked the other way or even blinked in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen it. It was the campus library. No, not the campus library, but a campus library. It blended into the surroundings, hidden from the passerbyers. There was a sign in the window “We’re Open!”.

The library was small, to say the least. It was old fashioned, which contrasted the modern aesthetic of the university. It was a small, dark brown, wooden building with four-pane windows. The door was a lighter shade of brown. He decided it was easier to check out this little library instead of walking another 10 minutes to get to the main library. He didn’t have time to waste. He had to get started with his paper right away. He walked up to the door and opened it. When he did, a little bell rang at the doorway.

“Just a minute!” A woman’s voice called from the back. Levi decided to wander around. There were many books crammed on the shelves. There were two computers on each side when he walked in. They looked out of place, considering they were very modern compared to the architecture of the library itself. The books were all shades of bright, vibrant colors. It was strange. From the outside, it seemed creepy and gloomy. Once he walked in, it was very cozy. The dark walls of the library contrasted the beautiful colors of the books.

Then, he saw the woman come out. She came up to the desk. He expected an elderly lady with her glasses on a chain, but he assumed this woman was a student. She was a young woman who wore thin oval glasses and her brown hair thrown up in a messy half-up-half-down ponytail.

“Hi!” The woman said. “How can I help you?”

“I want to use a computer, please,” He announced. He glanced at her nametag which hung like a necklace around her neck. “Hange” was the name on the tag. It was strange and unordinary, but it had a nice ring to it. The name seemed to suit her.

“Sure! You are allowed up to two hours a day,” Hange explains. “You can choose whichever computer you’d like.”

The computers were unoccupied. In fact, the entire library seemed vacant except for him and the employee.

“Does anyone actually come here?” Levi asked, setting his stuff down next to a desk, and looking her way. She looked like someone who would work at a library.

The brunette chuckled. “You are my third visitor today!” She exclaimed proudly. It was already about 3pm. He remembered the sign in the front says “12pm-6pm weekdays”.

Levi chuckled silently, air huffed out his nose. “How do you stay in business?”

“Well, the university thinks it’s good to have a small library in the outskirts of the campus so students have access to books and computers because the main campus library is in the center of the plaza. Sometimes we get about ten people a day, and sometimes they don’t even take anything out. Sometimes I wonder how…” She began to ramble now. She definitely has not had anyone else visit her today.

She was starting to get on his nerves. It’s been 20 minutes since he arrived, and she was still talking. He zoned out until she caught his attention.

“Hey,” She said. “What’s your name? I have to track whoever comes in to use the computers.”

Why? No one else comes in. He noticed her clipboard with the sign-ins was blank.

“Levi Ackerman,” He announced. She scribbled his name down. “Okay, it’s 3:30 now, so you have till 5:30 if needed.” She pointed to the clock with her pen as she explained. He nodded and proceeded to walk towards the table with the computer he claimed. He sat down and began working.

He was an hour into his research when he finally threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He still couldn’t think of a topic. He groaned aloud.

Hange was leaning against the main desk, her nose stuck in a book. “How Trees Communicate” was the title. When she heard the young man groan, she looked up.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, peering over her book at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled. “Fine…”

Hange raised an eyebrow. She placed her bookmark at her spot, then strolled around the desk and walked over to him.

“What are you working on?” She asked, sitting in the seat next to him and put her hands on her knees, looking at him curiously. He scoffs. It was none of her business, he thought to himself. And it’s an invasion of privacy.

He was frustrated and desperate. Hoping for a miracle, he managed to tell her anyways.

“I need a topic for my paper and I can’t think of any…” Levi began. “It needs to be based on pharmaceuticals, my major. It also needs scientific evidence to back up my research…”

She was fully absorbed in what he had to say. She was bored, so helping Levi would’ve been something to do at least. Besides, Levi was in luck. She was an avid reader, always reading about anything and everything. She was studying plants and botanicals, but she found herself frequently taking out books about cooking; religion; war; animals; and medical topics including surgery, pathophysiology, anatomy, and pharmaceuticals.

“What about how diuretics affect blood pressure?” Hange suggested. Levi was taken aback. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head in confusion. “Or if anti-alzheimer drugs actually help slow the progression of Alzheimer’s? Why do you take different medications during certain stages of Alzheimer’s disease? Or how do anti-seizure medications work? That is something I ask myself all the time. You take this little pill and BOOM! You’ll be fine, no seizure! Oh, oh, oh! Or, how certain medications cause certain adverse effects? How come so many medications cause anxiety?” Her eyes started to light up as she talked. They were a dark brown, but when she started to talk, they seemed to morph to a captivating hazel. He felt he could see every color in her eyes. He saw brown and green and the little lines of her iris. Hange’s hands would move as she talked, and her smile grew wide. She couldn’t keep still. She was getting excited by coming up with all these ideas. She seemed so passionate and so willing to help; he was overwhelmed by her.

Levi was in shock. His day started off horrible. Now, he was almost glad his laptop was fucked. This woman was making his mind race with ideas.

“Are you okay?” Hange asked for the second time within his visit there. Levi nodded slowly. “I am just… How do you know all that? Are you a med student?”

Hange chuckled and waved her hand at him. “No… I am a bookworm! Also, my mom is a nurse, so she used to teach me about nursing stuff all the time. Oh! You could write about the pathophysiology of anticholinergics! Or beta blockers! Or how the body reacts to the use of long-term steroids?”

Levi took a deep breath. He felt euphoric. He had been casually trying to think of topics since last week. All of a sudden, this woman can just ramble off hundreds of ideas? Levi smiled visibly.

“Actually… I really like the final topic you suggested. About steroids.” Levi admitted.

Hange smiled back at him. “Great! I can try to help you find some sources or books.” She directed him to open a new tab and to go to a certain database. “This is where you can find reliable sources. Over here,” She pointed to his screen at the left side. “You can add filters. You can change how old or new you’d like the sources to be, filter out certain words or phrases, et cetera.” She had been closer to him now; she scooted her chair closer so she could explain the database to him. It was hard not to look at her as she explained. She was captivating.

Levi began to type in words for his topic.

“Steroids”, “Long-term use”, “Cushing’s Disease”, “Addison’s Disease”, “Addisonian Crisis”, “Pathophysiology”.

He felt like he was finally getting somewhere. He was finally making progress.

As Levi was walking home, he couldn’t get his mind off that girl. He decided to brainstorm about his topic in his room once he got there. The thing was, though, he couldn’t think of any more ideas. He found it funny. Of course he was full of ideas and inspiration when he visited that library, but now he’s void of any.

Levi’s weekends were no different than the weekdays. He made it appoint to visit the library again the next day, Saturday. It was a sunny, cool Saturday morning. Levi had inspiration to write. He needed a computer and Hange’s ideas. When he arrived, it seemed busy. There were three other patrons at the library. He recognized Hange right away, helping a tall blonde man with a big nose. He wondered if she was the only employee there. The man she was helping was taller than her, so she had to reach up on her toes to point to items. She was an average height, but this action made her seem shorter than she actually was.

Hange looked his way and greeted him with a toothy smile. Levi waved at her and started to head down one of the aisles of books. He was in the nonfiction section, but was lost. For now, he just casually browsed the section, but quickly got impatient. He needed Hange’s help to find books for this paper. He heard her laugh with the patron. Maybe he’s a friend, he thought to himself. Her laugh was airy and full of heart. It seemed genuine and passionate. Levi felt an urge to make her laugh, too.

She finally made her way over to him. Levi was looking down at a book when she caught his eye. “Hey, stranger!” She greeted him with a wave. “Whatcha looking for?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m trying to find some sources for my paper. Steroids is the topic,” Levi explained.

“Oh, right. I remember! After you left last night, I tried to look for some books for your topic,” She said. She was trying to help me? Levi thought to himself.

She curled her finger in a “follow me” gesture and he did. She brought him to another aisle or two over from where they were. “These are the 600’s, where you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. I found a book or two about Addison’s disease, but it’s more of a memoir. You can look around though if you’d like. Anything in the 610’s should be right up your alley.” She explained as if she was going to leave, but she didn’t. Hange looked for books with him.

After a moment, she made a noise. “Look at this!” She exclaimed. She reached next to him to reach for a book. She was on her toes again. “Mmmm,” She moaned as she tried to reach. “Actually, I’m gonna get the step stool. I don’t think I can reach it.” Quickly, she left and came back with the stool. It looked unreliable, but Levi was sure he’d be able to prevent any accident from occurring. Hange placed it on the ground and stepped up on it, grabbing the book with ease. She stepped down with the book in her hand. This book had a white cover with a blue label and was titled “Coping with Prednisone”. Levi was surprised she even knew what prednisone was.

“Here!” She reached it out for him to grab. He took it and looked at her face. She had that same look in her eyes. “Did you want to use the computer?” He nodded and she led him towards the front of the library. The library was small from the outside, but very deep inside. It reminded him of a forest.

“I got your name, don’t worry,” She said, clicking her pen and writing his name down on the sheet.

“Oops!” Hange made a quick grimace. “I added an ‘e’ at the end. I’ll just cross it out.” The statement sounded like it was addressed to herself rather than to anyone else. She crossed out the extra letter.

“Ackermane”. Levi was gonna attempt to make her laugh.

“If you thought I looked like a horse you could’ve just said so.”

Mane, horse mane. Get it?

It felt like forever before Hange responded. She looked up at him, starting to laugh. It was a short but audible laugh. Her head nodded back and she smiled. Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes lit up for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat. It was a bad joke yet she still laughed. She chuckled. Giggled? No. Laughed lightly. Chortled? Maybe that’s the right word. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it more, maybe even more than that.

He followed her to the computers. The blonde guy she was helping earlier was on one computer. She led him to the two computers across from the other ones and sat down in the chair next to him.

“What are you doing?” Levi asked, placing the book she found for him on the table.

Her eyebrows raised, and after a moment she reacted. She waved her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry! I thought you may have needed help. I should get back to work anyway. I gotta go through a new box of books that just came in.”

Levi looked up at her. Is she blushing? he asked himself.

“I’ll let you know if I need help.” Levi responded. She smiled at him before quickly walking away.

He started to find some evidence-based practice articles about how steroids can cause long-term side effects, especially if stopped abruptly. He made sure to keep the tabs available. He’d have to cite them later. Levi’s mind was racing with words and sentences and ideas. He had to get them down on paper. He opened Documents on the computer and started typing away.

The clicking of the keyboard soothed him. He was a pretty fast typer, he didn’t make many mistakes either. The library around him began to become quiet as his typing got louder and he got deeper in thought. Before he knew it, his two hours were up. He felt someone approach him from his right.

“Hey,” Hange said, gently tapping the table next to him. “It’s 2pm. I gotta close up.”

Levi snapped out of his focused trance with a quick head shake. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled out a flash drive from his backpack and plugged it into the computer. He transferred his document. “I got the first page done.”

Levi asked himself for a brief moment why he was sharing this information with someone he just met. Maybe since she helped him, he felt she should know.

“That’s great! It seemed like you were really focused,” Hange said, walking away to shut off some lights. Only then did he notice the white noise of the overhead lights quickly dissipate. The room buzzed with silence now. Levi and Hange were alone in the library. Suddenly, Levi felt nervous. He watched Hange walk around the room frantically, making sure to shut off all the lights and computers. She grabbed a bag. The bag was a fabric material with a patchwork design that had a long strap that hung on on her shoulder. Maybe she made it herself. She grabbed her big mess of keys and walked towards him.

“Ready?” She said. He nodded and walked outside, holding the door for her. She thanked him, locking the door behind her. They began to walk down the street slowly.

“Want to grab lunch?” Hange asked, looking at him. Levi looked back at her. She looked pretty.

“Sure, I can eat.” Hange chuckled at that. He didn’t try, but it made her happy for a brief moment. He seemed nervous but she was too.

They decided to eat at a cute restaurant on campus called “Life in Paradis”. It was a small, dainty place with a green and yellow checkered awning. The building was made of yellow brick, and the door was bright green. There were flower pots outside on the windowsill. Again, this place seemed totally out of place in the modern aesthetic of the university.

“This place is adorable!” Hange exclaimed. “I love the food here. You’ll love it too. They have all kinds of food here.” Levi felt a smile grow on his face. The way she talked made his heart flutter. She was always so passionate. They entered and got a table for two. This is not a date, Levi kept telling himself. Then why were his cheeks red?

They sat down and looked through a menu. Levi wasn’t extremely hungry even though he hadn’t had anything but tea this morning. He peered over his menu to look at the girl. Her hair was different today, he determined. Today all her hair was in a ponytail, and it was higher on her head. She wore a light yellow button-down with a long, light blue cardigan. Hange caught him staring at her and blushed.

“What would you two like to order?” The waitress asked him first.

“I’m gonna get a sandwich, I think,” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Turkey sub.” “I think I’m gonna get a chicken caesar salad,” Hange said. He nodded, grabbed the menus, and walked away.

Hange began to talk about how beautiful the flowers outside the restaurant were. They were all variants of pink, purple, yellow, and red. She described the petals and the leaves, the flowers’ origins, and all the meanings of the flowers. Levi wasn’t annoyed by her tangent this time. He actively listened to this girl talk about what fascinated her so much. He found it soothing. It made him wonder how her brain can contain all the information she was spewing at him. He enjoyed watching the way her eyes lit up when she talked. The beautiful green that blossomed at the bottom of her irises when the light hit her eyes at the right angle. The way her lips curled into a big smile when she talked to him. Her cheeks flush to a light pink when she describes the petals of the flowers or how flowers were used to express feelings when words cannot. It made his heart race.

“Levi,” Hange said. Her affect was the opposite of earlier when she was rambling. She wore a frown on her face, feeling guilty.“I’ve been rambling… sorry. It’s such a bad habit of mine. I can talk for hours and hours.”

“Don’t apologize, four-eyes,” Levi replied, leaning his elbows and forearms on the table in a crossed position. Hange smiled at him. Levi meant it. She shouldn’t apologize for talking, especially if it’s about something she loves. The food had arrived at the table. They ate. Levi felt the need to open up to her about something. He already learned so much about her, and her presence made him feel like he can open up.

“I like to run,” Levi said abruptly. Hange looked at him intently, chewing on a forkful of salad. “I don’t do it competitively or anything, but I enjoy running. I try to run once or twice a day.” Hange’s eyebrows raised and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s awesome!” She smiled again at him. “I like to run too. I’m really slow and get tired easily, but I enjoy feeling the wind in my hair and feeling my heart pound.” She took a bite of her meal again. Levi nodded and began to eat too. This sandwich was really good.

After talking some more about hobbies and school, they both finished their meal. The waiter brought over the check. Hange reached into her pocket for her wallet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levi asked. Hange furrowed her brows.

“I invited you out to lunch. I will pay,” Hange determined, her wallet now in her hands.

“No,” Levi said too quickly. “I will pay. It’s the least I can do. You helped me with my paper after all.”

The bickering lasted a very long minute. Before she got to think of the idea, Levi grabbed the checkbook and shoved his card inside before handing it to the waiter. Hange looked surprised. She sighed, putting her wallet away.

“Thank you, Levi. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

In all honesty, Hange didn’t have much money. She worked at that library four times a week, but the money she made went towards paying off her tuition. She really wanted to treat this man, her new friend. She wasn’t sure if he thought the same way about her. Did he consider her his friend? She felt slightly embarrassed. She did most of the talking and felt like she was annoying him. Maybe he just wanted to pay so she would lay off.

But the truth is, Levi felt the opposite way of how she was thinking. He was interested to hear more from her. He was addicted to the way his heart raced when he saw her.

Over the next couple of days, Levi would go to that library whenever he was available. He knew it was closed on Sunday, so he went Monday and Tuesday to the library. Fortunately, he got his first batch of money from the brats that fried his computer. He received $100. Of course it was not enough, but it was a start. Wednesday the 17th came around. This specific day was a wild card. The weather was unpredictable. Levi entered the library just in time; it had started to downpour. The little bell rang as he entered the library. To his surprise, Hange was not working that day. There was a boy behind the counter who was tall and had a brown bowl cut hairstyle. He almost thought about turning around and leaving when he realized she wasn’t there. The rain charged towards the earth viciously, so he decided to seek shelter in the small library. It almost looked like a hurricane. He felt his mood change into a bad one. He didn’t remember to ask how often she worked.

“Hi there!” The man said. His name tag read “Moblit”. That’s a dumb name.

“I wanna use a computer,” Levi muttered, walking up to the main desk.

“Okay. Name?” Moblit grabbed the clipboard and a pen.

“Levi Ackerman.”

“Oh, I see you’ve been here before. A lot, actually.” Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes at his comment. He turned around, picked a computer, and sat down. He felt really stupid to not ask her about her schedule.

The two hours he spent working on his paper was incredibly slow. He didn’t get much done that day. He had writer’s block. He was almost done, so he didn’t worry about it too much. He didn’t know Hange’s schedule. He knew she worked Friday, the day they met; Saturday; Monday, and Tuesday. Maybe she only worked four times a week? Before he knew it, he asked Moblit aloud. It was almost an accident.

“Uh, she’ll be in on Friday,” Moblit replied. He probably couldn’t give out that information to some creep who began visiting daily with an attitude. He muttered a “thanks” before finishing up and heading out. The weather was holding up for now, so he decided to make a run for it. He didn’t say goodbye to Moblit.

He didn’t have an umbrella. The sun was trying to shine through the dark, eerie clouds. It wasn’t trying hard enough. He heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

Levi realized that this girl was all he thought about the past few days. Something about her enticed him. Something about her eyes and her presence drew him towards her. His heart skipped a beat whenever she’d graze his hand on accident, or even when she just talked to him. She made him happy. He hadn’t had too many friends in college. Although they just met last week, he felt a deep connection with her.

Suddenly, the sun poked through the clouds for a brief moment. The world lit up. It was at that moment he recognized a familiar face. Hange. She was walking towards him. She grinned when she saw him. She wore a fitted black t-shirt and baggy, light blue jeans.

“Levi!” She exclaimed. “I forgot my jacket in the library, so I came down to get it.”

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t working today.” Is all Levi said. Once he said it, he realized how creepy it must’ve sounded. A man she just met happens to go to this library to work on his project every day, who happens to come up with multiple reasons to interact with her. Maybe she thought he was a perv.

“Ehh!” She sighed. “I’m sorry! I thought I told you I was off today.” Levi shook his head. The comment itself may have sounded rude, but it wasn’t. She genuinely felt bad. “Walk with me.” Levi followed. Guess not.

“I don’t work Wednesday’s and Thursday’s. Well I’m not supposed to be,” Hange explained. “Mobilt, one of my co-workers, is always calling out sick. So I basically run the place.” They walked towards the library again and entered.

“Hey, Moblit. How’s it going?” Hange said in a normal tone, heading towards the back of the library. Moblit responded briefly, following Hange. Levi decided to hang back, he figured it was a secure area. He looked around awkwardly.

“Hange, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Moblit said, following her towards the back.

Hange chuckled nervously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said bluntly. “He’s just a friend.” Moblit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If he’s not your boyfriend, how come his mood entirely changed once he saw you?”

Hange found her jacket, folding it over her forearm. “Huh?”

“He was, like, in a bad mood when he came in. He used the computer but he seemed to be pissed or something. Now that he’s with you, he seems… tolerable.”

Hange laughed, feeling her cheeks blush. “It’s nothing like that. People have bad days, you know.”

Hange rolled her eyes and smirked, then headed towards the front of the library. “Ready?” Levi nodded and turned around.

“See you Friday,” Moblit called out. “See ya.” Hange replied.

The two started walking down the street. The air smelt of rain, and the ground was wet from the rain earlier. “Which building is your dorm in?” Hange asked. He was a bit surprised she asked him that, and she was so direct about it.

“Saint Maria,” He replied. She smiled. “Me too! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around!” The wind picked up and the sky turned darker than before. They both looked up. “If you can’t make it to the library, you can use my desktop in my dorm room,” Hange offered. Levi’s cheeks turned bright red.

“Thanks, maybe tomorrow I can stop by,” Levi said. It was more of him thinking aloud than a statement. It was too late though, Hange already heard him. He could’ve sworn he didn’t say it aloud.

“That’s fine! I only have a class early tomorrow morning. Come by around 11, okay? My room number is 506.” Levi nodded. Thunder rolled and sounded closer now. They were almost at the dormitory building when it started to downpour. The rain was forcefully coming down on the two. Levi groaned in annoyance. He hated being in the rain. He hated being wet; he hated the wet socks and how gross he felt when it rained. He would’ve started to run to the building to seek cover, but he was taken aback by his new friend.

She was soaked and embracing it. She lifted her head up to face the sky and she laughed. It was loud, happy, genuine, and it took Levi’s breath away. Hange reached her hands out wide and spun around. He saw a strike of lightning light up the sky. He stared at her in awe. His heart swelled. Levi smiled big. After laughing, Hange looked at Levi and shared the look that he wore just a few moments ago. She loved his smile. She wished to make him smile more. She was also determined to make him laugh, too.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s take cover!” And she pulled him into the dormitory hall. Saint Maria’s hall was beautiful. It had ceiling-to-floor glass pane windows that were always crystal clear. There was a big black modern chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It contained visible light bulbs. Hange secretly loved it. There were the same big, yellow, leather couches in the living room as there were in the study area on his floor. They both wiped their feet off on the big rug in the entryway.

“I love the rain,” Hange deduced, turning her head to look at him. As if Levi couldn’t tell. Her hand was still holding his. Levi looked up at her. “I like it, too.”

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fic #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk fic #aot fic #rivahan

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

Text

Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance.

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed.

The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

“Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

“We do!” Calum yelled

Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

“Do not!” he countered.

“Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room.

“I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

“I thought people can’t visit one another?”

“They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

“So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

“Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

“Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

“Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more.

***

The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks.

Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

“I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

“There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

“Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why are we yelling?”

“I don’t know!”

“I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.

“No,” she sighed. “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

“People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

“No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

“It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

Y/N’s smile just widened.

***

“Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

“We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

“It’s economy.”

“It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

“Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

“No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

“That was my coffee!”

“Not anymore!”

He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

“Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

“ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

“And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

“No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

“That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?” Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

“It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

“I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

“How little trust do you have in us?”

“Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

“It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

“I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed.

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

“I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

“I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere.

“You can join the team –“

“Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

“You can live the dream.”

“Or you can die alone.”

Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

“You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

“Keep on testing me,”

“And end up like her!”

And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love.

It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again.

***

It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot.

“What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

“You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

“Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

“Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand.

“See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

“No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

“Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black.

“Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time.

Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

“Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

“Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already.

“But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her.

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony.

By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth.

So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below.

“You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“That’s payback for the cheese.”

She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

“So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

“Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

“Retribution.”

“Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at Luke, making him squint down at the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

A beat passed.

“God fucking damn it.”

“Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it.

“We good?”

He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors.

Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe.

Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt.

“Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

“Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

“Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

“How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

“Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically. “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

“Cranky.”

“Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

“Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn.

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

“Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

“Again, I’m sorr-“

Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession.

“I really like you… As more than a friend.”

A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

“I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

“Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

“Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts.

“Well, not girls like me.”

“You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

“Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

“Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

“You didn’t seem shy with me.”

“That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

“Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

“No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

“So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

“Are they now?”

“According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

“Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

“Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

“Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

“They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.”

He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

“Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life?

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. If you wanna be tagged please drop a message :) or if you want to be removed/ changed to a different tag list please also message me :)

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binniedeactivated · 3 years

Text

The King’s Princess. ||soobin 💦

╰─▸🖤❝ @[𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈.. ] ✎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝒙 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 ✎ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆,𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕¡ ✎ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕; 2.3𝒌

[@𝒃𝒖𝒈𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒆] 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇…

-ˏˋ🖋“𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒆?”. ˎˊ-

“we don’t want to hear it anymore soobin. you’re going to be arranged with someone rich, sweet, skinny and pretty. and that’ll be the end of it”. her sweet yet sassy tone flared among the walls of the house, voice fluttering with beauty yet her tongue was sharper than razor blades. As the Queen it was her every right to be. A frown flickered at her vibrant red lips and her bright brown eyes burned holes into her son’s face.

“mother I just think things should be different”. soobin argued back, shifting his food to multiple sides of his platinum plate. they were all having their nightly feast at the lengthy dinner table, the butlers coming back and forth with servings and refills for drinks. his father straightened his hankerchief in a serious manner, dabbing the corner of his lips like so.

“you cannot always get what you want soobin”. he reminds in his usual monotone.

“that’s for damn sure”. yeonjun muttered just before picking up the wine glass to sip from. he always hated how his younger brother acted when it came to the monarch. almost as if the world revolved around him and him only.

soobin shoots his brother a frustrating look, “no one is talking to you hyung”.

“don’t talk to your older brother like that”. his mother quickly reprimanded. “why don’t you be more like him anyway? even your younger brothers have more self control than you”.

soobin glances at a silent Beomgyu, taehyun, and kai and rolls his eyes. their suits hugging their smaller frames in a way that made them look much more sophisticated than the average teenagers. he hated when she said that. hated it to the fullest. he always had a pocketed feeling that she favored his brothers more than him anyway.

always the pocketed feeling that she wished the second born son was never required to inherit the throne.

almost as if she’d rather have yeonjun take his place instead.

soobin breathes, “I just don’t understand why I can’t just become king and participate in arranged marriage after. I don’t need a wife in order to be king”.

his father glares at him in the midst of his chews of his roasted chicken, “and what are you without a woman by your side soobin? you cannot make all decisions on your own. A woman can see and detect things that most men can’t. without that intuition what would that make of you?”.

“i can make wise decisions without a woman”.

and with that not only did his parents scoff but sparks of laughter was passed around the whole table. soobin just wanted to throw a plate at both of the youngers for even participating in this mess.

“what are the both of you laughing at?”. he addresses clutching his fork in his balled fist.

“hyung you can barely even wake up on your own for school in the morning. what makes you think you can make decisions without a woman?”. taehyun replies matter-of-factly, using his butter knife to gently slice his chicken.

“what does that have to do with anything?”.

“it means you’re not fit to be king. I don’t even know why the inheritance is on you in the first place”. yeonjun snarls.

“because I’m the second born, smart ass”. soobin snarls back.

“you shouldn’t have been born at all”. yeonjun retorts with his whole heart.

“boys that’s enough! yeonjun apologize to your brother”. their mother interrupts angrily.

yeonjun dramatically turns his body around and flashes soobin a fake smile. if soobin didn’t already have a reputation to his name he’d smack the smile off his face. yeonjun cross his legs and places his folded hands atop of his knee.

“i’m sorry that I hate your fucking guts choi soobin”.

“alright! everyone go to your rooms. dinner is over”. their father announced with his loud and obnoxious voice bellowing through the hallways.

“father we weren’t even fighting”. kai whines, referring to him taehyun and beomgyu.

“I don’t care. everyone to their rooms until I say other wise”.

the five boys stood up, each of them sucking their teeth with the exception of kai who annoyingly threw his napkin in the middle of his plate. taehyun rolls his eyes, “thanks a lot yeonjun hyung”.

“shut up”. yeonjun grumbles.

and just like that they parted ways. angry. annoyed. not wanting to speak to each other again, and this was how most of their days went. one of them ruining it for all of them and making them go against each other. soobin being the one most impacted this time, being criticized by his parents about being king and then having his older brother say he isn’t fit to be anything and that he shouldn’t have even been born.

it was normal to say things you didn’t mean when you were angry.

but it was even more normal for the truth to slip out when you were under a fit of rage.

and that’s just what soobin thought about yeonjun’s statement. yeonjun was admitting his truth.

unlocking his door to his room soobin opens the door and throws his suit jacket down on the floor next to his door. he kicks his shoes off in front of the wall, completely disregarding his closet which he could’ve entered had he took the chance to walk further in his room but he didn’t. he was much too frustrated to do anything. he stumbled along his shining marble floors to get under his cardinal colored satin sheets underneath his diamond chandelier.

but he wasn’t expecting company.

with his closet door open there was a girl, slightly bent over, reaching inside his closet to be, what it looked like, organizing his shoes. judging from her outfit--being a skin tight crimson flavored dress with a white apron decorating the front--she was clearly a maid.

soobin could stare at her luscious thick brown thighs for the entirety of the day, but he’d rather not be the perv here. instead he cleared his throat. startled she turned around not even noticing his arrival. she quickly got up off of her knees and bowed graciously. soobin couldn’t stop his eyes from skimming her physique. she was quite thicker than anything he was used to. and her beauty distracted him like a deer in headlights. brown almond shaped eyes, corpulent lips coated with gloss and flawless skin worth dying for. her hair was middle parted and sleek, curly and black stopping only a little past her shoulders. she hadn’t spoken yet but soobin knew just by how straight and white her teeth looked, her smile was going to kill him the most.

“are you a new hire?”. soobin spoke softly. she nods,

“my school tuition needs to be paid. this was the only job open. today is my first day, I was assigned your room. am I bothering you? I can finish later”. she says, the sound of her voice to soobin’s ear was like chocolate to a sweet tooth’s tongue. he wanted more of it and he couldn’t help himself.

“you’re not a bother at all. I’m just surprised my parents didn’t tell me. what’s your name anyways?”.

“indigo”.

and she was just as beautiful as the color, soobin thought.

“I’m choi so--”.

“choi soobin”. she interrupts with a head nod, “I know. everyone knows you”. she informed with a small smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek. soobin’s heart could just burst.

“oh yeah? are they good things? or bad?”. soobin quizzes, folding his arms with a slight grin. she laughs with sweetness dripping from her lips equivalent to that of honey.

“we all know you’re the second eldest. we know you’re handsome and we all know you’re a spoiled brat”. at this point soobin didn’t know if he was more attracted to her beauty or boldness. maids were never permitted to have more than a 5 second conversation with anyone of royalty. hell, barely even a look in the eye.

“a spoiled brat? I am not. that’s actually quite embarrassing”. soobin admitted with his cheeks turning red. she stands at the tips of her toes and whisks her thumb against his cheeks. any normal human being would know that this wasn’t the way to get rid of a cheek tint but to soobin’s surprise it worked. her hands felt like home against his skin.

“don’t worry. we know you can’t help it. being rich and inheriting the king’s throne has it’s perks huh?”.

“being rich has it’s perks. having your whole family think you’re not fit to be king doesn’t”.

“prove yourself to them”.

soobin scoffs, “yeah and they’ll just laugh in my face again. I don’t even know who they’re thinking about arranging me with. probably someone whose just as bitchy as everyone else in this monarch”. he says, not even realizing he was venting to her.

“god you’re really stressed choi soobin”. she utters mainly referring to the slight vein crawling up his neck.

he peers down at her, “yeah, I am”. the communication between their eyes becoming invincible. a smirk flickered at the corner of her lips and soobin pushes his body closer to hers.

“and if you’d like to help me with that, you’re more than welcomed to”.

she ghosted her lips over his, “but is it permitted?”.

“I don’t care if it isn’t”.

“rebellious boy aren’t you?”. she grinned. soobin smiles, “only a little bit”.

“I guess it all depends on how you want to be helped”.

he grins with secrets in his eyes, “I won’t tell”,

her gloss glistens in chandelier’s glare. “ hm. how do I know that?”.

“get on your knees for me and you’ll see”.

she mutters a small hmph before lowering herself sluggishly, her eyes painstakingly mounting up into soobin’s until she was touching the ground. soobin gifts her a haughty, unflinching stare.

“like this?”. she utters with big innocent eyes. god--she was sexy. and she was well aware of that, soobin could tell.

“seems like you’re asking questions you already know the answers to”. soobin breathes while she drums her fingers on his belt before unfastening it like so. a poignant smirk pierced her cheeks seeing soobin’s length. she tugged his briefs down and let his veiny cock spring free.

“it seems like you’re trying to do things that you know you can’t do”. she replies, wrapping her hands around the base of his dick. soobin tenses before he answers.

“like what?”.

she positions the plushed, throbbing head onto her lips, “like domming me”.

she made those her last words before she sunk his length into her mouth, making sure to hide her teeth and wrap her tongue around it’s shaft. soobin felt his heart race at the feeling of her tepid tongue around the places he was sensitive most.

she hums against his length while a fervid, lewd moan withdrew from her lips. it was careful, yet so erotic that she almost could’ve been mistaken for a pornstar. soobin’s knees turned into jelly at the sound of them. the squelching noises of her saliva filled tongue seeped through the air in the most sinful way. this couldn’t have been her first time.

soobin’s dick was throbbing so hard in her mouth it became too overbearing to withstand.

“f-fuck”. he exhaled desperately, sitting down urgently on the edge of his nearby bed. he watches her plump lips roll off the tip diligently with a protracted spit string to follow. she jerks him off, twisting her hand up to his tip before dragging it back down again.

“is this what you do?”. she questions seductively, and soobin was groaning so much underneath his breath he didn’t even think he had the ability to answer her. “shit--what do y-you mean?”.

“get maids assigned to your room so they can suck you off?”.

soobin sits his head back between his shoulders closing his eyes in the utmost ineffable bliss. “n-no. no I haven’t”. he stutters, just as much as his hips.

she arranges her lips to layer a line of spit along his length and smears it around with her thrusting hand. she taps the tip against her tongue before taking him in whole again, pushing it much deeper into her throat this time. she sucks everything she could reach prior to purposeful gagging, reaping the fruit of her efforts all over his lap. she twirls her tongue around it, lapping her mess in trail from the skin of his lap to the base of his dick.

“fuck you’re so fucking good at this”. soobin glares at her in a lustful daze.

“am I?”. she teases, kissing her way to the beloved tip again. soobin thought looked even sexier with her thighs spreading wider since she was on her knees, the both of them begging to inch their way out of her tight dress.

“fuck yes”.

“will I get a raise for this?”. she snarkily asks with the head of his dick filling her cheeks. soobin’s hips bucks up into her mouth again. the veins in his neck were even more prominent than before just from him forcing down his needy groans. he nods frantically.

“y-yes you can get whatever you want”. he exhales again with oceans of pleasure wreaking havoc in his torso. “I’m about to fucking cum”. she jerks him off once more at an even faster pace, biting the plump juicy lips that soobin wanted to suck off her face.

his hips sputter once more and she immediately sticks two fingers in his mouth while his hot cum darted from his tip. his sheer broken moans vibrated her fingers until he was finished.

she climbs up his lap now straddling him. her relentless eyes met his weary ones, “if we’re going to keep doing this, promise me that I will be the only one making you cum like this”.

soobin nods his head trying to assure her as best as he could. “I p-promise”. she then wraps his hand around his neck,

“you promise what?”.

“I promise you’ll be the only one making me cum like this, princess”.

#soobin smut #txt smut #soobin drabble #txt #txt imagines #txt drabble #drabble #kpop #soobin #choi soobin

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tilbageidanmark · 3 years

Photo

Movies I watched this week - 39

I spent over 50 (!) hours on the sofa this week, (enjoying myself 85% of the time)...

Sløborn, an ominous Danish-German TV pandemic series, very much like Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’ and in ‘Black Mirror’ style. Normal life of a small island community between Denmark and Germany breaks down and completely collapses when it is hit by a lethal bird flue like virus.

It was extremely prescient, as it was shot in 2019, before Covid! Conceived as Si-fi, it looks today like TV, because the series was able to capture everything that happened around the world after January 2020 in accurate details.

With Roland Møller (of ‘Riders of Justice’). 7+/10

✴️

My introduction to “The grandmother of The French New Wave”, Agnès Varda (Hard to believe that I never saw her films before!):

✳️✳️✳️ “Inspiration, Creation and Sharing...” Varda by Agnès, my first Varda is her last 2019 auto-biography, in which, at 90, she shared footage and stories from her life and work. The first sample clip (of meeting her Uncle Yanco in Sausalito) won me over, and the rest convinced me to catch up on everything I’ve missed through the years. What a wonderful artist!

✳️✳️✳️ Cléo from 5 to 7. A feminine film about female identity - a new favorite! A beautiful singer must wait 2 hours for the results of her cancer tests. With a magnifique mid-film scene (at 0;38) of the heartbreaking chanson 'Sans Toi', marking the beginning of her quiet transformation.

✳️✳️✳️ Vagabond, a story of a lonely, young woman, an unapologetic drifter, unglamorous, aimless, independent, desperately lost. Dark and nonjudgmental exploration of the refusal to conform to anything. 8+/10.

✳️✳️✳️ (For Sammy - Per our conversation). The Gleaners and I, "The eighth best documentary film of all time”, per ‘Sight & Sound poll. Derived from the famous painting by Millet. Simply wonderful!

✳️✳️✳️ One Hundred And One Nights, 100 year old Michel Piccoli “Monsieur Simon Cinema”, hires a young girl to reminisce with about the history of cinema. An unsuccessful Meta-film that nevertheless is a love letter for cinephiles. Populated by 3 dozens of Who’s Who of French (and World) stars, playacting in this symbolic, Fellinisque fable that draws upon the classics. Mastroianni, Depardieu, Belmondo, Alain Delon, Catherine Deneuve, Jeanne Moreau, Anouk Aimée, Fanny Ardant, Gina Lollobrigida, Jane Birkin, etc, etc..

(Photo Above).

✳️✳️✳️ The Young Girls of Rochefort, the wonderful, colorful, sentimental musical by Varda’s husband Jacques Demy, with the most beautiful woman in the world and her sister. Romantic eye candy set to music by Michel Legrand. A year later Deneuve would do Belle de Jour, and Françoise Dorléac would die in a car accident, 8+/10

✳️✳️✳️ Even better, The Young Girls Turn 25, Varda’s 1993 behind the scenes documentary and return to small town Rocheford, to show how it changed the town and left an impression. 9/10

“...The memory of happiness is perhaps also happiness...”

✴️

The other Jacques Demy modern opera The Umbrellas of Cherbourg knocked me over all over again. Catherine Deneuve’s angelic beauty in this film made me cry for the duration like a baby. And not only at the train station when they say goodbye forever.

10/10

✴️

Night moves, a tense thriller by Kelly Reichardt, about three radical environmentalists who blow up an Oregon dam. Slow and tense, and like her ‘First Cow’, watching it filled me with constant, low-level anxiety. The off-screen sabotage is placed at the exact mid-point of the movie: The first half is the preparation for it, and the second half shows the aftermath of the act. 7+/10

✴️

2 unexpected Small Town gems by Miguel Arteta:

✳️✳️✳️ The good Girl, an odd and surprising mismatched romance between 30 year old Jennifer Aniston and Jake Gyllenhaal (22) as employees of a Texas big-box store that is always empty. Her voice-over reminded me of True Romance’s Alabama Whitman. 7/10

✳️✳️✳️ Ed Helms, a sheltered insurance salesman from the backwaters of Wisconsin, goes to an convention in the big city of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The nearly conventional story arc has some genuinely heartfelt funny moments. With Maeby Fünke, as Bree the prostitute and Sigourney Weaver as the ex-teacher he balls. Also a surprising drug party, where he smoke crack cocaine and loves it. 5+/10

✴️

Same theme of people prostituting their own ‘morals’, the notoriously-prudish 1993 Indecent Proposal didn’t age too well. “Billionaire”-porn that asks the question ‘How much would you pay for one night with Robert Redford?’ Gratuitous semi-naked Demi Moore included.

Related: “Stop hitting the button!”

✴️

Wildland (Kød & blod = Flesh and blood), an uncomfortable and claustrophobic Danish gangster thriller about a 17 year old girl who moves in with the criminal family of Sidse Babett Knudsen, her estranged aunt. 6+/10

“For some people, things go wrong before they even begin”

✴️

Jim Jarmusch‘s Broken Flowers, a touching road film with Bill Murray, as an old ‘Don Juan’ who receive a pink, unsigned letter from an old lover, letting him know that he has a 20 year old son he never knew about.

Loveliest film of the week.

✴️

The 2 films directed by Tom Ford:

✳️✳️✳️ A single Man, a sad and lonely gay professor, closeted in 1962 Los Angeles, is preparing to kill himself with a gun, after his boyfriend / love of his life had died in a car accident. Mute and haunting aesthetics in the fashion designer’s debut film, based on a Christopher Isherwood novel.

The ‘Stormy Weather’ dance scene between Charley and George. 8/10

✳️✳️✳️ Nocturnal Animals: Amy Adams is an unhappy owner of a fancy art gallery who receives a disturbing book manuscript written by her ex-husband, which symbolizes their relationship 20 years prior. Rarefied visuals and distinctive style.

Starts with an astonishing scene of obese old ladies dancing naked at Amy’s gala event. Michael Shannon rules as a dying Texas detective! 6+/10.

✴️

Jean Vigo’s 1933 classic Zero for Conduct was so blatantly anarchistic, it was immediately banned in France until after WW2. In silent film style, it tells about a group of mischievous kids who rebel against the authorities of their old-fashioned boarding school. Part-inspiration for Truffaut's 400 Blows.

✴️

Anatomy of a murder, Otto Preminger’s 1960 courtroom drama, with opening credits by Saul Bass. Crisp black & white cinematography, and with rape victim Lee Remick playing it as an outgoing loose girl of ambiguous morals, a modern floozy. 7/10.

✴️

Blush, a wondrous, spectacularly-animated, wordless short by Joe Mateo. What starts as a riff on ‘The Little Prince’, ends up like the opening montage from ‘Up’. The obvious realization that this is a personal metaphor makes the story even deeper.

I watched it twice back to back. 10/10

✴️

If You're Not in the Obit, Eat Breakfast - 95 year old Carl Reiner asks a bunch of charming nonagenarian friends how they manage to live so well for so long. Their answers may (not) shock you...

Spry Dick Van Dyke (92) and half-his-age wife end the film with a lovely rendition of “Young at heart”

✴️

Hi-school-level adaptation of Thomas Piketty's book Capital in the 21st Century. A breezy discussion of how slave economy and colonialist military repression 300 years ago turn into extreme capitalism of inequality & tax-avoidance today. America is now similar economically to what England was in the early 1800s. A tiny percentage of society controls almost all its wealth. (Full text of the book here).

✴️

Ride the eagle, a flat new indie about a guy whose estranged hippy mother leaves him her cabin at the lake when she dies, but only if he complete a certain list of tasks. Could be so much better, but the actor playing the guy was just so terrible. Unlike JK Simmons who had a small role. Best detail, when he discovers that all the cabinets in the house are full with pot.

✴️

Old, my first, (and possibly last), M. Night Shyamalan. The seductive premise of a secluded beach at a fancy tropical resort that ages everybody who comes there, turns into an unconvincing Twilight Zone bore.

...”(Gurgling sounds)”...

✴️

First watch: I never saw (any) Planet of the apes before, and in spite of my misgivings, gave it a go. 100% anthropomorphic, it couldn’t visualize a universe different from the American mindset of that period. Preachy and very Rod Sterling-like. "It's a madhouse in here”. Pass!

✴️

The latest Veritasium YouTube video about bowling current technology. Always interesting.

- - - - -

Throw-back to the art project:

Planet of the Apes Adora.

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

12 notes · View notes

kareofbears · 3 years

Text

plainly in truth, chapter 3/5

"Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Ryuji grips the letter like it was silver and he was a werewolf in the full moon.

He picks it up, skims over the first line before putting it down beside him, feeling worse every time he does it, only able to read the fine-printed lettering from the flickering lamp post above him. The constant change in light would normally bug him, but he doesn’t really care about it now; it’s not like the words would change in his hand, and he’s long since needed to actually read it to know what it reads.

His feet dangle over the canal, enjoying the way a rush of adrenaline would go through him when he looks down into the deep waters. It’s late enough in the night that even with the city lights around him, he can’t gauge how deep it goes.

Soseikawa Park was only a five minute walk from Odori Park, but with the narrow river and steeped hills, Ryuji found it secluded enough to let himself sit. Breathe. Not exist, even for just a few minutes. It’s like having his own bedroom, except it smells faintly like a sewer and there’s an intersection about ten meters above where he sat underneath the overpass. If he can ignore the never-ending rumble of cars and trucks driving above him, it can almost be considered peaceful.

He lets himself fall back, the grass tickling the back of his neck and his spine screaming in relief. They’re heading out again in two days, which means more days of being in an inescapable RV surrounded by his best friends who are keeping an eye on him because they’re good people who don’t know how to mind their own fucking business.

Idly, he lets his hands pull and brings it to his face—blades of grass. He lets it get taken by the wind. After brief consideration, he shoves the letter back into his pocket before he can do the same thing to it.

He is so tired.

Blindly, he hits the vague area of where his pocket is and fishes out his phone, hitting the first speed dial before he can talk himself out of it. As two rings go by, he stupidly hopes that she doesn’t pick up, as if she hasn’t ever missed a phone call from him even when she’s at work.

The third ring gets cut off halfway through. “Ryu!”

Despite himself, he grins. “Hey, ma. Checking in for the weekly call.”

“I was just thinking about you,” she says, and he can hear the laundry machine run in the background. “I was wondering if you had eaten today.”

“Ma, you ain’t gotta worry about that kinda thing anymore. I’m a big boy now.”

“You’re breaking my heart!” He can almost see her, phone tucked in the crook of her neck, work-worn hands folding her laundry as fast as she can so as to not hold up the next person in line. “It doesn’t matter how big you are, you’re my boy. How can I not think about whether my boy is eating or not?”

“All I’ve done on this trip is eat, ma.”

“Oh, and Akira! How’s that handsome boy doing? Still taking the world by storm?”

That pulls a genuine laugh from him—he never needs to hold back when it comes to talking about Akira, at least. “You know it. He’s the only guy in the world who can stand toe-to-toe with me in chowing down. I swear, he’s slipping some of it under the table ‘cause he’s so damn fast. Forty seconds! Forty seconds to inhale an extra large beef bowl! Blows my mind, seriously.”

“Could never do anything in halves, can he?” she chuckles, before the quality of her voice shifts. “And are you enjoying yourself?”

He hesitates. “Yeah, of course. It’s a roadtrip across Japan, how can I not?”

“Good.” There’s some crackling over the receiver, and he guesses she’s probably adjusting the basket full of clothes on her hip. “That’s all I want to hear. As long as you’re happy, Ryu, I’m a happy old woman.”

Ryuji opens his mouth, ready to console her.

I’m always happy!

You worry too much, ma.

There’s nothing to worry about.

“Sorry, but,” he swallows thickly. “I think they’re calling for me? So—”

“Alright,” she says, and he might be imagining the disappointed tinge to it. “Call back when you can, okay sweetheart? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he clears his throat. “I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, Ryu.”

He hangs up, letting the phone slip out of his fingers. It lands hard on the flat grass

For a long moment, he just lays there, listening to the gentle lapping waves and cars honking with impatience of people who have somewhere to be. He tries to meditate for half a minute, with all the information he had learned from a couple of YouTube videos, and gives up, because of course he does. Squeezing his eyes shut, he can’t do anything about the creeping dread that’s in his stomach getting stronger, squeezing and squeezing until he feels sick. It’s like his insecurities are having this huge fight against each other, feeding off of one another until it gets too big for him to handle and all he can do is breathe and try to do something about it.

And he’s fucking sick of it—breathing. He’s sick of the stupid breathing techniques, sick of counting down from ten and waiting for his own heart to chill out because his brain won’t stop reminding him of everything he did wrong, of shit he’s still doing wrong because at least this way, nobody knows what he did was wrong. It’s just him that can point and laugh at himself, and that’s way better than having the world do it for him.

He doesn’t cry, because he’s not a crier. He’s the type of guy to throw a fist through drywood before shedding a tear, and he hates that about himself. Rather than do something that will actually help, Ryuji lays there, perfectly still. Listening. Waiting for a meteor to fall on him, or for the overpass to crash its entire weight on top of him.

Instead, he hears footsteps.

His heart rate slows by a fraction, and opens his eyes to meet gray ones. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Akira says, a smile in his voice. “How did you know it was me?”

Ryuji almost feels offended. He would know Akira by sound alone, the way his heels would click in the Metaverse. The way the balls of his feet would strike the earth, hardly muffled by grass or cheap sneakers or anything else as trivial. Ryuji would know he was there; no matter how blind he was with hatred for himself, his love for Akira would always guide him back to where he needs to be.

“Lucky guess.”

“One hell of a guess.” He plops down onto the grass and Ryuji lifts his head, allowing Akira to wiggle until he could use his lap as a pillow. “Your turn,” Akira says.

“My turn to what?”

“To ask me how I knew where you were.”

“Oh.” He lets his eyes slide shut again. “I kinda just assumed you could do that.”

“You assume too much of me sometimes.”

“I assume the right amount.” Ryuji refuses to shiver when he feels long fingers start to card through his hair. “You’re giving me goosebumps,” he sighs.

“That’s a good thing, I think.” The fingers pull away and he’s about to complain when he feels something gets thrown over his torso. “Here. You always end up forgetting to wear an extra layer when you go out like this.”

Ryuji rearranges Akira’s jacket over himself. “Sap.”

“You know it.” He resumes combing through his hair, and Ryuji lets himself relax, just a little. It’s strange—it’s hard as hell being around other people nowadays, and even though Akira can make him feel that sometimes, mostly it helps the eternal twisting of his stomach to settle.

“You’re good at that,” Ryuji mutters.

“Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice with Morgana.” And just to make it worse, he uses a little bit of nail on his nape, sending electricity running down all the way to his fingertips.

His mouth twists unhappily. “Don’t do shit like that while talking about the cat, for the love of god.”

Akira does it again, like the little shit he is. “You still have that weird thing with your neck?”

“Quit it!” Ryuji slaps his thigh and he can’t muster much anger when he can feel Akira’s shoulders shake from silent laughter. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re right.” Gently, softly, like the world’s lightest feather, he feels lips brush his temple. “I’m funnier.”

His eyes open, and his entire vision is obscured by curly black hair and tender eyes. “You’re right,” he breathes. “You’re funnier.”

Akira bends down again, and Ryuji catches his lips, overflowing with something soft but unafraid, and it’s so good that Ryuji reaches for his cheek just to make it last a little bit longer.

When they break off, Akira kisses his temple again, this time on the left side. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Uh,” he scratches his head, brain a little fuzzy. “Tuesday?”

“It’s Wednesday, and I meant the date. It’s August tenth.”

“Okay?”

Akira thumbs at his collarbone. “I know this might be a little lame that I know it by heart, but I left Tokyo on March 19th. That would mean it’s been—”

“One hundred forty-four days since you moved away,” he finishes. “I know.”

Akira blinks, and then laughs, and Ryuji knows it’s an especially good one because sound actually comes out this time. “Yes,” he says, elated. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“I told you dude, we’re really on that telepathy shit.”

“We really are.” A pause. “I miss you.”

He’s about to joke—I’m right here, you big dummy—but find that he just can’t. “I miss you too.”

They can’t say what they mean: I will miss you. Summer vacation doesn’t last forever, and two months will always be a hell of a lot shorter than the rest of the ten months that they’ll be apart. Somehow, he dreads seeing Akira gone, and he’ll dread seeing Akira back in Tokyo because it would mean that he’d actually have to see what Ryuji’s really like. Actively pushing away his best friend just so he doesn’t have to see his failures; doesn’t that just make him the worst piece of shit in the world?

There’s a gap, though. A little loophole. A crack in the timeline. A place where maybe he’s allowed to be a hollowed out version of happy; the now.

“Tomorrow’s our last day in Sapporo?”

“Yeah?” Akira replies, surprised at the change in tone.

“Which means Jail stuff is done, right? All your grocery shopping and Sophia Prime’s been ordered and packed up?”

“Yes,” he says, a lilt in his voice. “It’s all done.”

Ryuji sits up and faces him, reaching for his wrists, relishing in the heartbeat thumping against his palms. “Let’s do something. I don’t care what, but let’s do something. Eat at a diner, go to a museum, rob a bank, whatever.” He runs his thumb along the veins there, long since those bumps have been ingrained in his brain. “Let’s do something, just you and me.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Sakamoto?” He has a cocky look in his eye, and Ryuji’s half-tempted to kiss him again just to wipe it clean off his face. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

He knows. That’s the scary part. Would Akira still follow someone he doesn’t know as well as he thinks he does? “I’ll get us lost,” he jokes.

Akira doesn’t laugh. “I’d rather be lost with you than learn to lose you.”

It’s been ages since he’s been flustered at anything Akira does, but he feels a rush of heat crawl up his neck. “I’ll—” Ryuji shakes his head, willing his embarrassment to go away. “Shit, uh—”

“I’ll pick where to go,” he interrupts, a little too smug for his liking. “I’d say I’ll pick you up at your place, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a comedian,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “I’ll be ready whenever.”

“Fantastic.” Akira checks his phone, wincing. “It’s late.”

He grips his wrist tightly. “I know.”

Thankfully, he’s never needed to explain much to Akira. “Okay,” he says softly. “Ten more minutes?”

“Yeah.” He lets his eyes slide shut once more, letting out a breath. The world will keep spinning. His stomach will keep twisting. Time will keep marching on, but at least he has this. “Ten minutes sounds good.”

—

The first words that Futaba says as she enters the RV was: “Oh, hell.”

“Hello Futaba-chan, Yusuke-kun,” Haru greets cheerfully from the booth. “How was your shopping trip?”

“...Fine,” she replies, stepping aside to let him in, lugging a four-foot tall canvas in his arms that accidentally hits the ceiling. “Got a new Featherman action figure.”

“I got a canvas,” Yusuke answers from behind the wall of white. “Though I assume you can see that.”

“I can.” Her smile doesn’t falter, and it’s making the hair on Futaba’s nape rise like a nervous animal. “Quick question, since you both are here…”

Haru pulls a tote bag from underneath the table, and it’s so heavy that when she throws it on the table, her teacup nearly topples over. “Would you like to take a guess of what’s in this bag?”

A billion jokes pop into Futaba’s head, but both of them stay silent, terrified and confused. They both knew this was coming, but they didn’t expect her to be so forward about it.

“I suppose that’s a pretty strange question, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” She reaches in and pulls out thick, heavy textbooks, all brightly coloured and consist of beaming, diverse students on the front cover. “Care to tell me why you were both looking at cram books while we’re on our fun roadtrip?”

Yusuke pushes Futaba aside, eyes on the books and wide with shock. “You bought them?!” he exclaims.

“Wait—” Futaba hops repeatedly, trying to catch a glimpse from over his shoulder. “You bought all of them?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “Hmm, think about it this way. If Akira’s in charge of the group as a whole, and Makoto’s in charge of the more analytical aspect of things, think of me as a somewhat stern yet loving parent who doesn’t quite know how to mind their own business.”

“I thought that was Ann’s job,” Futaba mutters, heart hammering in her chest.

“Now,” Haru leans forward, and as if to prove her role, speaks in a gentle tone. “I’m not mad at you. That would be ridiculous. But I saw you two looking at these books, and I know how expensive they can be, so I’ll give them to you.”

She blinks. “You would?”

“Absolutely!” Haru smiles wide. “On the condition that you tell me why you need them.”

Futaba and Yusuke exchange a glance, before Futaba makes a T with her hands. “Timeout!” she yells, dragging Yusuke by the collar out of the RV.

“What do we do?” he whispers once the door is shut. “It’s not as if we can tell her.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should?” she pushes up her glasses. “Damn, the things money can buy you. Our vow of silence is getting thrown out the window for two handfuls of yen.”

He looks her dead in the eyes. “I would tell the world my deepest secrets if it meant having lifetime access to a grocery store.”

“Don’t say that, you sellout!”

“I’m not selling out. My art already reveals the deepest portion of my soul, it’s not my fault that the common observers cannot pick up what I’m putting down.” He squints against the setting sun. “She’s waiting. What do we do?”

“Okay, okay, okay, just let me—” her mind whirrs rapidly, and for a second she really feels like Sophia. “Give me a second.”

“I have a suggestion,” he points at her. “If we’re not averse to lying, let’s tell them that you need them for school. You’re struggling with academics, you need a bit of outside help, so we took a look at the textbooks.”

“Good idea! Wait.” She frowns. “They’ll never buy it. Let’s say that you need them.”

“I’m at the top of my class!”

“But they don’t know that!” She balls her fists together, determined. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“I didn’t say yes to this.”

Futaba kicks the door open, making Haru pause wiping her spilt drink mid-stroke. “Inari’s struggling with his classes!”

“I—“ Yusuke stammers. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’m struggling with my classes. They’re mighty indeed, and even I find them difficult. I am...struggling.”

Haru looks at them doubtfully. “Yusuke is?”

“I am,” he answers as Futaba says, “He is.”

“Yusuke,” she repeats, gesturing to the neatly-stacked pile of textbooks on the table. “Is struggling with precalculus?”

They stare at her. “Yes,” Yusuke says, slowly. “I am struggling with previous calculus.”

“Out of curiosity, Yusuke,” Haru scratches her cheek. “Do you know what a parabola is?”

“Of course I do,” he replies with the wisdom of a thousand monks. “It’s a self-contradictory statement.”

“That’s a paradox,” Makoto corrects from the steering wheel.

“What the heck?” Futaba jumps a foot in the air. “Why are you here? Why were you hiding?”

“I like to sit here a few hours before we start another road trip,” she says, before glaring at them. “You two. Does this have to do with Ryuji?”

“T-timeout!”

Futaba makes a beeline to the door again, but Haru’s faster. She slips past them, standing in their way, perfect smile still in place. Sometimes Futaba forgets how strong she is in negotiations; her and Yusuke were probably tutorial levels compared to the upper management of Okumura Foods. “Answer her question, please.”

Yusuke sighs, tired. “You know what you’re asking for, don’t you? If we tell you what’s happening here, it would be breaking the trust of one of our teammates.”

“Yusuke!” Futaba hisses. “Are you really thinking about telling them? It’s not even our secret to tell.”

“No, it isn’t.” He makes eye contact with Makoto. “But she made a point. What would make us better friends: if we kept a secret to the grave while letting him suffer, or tell someone who can help even if it means being some sort of tattletale?”

“But…” she trails off, resolve crumbling. “Dude. It’s going to suck so much.”

“I know.” He pats her head, before moving to Ryuji’s backpack once more. “Don’t worry, I’m willing to take his anger if need be.” Yusuke gestures to the booth. “Everyone, take a seat. It’s about time this finally gets cleared up.”

Smoothing out the envelope in his hand, even more crumpled than when they had it last, he clears his throat, takes one last glance at Futaba to make sure. At her tentative nod, he begins to read its contents in a loud, clear voice.

When he finishes, they sit there, staring at the thick paper in silence.

“Oh my god,” Makoto breathes. “I knew it was bad, but—”

Haru shakes her head. “Not this bad. And he talked about it so much, but we didn’t even…” she glances down at the textbooks, idly rubbing its spine. “I didn’t think much of it.”

“None of us did,” Yusuke says. “But does that make it any better?”

They fall in silence again, but Futaba can hear the answer loud and clear. Hell no.

The door opens forcefully, pulling them out of their stupor.

“What’s up, my beloved friends!” Ann calls, shopping bags in tow. “God, I’m gonna miss Sapporo. Things here are so cheap compared to Tokyo, sheesh!” She sets them down, laughing when nobody says anything. “Jeez, what’s going on? Did I miss something?”

“Ann-chan,” Haru says carefully, all sense of cheer, for intimidation or otherwise, gone. “Take a seat. There’s something you should know.”

—

The Ferris wheel looms over them, blocking out most of the sunset behind it. “Nice,” Ryuji grins appreciatively. “I should’ve seen this one coming.”

“You should’ve,” Akira agrees, tugging him into the open carriage. He goes in willingly. “It was staring at you the whole time we’re in Sapporo. And besides, every romantic movie has a Ferris wheel scene, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“Death note.”

Ryuji makes a face, and Akira laughs. “Yeah, I know. Bad example.”

It’s a tight squeeze but they sit next to each other, ignoring the bench in front of them. The seats are hot, and even though it’s nearly evening, the heat barely eases up on them. Still, he finds himself pressing himself against Akira. He runs cold, much colder than Ryuji; narrow wrists are ice, prominent collarbones frost.

The two of them lean over the window, pointing out random scenery as if it were the first time they were seeing them. Restaurants, statues. Weird looking cars and flower beds. Decorated high rises and insects that fly by. It’s like they were tourists, or a retired couple who just want to travel the world. He’s never wanted to be old before, but Akira always has a way of making him change his mind.

Like clockwork—Ryuji makes a joke. Akira laughs. His heart feels lighter.

When he finds himself leaning against him, feet up on the bench, Akira wraps his arms around his shoulders unhesitatingly. Ryuji wonders if he can hear the way his heart thuds inside his bones. He wonders if he knows it's for him. The Ferris wheel stops, right at the very top, gently swaying like it were a giant cradle. They’re not very high up, but it’s far enough that he feels like he’s left the entire world behind.

Ryuji presses his lips against those wrists, relishing in the way he can feel the heartbeat increase. “You nervous?”

He can feel his head shake behind him. “I’m happy, I think,” Akira says in a hushed voice, like it was a secret, like it was a sin.

A breeze flows through, and Ryuji closes his eyes when lips press against just below his ear.

Would it be worth it to have a Palace? A Jail? Would it be worth it to lose himself, just to be in this moment for the rest of time?

Carefully, he flips himself sideways, just so he can press more of himself against Akira. The carriage rocks gently, and the metal bench underneath them is sharp and uncomfortable. Arms tighten around him. Chest to back, knee to knee, they couldn’t be closer, but Ryuji leans back, wanting nothing more than to bottle the rhythm of his breathing and the smell of his soap.

I’m happy, too, I think, he wants to say. If we stayed like this for the rest of our lives, until our skin is permanently tattooed into the hot steel and our bones are the only thing they take out of this bench because the rest of us had already rotted, then I’d be pretty damn happy.

Craning his neck backwards, Akira is already staring.

Then he’s kissing him—once, twice, again and again, and Ryuji realizes that something’s different. This wasn’t the kind of kiss he was used to. There was a desperate air to it, an urgent edge from both of them that neither was ready for. Stealing each other’s breath and giving it back; the cycle continues, the clock keeps ticking.

Ryuji pulls himself up, not breaking the kiss, cupping his cheek and soaking him in like a flower to the sun; an endless yearning, like he’d shrivel up and suffocate if it vanished. The sun framed Akira, and for a split second, he feels like he understands what Yusuke sees on a canvas.

When they part, foreheads leaning against each other, Ryuji lifts a trembling hand to wipe the tear that rolled down Akira’s cheek.

“What’s up?” he asks softly. “Is something wrong?”

“I feel like you’re a miracle, Ryuji.”

How do you respond to that? When the person who said it feels like they’re the one who’s magic, who’s too good to be true?

“Fuck miracles,” he says, pulling Akira in again.

—

The circuit felt like it ended too soon, but it’s night when they finally stepped off, holding hands and faces flushed. He hopes the ride operator doesn’t hate them, but he’s in too good of a mood to really complain.

Ryuji stops in his tracks when he sees who’s in front of them.

“Ann?” Akira questions, taken aback. Eyes dark and brows pulled close together, clutching her purse like a weapon of war—she looks like she’d just seen someone set an orphanage on fire.

Her voice is shockingly deep, gaze fixed on Ryuji. “I’m borrowing him for a second.”

Before either of them can say anything, Ann takes him by the bicep, and he can only glance at Akira before he’s dragged back into the Ferris wheel.

“Did you even pay—?”

“Don’t start,” she hisses, pushing him on the bench, hard. “Don’t you dare start, you damn liar.”

His blood runs cold. “What?”

No. That’s impossible.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She shoves her hand in her bag and throws something rubber at him. “Do you know how long it took me to find a good one here? I spent my entire day in the shopping district—not looking for clothes, or shoes, or whatever the hell I thought would be fun. No, I spent our last day in Sapporo looking for that.”

Ryuji looks down at the hot compress in his hands, a lump in his throat.

“Because you weren’t doing anything to your knee,” she continues, jaw tight. “Despite me trying my best to help you get better. I thought that you must’ve been really fan-freaking-tastic at hiding the pain that you told me about. That I trusted was the truth because you’re one of my best friends and I trust you. I trust you with my life, my secrets—” Ann grits her teeth. “What the hell?”

“How did you find out?” he asks hoarsely.

She knows. If she knows, they could know. If they could know—

“Damn you, it doesn’t matter how I found out!” she throws her hands in the air, voice so hurt that it twists his insides impossibly tighter. “You think I would care? You think that this is important enough to lie to me about? Dammit, I don’t care that you—”

“Don’t say it,” he begs. “Please.”

“I don’t give a single shit that you failed second-year, Sakamoto!”

Her words ring against the steel walls, deafening.

Bile crawls up his esophagus, and he readies himself for another attack. But for some strange reason, his vision doesn’t blur. Instead, anger kicks in like it always does.

“You don’t care?” he asks, incredulous. “This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!”

“It does when you lie to me about it!” she yells back. “Do you not care about me? About your friends who would go to hell and back for you?”

“How dare you—!”

“You lied to me, you hid it from everyone else, you ignored our advice because it doesn’t mean shit to you.” She points a finger at him. “And look where that got you.”

“Shut up.”

“We all noticed, you know! Each and every one of us noticed that something was up, even the literal robot—”

“Shut the hell up, Ann.”

“And for what? All you accomplished was hurt our feelings, hold in yours, and keep it from the love of your life—”

Ryuji stands up, rocking the carriage and nearly toppling Ann off her feet.

“It’s because I fucking hate myself!”

She grips the barred window, eyes wide. They stare each other down for a few long moments, before the ride comes to an abrupt end. The door swings open, allowing a cheery greeting from the oblivious employee.

And then Ann sighs, shoulders deflating. “Come on,” she jerks her head to the door, before stepping out herself. “Let’s go.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled. “Where?”

“If we’re going to delve into the psyche of Sakamoto Ryuji, we might as well do it with some food in front of us.”

—

The cafe Ann takes him to is bright, filled with pastries and crowded with people—stools are pastel blue, baristas are wearing cute bowties, and each cup of coffee comes with an alarming amount of whipped cream on top. Sojiro would have a heart attack if he walked three kilometers of this place, but Ryuji’s glad that the resemblance is far and away than that of Leblanc.

The booth is pressed into the corner of it all; up against the window and far enough from the main bustle that they’d have to really put their all into it if they wanted to take their order. On one side sat Futaba, nervously tracing shapes on the window while Haru sits beside her. The opposite end has Yusuke and Makoto.

They all look up when they hear the bell chime, and Ryuji almost laughs. “It’s been a long ass time since I’ve seen you guys look so serious,” he remarks, sliding next to Makoto while Ann sits next to Haru. “Where’s the food at? Come on guys, food’s good for you.”

He raises a hand. “Excuse me! We’re ready!”

“Ryuji,” Futaba’s voice is brittle. “I—”

“Hold on shorty,” he reaches to pat her head, voice coming out soft. “We’ll get to that. I promise.”

A waiter comes, takes their drink order, and leaves. When he does, Yusuke places a heavy hand on the table. “I was the one who told everyone.”

“That’s not true!” Futaba cries out, and everyone jerks back in shock. “That’s bull! I’m the one who told him to go through your stuff ‘cause he was worried about you, but I’m the one who actually—”

“No, I’m the one at fault here,” Haru casts her gaze downwards. “It was really none of my business, but I forced these two to tell everyone here. I’m so sorry—”

Ryuji sighs. “Guys, it’s fine.” He’s met with an incredulous look. “Okay, it isn’t, but none of this is your fault, you know? I’m not mad.” His gaze shifts to Ann. “But you’re allowed to be mad at me. I know I shouldn’t have hidden it.”

She gives him a weighted look. “Then why did you do it?”

“Ann,” Makoto warns.

“No, I’m not budging on this.” She leans forward. “He lied to me. Lying doesn’t get you anywhere good. That was really stupid of you.”

“Ann!” Futaba cuts in, horrified.

“You’ve seen what happened with Shiho.” Ryuji flinches back like he’s been hit. He knows. Ann knows he knows. But she keeps going anyway. “She lied to me about what was happening, and I lied to her back. It kept going and going, and—” she snaps her fingers. “She’s gone from my life. For how long? I don’t know, maybe until we graduate. Maybe until her rehab ends. Maybe longer. Who knows? All I know is if we had just—talked, or—” Ann shakes her head, frustrated. “From the start. Tell us what happened. And afterwards, let us help you, or I swear to god I’m going to cry, and I know you can’t stand it when people cry.”

The silence is deafening, even with the clamor of people and voices around them.

Ryuji lets out a breath. “Yeah, alright.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You will?”

“I will,” he repeats, idly checking his pulse. Heart rate is a little quick, but in no danger of having another breakdown. “I’ll tell you everything.”

The waiter chooses that time to drop off their drinks; all cold except Haru, nursing a hot cup of tea. They definitely didn’t buy enough to justify the god-knows-how-long they’re going to spend here, but they’re just gonna have to suck it up.

“Alright,” he starts when they’re alone again. “We going from the start?”

“The very beginning,” Ann confirms.

With one last glance at his friends, he sighs, sits up straight, and flashes them the biggest grin he can muster:

“Hi,” he greets. “I’m Sakamoto Ryuji, and I failed my second-year of high school.”

No one’s expression shifts, not even an inch. He can’t help but be a little impressed. “You guys know that I’ve never been the greatest with books. Shit, screw greatest—I’ve ranked bottom five ever since I started middle school. Didn’t help that my leg got fucked to high heaven and everyone started hating me. Nearly dropped out a couple times. Had no one, really. Worst time in my life, hands down.

“So imagine this dumb little kid, middle of April, running into this guy.” Without meaning to, the grin shifts into something more genuine. “Good-looking dude, super smart, real charmer but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by lookin’ at him. And that guy saved my life. Ten, twenty, thirty times over. He was so great that the dumb kid obviously fell in love with him. But what’s even crazier is that the guy fell in love with the dumb little kid, too.

“Crazy, right? Sounds made up, but I promise it’s true.” He catches Futaba’s expression shift to exasperation. “I know, I can’t believe it either.”

“That’s not what I meant, you sap,” she says.

“Yeah, but that dumb little kid,” he explains. “Couldn’t believe it. Literally couldn’t believe it. Thinks that he struck the lottery, struck by damn lightning. I mean—” Ryuji laughs a little. “How can someone so amazing and cool be in love with such a moron? What made it worse…”

He gestures at all of them. “Was that the guy had so many people in his life who was also amazing. His social circle was made up of, and correct me if I’m wrong: a successful journalist, a politician, some dude from the mob, a random child who breaks gaming records on the daily, and I’m not even counting people from this goddamn table. So dumb little kid knows, he fucking knows that somehow, someway, he tricked the cool guy into falling in love with him. The kid sucked, no, sucks,” he corrects. “At everything. Can’t do anything worthwhile.”

“Ryuji…” Haru whispers.

“Almost done, I know it’s running on kinda long,” he promises. “So the dumb little kid became kinda obsessed with the group’s ‘activities’, and it’s obvious why he would, right? If he knows he’s not good enough for the guy he’s in love with, then he can at least try to be. But since he already sucked at school to begin with, dummy over here completely bailed on school and ended up flunking so bad that he failed an entire year.”

An entire year. An entire year.

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe, but he’d rather get hit by a truck than lose it in front of so many people. Gritting his teeth, he does what he knows is bad, what every google search and YouTube video says you should not do—he pushes his feelings, far and hard away from himself, so far that it’s like it doesn’t even exist.

It works surprisingly well.

“And, uh—” Ryuji clears his throat. “He hid it. Because you know the one, single thing that’s worse than realizing you’re not good enough for the other person?”

No one answers. “Waiting for the day that they realize that you’re not good enough for them.”

“And that’s pretty much the bulk of it.” Reaching for his mug, he takes a sip of his lukewarm lemonade. Damn, he really did talk for a while. “I didn’t want to tell the rest of you because one, it’s really fucking embarrassing that I failed, and two—”

“Akira can’t know,” they all say in unison.

“Exactly, you guys get the point by now.” He drums his fingers against the table, trying to ignore the blatant gloom cast on all of their faces. “Question time starts now, if anyone wants to ask anything.”

Makoto opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “If anyone even thinks about feeling pity, or be all ‘no, you’re smart actually!’, I am walking out of this cafe and I am not looking back.”

“What about summer school?” Makoto asks immediately. “If you didn’t want us to know, then you could’ve taken that without even telling us.”

“Summer school was never an option.”

“And why not?” she slaps her hand against the table. “It would’ve solved this entire situation!”

“Because Akira was coming home for the summer,” he says simply. “And I wanted to enjoy my time with him without this hanging over my head.”

Her jaw drops open. “But...that’s…”

“Stupid?” he offers. “Idiotic? Really dumb? Potentially throwing away my entire future? Yeah, I gotcha. Another part of it was that the thought of staying at Shujin for another minute makes me want to jump into traffic, if that helps make me look a little better in your mind, miss prez.”

Makoto’s expression of confusion freezes, taken aback by the harshness of his words. Ryuji cringes at himself. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says finally. “The fault is mine. I have no right to judge your actions, or to pretend I know what kind of stress is burdening you.” Hesitating, she asks, “May I request another question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were you going to do when we eventually go back to Tokyo?”

As expected of someone who went head-to-head against the ace detective in front of the entire school; her questions are brutal. “I don’t know, honestly. I was planning on ignoring the problem for now and just sort of,” he gestures vaguely. “Enjoy the summertime sun?”

“A moment,” Haru goes through her bag. “It’s a long story, but I have these—”

The second the books peek out of her tote, he recognizes the cover immediately. “Cram books? You bought some?”

“Yes!” she answers, mistaking his reaction for eagerness. “It’s a very small gesture, but I’d love for you to have them.”

“I—” he leans away from them, breath catching in his throat. “No.”

“No?” she blinks.

“Not now, senpai.” Trying out his new trick again, he forces his heart to slow down, forces his breathing to regulate again without any of the techniques, and forces himself not to feel any of the fear that he’d normally have to go through. It works, but barely. “I’m not—I don’t think I’m ready to deal with that yet.”

“That’s fine.” Haru puts them away, and as hard as he tries, he can still see how dejected she was. “I’ll hold on to them for you.”

“Thank you.” He glances around. “Any last takers? Q&A is almost up.”

“I have one,” Yusuke pipes up.

“Go for it.”

“How are you?” he asks genuinely.

Ryuji can’t help it—a laugh gets pulled out of him. “How am I?” he repeats.

“Yes. How are you?”

“Uh,” he laughs again. “Not good, man. Not good.”

Everyone startles when Ryuji stands abruptly. He slams down the rest of his lemonade, relieved at how it helps his parched throat. “Alrighty, that took a lot out of me! Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of being surrounded by fake coffee and poser cafe fanatics.”

“I’ll take care of the bill,” Haru says, following his lead and scooting out from the booth.

“What? No, come on. I don’t care how rich you are, at least let me pay half.”

“Ryuji.” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Slowly, they all start filing out, some exiting the cafe while Makoto goes to the till with Haru. Ryuji reaches for Ann’s elbow before she can leave. “Hey.”

Turning her head, it’s as if her lips were permanently stitched downwards. “Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he says, somber. “That was shitty, and it doesn’t matter what I’m going through—you can’t deal with lies. I get that. I won’t put you through that again.”

Ann kisses her palm before slapping it against his forehead. “You better not,” her voice drips in affection. “You said not to console you—”

“I did, and I meant it.”

“But I’m here for you,” she rubs his skin harder, and he winces at the chafing. “You know that, right? No matter how crazy the shit inside your head gets, I want you to talk to me.”

“I know it,” he says, not just because he wants the friction to ease up. “I know it now, for sure.”

“Good.” Ann releases him, and goes to join Haru and Makoto up front. “You might want to head out. Someone’s starting to make a fuss.”

“What?” he turns around, making direct eye contact with Futaba, nursing a blank expression on her face. “I see.”

The bell chimes once more when he steps out, relieved at the cool summer air that hits him. “Shorty,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “What’s good?”

“Here.” Ryuji glances down at her, who’s holding a familiar, now very-crumpled envelope between her fingers. It’s weird seeing her hold the letter announcing his failure like a bomb, but he understands the sentiment. “I had to show Ann because she wouldn’t believe me until I got some proof.”

“Thank you,” he says, shoving it in his pocket. “I’m not mad at you, you know.”

“I know you’re not.” She swallows and stares down at her shoes. Her laces were covered in little beads and stars, something he had bought for her during a weekend hangout once. “This isn’t me pitying you, or showering you with some kind of boohoo potion.”

She swallows again. “I failed my first year of high school. It was for a completely different reason—guilt for who I thought I killed rather than wanting to be something else. But I know. I know so much about what you’re going through.”

Futaba looks up, and his heart wrenches when he sees the tears in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry if I made you sad, or that I kept calling you stupid back then,” she sobs. “I don’t mean it, and I’m so mean to you all of the time but I don’t mean any of it. I told everyone your secret because I wanted to—” she hiccups, and she pushes her glasses to the top of her head. “I wanted to give you your own version of what the Phantom Thieves did for me, but I reached out to you guys back then. No one forced me to do anything, but I took that choice away from you.”

He pulls her in his arms, and her tears are hot even through his shirt. “I know, Futaba,” he says, patting her head. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She hits his chest weakly. “Me taking care of you?” she sniffs. “I’m literally the one crying right now.”

“Just for now though,” he shrugs. “Next time I cry, you’ll be the one handing me tissues, I swear.”

They stand there, the two of them standing in the middle of Sapporo while people give them weird looks—Futaba, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, and Ryuji, refusing to ever let his emotions make things worse for everyone else again.

—

When they get back to the RV, each of them emotionally exhausted, Ryuji goes to kiss the top of Akira’s head. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Akira looks up from his card game with Morgana and Sophia. “You look like you had a wild night. Ann take you all somewhere fun?”

“Totally,” he says, sliding the letter back in his backpack. “Best night ever.”

“Take me next time. Sophia’s kicking our ass.”

“She is not!” Morgana denies, tail swishing. “Just a little,” he relents.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Ryuji announces, hiking his backpack on his shoulders and heading out, before running into Ann outside.

“Oh my god,” she says, disturbed. “He really, really doesn’t know.”

“Yup,” he moves past her. “And we’re keeping it that way.”

#p5 #p5s #mine #fic tag #plainly in truth #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #akiryu #pegoryu #ann takamaki #futaba sakura #persona 5 #persona 5 strikers #chapter three! *thumbs up*

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imnotasuperhero · 4 years

Text

I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Type: Angst.

Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.

Wordcount: 2644

Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.

A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.

A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.

A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3

If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.

"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."

Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.

Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.

Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.

"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.

"Mr. Stark could find-"

"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.

"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."

Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.

Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.

Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.

"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.

"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"

"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.

Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.

"Okay," you sighed.

"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."

You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.

Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.

After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.

Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.

Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat.

Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives.

Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever.

Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.

"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.

After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.

"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.

"I'm waiting, Y/N."

You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.

"So the bleeding nose-"

"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.

"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"

"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.

Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.

You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.

It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.

Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?

One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.

"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.

"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself.

"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"

You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive.

"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.

"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.

"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"

And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.

The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again.

Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were.

The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity.

So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.

But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.

Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids.

If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.

Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms.

Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.

The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.

"Peanut-"

"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.

Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.

"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.

The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.

The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.

"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into.

But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.

You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.

"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.

After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.

You can find the continuation, here (:

Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova

#wanda maximoff x reader #I-#lkhfkjgfkjgaf #my writing #jbbnnmhamchallenge #mental health tw #feel free to scream at me

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silver-spheres · 4 years

Text

Dreams

Draco Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Description; (Y/N) has always known she liked Draco Malfoy ever since the first time she saw him on the train she was infatuated by the blonde-haired boy. Draco Malfoy has always known he disliked (Y/N), the constant pining from her and the ridiculous advances were the reason for the dislike. It was now 5th year and neither of those feelings had gone away.

(Y/N) stared at Draco during DADA and Draco noticed the feeling of someone burning a hole in the side of his head. You’d think after 5 years she’d get the hint Draco thought wondering why the girl was still attracted to him. (Y/N) was still staring when Professor Umbridge called on her to ask her a question pulling her out of her thoughts. She blanked and couldn’t answer, winning herself detention with the pink-clad women. She slumped her shoulders and frowned looking down at her textbook.

Draco, on the other hand, looked glad that the girl stopped staring at him. He and his friends whispered about the club meeting they have, as all of them were part of Umbridge’s group. Draco was to oversee detentions with Crabbe later tonight, he groaned when he realized he would probably oversee (Y/N)’s detention. The group continued to talk until class ended.

It seemed like the world was against (Y/N) today, she had gotten detention during DADA, and spilled part of her potion all over herself. Dinner was no better arriving too late to get her favorite dessert. She walked slowly towards that horrendously pink office hoping to prolong the time she had before the detention. When she arrived in the office she saw three people Umbridge sitting at her desk sipping a cup of tea and Draco and Crabbe leaning on the wall watching her as she entered. She grimaced at the smile the older-woman let reach her lips when she noticed (Y/N)’s the entrance. “Hello dear, sit at the desk and start writing I will not be distracted in class” she smiles out “How many times Professor?” (Y/N) replied hoping for a small number “Write until I tell you to stop” the older-women said not looking at (Y/N). She sat at the desk reaching for the dark-feathered quill sitting next to a fresh piece of parchment. Holding the quill (Y/N) looked around for a pot of ink, realizing that there wasn’t one, she asked “Do you have a pot of ink I could use Professor” “No just write the lines stop asking questions” the women replied. (Y/N) now visibly confused began to write her lines, an itch rose onto the back of her hand. After a few lines, red ink began to stain the parchment, at the same time a slight pain appeared on her hand that was writing them.

After filling the parchment paper, (Y/N) lifted her sleeve now looking at the words “I will not be distracted in class appear” cut into her hand, very loudly wincing when she ran her fingers over. The wince garnered the attention of Draco who was sitting at a chair near the main desk throwing a ball up and down, turning to look at the girl he saw the bloody skin sitting between her thumb and pointer finger. His eyes widened and a look of concern flooded his face. “I did not tell you to stop yet Ms. (Y/L/N)” Professor Umbridge loudly spoke breaking the silence in the room. (Y/N) turned her face towards the desk first looking at Draco’s worried expression, then Umbridge’s face turned into a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Professor my hand-” she began “I don’t care, continue with your lines or you’ll be back here tomorrow” Umbridge interrupted. The young girl turned to Draco giving him a pleading look, he looked down into his lap not meeting her eyes. (Y/N) frowned and continued with her lines wincing ever so often.

Draco continued looking down at his lap except for the occasional glance at the girl still scribbling lines with her blood. He knew he should have said something, it was a cruel punishment for a question unanswered even for someone he disliked. But he stayed silent walking out behind the girl when she was dismissed. Walking up to her he asked, “Do you want to go to Pomfrey’s” the girl ignored him continuing to walk to her common room “Hey I asked if you want to go to Pomfrey’s for your hand” he continued picking up his pace to walk next to her “No now leave me alone” (Y/N) said harshly then walked into the bathroom. Draco looked surprised at the tone of her comment and a little hurt at her dismissiveness.

(Y/N) began to sob looking at the red skin surrounding harsh lines carved into her skin. Reaching the sink she cleaned the wounds continuing to sob. After cleaning the blood and her tears she looked into the mirror. She began to think of the detention, more so about Draco. The worried look had when she stopped, the way he kept glancing at her, but most importantly how he hadn’t tried to stop it. She thought he would’ve tried to stop it, she thought she knew him but it seemed like she didn’t. Walking back to her dorm, she began to question if Draco was the same person she liked in the first year.

Draco now lying comfortably in his bed thinking about the detention. He thought of her red eyes stained with tears and her puffy lips. She looks pretty even when she cries, has she always been that pretty? Draco thought for a second before pushing it down. Draco woke up quickly getting ready and walking to the Grand Hall. When sat down at his table her felt someone wrap their arms around his shoulders kissing his cheek before sitting down, turning he saw (Y/N). As she was leaning to kiss him, Draco abruptly jumped up waking him from his dream. Looking around his dorm Draco let out a groan, hand reaching to touch his lips. He had a few of those dreams before always ending before her lips met his. He began to analyze all their interactions wondering when she went from being a nuisance to him enjoying her presence and wanted to feel her lips on his. He then realized what had happened yesterday, suddenly worried that she no longer liked him. Draco was determined to set things right and to feel her lips on his.

(Y/N) now sat eating her breakfast occasionally looking down at her hand. She was conversing with some of her housemates about Professor Umbridge and her harsh punishments. They all fell silent and looked at something past her, (Y/N) turned to see a very nervous Draco looking at her. “Do you need something Malfoy” she quickly asked saying his last name like it was poison on her tongue. Draco winced at the harshness of his last name, she had never called him Malfoy always Draco. “I was wondering if um we could talk um … privately” he said nervously preferring to look at his shoes rather than her face “About what?” she retorted back. Draco now very nervous looked at her “Please can we just talk privately” (Y/N)’s eyes widened never knowing Draco to say please for anything ”Okay” she replied getting up and following the boy out of the hall.

Now outside of the hall (Y/N) said “What did you want to talk about” turning to face Draco. He took a step closer to her now an arm’s length away from her. She looked at him quirking her eyebrow up, he let out a breath. “What,” she said slightly raising her voice in annoyance, he quickly pulled her towards him chests now touching, and brought his lips to hers. (Y/N)’s eyes widen and she quickly pushed him off her. “What the hell Draco,” she said angrily looking the boy “ I um I-” Draco said with a sad look on his face he was not expecting her to push him off. “I’m sorry for not helping you with Umbridge and for kissing you,” He said turning away and walking quickly back into the hall and into his seat, leaving (Y/N) very confused. The boy she had liked for years just kissed her, yes she was starting to lose feelings but the kiss evaporated an doubts she had about him.

Draco sat at his seat feeling the urge to cry, he regretted not saying anything when his feelings first developed because it was too late now. He looked over at the door hoping she would come in soon so he could see her again. She came in a few moments later not looking over at him. She sat back into her seat and continued talking with her friends, the frown deepened on Draco’s face. When breakfast ended he walked to his dorm deciding he didn’t want to go to classes, rather spend the day in his bed sad from the rejection.

(Y/N) looked all over in her classes for the boy hoping to make things right again. She liked the feeling of his lips on hers and his arms around her waist pulling her into him. Not finding him anywhere she looked for Crabbe or Goyle hoping they’d tell her were Draco was. They both told her he was in his dorm because he wasn’t feeling well. She asked for the password and started walking towards the dungeons. When she reached the door for the Slytherin common room she said the password “ traite”. Looking around she realized that most of the students were still in classes, she stalked up the stairs towards his dorm. Knocking softly on the door she heard a harsh “What do you want? I told you, dunces, to leave me alone” “It’s me Draco,” she said. She heard a crash and footsteps toward the door. Draco had fallen off his bed at the sound of her voice and quickly fixed his hair and looked at himself at the mirror on his bedstand. He wiped his face of tears and took some breaths walking towards the door. He put his hand on the not wanting to open it, he still feared she would outright reject him telling him that she never liked him and that she would never date someone like him. He froze at that thought. He opened the door.

(Y/N) saw Draco in sweatpants and a soft black t-shirt hair rumpled from laying in his bed and his eyes red from crying. She walked towards him wrapping her arms around his waist leaning her head on his chest. She then looked up at him and move her hands to pull him down letting their lips meet. Draco was completely frozen at the contact but his eyes fluttered shut. He moved his hands onto her waist pulling her close to him. Guess dreams do come true.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #fanfic #golden era

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saphie3243 · 3 years

Text

First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this.

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year.

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting.

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass.

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares.

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it.

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.”

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers.

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented.

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.”

“Why is there an R in it?”

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?”

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes.

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop.

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?”

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?”

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me. Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first.

“Not sure, why?”

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta.

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.”

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew.

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.”

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced.

“I would have picked you up if you asked.”

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian.

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch.

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either.

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.”

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper.

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.” Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.”

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie.

Surprisingly, he didn’t push.

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.”

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in.

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted.

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window.

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved.

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning.

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him.

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.”

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle.

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do.

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out?

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited.

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal.

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.”

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?”

“The bacon looks done.”

“Azriel.”

He sighed. “No.”

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.”

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him.

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered.

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.”

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.”

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then.

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room.

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year…

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up - but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents!

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year.

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked.

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices... even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society.

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip.

“It is the longest night of the year.”

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army.

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.”

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?”

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed.

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them.

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring.

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another.

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.”

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.”

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.”

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something.

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time.

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there.

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound.

“Devlon,” she said very carefully.

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.”

“We need to get him out.”

“His friends will get him out.”

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.”

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit.

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own?

“Nesta!”

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?” She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso.

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie.

“He needs a healer.”

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.”

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night.

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked.

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table.

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know.

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter.

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong.

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.”

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway.

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note.

Dear Nesta,

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help.

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry.

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me.

Your sister,

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out.

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who?

“You’re up.”

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.”

“How’s the boy?”

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.”

“That’s good.”

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?”

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed.

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

#secret snowflake #Nesta Archeron #Nessian #Cassian #post Acowar #post acofas #elain archeron #emerie #Nesta and Emerie will be besties if it kills me #Nesta and Cassian adopt that kid.#Potato-burp is ask-able tumblr #so that one is in the exchange.#but my writing goes here so here we are #never posted fic directly to tumblr before.#weird

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