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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

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I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

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A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?�� Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

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Sorry x Rare

A/N: I got two lyric requests for Sorry by Beyonce and Rare by Selena Gomez. They were both sort of two sides of the same coin so I wrote them together it mostly goes from rare to sorry. Thanks for the requests, fingers crossed it lives up to what you wanted! <3

Synopsis: You and Harry have been together for a long time but he’s not the same man you fell in love with anymore.

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I move my dinner around on my plate, my gaze on the man pacing outside the restaurant on his phone. My man. But it didn't really feel like that these days. These days, Harry was a stranger to me--late nights, phone calls interrupting dinner, waking up to find him gone and not even sure if he'd come home at all.

I watch him remove the phone from his ear in a rush, stare at it, and then shove it aggressively in his pocket. He walks back in, cheeks pink and huffing.

"Should we ask for the bill?" He sits down in a flurry. I stare at his barely-eaten meal and my own dinner mashed to bits.

"We've barely had dinner."

"Babe, we've been here for over an hour since..." he takes his phone back out to inform me of how much time exactly but something must catch his attention because his sentence dies on his lips. I stare, he was so distant lately. "I'll drop you off at home, I've got to meet the boys they decided to talk business-"

"It's 8pm on a Thursday," I state the obvious. "Can't you catch up with them la-"

"This isn't an argument Y/N," Harry finally looks at me. He was done discussing it. He lifts his hands to the waiter and a minute later dinner's been paid for. He wasn't my baby, I think as we stroll outside to his car. I don't know who this man was.

***

I wake up the next morning with the weight of Harry on the other side of the bed. I could smell him, the booze sitting in his pores.

“Ugh,” I groan, not wanting to smell that first thing in the morning. I get up and start my day before I head to work. Soon, Harry appears squinting as I stir sugar into my coffee.

“I need a coffee,” he says, his voice hoarse. It used to sound sexy but now it was just another reminder that things changed. We lived like roommates and it hurt that he never wanted to talk. Half the time, he acted like I wasn’t even there.

I watch him settle with his coffee, taking the first sip and letting out a deep breath. A memory comes to me suddenly, the first year we were dating,

“I think this is the best coffee I’ve ever had,” it was the first night Harry had stayed the whole night and I’d made him coffee in my outdated coffee maker. It came out burnt half the time but that morning’s cup was decent. We’re swaddled in my blankets--the room I rented back then had poor circulation in the winter.

“I think you’re still slightly drunk,” I lean my shoulder against his and cup the warm drink. “I’ve definitely had better coffees.”

“Maybe coffees are just better the morning after,” he says, glancing at me and I know he can see the flush on my cheeks. He knew I was shy talking about certain things in the light of day.

“We can say that,” I mumble into the cup. “It’s just nice to have a heat source.”

“Here,” he takes the cup from me and reaches over to put both on the nightstand.

“Hey I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know but if you’re cold, I know this other heat source--it even works for hypothermia.”

His statement causes a blood rush that warms me already but I don’t say no to what he has in mind. I could make us another cup later.

Harry catches me staring when he looks over and raises an eyebrow. I snap out of my thoughts and twist my lips into a smile, looking back at my own drink bitterly. Who was this man in front of me? Out loud, I ask: “How was your night? You came in late.”

“I was out with the boys.” he says in a tone that meant he didn’t want to talk about it. “It got late.”

“A text would’ve been nice,” I say, still looking at my cup.

“S’not like you were waiting up,” he turns to walk back towards the bedroom.

“Learned not to,” I mumble but I know he’s heard me with the way he pauses. But he didn’t care enough to argue, dispute it, nothing. He leaves.

***

"Guess who just made a commission that's more than I used to earn in a year?" April walks into the small office, an infectious grin on her face.

"You sold him on it?" I put away the file I'm working on and jump up to hug my friend.

"I had to flirt a little--give him a vivid picture of what he could have there, and he signed! I'm bloody brilliant."

April was my American ex-pat who I met when she was looking for a flat a few years ago. And now here she was, working for me at the small real estate office I managed with a few other people I considered friends.

"Do you know if he was single?" I tune back in to hear Janelle asking.

"No, don't give her bad advice!" I scold Janelle. “We don’t date clients.”

"I'm miserably single," April pouts. "I'll take advice even if it’s bad."

"Bad advice is to stay with your college sweetheart to the point where you're not sure he even cares about you." I say to no one in particular. It was just us in the office today, and they knew everything about my life so I didn't care much. But the pin-drop silence that follows is different. I look up to see my friends eyeing each other. "What?"

"Nothing." They stay tight lipped but I push and they crack. "Well, so...we know things are rocky between you and Harry..."

"Things aren't rocky," I clarify. "They're just...nonexistent."

"Right," April slides closer. "Soo, we saw him at the club yesterday."

I raise my eyebrow, "He told me he was meeting up with his boys."

"Oh!" They sound surprised I know, but they look at each other again so I push them. "He was...there was a girl? Sitting on his lap for most of the night? Like, nothing happened I don't think so?" She turns to look at April at the end of each sentence.

Personally, I feel gut-punched even though I suspected this. I knew he wasn't where he said he was going to be sometimes, or with who he said he was going to be with. But he cut our own dinner short last night to be with strangers yesterday? I grip the pen in my hand.

"Y/N honestly...you know we love you and support you. But, you're a special girl and you deserve better than that sod."

"Yeah," Janelle puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're a gem Y/N. There's someone else out there who's gonna see how rare you are."

"I know," I blow my cheeks out. We'd had different conversations like this before, although never this direct. I guess we'd never had direct proof of what my husband was doing until now though.

"He's an idiot not knowing you're so rare," my friends try to comfort me. I feel my eyes well up and I swipe at them. I wasn't going to cry at work but they must sense the tears because they excuse themselves, "We're going to get you a tea, and some pastries to celebrate April's sale. April?"

I keep my face buried in my hands as they leave, take a few deep breaths. "I am rare," I say to myself but even that makes me laugh bitterly. Harry and I had been together for 5 years and here I was trying to count up all the reasons we should stay together when he didn't even care. He was out with other women, and I was waiting around for him.

"I'm rare," I say again. "I'm special, I deserve better. I...deserve better."

When will u be home tonight? I text Harry before I lose my nerve.

Busy he says. That’s it. And then, Why?

What time? I ask again.

8 or so, he responds.

Okay, we need to talk then. I put my phone away, too scared what he might text back. A tear falls from my cheek onto my keyboard, landing on the letter H. It mocks me. I wipe it off, and before I can think about what I'm doing I smash the letter down with my fist. I stand up and walk to the back of the office, a window overlooks the busy street. I'd had enough, I decide. Fuck Harry.

I’m not sure how long I stand there stewing, but my friends walking in with pastries and tea ends the emotional boiling pot from overflowing.

"Thanks," I take the cup from them.

“So we were talking and...” April looks at Janelle and she nods. “You should come out with us some time. Like...tonight. Dance with us, with other people...”

“I...I’ve got something at 8,” I come up with an excuse. As angry as I was, I wanted to have this conversation. It was long overdue.

***

I check my time again, the last text Harry sent me Ok. But it was 8:25 and Harry still wasn’t home. I’d give him five more minutes, I decide. I’d already tried to ring him with no answer.

I stare at the ring on my finger, it was supposed to symbolize a promise he made to me. What a fucking joke. I should’ve never said I do in the first place.

Was it young love, I wonder. Did we do this too fast and we were just set up to fail? But I remember the good memories, the soft and sweet times between us.

“I-I’ve never done something like this before,” I tell Harry. “I hate heights.”

“Listen,” he crowds around me, blocking my view of his friends who are walking up the narrow trail like it was any old walkway. “You go in front of me, I’ll have my hand on your back the whole time. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

I look up into those gentle eyes and swallow my fear. “Okay.”

“I promise it will be so worth it,” he gushes, his excitement uncaged now that I’d agreed. “There’s no lights there so the stars are so bloody bright--I know you’re going to love it!”

I can’t help it, my lips crack into a smile at his boyish excitement. He catches it and pauses, a breath in this whirlwind of a night. What started out as a house party turned into a walk to a local beach which turned into a hike into the woods and up a precarious--and very steep--ridge to get to an isolated lookout. Only with Harry did I find myself in these situations. And I loved it. I loved him, I realise then. My expression must change because he tugs on my hand, probably worried I’d change my answer.

“Walk ahead,” he instructs and I nearly tip toe on the ridge that’s at least 30 feet across. But his steady hand on my back pushes me gently and I walk across confidently until I look down 2/3 of the way. I freeze in place but Harry’s ready. “Y/N, you’re safe here. Look at me-look...”

I crane my neck and he grounds me, oh my god how did I just realise now how in love I was with him? He squeezes my hand, asks if I was okay. I had to be, I couldn’t stay stuck in the middle.

Inch by inch we finally make it to the other side and I jump off with a yelp which sets Harry off in a burst of laughter. Pretty soon he’s lifted me over his shoulder and carries me to the lookout on the edge. My feet had been through enough, he’d said.

And he was right--it was so worth it; the view with all the stars laid out. The buildings and their light pollution below were blocked out by the outcrops and it made the stars twinkle in all their glory. It made it the perfect place to be with the person I loved.

“Isn’t it the most incredible view?” Harry whispers in awe behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“I.....I have no words apparently,” I laugh and turn in his arms. “Thanks for pushing me, this...it was worth it.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears and gazes at me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold his gaze.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks with a smile.

“Compared to the view,” I glance behind us. “I guess I’m alright.”

“No,” he guides my face back towards his. “This view over that one, any day. M’just that lucky.”

My words die on my lips as I’m overwhelmed by this feeling between us, the one I thought would keep us together like this forever.

He raises an eyebrow when I go silent and I shrug, “I’m all out of words today.”

I close my eyes as he kisses my temple. I turn back around and we spend the moment in silence, drinking in the view. His friends chatter around us but they’re background noise. My life felt like a movie right now.

Before we leave as a group, I tug Harry back. This was a good as place as any to tell him. I press my lips to his, and it takes him a second but he’s kissing me back. Before it can get carried away I push away and tell him what I’d been thinking all night, “I love you.”

He takes a step back, and then he’s grinning and pulling me back. “I love you! I love you listen, I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks!”

“Weeks?!”

“Yeah weeks! My sister said it was too soon, I might scare you off!”

I think about a few weeks ago, I was intensely shy around him even then. Maybe she was right, but the idea that he talked about me to his sister makes me flush. I wrap my arms around his waist “I just...this moment is so perfect. I never want it to end.”

“It doesn’t have to.” he’d promised. “I’m yours forever Y/N.”

When 8:30 comes and goes I call April, she lets me know where they were. “We’re so happy you’re coming! Are you sure you don’t want us to meet you somewhere else?” she shouts into the phone. When I tell her I just wanted to be where they were she reminds me to text them when I was nearby.

I have to dig into the back of my closet, past the pantsuits I wore to work, the casual dresses and loungewear. I still had some of my old party clothes, just a bit tighter than they used to be. But for where I was going, it would fit in.

Before I leave, I take a pen and scrawl a note: “Great talk"

My friends spot me as I walk in. The music is instantly too loud, the lights too bright, and there are too many people. But one of my them shoves a drink in my hand and pretty soon it’s the best place on earth. It was exactly where I needed to be. I turn off my cellphone and enjoy myself.

After a certain point, I don’t even know who I’m talking to, but pressed up against a body, feeling wanted, it drives me to keep dancing all night. Eventually, I crash at April’s and don’t roll out of hers until 11 the next morning. Harry’s barely an afterthought until I’m tucked in the taxicab taking me home and turn on my phone. 8 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 13 texts.

I’m shocked at the volume, Harry hadn’t blown up my phone like this in over a year. I listen to one voicemail: “Where the hell are you? I come home an hour late and you’re bloody gone with this stupid note here. Pick up! I’ve called you a billion times.”

I stare at my phone, I hadn’t heard Harry this passionate since...well it was a long time. And all it took was going out late and not answering his calls, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It almost makes me angrier; I had to partake in this juvenile dance to get his attention, even though we’d been married nearly 2 years.

He’s on a call when I get home, talking numbers or something. I head directly to the shower, clean up, and take my sweet time. It must’ve driven him mad waiting for me because by the time I’m out he blows a gasket.

“What’s this stunt you pulled last night? Wanting to talk and leaving me a stupid sarcastic note just because I’m late? Where were you?”

“Out,” I shrug. “I didn’t know you were late. You didn’t text.”

“I didn’t tex--oh I see, now we’re being petty yeah?”

That irked me, “I’m not being petty. It’s not like I get the same courtesy when you’re out late!”

“I’m busy, I can’t always be texting you!”

Excuses, I laugh and he looks at me like I’m crazy. “Busy what? Screwing other women-”

“Don’t be making shit up-”

“I’ve had people tell me that they see you with other women Harry! S’not a far stretch!”

That quiets him. Finally, he comes forward to stand inches away. “Y/N, c’mon. You and me...this is stupid. Sure I go out to party but I’m not-”

“Stop.” he was actually trying to talk his way out of this. And because I’d rather step in front of an oncoming train than cry in front of him, I head to the front door and walk out. I’d find someplace to crash today, but I wasn’t doing this.

***

“How’re you doing?” Janelle asks. I’d shown up at her doorstep and she set up her guest bed. She had plans so I spent most of my time burying myself in work, trying to get rid of all that angry energy pent up in me. Janelle had just come home.

“I’m just trying to move on. I don’t want to talk about him, I just don’t care at this point--I’m fed up!”

“As you should be,” she agrees. “Listen, I know we had a crazy night yesterday but I’m going out with some friends today and...maybe it’ll help you?”

I think about the killer headache this morning, but I also remember how good it felt to forget for a bit. I agree. Before I know it, Janelle’s found something that fits me and we’re back at a different club than the night before. Her friends are familiar faces but after a few drinks we’re all best friends. It feels great. Until I spot Harry’s face.

“That’s enough,” his face looms over mine as he pushes away the man I’m up against.

“What the fuck Harry...” I trail off as he pulls me away from the middle of the crowd. I try to pry his hand off but there’s too many people and he’s moving too quickly...and I’ve had a lot of drinks. “Let me go!” I say when we finally step away. We’re in what must be a private room. He seemed familiar with it--of course.

“So just because you heard I’m out and about some nights, you decide to come here and fuck around with random men?”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him, he was out of his mind. “I’m out having fun with my friends! I’m not here because of you.”

“Really? You come to the same place I come to all the time and dance with these strangers? And you’re drunk as fuck!”

“Since when did you care?” I ask. “Just leave me alone. You’ve been doing that perfectly fine the last few months.”

“I’m your bloody husband Y/N, you can’t just-”

“Then act like one!” I shout, and in the muffled quiet of the room with the bass thumping through it rings out. “I don’t need you! And you made it clear you don’t need me. These rings are a fucking joke, here-” I take mine off and throw it at him.

“You don’t mean it-”

“I do.” I give him a level stare, suddenly clear-headed. Maybe I’d process it later, but right now I was finally seeing what he’d become. He deserved to feel how I felt, and quite frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I flip him with both hands, “Quite frankly Harry, you can suck my d-”

“Harry!” A shrill voice rings out from the entrance that now carries the loud beats of the dance floor, swallowing my words. “Liam told me you were here!”

I glance at the brunette in the doorway and back at him. I couldn’t even muster an eye roll; I had enough.

“Y/N!” Harry calls my name as I walk out.

“No it’s me, Becky?!” she tries to correct him. I can’t help but laugh as I make my way back to my friends with a drink in my hand, feeling free.

***

“Y/N, it’s Harry. I don’t know how it got this shite just please call me back. Just give me five minutes that’s all I n--message deleted”

“He’s moved on to the office phone then?” Janelle asks, her desk was beside mine so she’d heard him as I checked my messages. It was two weeks since that glorious night when I’d dumped Harry’s ass. Although a lot of my things were still at our house, I was just staying in a hotel right now while I figured things out. One thing I knew for sure though, I didn’t want to see him again.

“It’s pretty pathetic,” I say. It was also pathetic how long I’d stayed waiting around for us to be magically fixed. But that was something I was working on getting past.

“You’re glowing without him,” April says from where she’s getting her files together. “Haven’t you got that showing out east?”

“Yeah, oh god is that the time?” I rush to get my files in order. “I’ll catch up with you later-”

“We’re still getting drinks after?”

“Yes, drinks!” I call out as I leave the office and head down to the lobby. I don’t expect Harry there, and I barely have time for him as he comes up to keep my pace.

“Harry, I’ve got somewhere to be please leave me alone.”

“Y/N, wait just please listen to me.”

“No.”

“2 minutes!”

“Not even 1,” I spot my cab out front and head towards it. I’m about to get in but Harry holds the door. “Harry let go I’m going to be late.”

“Just let me talk to you, please!”

I finally look at him and he’s quite a sight. His hair is matted and without it’s usual bounce. He’s got a rough look and a 5 ‘o clock shadow.

“You had plenty of time to talk to me for months, you were too busy at the club. Sorry not sorry,” I tug at the door and he lets go, I don’t spare a backwards glance as we drive away.

One of the showings is successful, I manage to sell the family on the home and we set up a meeting to go over details at my office later in the week. I’ve got a bounce in my step as I return to the office. I tell the girls I’d meet them at the bar as I finalize my papers at the office. My bounce falters when I go head out after 5 to see Harry waiting outside the building.

“Y/N,” he calls out when he sees me. “I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

“That’s called stalking,” I say. A few people walking past us turn to glance at him and he notices. He moves to the inside lobby and asks me to follow. With a big sigh I do.

“I know what I did.” he begins.

“Congratulations,” I roll my eyes.

“No wait, I know what I did to you. And sorry can’t cover it. Just let me make it up to you, we have history and-”

“You don’t get it.” I stop his monologue from going any further. “I’m gonna be just fine. Without you. You didn’t care about our history until you couldn’t have me. I don’t know what happened to you Harry, but you’re not the man I fell in love with-”

“I know,” he says, tears of frustration coating his lashes. “I fucked up, I-I didn’t see what I had right in front of me and I just-”

“Let her slip away? Is that the best you can come up with?” I scoff. “You know what Harry? I’m done with this! Boy...bye.”

“Y/N just--” he grabs my arm before I can leave and pushes something cold into my palm. My wedding ring.

“I don’t want this,” I push it back in his hand.

“Please just take it--hold onto it,” he pushes it back into mine and closes my fingers over it. “I can’t...I can’t hold onto it just take it! You don’t even have to think about it-”

“Harry,” I soften my tone. He was desperate and even though some part of me thought it was about time he felt this type of way, my heart hurt a little. I didn’t want him to see that though so I just tuck the ring into the pocket of his button up and pat it. “Goodbye Harry.”

I walk away with my head held high even though he calls out to me. I walk the few blocks to where my friends are waiting and their warm smiles are enough to help me push the memory of Harry’s teary eyes, and the real history we did have once upon a time away. I was done with him, no longer thinking about him.

I just kept telling myself, I was rare like a gem and I had to see that. And maybe one day, someone else will too.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #Lyrics #beyonce #selena gomez #this one went through a million round of changes #I'm about done with it now #i hope I didn't miss anythingg

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halloweenhoneylover · 4 years

Text

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you.

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach.

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

———

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call. (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously.

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye.

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again.

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

———

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings.

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

———

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled.

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good.

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence.

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled.

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation.

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #i hope yall see that the sentences that are syntactically similar and the parallel settings are intentional and are like stupid attempts at #motifs and that im not a stupid person :/#also #lol wtf was that ending #anyways #yo this may or may not be based on problems i be having irl #i just fall in love with anyone who is remotely kind to me #lmao #anyone else desperate for affection?? gang??#also r there any toni stans out there i luv my queen #is anyone out there? i just want friends ahh #ALSO DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE THE OVERWHELMING URGE TO DEVOUR THEIR GUMMY VITAMINS????? IS THAT JUST ME????

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Text

heart of glass // fred weasley

masterlist!

request (from @bitchywhisperswizard <3): Hi! I absolutely LOVE your writing! Could I maybe request where Fred Weasley breaks up with reader before the war and thinks she died? Only to find her a year later in the muggle world like a celebrity performer? I understand if it doesn't make sense. Thank you!

a/n: thank u for the request!! i refuse to believe fred d*ed, but i am a sucker for fred lives au’s. also went a little grunge w this just because i love those pictures of metalhead james and oliver :) (i listened to miley cyrus’s new cover of heart of glass while i wrote this so i just called it that)

summary: Fred broke up with you just before the war, and when he couldn’t find you after the battle cleared he thought you died. You’re alive and well, living as a celebrity among the muggle world. One night reunites you two, and neither of you can deny the feelings that spark.

(2.5k)

------

Clutching the white sink beneath your fingers, you barely recognized the person looking back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and swollen, your lips puffed and red. Your cheeks were hollowed, casting shadows into your face. You lifted a shaky hand, pushing your hair out of your face and revealing a scar on your temple.

You had barely made it out of the war, and once you did, you had no intentions on going back.

You made a new life in the muggle world, and eventually you were able to do what you had always wanted to do: perform.

It was about ten minutes before you were due in stage, and your nerves had stopped buzzing a long time ago. You dipped a finger into some black eyeshadow, spreading it haphazardly across your eyes. You looked dead, and it showed what you felt like on the inside.

Not a day passed in which Fred Weasley hadn’t thought of you. Not a day passed in which guilt hadn’t plagued his heart and mind. Every day, for just over a year, the image of tears streaming down your face as he broke up with you was glue to the inside of his eyelids.

George tried to understand but he could never understand the pain. He tried to help his brother when he could.

“Freddie!” George called to him from across the store, heaving in a huge box.

“Yeah?” Fred replied from behind the counter, pushing heavy buttons on the loud till.

“Look at this,” George quickly removed a hand from under the box, shifting his weight. He handed Fred a flier he found posted in the side of the shop.

It was a black flier, advertising some muggle bar in London. It looked like the sort of crowd the brothers gravitated towards some odd five years ago. Skulls and grunge symbols littered the page, and Fred found himself smiling fondly at it.

“Want to go?’ George asked, setting down the box in its right place, starting to unload the new shipment of chocolate wands.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this, George?” Fred said with a sad smile.

In that moment, George had the feeling he didn’t recognize his brother. His own face, but tormented with worry, sadness, and the unfriendly effects of time. George furrowed his brow, and tried to continue.

“No! It’ll be fun,” George reassured, slapping a hand on his brother’s back.

This was how Fred found himself clung to the bar all night, nursing a beer in his hand. He didn’t like muggle alcohol as much, but he supposed it would do.

The bar was in the back of the crowded club, but it barely had any people by it. Everyone had rushed to the front of a stage, the entire room filled with enthusiastic screams. George hovered near the back of the crowd, where Fred could still see him, swinging back and forth to the music they played over the speaker.

Fred and George had liked going to concerts after the war. The flashing lights and loud noises were difficult at first, very difficult, but it was one of the things that helped them recover.

Fred looked around over the top of his drink, surveying the crowd. It was mostly made up of people who looked like him five years ago, people who hadn’t been through a war, or lost their ex-girlfriend in that war. People who didn’t feel like crying every second of every day. The crowd didn’t look like you or Fred.

Someone knocked on your door, their words muffled by the ringing in your ears. You shook your head, letting your hair fall naturally in it’s place over your scar. You pulled up the high boots you wore, and fixed the sheer tights that dove into them. Pulling the top of your tank top to cover your chest some more, you felt the cold air hit your slightly exposed stomach. You stood off to the right, backstage, waiting as people poked and prodded at you, fixing wires and handing you things to hold that they would eventually take back from you.

The nerves still didn’t come, but you hadn’t expected them to. Nothing made you nervous anymore, nothing made you feel anything, really.

Someone held the curtain open for you, and at the slightest movement the crowd roared. Fred turned his gaze towards the stage, and George moved forward in the crowd.

You looked out into the sea of people, and you could make out a few faces in the front. You had requested dulled lights for all of your shows, unable to handle the bright lights that often came with performing. A purple light hovered above you, illuminating you with the cool hue.

You cast a smirk out into the audience, moving to your mark at the center of the stage. Your band filed in behind you, and you tugged at the cord for the microphone, giving yourself some slack. The crowd was still just as loud as when you came out, and you started your first song.

You couldn’t hear anything but your own voice ringing through your head, booming through the earpiece tucked behind your hair.

From the bar, Fred found his glass shattered on the floor beneath him. It hadn’t even made a sound over your powerful voice coming from what felt like every angle. He couldn’t move, his eyes just locked on your almost unrecognizable face. Even though you looked like him, tired and full of regrets, eyes sunken and cheeks hollowed, he would recognize you and your voice from anywhere.

He had heard you sing almost everyday since he met you. You hummed next to him in class, you chorused obnoxiously in the common room, and you sang to him softly while the two of you laid in bed.

Looking at you now, bent at the knees and almost squatting as you nearly screamed the chorus for what he could assume was your own song, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Everything washed through him, the guilt, the sadness, the worry, the pain.

George was next to him in a second, shaking him by his shoulders. A gleeful smile spread across his face and he just chanted: “She’s alive, she’s actually alive, Freddie!” over and over.

Fred couldn’t believe it, he had always wanted something like this to happen, to replay it all and make sure you hadn’t died, and now that he saw you living and breathing he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Fred ducked into the bathroom, splashing water over his face until he felt like himself again. He fixed his hair, regretting not getting a haircut earlier in the week like he had wanted to. You did always like his hair long, though. He looked down at his buttoned down shirt, the flowy sleeves rolled up halfway up his arms. He tucked it into his jeans, trying to smooth it out some.

George was waiting from him outside the door, biting his nails.

“She’s amazing, mate,” George said. Your voice echoed around the room, and still floated to their ears from the corner they had hidden away in.

“She always was,” Fred mumbled.

“I can’t believe it,” George said, his mouth agape and shaking his head in a disbelieving way.

“Do I look okay?” Fred asked his brother, holding his arms out a little.

George tugged at the sleeves, evening them out and making the rolls more neat.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling Fred with him.

The two sat and listened to you sing until Fred couldn’t take it anymore. The brothers left the venue, moving out onto the chilly London street. They walked around the back, where your crew had parked. They waited.

You finished your show, leaving the stage with the usual rush of adrenaline. You could never sit still inside after a show, and you rushed past your crew and out the back door. The cold air hit your skin, nipping at your sweat covered face and torso. You reached back inside, your hand finding a stool with a pack of cigarettes on them. You came back outside, fiddling with the package. You pulled one out and brought it to your lips, and realized you didn’t have a lighter. These were the moments you wished you still had your wand. It was always easier to smoke when you were a witch.

“Need a light?” someone spoke, coming from out of a shadow.

You immediately felt tears brimming your eyes, looking into the familiar brown eyes and flaming red hair.

“George?” you croaked, voice weak from the singing and the tears threatening to spill over.

George and you took steps towards each other, and he wrapped you in his arms. You cried into his chest, not really knowing why. You supposed you missed him, or maybe it was the fact that he looked strikingly like the boy who had broken your heart.

“Y/n,” another voice, a voice you would know always, called from behind him.

You shrunk from George hesitantly, wiping your eyes. You looked down at your hands, seeing them covered in smeared black makeup. You looked back at George’s shirt and saw a similar mark. You looked up at him apologetically, but he just beamed back at you, waving it off. You watched him pull his wand from his side, and with a simple movement, the stain was gone. You felt yourself crying harder.

You turned back to Fred, who had also started crying. The two of you lunged at each other, a mess of forceful limbs trying to wrap around the other.

“I thought you died,” Fred called out, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

You sobbed in response, your body shaking against Fred’s. He pulled your tighter, like he had regretted ever letting go.

You felt like you could never compose yourself, but you eventually did. Fred’s eyes were red and swollen, and you had wiped the tears off his cheeks. He did the same charm George had done to get the makeup off his shirt.

You led them inside, back into the venue. All of you sniffled as you walked together. You waved to security, telling them they were with you, and ignored your manager as you slipped into your greenroom.

“You were amazing up there,” George said, taking advantage of the full bar you had in the room.

You took the glass he had made for you, gulping down the harsh alcohol in one swig. George chuckled, ducking into the mini fridge and handing you a soda.

“So your a muggle now?” Fred croaked, his eyes locked on his glass.

“Turned in my wand after the war,” you answered, putting the soda on the table beside you because you couldn’t trust your shaking hands.

“We missed you,” George spoke, sitting next to you on the couch.

You forced a smile on your cracking lips, glancing at him.

“I thought you died,” Fred spoke, finally looking up at you.

Your eyes widened, mouth opening slightly.

“Couldn’t find you after,” George said, forcing himself to remember, “looked almost all night. Lifted every stone we could find.”

Your eyes drifted down, tears filling them again. You swallowed hard, hating yourself immediately for the pain you put them through. You couldn’t even compare it to the pain Fred put you through, because at least you knew he was alive.

“I left,” you mumbled, lip quivering a little, “Just after the dust settled. I flew home and packed everything I owned.”

Fred scoffed across form you, and both you and George’s head shot up to look at him.

“I thought you died,” he repeated, sounding harsh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled, tasting the warm and salty tears falling into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” George whispered from beside you, swallowing hard.

“I dunno,” you admitted, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “I just had to leave. I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me.”

You spoke to Fred, referencing the harsh breakup a month before the war. He looked at you, hurt in his eyes.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” he said, sounding hurt that you could even think that.

“You broke it off with me, Fred, what was I supposed to think?”

“I only did that to keep you safe!” Fred yelled.

“Well it didn’t keep me safe! It just hurt more!” you shouted back, pulling your hair off your face and behind your ears in a stressful motion.

Fred looked at you, shocked. His eyes fell to your scar, and you covered it with your hair again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke, sounding regretful.

You nodded your head, looking at the ground.

“I’ve missed you, Y/n,” George spoke, his voice soft, “here.”

He slipped a card into your hand, and you looked down at it. It was a business card. Your mouth widened into a smile, and before you could stop yourself, you were laughing.

“Did George Weasley just give me a business card?”

George smiled back at you, chuckling with you.

You examined the card, reading the gold writing. ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley’. The card had an address on it.

“Visit the shop some time,” George said, standing, “I’ll meet you at home, Fred?”

Fred looked at George, furrowing his brow. George made a motion for Fred to sit, and Fred sighed. George hugged you and left you with Fred.

You two sat in silence, he nursed his whiskey and you picked at you fingers.

“You really were amazing up there,” Fred finally said, putting his glass on the table.

“Thank you,” you said sheepishly.

“I still love you, you know,” Fred said confidently, looking straight into your eyes.

Your lips parted, hearing the words you had wanted to hear for about a year, and you didn’t know what to say.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fred stood from his chair and moved over to you, sitting next to you. His hand found yours, and you sat together. Neither of you had felt anything like this in a long time. The numbness receded into you, allowing space for love and relief to fill you. Fred no longer felt the weight of guilt and worry, all that banished just by a glance at your face.

Your hand still shook in his, and he held it tightly until it stopped. He turned towards you, bringing a hand to your face. He pushed your hair off your face, looking at you scar.

“Is that from-” he trailed off, his thumb tracing the mark.

You nodded, flicking your eyes away from his. He snaked it hand behind your neck, and pulled your face close to his. His lips connected to your scar, and he held you there for a moment. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he mumbled into your face.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

#fred weasley #fred weasley au #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasely fic #fred #weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley grunge #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #harry potter

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hearteyesbowen · 4 years

Note

hiii! there’s this trend going on where if someone’s boyfriend is on a zoom class or playing on the ps4 their girlfriend flashes them and i thought it would be a cool idea to write what would happen if joshs girlfriend flashed him while he was on live and he get flustered and ends it to hang out w her if you know what i meannnn!! thank youu ur amazing

attention ☆ joshua bassett

how else is y/n going to get the attention of her boyfriend?

warnings: swearing , suggestive fluff

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“On my left, on my left!”

“No, no no!”

“Shit!”

Come over, he said.

It’ll be fun, he said.

We’re going to spend the whole day together, he said.

Bullshit, you said.

You could have done something else today, something more productive. Study for the tests you would have and inevitably fail the next week, maybe work out like you said you would this past New Year’s, clean your room from the mess you made while looking for your charger. Today could have been a productive day.

That said, you were never one to back up from being with your boyfriend. His schedule was pretty hectic with all the filming, interviews, and whatever it is that celebrities do, you didn’t pay much attention anyways. So when your usually busy boyfriend offers to hang out with you on one of his free days, it’s a steal.

Then he got an invite to play some video game with Matt and Larry. Then he asked if he could play a quick round, It would only be five minutes, babe. Then that one round turned into two, then five, then he doesn’t realize he has been playing for nearly an hour. Then you’re lying down on his bed behind him as he plays, and wonder if this was worth the procrastination you could have done at home. The answer is no.

You huff, staring at the ceiling above you, hoping there was something more interesting on the walls than hearing Josh laugh as he gets another shot in. Your legs dangle off the side of his bed while you lay on your back, strands of hair in various directions over your face.

“Josh?” You groan, tugging the hem of shirt and seeing a little bit of his back.

“Fuck off!” He screamed, smashing the buttons of his controller angrily.

Surprised, you sat up, making him turn his head. He gave you a quick look, pushing his headset away from his ears slightly so he could hear you better.

“Did you say something, babe?”

“I thought today would be just us, not us and your friends screaming at each other.”

He didnt respond for a few seconds, not until he was shot down and the round ended, erupting more profanities leaving his lips, and his controller leaving his hand.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He picked up his controller and fixed his headset, waiting for his match to start in 30 seconds.

“Are you going to give me any attention today? Or should I just go home?”

His head shot back towards you, eyebrows furrowed. “Already? Ok, I’ll just do one more round. Then we can watch a movie later.”

Without another word, he whipped his head back to the tv. You rolled your eyes, fixing your messy hair. Reaching for your phone beside you, you decide to scroll through your Twitter. Endless tweets from friends, celebrities you follow, and ads from various brands. Then a certain tweet caught your eye, retweeted by one of your hometown friends:

when your boyfriend won’t give you any attention 😂😂

Followed by a video from Tiktok, which was a girl recording her boyfriend in a similar situation as Josh, and from what you could assume, she was naked, which immediately caught the eyes of her boyfriend.

As if a lightbulb popped up from above your head, you smirked. You might as well give it a shot, he said one more round 20 rounds ago. Maybe you wouldn’t just completely strip in front of your boyfriend, let’s take some baby steps.

You stood up, stretched out your arms and back a little, and scanned the room. Josh’s desk was right next to his tv, so you thought that would be the perfect place for your little plan. Before making your way to the table, you unclip your bra from under your shirt, the tight feeling around your chest being relieved. You toss your bra on his bed, Josh not even noticing what you’re doing.

Casually striding to his desk, you lean against the counter, hands on the surface. The shirt you were wearing was a bit oversized, so your chest wasn’t as visible. You stare at Josh for a few seconds, wondering if he would even give you a glance. Of course, nothing.

Alright, initiating plan now.

“It’s a bit hot today, isn’t it?” You asked, changing your voice to sound more innocent compared to the annoyance you had earlier.

His eyes stay glued to the screen, his tongue caught in between his teeth. How dare he look so hot right now.

“Yeah, a little.” He mumbled.

You grab your shirt’s collar and start to fan it against yourself, hopefully making him look at you. You play with your hair, fluffing it out to make it look fanned, overall just trying to make yourself look as appealing as possible right now.

Still, no response.

Step two, here we go.

“It’s super hot right now, could we turn on a fan or something?”

You proceed to lift up your shirt over your head, throwing it across the room. You play with your hair more, looking anywhere around the room but him.

That was when he noticed. At first, it was a harmless peek as to what you were doing, then he took a second glance to fully notice you. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Not the video game going on in front of him, not his friends’ muffled yells through his headphones, not even the fact that his character died seconds after he averted his eyes away from the screen. Just the way you looked, whether or not you had a shirt on, it was like the first time you met all over again.

When you looked his way, you couldn’t help but giggle at his red face. What else could you have done to get him away from that controller?

You looked him up and down and smiled, sending him a wink before you looked away.

“Yeah, uhm, guys? I have to go now, see ya.”

He ripped off his headset, turned off the tv, and left his controller on top of his console before practically running to you. He held your waist, his warms hands coming into contact with your cold skin as he stood in front of you. His face stayed the same since he first saw you, making you hold in your laughter.

“Wow, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe, taking in all of you.

“I would hope so, seems like this is the only way for me to get you to notice me.”

“I’m sorry, no more video games when it’s an ‘us’ day, promise.”

You leaned up to gently press your lips against his, holding his cheeks in your hands. He smiled against your lips, and pulled away. His lips grazed your cheeks, leaving small kisses from your cheek to your ear.

“Why don’t I make it up to you, would you like that?”

His lips then trailed down your neck, painfully slow. Each kiss lingered even longer, his path stopping at your collarbone. He looked up at you with a smirk, noticing you nod rapidly. He moved up, kissing along your jaw and lightly sucking right by your ear, making a soft moan leave your lips.

“You said it was hot earlier,” He started, kissing your lips quickly.

His hands traveled down to under thighs as he effortlessly picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, your hands around his neck.

“You better get used to it, because it’s about to get a lot hotter.”

“You’re so stupid.” You laugh.

“Did you expect anything else from me?”

A/N - this is a really late one , im so sorry to whoever requested this . but i hope u like it, it was fun to write (: this is also somewhat unedited so bear with me . also also i passed my drivers test so watch out road , im now a danger to society (; anyways love y’all xx

taglist - @love-joshy @mzzjads @seaveyssparkle @iamveryborrrreddd

#ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen #ricky bowen blurbs #ricky bowen fluff #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen oneshot #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett #joshua bassett oneshot #joshua bassett blurbs #joshua bassett fluff #joshua bassett angst #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts #joshua bassett imagine

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despairingly-hopeful-imagines · 3 years

Note

hey! might be weirdly specific but could i get kazuichi and a reader he has a crush on in the killing game together, and one night the reader asks to spend the night in his cottage because she's feeling really anxious?

i knOW I SAID I WOULDN’T WRITE FOR KAZUICHI BUT LIKE. i saw this request in our inbox and my brain went haywire. kazuichi is now off of my hit list.... for now.

*rolls up sleeves* this is my first writing post on this blog, so i certainly hope you enjoy, my dear, and don’t be too worried about being specific! narrowing down prompts like that helps a lot!

spoilers for sdr2 up ahead uwu ‎‎

— mod sakura.

‎‎ When Kazuichi first laid eyes on you when you entered the classroom, he swore with all his heart that he has seen you before. It was a weird feeling of déjà vu that he couldn’t quite place his finger on no matter how hard he tried (and boy did he try), and it wasn’t until you approached him to politely ask him to stop staring at you that he realized he had been looking a little too long at you.

“S-Sorry,” he had stammered, face aflame as he scratched the back of his neck, but you had only chuckled, brushing it off.

“It’s okay. I always seem to have that effect on people.” You had replied earnestly with a swat of your hand.

Kazuichi had raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

The corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled as you gave your reply. “For some odd reason, people seem to think I’m some sort of otherworldly alien, so they stare a lot. But I promise you that I’m perfectly ordinary.”

But Kazuichi didn’t seem to believe that you were as ordinary as you said you were (Ultimate students weren’t ordinary to begin with, and you fell under that umbrella), especially in the days that followed your introduction. You two would hang out and talk more, and every time Kazuichi looked into your eyes, he would be met with something familiar yet so obscure, which only added onto your oddness. You had stopped reprimanding him for staring for too long, as by now it felt relatively normal.

Then the first murder happened.

While you had not been too much of a fan of Byakuya’s attitude, you did appreciate the effort he put through to protect every one of you, even if it eventually led to his downfall. When the lights came back on and Byakuya was deemed missing, you immediately grew paranoid. It was just the day before when Monokuma appeared and decided that you all would be killing each other, and every minute that passed since then only caused your worry to grow and grow. Had somebody killed Byakuya?! You immediately thought the worst, and it was confirmed when Akane sniffed out blood coming from under one of the cabin’s tables. Hajime had lifted the tablecloth and... You nearly gagged. Byakuya’s body was laying there in a puddle of his own blood.

You refused to look in the body’s direction; You had never been good at handling death properly, and you felt lightheaded, your vision swaying somewhat. You placed your hand on the wall and took a deep breath.

“Th-This... It’s impossible...!” You heard Kazuichi say, panic obvious in his tone of voice. “Don’t mess with me! This must be some sort of mistake!”

You blinked slowly, inhaling and exhaling deeply once again.

Someone called your name and you tilted your head to the side. It was Sonia, and she was giving you a concerned look. She repeated your name again, followed by a, “Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?”

When she spoke, Kazuichi’s head immediately turned in your direction. “What?!” Disregarding the body for the moment, Kazuichi made his way towards you and placed a hand on your arm (albeit hesitantly. He didn’t want to make things worse for you.). He said your name in a frenzied fashion, “Are you okay?! You’re pale as hell!” You looked him right in eyes, lips parting, and then your legs gave out beneath you. Kazuichi was quick to catch you before you hit the ground and, while this wasn’t exactly the right time for it, blushed fervently at your close proximity. His heart was beating so fast, and he panicked at what he should be doing.

His head raised and he looked around. Isn’t Mikan the Ultimate Nurse? He thought to himself as he eyed his classmate. “M-Mikan!” He shouted, catching the female’s attention. “Can you come over here?”

Mikan nervously made her way over, hands fidgeting. “Y-Yes...?”

It was like she didn’t even see you just lying there in his arms! He mentioned your name and looked down at you, adjusting his position. “You’re the Ultimate Nurse, right? Help her, please! She just dropped!” He moved your body so that Mikan could examine you. The mechanic’s arms shook as she placed the back of her hand against your forehead, and after a few moments, she pulled away.

“U-Um, there’s nothing to be worried about...! She’s... She’s just f-fainted, most likely from seeing B-Byakuya’s body...” The girl glanced at Kazuichi’s face and quickly added, “It’s n-nothing serious I swear! I’m s-sorry for not doing enough...!”

“H-Hey, hey! There’s no reason to be like that.” Kazuichi huffed, but he was relieved to see that you were alright. There was no telling when you’d wake up, so for now, he would wait.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

You had been forcibly woken up before the trial by Monokuma, but the trial itself was a blur for you. You really didn’t know much about the entire situation— aside from the fact that... That someone had... died... —, unlike Hajime, so you couldn’t really contribute, which was fine with you. The fact that you fainted ruled out any possibility of you committing the murder, because if you could barely handle viewing the body, then how could you have done it in the first place?

You felt uneasy throughout the entirety of the trial. Your podium area was situated to Akane’s left, and you gripped the wood of the stand so hard that your knuckles turned white. You caught Kazuichi sending you several concerned glances from across the circle, but they were ignored. Nagito’s spiel about hope and whatnot did nothing to calm your nerves, and after Teruteru was executed, you left Monokuma Rock feeling jittery and lightheaded.

Kazuichi was right beside you the entire elevator ride up, and he was here with you now even though everybody was already heading back to their respective cabins. He was comforting; You had never thought that you would be able to warm up to a stranger so easily, but you had, and you didn’t regret it in the slightest. He was just what you needed in this time of despair.

“Let’s head back.” You said once you were fully collected. Kazuichi still looked worried, though.

“A-Are you sure you’re alright?” He questioned before quickly continuing. “Can you walk alright? Do you need me to carry you?” His hands were shaking, but you didn’t know if it was because of leftover nerves from what had just transpired or from excitement towards the prospect of carrying you.

“I think I’ll be okay.” Physically, but not emotionally or mentally, that’s for sure. You patted the pink-haired boy on the shoulder and smiled at him, which in turn caused his face to erupt into rosy hues. “But thank you for offering.”

“Of course! Anything... Anything for you.”

You’re smile softened a little, and you only nodded, not quite knowing how to respond to a statement like that. You started moving forward and gestured for the lanky male to follow you.

However, each and every step towards the miniature resort only increased the feelings of dread that were harboring in your stomach. A murder had happened nearly a day after Monokuma appeared, so how would you know when the next one was going to happen? You didn’t think Teruteru would kill anyone, nor did you even consider the possibility of Nagito committing a murder (But now that seemed entirely possible, given his psychotic awakening that occurred not too long ago), but the trial you just returned from only proved you wrong. It didn’t matter how nice or how cruel someone was because they still were capable of ending another’s life.

You glanced at Kazuichi out of the corner of your eye as the two of you crossed the bridge that connected the two islands together. What if... You thought nervously. What if Kazuichi’s planning to kill me? Your hands shook at your sides. No, he couldn’t possibly be planning to murder you. You two had become friends before the Killing Game ensued, and Kazuichi was always upfront and honest with you, so you figured that he was bad at lying. If he was going to kill you then it would’ve been obvious from the start. You exhaled slowly. You were certain that you could trust Kazuichi.

But you didn’t know if you could trust anyone else.

You and the mechanic soon approached the wooden platforms where the cottages were, and when you realized that this would be where you two part ways for the night, you began to panic.

“Well, good night!” Kazuichi said to you, but before he could completely turn away, you grabbed his arm. He looked back at you, perplexed. “Do you need anythin’ else?”

“Can I...” Your mouth seemed to be moving faster than your brain. “Can I stay with you in your cottage for tonight?”

“W-What?!” Now he was panicking, but for a reason that was much different than yours.

“I’m scared.” You explained quickly, impulsively. “I don’t want to die.”

Kazuichi’s heart was beating a million miles per minute. If the others found out he spent the night alone with a girl, they’d surely freak out and call him a pervert, but you looked so desperate right there in front of him. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor, but he could certainly try to be one for you in this very moment.

Shoulders still tense from nerves, Kazuichi exhaled. “O-Of course! You can stay with me for as long as you’d like!”

“Thank you.” And you were truly grateful.

Kazuichi began to lead you over to where his cottage was, but all you could think about was how warm you felt in that very moment. Maybe...

Maybe this is what safety feels like.

#mod sakura #danganronpa #kazuichi soda #kazuichi #kazuichi x reader #danganronpa x reader #sdr2 #sdr2 kazuichi #super danganronpa 2 #goodbye despair #danganronpa goodbye despair #x reader #fluff #;)

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trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

Text

crush culture || kendall knight - chapter one

Summary: In which Kendall Knight has a crush on a girl who plays the drums at a local cafe

Word Count: 2,356

______________

❝ you make me feel like a teenager in love, you make me feel like i'll be forever young❞

KENDALL GROANED AS HE HEARD A CRASH FROM OUTSIDE HIS BEDROOM, throwing a throw pillow over his head to block out the noises and lights. He'd had to go into the studio yesterday for nearly twelve hours trying to fulfill one of Gustavo's checklists, and about halfway through, he'd started developing a migraine. He'd shrugged it off the night before and tried to sleep it off, but it had somehow gotten worse overnight.

Thankfully, he would have the day off, as he'd managed to get a few harmonies done the day before. He reached toward his navy blue curtains and pulled them over the sunlight leaking in through his window, laying still as he waited for the noise in the apartment to die down.

It was moments like this that he longed for his life in Minnesota. While he was thankful that he'd been given such a privileged life in California, he knew that if he hadn't gone to the auditions with James six months ago, he would've been at the ice rink at the moment, practicing for a hockey scholarship. He wouldn't have learned the meaning of 'stress migraine,' and he definitely wouldn't have had to leave his apartment to get a decent cup of coffee.

When he finally forced himself out of bed, he was met with an empty coffee machine and an empty bag of ground coffee. Kendall all but slammed his head into the kitchen pantry, throwing the bag into the garbage disposal and reaching for his phone. In truth, he wasn't even completely sure where the nearest cafe was, but he remembered his mom mentioning that there was a small one at the hippie grocery store on Rosé.

'God, that's such a Hollywood name,' Kendall thought to himself as he ordered his taxi. Once it confirmed, he quickly changed into a hoodie and jeans, sliding his keys into his back pocket. He headed for the taxi the moment he saw it drive into the parking lot, only giving slight nods to his friends as he rushed to get his coffee.

Thankfully, the driver hadn't tried to start any conversations, allowing him to sit in the backseat in silence. He leaned his head against the window, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the sunlight. It felt as though direct sunlight would set fire to the back of his eyes.

As the driver pulled into the front of the grocery store, Kendall winced at the slight jerking movement of the vehicle as it came to a halt. He handed a fifty dollar bill to the driver and stepped out, pulling his hoodie over his head as he stared at the oddly hippie grocery store, complete with plants hanging outside the building and a green-painted sign with the name 'Williams' painted in white letters.

Kendall lightly rolled his eyes at the California culture, making his way into the store and heading for the cafe area towards the back. It was a completely different atmosphere from the coffee places and grocery stores they'd had in Minnesota, and while he likely would've figured that out sooner, he'd spent the majority of his time in California stuffed in a recording studio.

As he approached the cafe, he noticed a few bookshelves towards the wall, filled with journals and cooking books, and whatever else California people liked to read. He walked toward the counter and noticed a short girl sitting behind the register, a dazed look on her face as she rhythmically tapped her fingers.

"Uh, hey, could I get a cup of coffee?" Kendall asked, pulling his hoodie off his head. He'd made a slight effort to brush out his hair, but had given up after a while and shoved it ebenath a gray beanie.

The girl snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face him, allowing him to get a view of her name tag: Emory. She smiled happily, soft brown eyes lighting up when she noticed him. "Hi! Welcome to William's Coffee House. What can I get you?"

An involuntary smile came to his face when he heard her voice, but it quickly faded away when his eyes drifted to the menu. He fumbled with his words as he scanned the list of coffees, complete with lattes and espressos -- and what the hell was a macchiato? Kendall rubbed the back of his neck, confusion painted across his ivory features. "Uh... the coffee... kind?"

Emory bit back a laugh and went through the buttons on the register. "I'll just get you a small black coffee, and you can add cream and sugar if you want."

"Thank you," He sighed. He reached to grab a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, but she pushed his hand away quickly. Kendall looked u, dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Don't even worry about it. It's on the house," She explained lightly, standing to go prepare his coffee. "You look like you've had a rough day."

"Is it that obvious?" Kendall questioned, tugging at the edges of his beanie so they covered his temples. They felt like they were going to explode.

She hesitated, reaching out to hand his coffee cup to him. She pursed her lips together, as if she were searching for the best words to tell him that he looked like he just crawled out from the garbage disposal. Emory winced at her own words as she said, "You're still cute."

Kendall might've blushed if it weren't for the tightening feeling on the right side of his head.

As he reached up to press his palms against his eyes, Emory questioned, "Do you have a migraine? I have Excedrin in my bag, if you want some. They're not crazy drugs or whatever."

"Excedrin?" He pulled his hands away from his eyes to find her holding out a small bottle of acetaminophen. She smiled lightly and placed it next to her coffee. "Thanks."

"No problem. I carry them around 'cause my brother and I get migraines a lot. One or two should be good depending on how bad it is," Emory advised. Kendall ignored her and shook three pills out of the bottle. "I mean, or you could do that."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he went to take the three excedrins and swallow them down with the hot coffee. He winced at the taste, setting it down.

"Didn't you say you wanted cream and sugar?" Emory questioned, pointing at the cup.

Kendall deadpanned at the sight of the cream and sugar, throwing his hand onto the desk. Emory giggled and took the cup from him, shaking in a little bit of each ingredient. Her laugh was high-pitched, similar to a cartoon character's. He lifted his head slightly. "Cute laugh."

Emory dropped the sugar packet into the cup. Her eyes widened and she quickly began preparing another cup. "I'm Emory."

"Kendall," He responded. "That's a... unique name."

"Thanks," She chuckled. "My Pops chose it. It's supposed to mean 'brave' or 'powerful' or something. I'm neither of those, which is why I'm working in a nearly empty café at eleven in the morning on a Friday."

"Three-day weekend," Kendall shrugged and took the cup from her. He smiled, his migraine already beginning to fade away.

She nodded and sat down in a stool behind the counter. Emory didn't have the nerve to tell him that her dads had named her other siblings 'Silas' and 'Andromeda.' She also didn't have the energy to explain that her dads had given her one mental health day per quarter, and she'd used it today so she could skip out on volleyball. She was only 5'2" which made serving the ball practically impossible.

For some reason, she'd wanted to impress him. She wasn't quite sure how to do that while she was sitting in a coffee apron, at the back of a grocery store, though. He was genuinely attractive -- the kind that you found on the cover of magazines and billboards. Complete with dirty blonde bangs, deep green eyes, and dimples. As dramatic as it sounded, Emory swore he would be the death of her.

Kendall stole glances at her as she cleaned up the suddenly messy counter, and pretended not to notice when she glanced back. He hadn't been able to meet a lot of people in Hollywood -- at least, no one outside of the Palm Woods. Gustavo and Kelly had kept him under lock and key in the studio. It had been somewhat justified, of course, considering they were working on an album; but there were times where he missed working at the grocery store in Minnesota. Times where he would've preferred to be playing hockey with his friends, as opposed to learning the same dance moves over and over again.

God, he felt privileged.

"So, skipping out on school, pretty boy?" Emory had said it without even glancing up, but he could hear the smile in her words.

"No, I, uh, have an off-day today," Kendall responded awkwardly. He wasn't sure how to explain that he'd completely forgotten about the essay he had to turn on by three o'clock today. "What about you?"

"My dads let me take the day off," Emory explained. She caught her words immediately and winced, waiting for the backlash or questions she would inevitably receive. Even in California, the LGBT capital of the world, there were somehow always questions.

"Dads, huh? What are their names?"

"Johan and Gerard," She said hesitantly. He would ask about her siblings now, or whether her mom had died, or where she was adopted from. She held her breath.

"That's cool."

'What the fuck?'

"Yeah, they're pretty great," Emory agreed, slightly confused but overall relieved by his reaction. He only gave her a calm look, implying that he was generally unbothered by the topic. She nodded in approval. "So, tell me about yourself, pretty boy."

"What do you wanna know?" Kendall asked, leaning back in his chair. "I'm from Minnesota; I really love hockey and music; and me and my sister Katie were raised by a single mom."

"What do you mean by 'you love music?'" Emory squinted her eyes lightly and sat down in the seat across from him, leaning forward. "Do you, like, play any instruments or are you one of those guys that listens to music and says they love it so they look really cool and pretentious?"

"I'm in a band with my best friends. I think I'm pretty into music," Kendall chuckled. "I play, like, the smallest amount of guitar; but I mostly sing."

"It's not a band of none of you play the instruments," Emory was quick to point out. "I'm in a small band with my foster sister, Evie. I play drums."

"You play drums?" Kendall snickered. "And that's not fair. We're mostly singers."

"Then you're a group, not a band," She shot back. "Yeah, I play drums. Is that hard to believe?"

"You're just so tiny," Kendall laughed. "I couldn't imagine that."

"Ever hears the phrase 'you're lucky you're cute?'" Emory questioned, to sing a sugar packet in his general direction. It hit the side of his flannel jacket, and she sighed internally. He was kind of making her eyes hurt at this point. She mentally went over all the reasons that it would be completely unethical for her to ask for his number, then all of the reasons that she would regret not asking for his number.

Unfortunately, she wasn't given the time to come to a balanced conclusion. Kendall's phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, sending Emory an apologetic look as he did so. The moment he answered it, his mood seemed to falter, and by the end of the call he'd practically slammed his head against the wooden counter.

"Uh, are you okay?" Emory questioned, lightly poking his shoulder as he hung up his phone.

"Nope. My producer is calling me into work today, after he promised me the day off yesterday!" He raised his voice and yelled at his phone, despite the fact that the caller had hung up already. He peeked at Emory from between his fingers. "I probably look really weird right now."

Emory nodded, her nose crinkling as she smiled down at him. "You do."

Kendall sighed and lifted his head, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looked at Emory. "I should probably..."

"Yeah. I wouldn't want you to get fired or anything. A face like that deserves to have screaming girls chasing after it," Emory said. She regretted her words immediately, questioning whether she'd spoken proper English just then.

If Kendall noticed, he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he went to stand and took a few paces away from the café. "I'll uh... I'll see you around?"

'Ask for his number. Ask for his number. Ask for his number.'

"Uh, yeah! You should visit again. I'll give you a discount on your coffee next time," Emory responded with a smile.

"Yeah, I will. Uh... thanks, Emmy," Kendall nodded at her, before his phone went off in his pocket again. He groaned and pulled it out, practically yelling into the phone. "I'm coming!"

Once he was out of sight, Emory groaned and laid her head down on the counter, covering her blushing face. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Gerard, who was covered in flour and baking ingredients.

She sighed. "How much of that did you see?"

Gerard rubbed his daughter's back comfortingly. "You'll get better eventually, Emmy."

Emory deadpanned, letting out a sigh. The next time she would see him was on the cover of a magazine, being proclaimed the new teen heartthrob.

If she knew she would get Silas' flirting skills by spending so much time around him, she might've tried to get him kicked out of the house sooner.

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lavenderslemonade · 5 years

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HII!! I was wondering.. do you think you could do a hc of Bakugou and any of the other boys of UA (you decide!!) with seeing their crush freshly out of the shower? Like, she's only really wearing a big t-shirt and she's in the living room pretty late at night and they talk for a bit?? Preferably before the relationship where they've been pining for a while?? Thank you!!! I love your work too I hope you have an awesome day/night

Sure thing! Also, my requests are currently open if anyone is interested!

The Boys Reactions to You Coming Out of The Shower in Nothing But A T-Shirt (Bakugou, Todoroki, Midoriya, Kirishima)

Bakugou

- He had come down to get something to drink before bed, but surprisingly heard the showers running

- Who the fuck was taking a shower so late at night?

- Probably some dumbass that lost track of time

- Bakugou was in the middle of searching through the fridge

- “Hey who’s in the kitchen?” He heard your voice, and honestly he wasn’t surprised that you happened to be the dumbass in the shower

- “It’s me, go the fuck to bed idiot!”

- He’d listen to you whine that you’re thirsty and if he’d bring you a drink from the kitchen on his way out

- He honestly stood there for about a whole ass minute with the door open trying to decide if he should bring you a bottle of water or not

- Though he was tempted to say fuck you and go to bed, he decided to be nice enough and grab you one

- Oh and when he got in the living room the sight he got was certainly rewarding

- Hell, he’d bring you whatever you wanted as long as he could keep this image in his mind

- You were currently lounging on the couch, long t-shirt hiked up your thighs, hell he could just about see your underwear

- It didn’t help that your hair was still wet as well as a bit of your skin, since some of the water had soaked through your shirt and started showing the outline of your breasts

- “Sooo, can I have the water please?” You asked him breaking him away from his train of thought

- “Do you know how fucking cold it is outside!? There’s literally snow on the ground and you’re wearing that?!” He barked as he handed you the water, which you simply took and took a long drink of

- “It’s hot in here.” You casually shrug with a small smirk playing on your lips

- Bakugous face would heat up, because boi weak af for your smirk/smile

- “Psh, whatever, don’t be bitching when you catch a cold!” He growled, before stomping back to his room

- “But if I get cold I can always come and cuddle with you can’t I?” You’d ask innocently causing his face to explode

- “Either that or put some pants on before that fucking grape headed perv sees you and I gotta beat his ass!” He’d stomp back to his room to handle a little “problem” that has come up due to your attire

Todoroki

- Was coming down to study in the living room since he wanted to fix some tea, however he saw some books were already scattered across the table

- He hoped that whoever was there wouldn’t mind him intruding to study as well

- He’d set his books down to go prepare the tea, and hear the showering running

- Whoever was in the shower, that must’ve been their books

- He’d make an extra cup for the person who’s also studying, not wanting to be rude and drink in front of them

- After a few minutes the tea is ready, and he fixes two cups being careful as he walks back to the living room

- Nearly drops the cups when he see’s you sitting on the floor cross legged with wet hair, and a long t-shirt on

- “Oh hey Todoroki! I didn’t know you want to study with me!” You’d joke, shooting him one of your dazzling smiles that always secretly made him weak in the knees.

- Face would be a light pink as he sits down beside you offering you the tea, which you happily accept

- Tries his best to keep his eyes on his notes, but they keep glancing over at your exposed thighs

- He takes note of the water dripping down your neck and slipping down your shirt, wetting the fabric, and giving him small glimpses of your skin

- He starts to warm up, which causes the temperature in the room to warm up

- You take the neck of your shirt and jerk at it a bit stating that it’s starting to feel hot

- He quickly tries to lower the temperature to make you more comfortable, however this time he makes it too cold, causing you to shudder and holy shit he can see your nipples hardening

- Boy swallows roughly before standing up stating he needs to go shower

- “But didn’t you shower earlier after training?”

- “I need another one. A nice long cold shower.”

- Boi disappears for a long while

Izuku Midoriya

- Also this boy wanted to do was go downstairs to get the book that he had left earlier on the living room table

- But no, that task currently seems impossible as his eyes locked onto you

- Midoriya.exe has stopped working

- You feel someone staring at you, and look up to see Midoriya, low-key freaking out on the inside as he notices the book in your hands, which happens to be his

- “Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I found this down here and I haven’t been able to put it down!” You stated with a innocently smile, holding the book close to your chest

- He kept his eyes focused on the book as he watched you squish it against your breasts, a look of innocents in your eyes as you didn’t realize what you were doing to the poor boy

- “Ha-haha, it’s no problem-”

- “Can I borrow it once you’re done? I really wanna read what happens next!” You requested, anxiously rubbing your thighs together, something that Midoriya noticed

- Oh to have them thighs wrapped around his waist

- He nearly died at the thought, he’d never had such impure thoughts about you before!

“U-uh, yeah! Sure thing!” He’s be a blushing and be stuttering mess, watching as you’d get up, your shirt shifting a bit to expose your green panties with lace and a little bow before the ends came back down to cover them

- “Awesome! Feel free to stop by my room once you’re done!” You’d insisted, handing him the book back before walking away

- Oh he hated it when you’d leave but boy oh boy did he enjoy watching you go

- Especially when you started up the stairs, your shirt lifting a bit to reveal your butt

- For the rest of his life he’ll cherish that scene, as well as the book in his hands that was lucky enough to be pressed against your breasts

Eijiro Kirishima

- Was actually coming down to watch some tv before bed to help ease his mind

- See’s the back of your head, which causes him to smile

- He’d finally get to spend some personal time with you, and the thought made his face heat up and a big smile appear on his face

- “Hey (y/n) I hope you don’t mind if I-” He felt his voice catch in his throat as he staged a glance at your appearance

- Freshly out of the shower with hair still wet, and a t-shirt that didn’t cover much

- Plus he could sure as hell tell you weren’t wearing shorts underneath!

- “Hey Kiri! Wanna watch some tv with me?” You’d ask innocently, which would earn a short/embarrassed nod from Kirishima

- Before he sits down he grabs a blanket and wraps it around you, confusing you quite a bit

- “Uh, Kiri? What’s this for?” You just blink a bit confused

- “Well it started snowing a few hours ago so it’ll probably get cold in here, so that means you might get cold as well.” He’d state, keeping his eyes glued to the tv

- You’d just blink a bit confused before smirking, and tossing a bit of blanket towards his end

- He didn’t mind it at first, it actually felt pretty nice, however, he felt his body stiffen as you slipped your legs across his and scooted closer to lean against his body

- “There! Now we can both be warm!” You’d giggle and smile up at the boy

- After a few hours of watching some tv, though Kirishima couldn’t really focus, you felt yourself beginning to doze

- You rubbed yourself against Kirishima trying to get comfortable, though causing a problem for the boy down below

- You woke up a bit once you felt your legs getting a bit uncomfortable.

- For some reason Kirishima had nudged your legs closer to his knees

- You’d stretch tiredly, causing your breasts to press against the thin shirt, your nipples being exposed a bit from the cold

- “I’m going to bed, are you coming Kiri?” You’d ask, sliding the blanket onto his lap, and standing up to stretch

- He’d glace at your red panties, his face burning by this point

- “Nah uh, I uh, think I’mma gonna sit here a while...” He’d state while he gulped, watching you carefully

- You’d blink a bit confused but smile either way

- “Okay, don’t stay up too late. We got class tomorrow!” You’d state before giving his cheek a quick kiss as a thank you for staying up with you and walking to your room

- Now he had to just stay still and allow his rather big problem to die down...

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that-yandere-life · 4 years

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hi it’s me- the anon from before who asked u if there was a topic u wouldn’t be okay with writing- I would like to request Tony and Peter comforting the reader after finding out that she was sexually assaulted if that is okay with u. Btw I adore your HCs so much

[Warning: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND AFTERMATH!]

Tony Stark-

Tony was beside himself looking for you, as he hadn’t seen you in two days and he was getting seriously worried.

When he found you, you were in the stairway of the tower sobbing your eyes out, your entire face tear stained.

Immediately tries to take you into his arms to comfort you but was shocked when you freaked out pushing him away desperately.

Calmly asks you what was going on, the clear look of concern plastered on his face as he waited for you to speak.

As you told him that you had been going out to get coffee last night, and you were attacked by someone.

They physically and sexually assaulted you, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell Tony about it thinking that he would be mad at you.

That was when tears filled his own eyes as he touched your shoulder carefully, not wanting to startle you again.

Thankfully you could see he wasn’t upset with you, but what happened to you so you let him finally embrace you.

Letting all your pain and frustration with the situation out, burying your face in his chest for what felt like hours but was in reality a few minutes.

Running out of tears at that point he picks you up carefully carrying you to the bedroom, helping you change out of your dirty and torn clothing that still adorned your body.

Being sure to tell you what he was doing every step of the way so that you would get anxious about it.

Running a bath filled with hot water, your favorite kind of bath bomb, bringing out your shampoo, setting it on the side of the tub along with a fresh towel.

Helping you into the bath he will sit on the side with a washcloth, gently caressing you, having FRIDAY play gentle music in the background.

Right then he decided that the two of you needed to get away for a while, to someplace that you had never been but always wanted to.

Someplace where you could feel safe away from what had happened to you, which would only serve as a constant reminder as you tried to heal.

Initially he wanted to take you to a hospital but you begged and pleaded for him to just let it go, so he did.

Instead deciding that he was going to take care of you, and from now on he would never let you go anywhere alone.

Even if he had to have some of his Iron Legion watch over you, should he not be able to go with you.

After you finished your bath he aided you in drying you off with the big fluffy towel that you loved so much.

Gently getting you into some fresh pajamas, and then settled in bed while he ordered some of your favorite takeout.

Usually when you had a bad day he would attempt to cook for you, but tonight he was not going to leave your side for anything.

Any discomfort of his own was put aside thinking about you and the horrible experience that you endured.

Part of him even felt guilty that he wasn’t there with you to begin with, stuck in the lab with a project that in hindsight wasn’t nearly as important as you.

The rest of the night he will cater to your every whim, keeping you as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

Whispering how much he loves you, and how strong you are even if you don’t feel like it at the moment.

Although once you are finally asleep next to him, that doesn’t mean he won’t hack into every security camera in the area you described to find the perpetrator.

They won’t be among the living much longer he decided, planning his perfect tortuous revenge for the man that upturned your life in a single instance.

No one hurts his darling and gets away with it, not on his watch.

Peter Parker-

Peter had been excited to see you all day, since you had been at a friends house for the weekend.

Which was hard enough as it is on him as he wants to spend every waking moment with you.

But he understands that you need to have some time with your friends every now and then so he compromises occasionally.

Arriving home after training he saw you standing in the kitchen making yourself something to drink.

Unable to contain himself he ran up behind you, picked you up and was starting to twirl you around.

Unfortunately it reminded you all too well of being attacked a few years ago before you even met Peter.

Sending you into a spiral, fighting as hard as you could against him, almost like you were fighting for your life.

In your mind you kind of were as your brain wasn’t processing that this was in fact Peter, your boyfriend, the man you loved.

Quickly he sets you down, seeing clearly that you were upset, immediately you fall to the floor tears in your eyes.

Scooting on your butt away from him against the cabinets in the kitchen, starting to hyperventilate.

Realizing that you were now in the midst of a panic attack he kneeled down near you, trying not to feel hurt when you flinched away from his touch.

Mimicking deep breaths to help you find your calm again, doing the four second in, four second out technique.

Finally when you were breathing somewhat normally he asked you what was wrong, explaining that he didn’t mean to scare you.

It took a few more minutes before you were ready to tell him, but once you were you explained that a couple of years ago you were sexually assaulted.

Leaving work one night you were grabbed in almost the same way and dragged into an alleyway by two men.

After they just left you in a lump on the ground not caring if you lived or died, just satisfied to get what they wanted.

Further going on to say that you went to the hospital and had a kit processed but they were never caught.

Immediately shame and guilt filled Peter from his head to his toes, wishing that he knew earlier so he wouldn’t trigger you bringing you back to that horrific place.

Sitting down next to you on the floor, he just kept apologizing wanting to make it better but understanding that it wasn’t something he could make better instantly.

Eventually you relaxed enough to let him hold you, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom you shared.

Laying down, with you practically on top of him, wanting to give you any amount of comfort you would accept from him.

This also made him secretly a little freaked out, because he would have been much more protective over you if he had known previously.

In his mind, you weren’t going anywhere on your own anymore, even if he had to hide in the shadows to watch over you.

There was no way he was going to allow you to go through anything like that again, and from then on was going to make a conscious effort not to bring you back to that memory.

The rest of the night he will be by your side, begging for your forgiveness despite you telling him that there was no way he could have known without you telling him.

That didn’t matter to him, what mattered to him was that he hurt you even if it was unknowingly.

Peter loves you far too much to cause you any pain, it broke his heart seeing you in that state of anxiety and panic.

Vows silently to find whoever did this, even if he had to ask Tony for help on where to start and how to proceed.

The man would do anything for Peter and yourself, seeing you like his own children to take care of.

Together they would bring the evil bastards to justice, and not the kind where they are locked behind bars.

Never again would the men be allowed to breathe the same air as his love, that was something he was 100% sure of.

[Thank you for the request darling! I hope that I did it justice, and that it was what you were wanting! To all of you out there who have experienced something like this, I want you to know that you are stronger than you think you are! [

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #tony stark x reader #peter parker x reader #yandere tony stark #yandere iron man #yandere peter parker #yandere spiderman #Anonymous

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Chase the Shadows Away (Taywhora) - Juno

Summary: It’s April 2020, the UK is in lockdown, and Tayce gets a hand-delivered letter from her neighbour Aurora which may change her life.

A/N: So this is set during lockdown and does mention covid, so please bear this in mind when reading if this will be a worry, but otherwise I hope you enjoy. CWs in place for alcohol, mental health mentions, and non-adherence to lockdown rules at one point.

Otherwise it’s quite fluffy with some h/c. I hope you enjoy.

The first letter Tayce got was in early April.

She hadn’t had much post since the whole country had been locked down, no one allowed to move outside their front doors for more than once a day for threat of fines and penalties and even getting sick. Most of the letters she was getting this week had been birthday cards for her absent housemate. She’d put the various brightly-coloured cards and Amazon boxes in a pile outside Viv’s bedroom door, and gave the pile the middle finger every time she walked past it.

But today there was a plain, white envelope, with “Hi” written on it in glittery red pen, and when Tayce opened it, she found a piece of notebook paper that had been folded at least four times, and Tayce nearly threw it across the room with the effort it was taking to open.

This had better be worth it.

When she got it unfolded, she read the three lines in the same glitter pen, then again, and once more just in case.

‘Hi, I’m Aurora. I’m on my own in my flat 7D because my housemate moved home because of lockdown, and you seem to be alone too. Want to write to each other? X’

And Tayce couldn’t hold back the rush of emotion, as much as she tried - but she was alone, and she took comfort knowing only these four walls would see tears stream down her face.

——

Tayce was on her own in the flat.

In the day time she opened her work laptop, thanking god she was allowed to work from home; throwing a hoodie over her pyjama top just in time for the 9am meeting where her boss grinned at everyone and told them all to keep swimming and chin up and whatever other self-indulgent bullshit she had read in her How To Motivate Your Teammanual in the chapter about Managing Pandemics.

Tayce was still surprised at how much bullshit her workmates seemed to swallow; all of them with the same broad smiles and straightened hair and shaved chins and eyeliner, for fuck’s sake - but Tayce copied them, knowing that not painting her own smile and her own eyebrows on was damning herself for the inevitable call and the simpering It’s Good To Talk conversation, followed by u k hun xx to be flashing repeatedly in the work WhatsApp group from all the team.

In the evenings, the only noise was the clink of the glass bottle against the wine glass. One glass was enough to make her a little sleepy, two was enough to make her dance, and three was enough to make her post something cryptic on her insta story and see if anyone DMed her.

Sometimes they did.

Joe liked to crack a few morbid jokes about how it was the apocalypse and we were all going to be dead by 2021, which didn’t help Tayce in the slightest. Ginny would message “You alright, bab?” at three in the morning, but never reply to any other message. Tia would send Tayce a picture of the banana bread she’d baked as if that would cheer Tayce up.

And Cherry sent her a message one time, telling her to look after her mental health, and then Tayce felt bad because Cherry worked for the NHS and only seemed to work and sleep right now, her insta photos showing her looking more and more gaunt, with #ClapForHeroes and #ProtectTheNHS appearing at the bottom of all her posts.

Nothing curbed the gaping black hole in Tayce’s chest, sucking everything that was good from her body and leaving her a shell.

Until the letter arrived.

——

Two days after she’d posted her own letter back to 7D, another letter arrived, in the same glittery red pen, this time addressed to her, with Tayce written on the front of the envelope this time.

‘Hi Tayce (sp?) nice to meet you, don’t worry I don’t know what to say either! Where in Wales are you from? I’m from Nottingham but I came to London for uni and didn’t leave! Are you still working rn? I got furloughed which is a bit shit. And my housemate is staying with her boyfriend so she can’t move back. Have you been clapping for the NHS? Someone on my floor was banging a pan or something!! Hope your ok? WB Aurora xx’

“I’m making a new friend,” Tayce had said to her mum on the phone later that night.

“In lockdown?”

“She’s delivering me letters.”

“How?”

“By hand, mum.” Tayce forced a laugh. “You know. Through the letterbox like a normal letter.”

“I hope you’re washing your hands before and after you open them, are you?”

“Yeah, of course,” Tayce grimaced as she said it.

“Good. Stay safe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

One of these days, Tayce thought as she disconnected the call, she might be able to say it without her voice breaking.

——

By mid-April, a full month since lockdown had started and two weeks after the first letters between them, Aurora had given Tayce her instagram handle, and Tayce had given hers in return. Tayce found herself spending all of her Good Friday skimming down the page on moreauroramore, looking through all of her new pen pal’s photos and trying desperately not to look like an idiot by accidentally double-tapping any that were obviously over a year old.

Tayce had pictured Aurora in her mind as being over-excitable, short, with dark hair and lots of dusty pinks and baby blues and other pastel colours as her aesthetic, maybe with pot plants and cat pictures and cutesy little slogans surrounded by hearts. Instead she’d found a smolderingly attractive woman with a ridiculously versatile and sophisticated sense of fashion; one photo in a rococo-inspired summer dress, and the next in a cerulean blazer, matching trousers, and stilettos. Her hair was platinum-blonde, but it was hard to tell her eye colour as she seemed to own a never-ending plethora of colour contacts; and the eyebrow ring in the early pictures was replaced by a silver septum ring in later ones.

Her own insta looked quite plain in comparison, Tayce thought to herself. The landscapes she liked to post were interesting to her but probably not to the magnificent person on Aurora’s insta. The last picture Tayce had taken was of herself with her brother and niece in red rugby shirts just before the Six Nations was on; the last selfie before the last time she’d gone home which was … only February, she realised.

February felt like years ago.

When Tayce had awoken the next morning, she was greeted by the doorbell, and an Amazon driver sprinting away the moment she opened the door. A letter was on the doormat, in the familiar red glittery pen, and a single chocolate Easter egg.

‘Happy Easter Tayce. Don’t know if you celebrate but lol thought you would like some chocolate anyway! Don’t eat it all at once. Aurora xx’

It made Tayce’s gut wrench with guilt that she hadn’t thought to get Aurora one.

But it made Tayce even more pained, once she had clicked onto her instagram, to see that moreauroramore had liked all thirteen of the pictures she’d posted this year.

——

The zoom call at the end of April with the others from her uni group, saw not just Cherry missing, but also Ellie and Veronica.

“Ellie’s moving this week,” Lawrence nodded at the screen, “but that was all she’d tell me. She didn’t say where. Or if she’s staying in Dundee or anything. I just know she’s still trying to get her internet set up and I think she’s a bit stuck.”

“What about Vee?” Ginny asked in a low voice.

They all recognised the somber tone. They’d all taken it up. A change in their voices that all of them recognised in a kind of collective telepathic awareness. A hush in the calls, as if someone were dying, or had just died. Whenever anyone was missing, it was always the same worry circling all of their minds: what if it’s covid what if it’s covid what if it’s -

Tia was shaking her head. “It’s not covid,” she said, reading the minds of everyone through the internet, but her voice was still solemn as she continued. “I spoke to her mum. She’s -“

“Say depressed, Tia, it’s fine.” Bimini spoke gently, but not all of them were as open as Bimini was. Especially when it came to Veronica, who was a brick wall when it came to showing what she was feeling.

“She’s - not in a good place.”

“Say mental health,” Bimini said, shaking their head. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna make her feel any better, Bim.” Tia rolled her eyes.

“We’re all feeling this,” Pip nodded. “We all need to talk to each other.”

“Veronica won’t. Not yet. We just need to be there for her when she does. Anyway, who’s done anything interesting? Anyone else been trying banana bread? Everyone managed to find bogroll from somewhere now? No one is having the same problem that Joe had when she -“

“I don’t think we need to go any further with that one, love,” Joe muttered.

“I’ve made a pen friend.”

Everyone sat in stunned silence at Tayce’s sentence, mouths open like fish at feeding time.

“A pen friend? What is this, 1986?”

“Shut up, Ginny. I think that’s kind of cute, actually,” Tia mused, tilting her head to one side.

Tayce nodded. “Something a bit different. She lives in my block of flats. Two floors up from me. Been nice, to talk to someone, ever since Viv buggered off to her boyfriend’s house. Seriously, as soon as Boris announced lockdown she was jumping in her car and off to Liverpool.”

“You said she was a bit flaky,” Tia said sympathetically. “What’s your new pen pal’s name?”

“Aurora.”

“A-what?” Ginny raised their eyebrows. “Can we just call her Rory?”

“No.”

“We should get her on a call with us when Veronica’s back. Ronni and Rory, sounds like Ant and Dec will have some stiff competition when they get wind of that.”

“Ginny -“ Tia began, but Tayce was trying to hold back a chuckle.

——

‘Someone is talking about a street party on the 8th of May. Are you gonna go? I was gonna stay indoors but if you’re gonna go outside i will too xx’

Tayce knew she shouldn’t be thinking of meeting strangers outside her flat while the pandemic was ongoing, but she hadn’t seen a familiar human since March other than on a zoom call screen.

‘Hi Aurora, yeah i will go outside for a little bit. Look forward to meeting you properly instead of over letters! Tayce’

And Tayce finally stopped hesitating, adding two kisses on the end for the first time.

The weather was meant to be lush for a May bank holiday, as Tayce knew because her colleagues wouldn’t shut up about it. Almost eight weeks of lockdown were beginning to show the cracks in all their faces - no more eyeliner, and even Linda in Accounts had stopped posting boomerang videos of her kids doing Joe Wicks workouts while she waved her arms behind them.

So Tayce was over the moon when Friday rolled around and she could slam the Dismiss button on her phone alarm, turn over and sleep in until noon. Once she woke up though, she sat up with a jolt in her bed and realised she’d have to get ready; somehow it was important that she looked right today.

It was a power play, she knew it. An armour. But there was just something about clothes that made her mood turn in an instant. Her favourite leather jacket was probably a bit too heavy for the warm sunshine - warm sunshine? In May? - so she opted for the black denim instead and a skirt that hugged her slender figure, leaving her hair loose and wishing she’d gone for a trim before the lockdown. Maybe she should take her scissors to it?

She held the only scissors she had to hand - a pair of craft scissors - and wondered what her hairdresser mum would say if she knew that her daughter had taken non-styling scissors to the 30-inches of hair that she had.

No - better not. Her mum could give her a go over once the lockdown period had ended.

Someone was playing tunes on a speaker already when Tayce came down the stairs, dragging the garden chair Viv had left behind and brushing the digestive crumbs off it. One of the neighbours she recognised from her floor handed her an ice-cold can of Fosters which she sipped, not really enjoying the taste but relishing the freedom of it all. She knew to keep two metres from everyone, and she knew Cherry would absolutely murder her if she disobeyed that rule.

As soon as Aurora came into view from the block of flats, Tayce knew that keeping to the two metre rule would prove a little harder than she had first thought.

Aurora’s insta pictures showed a fashion model trapped in a little box on a screen, striving to get out - but in the flesh, she looked as if she had just rolled out of the living room after a Tiger King marathon. The grey jogging bottoms paired with the crop top and zip-up hoodie were probably too warm for today - 23 degrees, the radio kept repeating - but she made them look so effortless and stylish that Tayce suddenly wanted to buy some. Her platinum hair was piled in a messy bun, dark brown roots showing but the lackadaisical nature made it seem like Aurora meant it that way.

On her insta page, Aurora was way out of Tayce’s league; but here in life, she seemed a lot more accessible, a lot calmer, a lot more real.

Maybe it’s armour for her too. All this perfection in the photos. God. Why did I wear this?

She dropped her own deck chair down a reasonable distance from Tayce, taking another can of Fosters from the same neighbour and cracking it open. She took a swig, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and waved.

“Hi, Tayce. Here we are, then!”

“Yeah,” was the only thing Tayce could think of in response. Really cool. Very clever.

But Aurora was talking animatedly about how much she’d missed the sun, as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and leaned back against the deck chair, claiming “Tesco are having them on sale - two for £12, so I got two - what else am I gonna do on furlough other than sunbathe!”

And the more the Fosters flowed - their neighbour’s 24-pack almost completely gone before 5pm, he seemingly wanting to give a can to the whole block - the more Aurora opened up her life history to Tayce.

How much she wished she was still in Worksop and could go on the long walks into the forest. How she’d give anything to hug her mum, a care-worker, and how she FaceTimed her shielding grandad every Sunday at 6.30 just after he finished his tea.

But most of all, how lonely it was every single night being alone in a flat in a huge city. Aurora dabbed her watery eyes with her thumbs as she described how much she loved everything that London had to offer when it was full of people, not dead to the world like it was now - and in this hollow place that lockdown was, she’d discovered that a city - any city, however exciting - was just a built-up area if you had no one to share it with.

Tayce hadn’t expected to cry. She’d cried maybe once or twice this whole time in lockdown, still too numb to have taken everything in that was happening. But the moment she’d opened her mouth, suddenly the Fosters had started talking for her too, and she was spilling out her worries onto the pavement below them as Aurora rubbed her back.

How her mum was furloughed from the hairdresser and her dad was always out in the lorry up and down the country. Her brother and sister-in-law, and her niece, were all still fine in Newport, but Tayce had missed her niece’s birthday, having to settle for blowing her a kiss down FaceTime and promising her through gritted teeth and cold fear that she’d give her the biggest cwtch ever as soon as this was over.

But now Tayce was in tears again, this time on Aurora’s shoulder, releasing her sorrows onto this woman who she had only exchanged written words with; now seeing her true soul laid bare in emotions that just refused to stop once she started. Aurora’s gentle hands ghosted through her hair, but then gripped Tayce tightly to her chest, planting a long, tender kiss on her hairline.

How had this happened? How had social distancing become this? Two people, thinking they were islands, clinging to one another for dear life?

Tayce held her for too long.

Aurora’s hands froze as she realised what she had done at the same moment Tayce had.

Cherry is gonna kill me.

Aurora walked with Tayce back to her flat as the sun was setting. It was nine in the evening, the heat finally starting to break, and both of them were aching and tired, spent from their tears. Aurora gave Tayce’s hand a gentle squeeze but said nothing else, her eyes red underneath her sunglasses, and Tayce had felt herself harden once again, turning the key in the door and closing the outside world back to where it should be.

——

After two weeks had passed, both of them not developing any symptoms after their contact, Tayce had an idea.

She put the letter through the letterbox in 7D at midday when she broke for lunch, and had a reply by half past one, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce, I’d love to form a support bubble with you. I thought you would have one already thats why i didn’t ask! Want to put on a film tonight and just chill? Bubble bud? Aurora xx’

So Tayce saw inside Aurora’s flat for the first time that same evening. After work, she practically sprinted up the stairs, thankful to get away from more of u k hun xx and her still-simpering colleagues.

It was very clean, as if it had only just been cleaned that day - freshly-washed surfaces, hoovered carpets, a sparkling bathroom - and Tayce marvelled at how tidy and orderly things were, a stark contrast from her own living space which had evolved into a nest of mess by now. Aurora’s living room and kitchen space were one area, with a mismatched sofa and chair facing the tv screen, hooking up a PS4 - Tayce hadn’t counted Aurora as a Dishonoured player either. The wall opposite the window was filled with small pictures of past fashion models - Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn, Cara Delevigne - all with matte black frames which had obviously been painted in lockdown, as one was on the coffee table drying over a copy of Hello magazine.

“My housemate’s not coming back, I can see it happening now,” Aurora shrugged, “so why not make the house the way I like it while I look for someone else to live with?”

Aurora poured Tayce a huge glass of wine, and that was followed by another; while she topped up her own glass liberally and kept shifting on the sofa as if trying to get comfortable. Tayce, for her part, took the chair instead, while Aurora tapped on the PlayStation controller to try to get Netflix up. The more she drank, the more cumbersome the controller seemed to become in her hands, until Tayce leaned over and took it away from her, Aurora’s fingers lingering a little too long on it before relinquishing.

When Aurora got up, meaning to pour them both a fourth glass of wine, she slipped on something and tumbled into Tayce’s lap in the chair, tittering something that sounded like “god I’m clumsy” through the giggles that came from her, unable to stop. Tayce slapped her on the back as she started coughing, but as that died down, Aurora straightened up, picking up Tayce’s hand in hers and drawing her up and away to join her on the sofa.

Lockdown had been so fucking lonely.

Aurora’s hand in hers was all Tayce needed to dissolve every wall she was still rebuilding from May Bank Holiday.

Aurora’s eyes were on her, she knew; through her peripheral vision as she tried desperately to cling to her focus on whatever episode of Tiger King this was.

When Tayce finally met her gaze, she averted it, turning her face to the window opposite them. Almost … playfully.

So Tayce looked back at the TV screen, but Aurora’s hand squeezed at hers, thumb in her palm pressing right in the centre, the pressure somehow travelling all the way to her gut. Tayce turned back to her, and this time Aurora did not look away.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Aurora looked at her through her eyelashes, lips parted in a smirk, curiously searching Tayce with her gaze as if wondering what her next move would be.

Tayce blinked incredulously. “Me? Like this? What do you mean, I’m gorgeous? Have you seen yourself?”

“And that accent, oh my days -“

“Go to Newport, we all sound like this.”

But the wine was hitting hard now and oh god lockdown is so fucking lonely and Tayce’s feet on the floor suddenly felt unsteady and Aurora was so fucking close to her on the sofa -

——

Once the hangover was gone, the memory of rest of the night felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Tayce wasn’t entirely sure when she’d gone back to her flat, but she had, long before night had fully fallen and long after she was sure the burgeoning friendship she was finally making with someone lay in tatters two floors up from her.

The wine had washed away the strength she’d had, leaving her raw and vulnerable, and all the affection that had been growing since Aurora had first held her bubbled and burst into life. And Aurora must have felt the same magnetic pull, drawing them together across the sofa, nail marks still present in Tayce’s back that she could see in the mirror, a bruise forming on Tayce’s collarbone as Aurora had dipped a little lower.

It had been Tayce who had halted it - not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t decipher how much of this was affection and how much of this was just two lonely people, starved of company, starved of normality, seeking and clinging to it in any form.

And now it was the following day, and Tayce still didn’t know.

The group call at the end of the day was interesting. She stretched over the back of the sofa in her living room to grab her water, and that must have been enough to flash a sliver of skin.

“What’s that?” Lawrence asked loudly, prompting everyone else to go quiet. “Tayce? What’s that on your chest, hmm?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses, Ginny, you can’t see shit. What’s that on your chest? Why d’you have a bruise there?”

“Hi!” Ellie’s voice as she joined the call unexpectedly saved Tayce any further embarrassment; everyone shrieked when she came on, having missed the last two zoom calls following her move. “Thank God my internet is working now, I’ve missed all your faces!”

Tayce silently thanked Ellie’s timing and contentedly listened to the rest of them as they chatted about everything and nothing that they’d all missed. All of them were there; even Cherry showed up about twenty minutes in to wave at them and blow them kisses, her face even more pallid than before; before ducking back out to go to bed.

Only Veronica was still missing.

“She’s been messaging me,” Tia explained, “and she said she’s feeling a bit better, but since she got furloughed, she’s feeling like there’s no point getting out of bed or getting ready because there’s nowhere to go.”

“Send her some love,” Tayce said, but Tia snorted.

“You send her it! She’s gonna feel better if she knows we all miss her.”

It was true though, Tayce realised after they all disconnected. They all seemed to be drifting apart, no more energy to continue with these online gatherings, even though there were so many virtual meetup groups and apps that there almost seemed to be no excuse now.

She looked back through her phone messages. She hadn’t messaged Veronica since early April, taking her silence as a sign that she wanted to be left alone; but what if it wasn’t? Veronica was a closed fist, everyone knew that. And Tayce’s brother? Again, early April, and a quick call the week after for her niece’s birthday.

Lockdown, and self-isolation, seemed to be one and the same.

So Tayce spent the rest of the afternoon sending messages to everyone she had neglected since then. Maybe they would reply, and maybe they wouldn’t - but there was no harm in reaching out, no negative consequences.

By the end of the day, she was fielding messages back and forth from everyone she thought she’d lost through lockdown, the grey cloud over her head starting to lift, the fuzzy feeling disappearing and clarity settling in. She felt light, lighter than she had in weeks; and warm as the summery days they were getting in this late-May spring.

Towards the end of the day, she got a message back from Veronica at last.

Veronica: I’m doing ok. I got up and went for a walk today just to the park and back. It’s really nice although my hay fever sucks. Thanks for checking in on me i appreciate it x Veronica: Oh also Tia said you had a hickey on the group call haha tell me what her name is x

Tayce was surprised to realise she was grinning at the phone as she read Veronica’s message, her fingers stroking the mark on her collarbone as if to savour the vivid image that it sparked in her head.

——

It was three days after their drunken kiss on the sofa that Tayce had another letter through the door. The same red glittery pen, the same scrawl, but the writing a little smaller as if Aurora wanted to diminish herself.

‘Hi Tayce. I’m really sorry if i came on too strong this week. Can we go back to friends? Want to hang out tonight, bubble bud? Aurora xx’

Tayce swallowed down the part of her that immediately rose up and cried that she … didn’t want to just be friends.

Then it hit her.

God. I only met this girl properly this month. What’s wrong with me?

But she replied and immediately started clearing the house.

She put the pile of Viv’s birthday cards and presents from the hallway floor into a cupboard under the sink, giving it the middle finger again; put the six-weeks worth of laundry on to wash; cleaned all the dishes; and dragged the hoover out of the tiny airing cupboard and got to work on the carpets. The hard floors she swept, and carried the bin bags out to the communal bins, all before midday.

“Who needs Joe Wicks workouts?” She muttered to herself, panting, as she tugged some marigolds over her hands to sort out the rest of the kitchen.

By the time it was six, and time for Aurora to arrive, Tayce thought the house looked much better, and honestly, she felt much better too. The little spring clean she’d given the place had cleared a little clutter from her head as well.

It’s nothing to worry about. She’d just coming over for food and -

Tayce grimaced as she realised she hadn’t thought of what to do for food. She thought back to the beans on toast she’d had at four and kicked herself for not thinking of that. Dominos was still delivering, so she brought up the app and busied herself looking through the list of pizzas.

Aurora hadn’t arrived by ten past six, and Tayce started to worry.

Maybe she’s changed her mind.

But Tayce refused to let that thought take any root. She looked at the clock, which of course seemed to slow down from having eyes on it, and firmly told herself that she would message Aurora at quarter past if she wasn’t here before.

With a minute to spare, Aurora turned up, grinning merrily and waving the bottle of rose in Tayce’s face.

“Hey bubble bud! Sorry I’m late, well I’m always late, sorry in advance if you expect me on time for anything!” Aurora took a step inside and her jaw dropped. “Wow, your place is well nice!”

“Thanks,” Tayce grinned, although she wasn’t sure what Aurora was looking at. Tayce wasn’t allowed anything on the walls from what her landlord said, but Aurora wouldn’t stay still - checking out the titles of the handful of CDs Tayce had brought down to London with her; scanning a nail along the books on the shelf above the TV.

“It’s nice to hold a book sometimes,” Tayce shrugged, “rather than just read it on the kindle app.”

When Aurora got to the kitchen, Tayce cringed. She’d have to confess.

“I haven’t got in anything to eat. Only - only some bread.”

“And pot noodles,” Aurora added, opening a cupboard and helping herself to the contents as if she’d lived here her whole life.

“And pot - oh, are you thinking, maybe …”

“No way!” Aurora slammed the cupboard door and grabbed her keys again. “Be right back!”

Ten minutes later and Tayce was at the hob over the oven with Aurora, dicing onions while she cut up a red pepper, mince that Aurora had grabbed from her own fridge was out and ready to go in too.

“I needed to use that up anyway,” she shrugged. “Please tell me you don’t just eat bread and pot noodles, Tayce, please. I need to give you a cooking crash course if you do! Didn’t you learn to cook at uni? Or didn’t you do much cooking before you went? Oh my days - no fry the onion off first, with the garlic - I’ll chop the mushrooms, Jesus Christ pot noodles …”

“I know how to cook, give me some credit!” Tayce murmured, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I just haven’t been to the shop yet, it’s been a long week.”

Aurora closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Just keep talking to me, please.”

“What about?”

“Anything! Your life, your family - I don’t know, house prices, I don’t care - but that accent, ugh -“ Aurora shivered.

“Yours is cute, too,” Tayce smirked.

Aurora looked at her reproachfully. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah, I am.”

It was no use. The air was full of electricity, static around them, and before Tayce knew what was happening, suddenly they were kissing again, this time stone-cold sober, while the onions burned shadows into the bottom of the pan.

——

Viv gave her notice on the flat at the start of June.

“I just can’t afford to live here anymore,” she explained, sighing, when she got back and started to pack up everything in her room. “I’m gonna see if I can get some work back home.”

Tayce was numb, although she knew Viv didn’t mean it personally. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been made redundant straight after the lockdown ended, and it made sense that she wanted to be near her family. It was now four months since Tayce had seen hers, and she missed them every day, although she had been sticking religiously to her new routine of calling her parents every Saturday night and her brother’s family every Sunday afternoon.

“I’m sorry that’s putting you in a tight spot, Tayce,” Viv muttered, hugging her, and Tayce hugged her back.

“Can’t be helped,” Tayce replied, which was all she could think to respond with that wasn’t an inarticulate growl in frustration.

Viv was adamant she would pay her final month’s rent, and pay her half the utilities even though she wasn’t there. But she had to go home.

“How was your move?” Tayce asked Ellie on the next group call on zoom.

“Shite,” Ellie replied, “but partly because we struggled finding someone to move us. There’s plenty of places around, plenty of places to rent and stuff, because everyone’s moved back to where they came from.”

“You’ll find somewhere else to live, bab,” Ginny murmured in a soothing voice to Tayce, stroking the side of the laptop screen as she liked to do to show affection now that she couldn’t hug anyone.

“I know,” Tayce sighed. “It’s just a pain in the arse.”

She wasted no time. One of the spare room websites was always open in the background, and she was refreshing, looking maybe a little further out from central London to see if anywhere was cheaper, but nowhere was.

Then she spotted the dot in her own block of flats, and clicked the advert.

That’s - that’s Aurora’s flat.

Now she remembered. Aurora had mentioned something about her housemate moving out! It must now be official.

She read through the advert - how was it £50 cheaper than what she was already paying? - and looked at the contact name for the housemate, and there it was in black and white pixels: Aurora Martin, use form below.

Grabbing a piece of notebook paper - one of the last bits left, she’d been ripping them all out to write to Aurora - she penned a letter, one of what might well be the last ones, and jogged upstairs to post it through her letterbox.

The response came back to her in less than an hour, a new record for Aurora.

‘Tayce! I’d love it if you wanted to move in here! OMG. My landlord will want references from yours, but if you can get them quick then he can approve you really fast, he’s working from home. OMG you made my day. Come up at 7pm xx’

“Work contacted me today too,” Aurora beamed as she settled with Tayce on the sofa. “They want me to start back next week! Can’t wait. Need to get that coin again now! I mean, I’m dead grateful, you know, that I still have my job and I was on furlough so the government paid most of my wages, but it will be nice to have the full package again!”

“What is it you do again?” Tayce asked.

“Oh - I work as a fashion buyer. But because fashion’s kind of stopped right now, most of the designers are shut. Reopening now, especially the ones in mainland Europe! Can’t wait to be on the phone to them all again.”

“Wait. You speak to designers in other countries?”

Aurora nodded. “I speak French and Spanish.”

“You -“ Tayce was dazed. “I didn’t know that!”

“Well why would you? I mean you’ve only known me a couple of months!” Aurora laughed, and leaned back closer to Tayce, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet in the air. “You’re not gonna know everything about me yet, bubble bud.”

“No,” Tayce purred, “but I can’t wait to find out.”

——

By the Monday after the move, early July, Tayce was all set up to go. She’d moved the bed into the corner as she liked it, arranged her books into a rainbow as she liked them, and unfurled the posters she’d been unable to hang in her last flat, mostly punk bands that she liked, Bimini’s band’s poster, and the noticeboard with all the tickets tacked to it of all the gigs she’d been to. The vanity with the mirror that she’d brought from home fitted perfectly next to the window so she could do her makeup with natural light; and it was large enough for her work setup, which was where she was now.

The flat layout was almost identical to the one she’d just left, and the room was the same one - Aurora having the slightly bigger room - but it felt a lot more comforting, knowing she wasn’t alone here any more, knowing she had a little more freedom in decorations, and knowing that the hollow feeling in her chest was starting to slow down for good.

She turned off her work laptop at five as normal, which was when Aurora came in. Tayce pulled her in, giving her a peck on the lips.

“They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

Aurora just made a moan in the back of her throat and put her face in her hands, shrinking away from the vanity.

Tayce turned on her personal laptop, logging into zoom and connecting to the group chat. Her monthly uni call was set to half four today for some reason, and everyone else was already all there.

“Tayce! We wondered where you’d got to!”

It was Veronica’s voice, and Veronica’s face was in the top left. She still looked a little tired, and the shirt she was wearing looked suspiciously like a pyjama top, but she was here with them all, and this was a big step for her.

Tayce beamed at her. “So good to see you!”

“The move went alright then, bab?” Ginny asked.

Tayce nodded. “And there’s someone you should meet.” She pulled Aurora into frame, who still looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment before waving at the people on the screen. “This is Aurora.”

“Aurora!” Tia squeaked. “Like the princess!”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“So we’ve got Rory and Ronni here together at last!” Lawrence exclaimed, while Veronica gave the camera two fingers.

But Tayce just grinned at her friends on the screen, far apart but together in this strange way. Aurora’s nails dug into her shoulder, still a little nervous, but even that was fading as she got more comfortable.

Aurora had been right - the city was just a lot of bricks in intricate patterns without someone in it that made it a home.

And this just might be becoming one.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #ginny lemon #lawrence chaney #veronica green #tia kofi #ellie diamond #uk2 #lesbian au #fluff #hurt/comfort #juno #tw covid lockdown #tw mental health mentions #submission

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inorganicone2230 · 4 years

Text

All That Led Us Here (Part 1) Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Orphaned at the tender age of six, you are taken in and raised by The Head of The Shie Hassaikai along with his young son, Kai, who takes a strange and immediate interest in you, to an obsessive degree... one that only seems to grow as the years go by. A life with him and The Yakuza is all you've ever known, but is it all you really want? Kai would certainly have you believe so, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you never question it.

Warnings: None for this chapter, in fact, the first few will be relatively tame as we build up to the darker chapters later on, but I will make note of them as they pop up per chapter.

Side Note’s: Just a few quick things to help give you an idea as to how this AU’s world is set up. So first off, there are no quirks in this world, so that means that the Yakuza clans are still strong, wealthy and a huge influence in the Japanese underworld, unlike in the cannon version, and the Shie Hassaikai are one of the biggest if not THE biggest. Second, Kai is The Big Bosses biological son and not just some street rat that he took in. Since we never actually learn the old guys name, I figure that it can easily be played around with to suit the needs of this story and Kai’s looks can be explained by saying that he takes after his deceased mom. And finally, Eri will NOT be making an appearance in this story as of yet.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn't for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

Kai could still remember the first day he met you, no matter how much time passed or how many years flew by, that day was always going to be crystal clear in his mind.

It was the middle of a sweltering hot summer and his father, the head of the notorious Yakuza clan, The Shie Hassaikai, had received a call from an old friend asking him to come visit him on his deathbed in a nearby town. His father had immediately left, but returned just a few days later.

Only, he wasn’t alone when he came back…

It was already early evening when Kai, who was ten at that point, heard the commotion coming from downstairs and had gone outside with all the others to greet his father when he arrived home and was just as shocked, though he hid it very well, as everyone else to see that he had a little girl no older than six with him.

A tiny little thing wearing a purple sundress and hiding behind his father’s legs while she trembled like a leaf. She was so small that, if it weren’t for the quiet little whimpers coming from her, she may have gone completely unnoticed and Kai couldn’t help but idly wonder who she was and what she was doing with his father.

“Kai?” His father had called out to him once he was spotted by the gate. “Come over here Son, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Kai, being the well behaved and dutiful son that he was, immediately went to his father. He couldn’t deny that he was curious as to who the little girl was and even a stoic child like him was still prone to childlike tendencies every now and then.

“What is it Pops?” He asked, his voice already showing signs of deepening despite his young age. And since he had recently hit a growth spurt, he was easily a good foot or so taller than the little girl currently clinging to his father’s hakama.

His father stepped aside to reveal the child to him in full as he gazed down at her with a look of of care and pity. “Kai, this is (Y/N), she’s the daughter of a dear old friend of mine who recently passed away and she’s going to be living with us from now on.” His father reached down to pat you on the head and Kai knew from experience just how comforting that hand could be in a stressful situation, though he’d likely choke on those words if he ever tried to admit them out loud. “She’s family now, so I want you to look out for her. Ya hear me boy?”

Kai had nodded in agreement without a moment's hesitation, he was always eager to please his father no matter what the task was, though, to be honest, Kai had no real experience dealing with kids his own age, let alone one so much younger than himself. He tended to avoid the idiots at his school, they were always running around, getting filthy and he wanted no part in that, and it’s not like there were any other kids that lived in the compound for him to interact with. Hell, there hadn’t even been a woman living there since his mother died nearly eight years prior.

Kai snapped himself out of his own thoughts when he heard his father speak again, seems he wasn’t done talking just yet.

Kai watched as his father gave you another pat on the head as this time, he addressed you directly, his voice much softer and kinder than Kai could ever remember it being. Perhaps it was because you were a girl, or maybe it was because he felt sorry for the situation you were in, your father had just died after all. Either way, this was a side to his old man that he only ever saw when he talked about his late wife, so this was a rather surreal experience for the young boy.

“(Y/N), this brat here is my son, Kai.” He said, motioning his head towards the golden eyed boy. “If you need anything at all and you can’t find me, I want you to go straight to him, alright? This is going to be your home from now on and that means that you can just think of him as your big brother if that makes it easier.”

You had been looking at the ground for the majority of the time, but when you briefly glanced up to meet his gaze, Kai couldn’t help but feel drawn to the big (e/c) eyes that seemed to take up the majority of your chubby little face. They were wide and full of fear, but also a great deal of curiosity as you took in your new surroundings.

You gave him a small, barely there nod of your head as you mumble out a quick response, your voice just as tiny as you were in stature. “N-Nice to m-meet you Kai-san. I’ll try n-not to be a b-bother for you.” And then your eyes are back on the ground and Kai is left with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he uncharacteristically thinks that he wants you to look at him again, and for longer this time.

The old boss tries to muster up a weak smile in the hopes that it will put you at ease. “I’m sure the two of you will get along just fine once you get used to each other. Now, why don’t we go have some dinner and then get you off to bed? It’s been a long few days and I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better in the morning.”

With affirmative nods from both children, nothing more is said as everyone is urged to get back to their usual duties despite talk over who the unexpected new addition to the household is and where she came from.

—————

Later on that night, after a quiet dinner was shared amongst the three, Kai went off back to his room and quietly continued to work on his summer homework. Pops was insistent that he keep up his grades, inciting that just because he was set to inherit the role as head of a mob family, that didn’t mean that he was allowed to be an ignorant fool with no brains to back himself up, and Kai was inclined to agree, there was only one thing he hated more than filth and that was stupidity and a general lack of common sense.

Tonight however, this usually easy task was proving to be just a tad bit harder to stay focused on.

The main reason?

He can hear your soft cries from down the hall in your new room and it’s proving to be rather distracting. Not that you were being overly loud, but thin walls and shoji screen doors don’t provide much in the way of soundproofing or insulation. And with the two of you bring the only ones living on this floor, his old man's room being situated one floor above and everyone else further down, it was even more quiet than a normal house.

Without really stopping to think about what he was doing, Kai got up from his desk and left his room to wander down the hall until he found himself quietly standing outside your door. He debated with himself for about thirty seconds before he made the abrupt decision to just open the door uninvited.

There you were, curled up on an unfamiliar bed that was definitely way too big for someone so tiny, your shoulders shaking even as your head shot up at the sudden sound of sliding wood and big fat crocodile tears continued to roll silently down your cheeks.

“U-Um… w-what are-”

“You’ve been crying.” Kai interrupted you.

You looked down, he really wished you’d stop doing that, almost as if you were ashamed to have it pointed out so bluntly.

“I’m so-sorry, I w-won’t do it a-again, I pro-promise.” You managed to get out between more sniffles.

Kai normally hated the sound of crying, it was like nails on a chalkboard to him and he attributed it to weakness, yet another thing that he so deeply detested. But, he supposed that given the events you had likely been subjected to over the course of the last few days, your blatant display of emotion was understandable, if not outright expected of you.

And besides, he thought, he knew what it was like to lose a parent, but he still had his old man at least, that was more than could be said for you, you didn’t have anyone.

No one but him and Pops…

Kai wouldn’t be able to properly articulate to himself what it really was, not until he was older and understood himself a bit better, but he felt an odd sensation swell up in his chest at the thought of you relying on him, of you needing him, he liked the idea of you staring up at him with those big watery eyes and asking him for help, begging him to make the hurt go away.

But more than that, he wanted to be the reason you smiled. He had yet to see a smile grace your face, but he knew that he wanted to be it’s cause when it did finally happen, or at the very least, he wanted to be the first one to see it.

It was a strange feeling, and not one he was at all used to, but Kai was a pragmatic child and rarely ever second guessed himself once his mind had settled on an idea. His father often told him that if he continued to cultivate that trait, it would make him an even better boss than him someday.

And to that end, he did what his father would expect of him…

“Do you… want me to stay with you, until you fall asleep?”

The two of you stared at each other for roughly a minute before you mutely nodded your head and Kai silently made his way over to your bed, easily climbing onto the tall mattress and sitting upright against the headboard while you laid your head back down on the pillow.

Kai never took his eyes off your face.

“Thank you Kai.” You mumbled sleepily, your swollen, puffy eyes already drooping as sleep threatened to finally claim you.

He wasn’t really great at comforting others, not that he had ever tried, so he acted on pure instinct, reaching out and taking your tiny hand in his own and closing his fist around it, an act that both shocked and astounded him, though he never let go of your hand regardless of that.

It had been so long since he had touched anyone else that he’d almost forgotten what another person’s skin could feel like and despite his steadily growing aversion to physical contact, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of disgust when he felt your skin against his own. In fact, it was no different than if he was reaching up to touch the flesh of his own face.

Kai knew that this had to mean something, he just didn’t know what that something was just yet.

But he could figure it out, he thought, gazing down at your peaceful face as he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. This was your home now, and he had all the time in the world to learn what it was about you that seemed to set you apart from the rest of the filthy world.

—————

About an hour later, Kai was just beginning to feel his own eyes drop as sleep fought to overtake his senses when he heard a shuffling sound by the still open door and, looking up, he wasn’t all that surprised to find his father standing there in the doorway.

The Boss couldn’t sleep and so he decided to wander down and check on his new charge, he was already beating himself up for leaving you alone in a dark, unfamiliar room. He half expected to find you still awake and crying, however, what he found instead was something far more surprising than anything he could have imagined on his own.

You weren’t crying, in fact, you were sound asleep. Sound asleep and holding his sons hand, his son who hated all unnecessary physical contact. To say he was surprised was an understatement, he never would have expected to find a scene like this, not in a million years.

Kai meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit annoyed that his time alone with you was being interrupted. How was he supposed to think and ponder these new developments if he was being distracted by his father’s eyes boring holes into him.

But, he supposed this could have it’s own benefits, now that they were alone, he could ask his father some questions that have been plaguing his mind since he first arrived home.

“Why is she here Pops?” He asked quietly, never taking his eyes off your sleeping face.

The Boss was not the kind of man that believed in treating his son with kid gloves, he told him how things were in a very direct manner and rarely ever beat around the bush when talking to him. He was going to be taking over one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country and he couldn’t afford to have his only son and heir be a spineless weakling. Some might call him cruel for laying so much on a young child’s shoulders, but he knew just how fast he could be swallowed whole if he didn’t possess the necessary moral fiber to stand on his own two feet in this dangerous world he was set to rule in. It might not seem like it, but he loved his son and wanted to see him succeed and push the clan further then even he had.

“Her father was an old friend of mine from back in the day.” He began and leaned one of his large, broad shoulders against the door-frame. “He wasn’t a criminal, in fact, he was a pretty average guy. But he helped me out of more tight spots in our youth then I care to remember and despite knowing about my Yakuza heritage, he never dwelled on it or judged me for it.”

Kai watched as a look of sorrow passed across his father’s face, something that only ever happened when he thought about his mother and he realized it must have meant that he really cared about this dead man, whoever he was.

“We lost touch over the years, but when I got that call from him, asking me to come see him on his deathbed, I knew I owed it to him to go and send him off.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “When I got there, I found out what it was he wanted from me. His last wish was that his only child, his daughter, be raised by someone he knew and trusted. Neither he, nor his deceased wife had any known living family that could take her in. So it was either I take custody of the girl, or she gets put in the system. Clearly you can see what my decision was.”

Kai suspected that there was more to the story than that, but he got what he wanted so he didn’t press for anymore then that.

“So, you want to tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night?” His father questioned him.

Kai still had yet to look away from you and to be honest, he really didn’t want to. “She was crying.”

“So you came in here to check on her?”

“Something like that.” Kai murmured, his usual monotone still firmly in place. “She’s different than the others, she’s clean and I don’t feel sick being near her. I can even touch her.”

It was nearly pitch black in the room but there was just enough light streaming in from the hallway that allowed him to see his sons face, and what he saw there nearly had him busting out laughing, but he refrained for fear of ruining whatever it was that was happening to the boy.

Kai was blushing.

It was small and faint, but the tops of his cheeks were definitely looking a bit darker than usual.

And this seemingly innocuous turn of events sparked an idea in his mind, one that he would need to put some serious thought into, he couldn’t just rush something like this without analyzing it from all angles, but it was an option that could ultimately lead to his child’s, no, his children’s future happiness.

“So I take it you’re not going to be having a problem with her being here?”

Kai looked down at you, at the steady rise and fall of your chest and the way you curled in on yourself. He took in the way you nuzzled your face just a bit closer to him and he found comfort in your soft little breaths that he could feel against him arm.

So, did he have a problem with you?

“I’ll take care of her.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought if you have the time!

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #young kai chisaki #no quirks au #yandere bnha #yakuza

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theultimatefanficwriter · 4 years

Note

Ahhh, can I request a scenario for Gundham trying to comfort his girlfriend after a particularly draining trial when she’s out of it?? I only recently got into Danganronpa and found this blog and I’m in love 🥰

Heck yeah I love Gundham! I’m glad you like my blog! Thank you for the request!

Even a Queen Must Rest-Gundham Tanaka x Reader

You were not ok.

Your best friend on this island, Ibuki Mioda, was just found dead. And to make matters worse, your boyfriend, Gundham Tanaka, was the prime suspect.

"I am telling you fiends, it is not me!" Gundham snapped, glaring at the others who were giving him suspicious looks.

"It's not Gundham!" You agreed. "He would never kill Ibuki!"

"I concur! Gundham cannot be the culprit!" Your other best friend, Sonia Nevermind, spoke up. Gundham gave the both of you grateful looks.

"But the evidence lines up for it to be him!" Kazuichi rebutted. "Ibuki was strangled, and Gundham's scarf was found at the crime scene!"

"I have already informed you that my protective neck wear had gone missing from my quarters at the start of the day." The breeder snapped at the mechanic, crossing his arms. "It is quite possible that a mortal familiar with picking or breaking locks could have snuck into my residence and stolen my beloved scarf."

"But we have no way of confirming that the scarf was really missing, do we?" Kaz pressed.

You rolled your eyes. "He was seen without it the entire day, you idiot!" You spat. "And would he really be so stupid as to leave his scarf there in plain sight if he really was the killer?"

"I mean, yes? Probably." Kazuichi shrugged. "I dunno, he never struck me as that smart."

"But Mr. Hamster Man doesn't have an alibi either!" Hiyoko changed the subject in order to keep the trial going. "He wasn't with anyone at that loud mouth's time of death, not even his slut!"

"Refrain from calling my queen such names if you wish to keep your tongue." Your boyfriend threatened. "And although it is true I do not have an alibi, it is because I was busy searching for San-D, as she had vanished."

"My, you seem to be losing quite a few things today." Nagito mused, leaning forward on his podium. "Hopefully you won't be causing us to lose this trial because of it."

"If Gundham was searching for his hamster around all the islands, surely someone had to have seen him at some point, right?" Hajime questioned, ignoring Nagito. He glanced around the trial room looking for any type of response.

Gundham copied him, and was beginning to get worried until Mikan spoke up. "Oh! W-wait, I think I r-remember something!"

His gaze shot over to her. "Yes? What is it, spit it out!"

The nurse squeaked and hid behind her hair. "Eek! I-I'm sorry! I'll speak f-faster!" She looked between everyone as she continued. "I-I was walking around the beach when I thought I saw Gundham's h-hairstyle in the distance. As I kept walking, I was sure it was him from his clothes, th-though I didn't see his scarf, which I thought was odd. B-before I could say anything he ran away, and I k-kinda forgot about it."

"Around what time was this, Mikan?" Hajime asked her.

The shy girl put a finger to her chin as she thought. "U-um. Around 10:35, I think?"

Gundham, Sonia, and yourself let out a loud sigh of relief. "That's five minutes after the time of death." You pointed out. "And unless Gundham has some sort of super speed, there's no way he could get from the music venue to the beach in five minutes."

Kazuichi's eyes widened, and you noticed he began to sweat. "I-it's still possible!" He insisted.

"Why are you so insistent on pinning me as the killer, Kazuichi?" Gundham demanded, glaring at the mechanic.

"You're the only lead we have!" Souda exclaimed. "If it's not you, then who is it?!"

"Hey, does anybody else think it's weird that the speakers in the music venue were fixed?" Chiaki said suddenly. "When Ibuki had her concert the day before, didn't one of them break?"

"Yeah, I fixed it. So?" Kazuichi shrugged.

Your eyes narrowed. "When did you have the time?" You asked him.

Kaz stiffened and turned to look at you. "Wh-what?"

"When did you have the time to fix the speaker?" You repeated. "It couldn't have been the night of Ibuki's concert. You left as soon as it was over. And you were seen with Sonia until 10:00 today, when you said you had to go do something."

The whole room went quiet.

"I-it's not what you think!" Kazuichi shook his head and waved his hands wildly, sweat pouring down his face. "I-I just fixed it sometime today!"

"Why would you fix the speaker during a murder investigation?" Hajime questioned, narrowing his eyes at the freaked out mechanic.

"T-tinkering with stuff helps me calm down!" Kaz claimed. "S-seriously, if you guys are trying to say it's me, it's not!"

Suddenly Jum-P popped out of Gundham's scarf and jumped across the podium until he reached Souda's. When he was there he climbed up the mechanic's jumpsuit and picked at it. Kazuichi yelped and brushed at the hamster, but it only made it's way back to Gundham. Safely back in his master's hands, the breeder inspected what his Deva had given him. "It seems Jum-P has given us a new clue." The Overlord of Ice informed the others. He held something up with his fingers, and Kazuichi looked about ready to run away.

It was a piece of purple cloth. The same cloth from Gundham's scarf.

"I-I have no idea how that got on my jumpsuit!" Souda insisted. "It's not me! I didn't kill Ibuki! I'm not a murderer!"

Hajime did his thing, explaining how it went down and why. Apparently Ibuki had asked Kazuichi the night of the concert to ask him to fix the speaker the next day, to which he agreed to. He then got an idea of how to kill someone, and frame his "love rival", Gundham. He used his tools to break Gundham's lock while he was asleep and stole his scarf and San-D as a way to keep Gundham busy, then fixed the lock. He then met with Ibuki and fixed the speaker. Then when her back was turned, he strangled her with the breeder's scarf, leaving it behind as evidence.

Everyone voted for him, and he was executed. You all shambled your way to the elevator and made your way to your homes. Normally you would have said something to Gundham, but you felt dead inside. You had no energy. You walked past everyone, including him, as you entered your home.

You fell asleep immediately.

The next morning you woke up to a loud pounding on your door. You blinked open your eyes groggily as you rubbed them. You slowly threw your legs over the side of your bed and tiredly made your way to the door. When you opened it, you saw a very concerned looking Gundham. When he saw you, relief filled his face. "Oh thank the Gods!" He breathed before pulling you into a tight embrace.

You squeaked in surprise. "G-Gundham!" You exclaimed. "Did something happen?"

He pulled away, holding your hand. "When you did not arrive to our morning meal I became concerned, my love. I was worried something awful had happened to you."

You furrowed your brow. "Morning meal...Gundham, the morning announcement hasn't even happened yet."

Your boyfriend looked at you quizzically. "My Goddess...The cursed bear made his announcement nearly an hour and a half ago."

Your eyes widened. "...What?" When Gundham nodded, you rubbed your eyes and shook your head. "I...I slept through that loud announcement?"

"You must be truly exhausted to have slumbered through such a loud call." Gundham mused, looking at you worriedly. He grabbed your hand and gently led you into your room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to your bed and sat on it, you doing the same. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. "I assume your current state is due to the events of the previous night?" Gundham asked.

You nodded as you laid your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. "I...I lost Ibuki. And Kazuichi tried to frame you!" You wrapped your arms around him tightly. "I fought with all I had to prove you innocent, because I know you would never kill somebody." You let out a long sigh. "I guess it used up all my energy."

The breeder looked down at you sadly and ran his fingers through your hair. "My darling queen." He whispered, pulling you into his chest with his other arm. "You did an excellent job last night. One could never have guessed you used even a fourth of your power, you held yourself as proudly as a queen should!"

You blushed slightly and chuckled softly. "Th-thanks, Gundham." You smiled. "Though it honestly didn't feel that way. It was taking all I had not to faint in the middle of the trial. Just the thought of those idiots voting wrong and causing us all to die was stressing me out so much." You closed your eyes as he nuzzled into your boyfriend's chest. "Even now, I'm so exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for years."

Gundham placed a light kiss on the top of your head. "My beautiful angel of darkness." He murmured softly. "You have no need to fear. None of those pathetic mortals could ever stand a chance against your brilliance." He let out a sigh. "And as much as it annoys me to admit this, the one with an unknown talent, the ever slumbering demoness, and to some degree the lucky one have yet to fail us, and have proven their intelligence at every turn."

You giggled softly at Gundham's speech, though even your laugh was halfhearted due to your lack of energy. "Yeah, without them we probably would have died at that first trial." As you thought about that, your exhaustion suddenly doubled, causing you to go limp in Gundham's arms.

Your boyfriend's eyes widened. "You are in a much worse condition than I originally perceived, my love!" He gently laid you down on the bed. "You must stay here and rest until you are well again." He stood and turned to leave.

You reached out a grabbed his hand, though your arm felt extremely heavy. "Wait...stay with me." You pleaded.

He turned to you and smiled sweetly. He bent down and swept a strand of hair from your face before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Do not fret, my angel. I am simply returning to the banquet hall to retrieve you your morning meal. I will return and stay with you while you recharge."

Your heart fluttered, and you nodded happily, placing your arm back beside you. "...thank you, Gundy." You murmured. You still weren't quite used to how much he cared about you.

Gundham blushed slightly at the name. He nodded and placed one last kiss on your forehead before turning and exiting your cabin.

As the door closed behind him, you smiled to yourself. You felt so lucky to have him. He was so sweet and protective of you. It made you feel so safe. You let out a happy sigh as you shut your eyes.

What felt like just seconds later, your door opened, and you blinked your eyes open to see Gundham carrying a tray of waffles, eggs and bacon over to you. "I am sorry it took so long, my love. I am afraid I got caught in an argument with the lucky one." Gundham apologized as he sat next to you, placing the tray beside you.

"Nagito?" You raised a brow as you pulled yourself to a sitting position. "What did you argue about?"

Gundham sighed and crossed his arms, watching you as you picked up the fork and took a bite of eggs. "I am afraid it was over you, my dark queen."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Me?! What about me?"

"The interaction started innocent enough." Gundham explained. "He asked where you were, and I explained you were feeling ill." The breeder scowled. "That pest then had the gall to assume you were faking your illness! He stated you could be attempting to lull us to a state of security before you strike." He looked into your eyes, and you could see the anger in them. "He even had the nerve to insinuate that I would be your target."

Your eyes widened at that, and you choked on the apple juice you had been drinking. Gundham looked to you concerned, but you waved him off. After coughing for a moment, you spun your head to look at him. "He said what?!" You exclaimed. "G-Gundham, I would never-!"

"Relax, my Queen." Gundham reached forward and caressed your face. "Do not fret. I am aware the deranged one's words are not to be trusted." He smiled lovingly at you. "You would never harm me, I know this." You gave him a relieved smile and relaxed at his touch. The breeder used his other hand to sweep a strand of hair behind your ear. "That is when it became an argument. I defended your honor, yet he simply 'warned' me to be wary of you." Gundham scoffed before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

You melted into the kiss immediately, placing the tray of food to the side in order for you to lean further into your boyfriend's touch. "I would never hurt you, Gundham." You muttered. "I feel important around you. I feel...strong." You smiled up at him, the light in your eyes returning slightly. "Even now, I feel a little bit stronger just by being next to you."

Gundham chuckled and ran his fingers through your hair. "You are important, dearest one. I am simply helping you realize your true worth." He kissed you again, then pulled away, a soft smile on his lips. He looked at you for a while, simply caressing your face, until he finally pulled back and handed you the tray once more. "As much as I would love to gaze at your beauty, you really must eat, my dark queen."

You smiled and nodded, continuing to eat the food before you. With each bite and caring look from Gundham you could feel your strength returning to you. Eventually you had finished eating. As you placed the empty tray to the side, you felt much better. You looked over to Gundham, who was simply watching you with a love struck smile. It made you giggle. You moved closer to him and wrapped your arms arms his neck. "I feel much better, my Dark Lord." You murmured.

He chuckled and rubbed your sides gently. "I am most please to hear that, my Dark Queen." He tilted your head up, and your eyes met. You grinned and leaned up, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. You felt him smirk as he pulled you close against him. "I shall always be here for you, Y/N, my beloved. Whether it be for protection, or to help you recuperate, I shall never leave your side." He muttered into your lips.

You smiled happily as you deepened the kiss. "Nor I yours, my King of Darkness."

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa gundham #gundham tanaka #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #reader #request

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rentsturner · 3 years

Text

talk tonight

all your dreams are made of strawberry lemonade

You wake up to the feeling of lips brushing your forehead, stirring and furrowing your brow. When you open your eyes it’s to see Mark giving you a gentle, if wry, smile, holding his jacket in a bundle under his arm and his shoes dangling from his fingers. He clearly hadn’t meant to wake you, and your heart fluttered a bit in your chest at that sheepish expression in his eyes.

“Goin’ somewhere, Marko?” you said, clenching your jaw to keep in a yawn. You got your elbows under you and sat up to have a look around. True to form, he’d never joined you on the bed last night and had instead wrapped himself in the quilt on your couch. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes over the gentlemanly gesture.

“Yeah, sorry, I got a train I need to catch,” he was saying, and you could see him edging towards the door.

He always did this, you found yourself thinking. He came over and crashed with you when he was too fucked to get home. Took the couch in spite of your bed being big enough for two of him to fit in beside you, and tried to run as soon as he could, like he was afraid of being underfoot, or he was trying to get out before you could kick him out yourself.

Not that you ever would. Even high eight ways from Sunday on the skag, you’d never kick him out.

“It’s not even half six, Marko, can’t you catch a later one?” You sat up in bed and stretched, closing your eyes and completely unaware of the way his eyes lingered on you. You gave him a smile when you dropped your arms. “I could make you some breakfast at least. Got some black pudding.”

He was on a “sober” kick, so you knew he had to be hungry. You could see the temptation in his eyes, but you knew in that same moment he wouldn’t take it.

In three strides he crossed the room again and wrapped an arm around you for a quick and bony hug, dropping the lightest kiss on the top of your head.

“I ‘preciate it, luv, but I do have to get back. Got a benefits round to do this mornin’,” he said, and you sighed.

“Promise me you’ll get somethin’ to eat at the station?” You looked up at him as he shrugged into his jacket and you could see his eyes twinkling faintly in the morning light.

“I promise. You go back to bed, I’ll see you in a few days.” He said it like a promise, but you knew that it could be significantly longer than that before he was in your neck of the woods again. You got the distinct feeling that it would be the case—he’d been “sober” for a good while now, and you knew he had to be getting bored. He tended to steer clear of your place when he was fucked on more than alcohol. Your heart clenched in your chest and you gave him a tight smile.

“Don’t be a stranger, Marko,” you told him, and he smiled, hand raised in a half wave as he walked out the door.

You waited until you could hear his footsteps fading away before you drew your knees up to your chest and cried.

As you predicted, it was longer than a few days before you saw him again. It was more like a couple months. You were used to it by now; the radio silence, peppered by the occasional call from his mother and the very strong urge to drive into Edinburgh yourself when you’d had too much wine and not enough dinner. You knew that Mark needed his space, though, and the last time you’d talked about it he’d vehemently protested you going to Mother Superior’s to try to find him.

So you waited. You played by the rules of his game, even when he made it so vastly unfair, and you counted a hundred and twelve days before he showed up at your door once more.

He looked different this time, you thought. Brighter in the eyes, skinnier in the frame, with a clarity in his expression that you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft and eyes beseeching. “You wanna go for a walk w’me?”

No apology—yet—but you couldn’t deny him when he looked at you like that.

“Lemme grab my coat,” you said.

It was a long walk, meandering, past the station and into the hills. He puffed a bit, but so did you. It was just chill enough that you didn’t start sweating, thank God. The story came out in bits and pieces. He’d gotten caught shoplifting. He’d been put in rehab. The stupid, silly, daft bastard had underestimated his tolerance and almost fucking died.

“And that bint never thought to fuckin’ tell me!” You were seething—Mark’s mother was calling round at least once a fuckin’ week to check and see if you’d seen him, but heaven forbid she let you know when your best friend was dying. No wonder the last few weeks had been suspiciously quiet.

“Well I’m sure she had a bit more on her mind, installin’ a lock on my door and all,” he said, managing to sound only a little bitter.

He went into more detail, how they’d made him go cold turkey, and how he’d almost wished the overdose had killed him as he went through the withdrawal. Chills, fever, hallucinations, the whole works.

“Christ, Marko,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been—on any of them. You were still processing the retroactive horror of finding out he’d nearly died. “I cannae even think how you managed it.”

“Well, it wasn’t fuckin’ easy,” he said with a snort. He looked over at you, something unreadable in his eyes, and you felt something brush your hand. You looked down and saw that he was reaching out almost tentatively to curl his fingers with yours. “But I had some help. Thinkin’ bout coming back to see you.”

Your heart jumped up in your throat and for a moment you forgot how to breathe. “W-what?”

“Look, I’m—“ He cut himself off, and he squeezed your fingers. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I am. I shouldn’t’ve just up and vanished on you, but—you know I wanted to keep you away from all this shite. But you...thought of you, thought of comin’ back here to see you... God, it helped. It really fuckin’ helped. I dunno if I would’ve made it if I hadn’t had you on my mind.”

“Come on, now, Marko, you don’t mean that...” you said, pushing out a disbelieving scoff in spite of how breathless you felt. “You’d’a been fine.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. His eyes were bright on yours, intense. “Thought about you when I was sinkin’ into that overdose, too. Thought, ‘what am I gonna do, I promised I’d be back.’”

“In a few days! Been a bit longer than a few, you cunt,” you said, though there was little acid in your tone. “Would you just stop it, alrigh’? You don’t need to do—whatever this is.” He tried to it in, but you wouldn’t let him. “I forgive you, you don’t have to do this song and dance. I’m just happy to see you again, you daft bastard. Specially if it means you’re off that fuckin’ poison.”

He said your name, trying to interrupt, but you were on a true ramble now.

“Wish I’d’a actually been there to fuckin’ help, but that’s your mam for you. I’m a bad influence cos I don’t nag your ear off about your drinkin’, but not too low’s she can’t call round to ask about you—“

You were finally cut off when Mark dropped your fingers to grab you by the head with both hands and pull your face up to his. You let out the most undignified sound as he kissed you, and he drew back to chuckle against your lips for a moment before he slotted them again. He nipped your bottom lip and surprised a little whine out of you before you managed to pull yourself away to give him an incredulous look.

“I meant it,” he said simply. His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. “You kept me alive, well long before I overdosed. I can’t—I can’t promise it’ll be easy, or I won’t make you cry again—“ you turned bright red when you realized he heard you those months ago “—but I want to try. Don’t you?”

“You are a fuckin’ idiot, Mark Renton,” you said, and you buried your face in his chest while he laughed.

beth omfg how dare u do this to me this is so fucking good and the way it goes through all the parts in the song and the little nods to the lyrics and omfg you should have seen my face when i saw this in my inbox cos ngl i was feeling pretty shit and struggling with intrusive thoughts and this almost made me cry. but in a good way. did you come up with the just now? you’re fucking incredible. ily

#drinksomecoco #mark renton #tw: drugs #this is so fucking good ahhh #submission

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 5 years

Text

u know what my notes on this post are Good, Actually.

“There’s a boy alone in the woods,” Talia said with a furrowed brow, hanging her coat up by the door.

“Yes, sister dear, there is,” Peter drawled back from the couch.

“He seems a little young to be out there by himself,” she continued. “Do you know how long he’s been there? Maybe we should ask if he’s lost.”

“Considering that this is his third visit this week, and eighth in the last month, I think he can probably find his way home. He’s in the little aspen grove, right?”

Talia’s eyebrows raised accusingly.

“You knew he’s been visiting the forest? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Peter shrugged, uncaring.

“He’s not on our property. It’s close, but technically on the public side of the line. Besides- did you not recognize him?”

Talia narrowed her eyes at him.

“... No,” she admitted grudgingly.

Peter waited for a beat, reveling in the moment of holding information over his sister’s head, before saying, “It’s the fox boy. The son of the fox shifter who just died.”

Talia’s eyes widened slightly.

“I hadn’t realized she had a child. I wonder what he’s doing in the woods?” she mused out loud.

Peter shrugged, turning his eyes back to the TV.

“He’s definitely a shifter. As for what he’s doing in the woods, I don’t particularly care. The woman used to go out to the same area fairly often before she fell ill.” Peter shifted his weight, getting more comfortable on the couch. “Perhaps it’s some kind of devious fox shifter tradition,” he threw out in addition, tone sarcastic. Talia glared at him.

“I’m just trying to keep our pack safe, Peter. It’s my job as Alpha.”

Peter nodded with ridiculously wide, innocent eyes, still not bothering to look away from the TV.

“Oh yes, it’s so lucky we have you to keep us safe from the ten year old who turns into an animal slightly bigger than a loaf of bread.”

“He can do a full shift?!” she exclaimed, clearly shocked.

“Well I’ve certainly never seen him do any other kind, nor did I ever witness his mother shift any other way either. But to be fair, I only saw either shift a total of three times. They took your lack of welcome to heart, after all.”

He deliberately continued to not look back at her.

Talia had dismissed the woman immediately upon meeting her fifteen years ago. She’d been the young wife of a new deputy then, asking for permission to run on their land occasionally. Talia, however, shared the distaste of werefoxes taught to her by her parents and grandparents. She’d denied the woman permission, suspicious of ulterior motives.

Peter, at the time just nine years old, found her more interesting than threatening. Especially when a few months later, he caught her mid-shift just outside the aforementioned aspen grove. He watched with amazement as she changed from a woman to a beautiful grey fox, slinking off into the woods faster than he could follow.

His sister treated every full shift as an event with near religious sanctity. One for which she was to be praised and held up. It was used as a show of power, either to other packs or her own betas.

The last time he’d seen the woman turn into a fox, it had been to catch butterflies with her son.

Behind him, Talia huffed and turned away, walking toward her office. Peter continued to look at the TV, though his attention was nowhere near it.

The boy was in the woods alone again.

Peter wondered what he was looking for.

__________

Stiles sat still on a stump in the pitch black woods. The moon was new that night, and the clouds covered most of the stars. He could see just fine anyway. His nose twitched at the smell of someone’s perfume, probably from some hiker earlier in the day, he thought.

Movement from small insects caught his eyes here and there, only interesting because there was nothing else to notice. No ghostly lights, no phantasmal visions… no soft words from his mother.

He was alone.

He would remain so for the rest of the night. It was late enough that it wasn’t likely anyone would be coming. Not his mom, or grandma, or great granduncle. He could go home, but no one was there either.

Instead, he tucked his cold hands in his jacket, and watched his breath puff into the night, debating whether or not it would be worth it to shift for the warm fur.

A few minutes later, the perfume reached him again, and he wrinkled his nose. It was stronger this time. That didn’t make any sense.

He focused his sense of smell, trying to tell which direction it came from, but he couldn’t catch it again. Abruptly, every other smell was covered by the smell of smoke.

Stiles stumbled off the stump, swiveling around to where the smell was coming from and took off into the woods. There couldn’t possibly be a forest fire in January, could there? It had just rained last night. He followed the smell, soon seeing the trail of smoke and then the glow of a huge fire.

It was a house fire. The Hale’s house.

He cringed against the crackle and roar of the flames battering his sensitive ears. It was nearly overwhelming, but he focused because he thought he could hear something beneath it-

Screams. The Hales were still inside.

Stiles was baffled. He knew at least some of the Hales were werewolves; his mother had been firm in her insistence that they were to be avoided. Not because they were werewolves, but because the Alpha was rude, and because his mom thought wolf Alphas in general hold an excessive amount of power over their packs. Regardless, they certainly had power, and they certainly should have been able to escape a burning house.

He pulled out the cell phone his dad had given him for emergencies as soon as he reached the house clearing and dialed 911. Dora Hastings was the operator who answered, which he was grateful for because she’d known his mother and was more likely to take him seriously. He rattled off the relevant information in an urgent tone as he crept around the edge of the clearing, looking for a reason the Hales might be trapped.

The only strange thing he could see was a thick line of dust running along the base of the house… but it was very close to the flames. He didn’t want to get burned, but…

“Hold on Dora,” he said, hearing her say Stiles, no-! as he set the phone on the ground. He broke a stick off the nearest tree with a great crack, and then ran up to the line of dust and scrambled it. There was a slight feeling of his ears popping, and then suddenly the screams from inside became much louder. Quickly, he ran back to the phone and reassured Dora that he was still there. No more than a second later, the first people came stumbling out of the house, limping as they carried unconscious children.

Stiles hesitated, waffling on whether or not he should or even could do anything to help now. No one seemed to have noticed him yet, but he couldn’t really leave since he had the open line to 911. Instead, he shrunk back into the shadows of the trees and watched quietly as the Hales coughed and cried and tried to stabilize the ones with the most severe burns, giving Dora as much information on their state as he could glean from his vantage point.

With great relief, he soon heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He waited a few more minutes until the humans outside the Hale house began to react to the sound as well.

“The trucks are here, Dora. Thanks,” he said, voice tired. He just wanted to go home.

“Just doing my job sweetie,” she answered, sounding nearly as tired.

“Hey, Dora?”

“Yes dear?”

“Is… do you know if my dad’s going to be here? Or is he going to go home?”

“I imagine he’ll need to at least talk to a few of the family members, sweetie.”

“... Okay. Bye.”

With nothing left to do, he went home.

__________

“The sheriff’s son?” Talia clarified, setting down another set of insurance paperwork on Peter’s hospital table two weeks later.

Her husband Alexander nodded.

“Apparently he’s the one who called emergency services.”

“Does he work for the station too? How did he notice the fire?”

Alexander shook his head, opening his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the croak of Peter’s voice.

“Fox.”

Talia and Alexander looked over, Talia’s brow pinched with concern over his burn roughened voice.

“Fox,” Peter repeated, the word grating out of his mouth like gravel. His one unbandaged eye looked directly at Talia. “Shifter... boy.”

“The fox shifter? That’s the sheriff’s son?” she said, mouth falling open.

Peter would have rolled his eyes if he’d had the energy. As it was, filling in his sister’s ignorance took pretty much everything he had to spare, so instead he settled back to watch her and her husband fret over the information.

“What should we do?” Alexander asked. “Do you have any ideas on how to repay him?”

Talia floundered for a moment.

“He saved the life of everyone in our pack, Alex. I don’t have the slightest clue on how to repay a fox shifter for a favor, much less for something like this.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t focus on his heritage,” Alexander suggested. “He is, after all, a ten year old boy. What do ten year old boys like? We can start there.”

Peter closed his eye, submitting to his tiredness. It sounded like Alexander and Talia would be talking themselves in circles for a while, and he didn’t need to listen to any of it. Something about the boy made Peter think he would shun any kind of repayment that his sister would consider appropriate.

Besides, the reason Talia came to visit him in the first place was to tell him that the Argents were dead. That kind of vicious satisfaction that inspired was terribly tiring.

__________

Peter heard about the failure of the first two attempts while he was still in the hospital. Alexander brought cookies to the boy, hoping to get to know him a little. Instead, the boy had answered the door with a suspicious glare, asked Alex to wait for a moment after taking the cookies, and audibly dumped them in the trash before returning the empty plate to flatly say, “Thank you, they were delicious,” and then shutting the door in his face.

Laura tried to offer him a ride home from school, but Stiles had immediately yelled “CHILD PREDATOR, CHILD PREDATOR!” and Laura had to spend the next half hour explaining to various school officials exactly what she was doing.

When Peter came “home” to their temporary rental after being released from the hospital, the first thing Cora did was complain to him about her mother hounding her to find out what Stiles liked, or to help him out socially.

“He doesn’t want help socially! He’s got his weird asthma friend, and that’s all he wants!”

“The others don’t tease him for just having one friend?” Talia pressed as she drew away Peter’s pain from the trip home.

“Well, Jackson does,” Cora said with a duh in her tone, “but Jackson is just kind of a jerk to everyone.”

“Why don’t you try standing up for him the next time Jackson picks on him then, okay?” Talia persuaded.

Cora looked doubtful, but capitulated with a grudging nod.

The next day she came home from school, dumped her backpack on the floor, and posed dramatically with her hands on her hips as she announced, “Stiles Stilinski doesn’t want or need anyone’s help dealing with Jackson. He said he thinks mom’s a cult leader, and that if he needed help hiding Jackson’s body then his first call would be to the county coroner, not the werewolf Jim Jones.”

Talia’s mouth gaped like a fish for a moment, before finally saying, “Hide Jackson’s body??”

A rough, crackling sound distracted her, and she glanced over at the couch to see Peter laughing. His burns were slowly healing, but his mood had certainly been a far cry from laughter since the fire.

“Werewolf Jim Jones,” he managed to say between rough bouts of laughter. Talia tried to purse her lips against a reluctant wry smile, and then sighed.

“I think I made a mistake turning away Claudia Stilinski,” she finally admitted.

“No shit,” Peter said, relaxing back into the cushions, energy used up by his sudden humor. Talia shot a dry look at him.

“I don’t see you coming up with any suggestions,” she said, the accusation biteless. They both knew exactly how much healing he’d gone through so far, and how much he had left. More importantly, they both knew why he’d been more extensively burned than anyone else.

He took his job as pack protector very seriously.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a suggestion.

“Pay attention,” he said. “Just watch. Everyone needs something. You’ll see it eventually. In the meantime, stop bothering him, otherwise he might actually get us put on a cult watchlist somewhere.”

Cora nodded like that was a perfectly reasonable possibility.

Talia gave in with a sigh, deciding it was probably best to trust the two who seemed to know the most about him anyway.

__________

Talia personally took over information gathering on the Stilinski boy.

Rather than finding possible answers to the question of filling their debt, she found growing horror at what was happening in the boy’s life.

The fox shifter spent more time in the woods than anyone, even Peter, had realized. He visited every day, staying out in the aspen grove at least two nights a week, but usually more often. He was able to do this because his father worked double shifts three times a week, and drank himself to unconsciousness the other four.

The ten year old shifter was doing the cooking and cleaning for the house, as well as ensuring that his father got up for work in the mornings before he left for school.

It was the worst kind of child neglect Talia had ever personally witnessed.

And she still didn’t know what he was doing in the woods.

That question was pushed to the far back of her mind, however, as she realized that the Stilinski home environment had to change immediately. She thanked the moon that she was already registered to be a foster parent, and quickly started making calls to get ready to take Stiles in after reporting the sheriff.

However, instead of the expected call from foster services, she got a visit from Stiles. Or rather, she got a visit from an enraged, murderously furious Stiles.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What makes you think you have the right to take away my dad?” he demanded as soon as she answered the front door. Talia leaned back a little in surprise at the venom in his voice.

“Your dad is sick, Stiles-” she started to explain, but he cut her off.

“I saved your family from burning, but I swear I’ll do worse than that unless you fix this.” His eyes were deadly serious, far too serious for a ten year old face. “My dad is sick, but he’s my family. My pack,” he spat venomously. “I saved you from losing your pack, and now you’re trying to take away mine?” His face was a mask of anger and contempt, but Talia caught a flash of fear at the end of that sentence. “Take it back. Fix this,” he demanded.

“Stiles, I can’t-” she tried again.

“You can and you will.”

But she really couldn’t.

She couldn’t leave any child in an environment like that.

Talia took a deep breath.

“No one will make you leave your home-”

The slightest hint of relief sagged across Stiles’ face.

“-but only on the condition that your father attend outpatient rehab.”

Talia watched closely as Stiles’ face tightened again for a moment before relaxing again, this time a little deeper.

He nodded.

“You pay for it.” He looked her straight in the eye. “This makes us even, or whatever it is you’ve been trying to do since the fire. Just- just leave me alone, okay? My mom didn’t trust you. You were rude to her, and that means I don’t trust you either. We’re even.”

He started to walk away, but Talia’s heart tugged at her- the pull of her own past mistakes, and the pull of a boy who needed more than he would allow himself to have.

“Stiles, I apologize,” she called after him. “I’m not trying to gain any more of your trust than you want to give, but I’m very sorry that I wasn’t more kind to your mother. She deserved better than that, and so do you.”

Stiles hesitated, looking back long enough to nod once, and then walked away.

__________

Peter watched from the upstairs window as the boy walked away. He watched him reach the end of the drive, hesitate, and then turn into the woods, toward the aspen grove.

Alone.

From the floor below him, he could hear Cora trying to talk her dad into making more cookies. Laura was helping Derek with his trig homework, and Talia was on the phone with her contacts at CPS while also on hold with the rehab clinic. The rest of their pack was scattered throughout town and the preserve.

He imagined being the only one left to mourn the others. Imagined what that might turn him into, having a heart full of broken pack bonds and a body that burned without the help of an Alpha to heal.

Slowly, he got up, and started putting on his shoes.

__________

Stiles sat on his stump, waiting patiently. It wasn’t too late yet. There was still a chance of a visit.

Half of his thoughts were still fuming over the audacity of Talia Hale. Her actions, however well intentioned, were infuriating.

He’d changed his mind, though. Talia Hale clearly wasn’t a cult leader. She was a Karen. She was the kind of person who was sure that she Knew Better™, and she’d definitely asked to speak to a manager within the last month.

He honestly wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than cult leader.

Slowly, though, the relief of her offer to take care of his dad’s rehab made him slump forward as he rubbed his forehead.

Stiles could clean. He could cook. He could make sure his dad woke up.

He couldn’t make his dad stop drinking.

The empty bottles loomed in the corner of his vision whenever he was in the house, a beast bigger than he could deal with. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he needed help with it.

Stiles couldn’t handle it alone.

God he missed his mom.

The crunch of twigs behind him took him by surprise, startling him out of his deep thoughts.

“Mind if I sit? This is the farthest I’ve walked since- well. You know. You were there, after all. In any case, I could use a rest.”

Stiles looked up to see one of the Hales; the one he remembered lying on the lawn, completely covered in burns. He was standing in the grove. His skin puckered and pinched along his left side, but Stiles could see it was healing. He must have been a werewolf, then, because the burns that Stiles remembered wouldn’t have begun healing that quickly on anyone else.

He looked tired, though.

Stiles gestured silently to another stump, and then went back to waiting. He didn’t think anyone would come visit while there was a werewolf here, but maybe the Hale would go away if Stiles ignored him.

“My name is Peter by the way.” The man paused, but didn’t seem to expect a response. “I know my family have all been trying their own various ways of saying thank you, but I’m not sure if any of them have actually said it yet. So, for my own part: thank you, Stiles.”

And then, wonder of wonders, he said nothing else.

Stiles looked over despite himself, surprised. He waited, expecting another ridiculous or infuriating attempt at payback.

But Peter just sat there quietly with him.

Slowly, Stiles relaxed.

Somehow the wait wasn’t quite so long or heavy with another heartbeat in the grove. Peter didn’t seem to be on any sort of timeline. For the first time in a long time, Stiles found himself just listening to another heartbeat, not thinking about whether alcohol would slow it to a stop, or thinking about its presence possibly preventing Stiles from achieving his goal in the grove, or thinking about anything at all.

He felt calm. Almost peaceful.

“Is that a Hale?”

Stiles’ head snapped up, a pale transparent fox standing on the ground in front of his stump.

“Mom!!”

“That’s Peter, right? I heard about the fire.” Her dark eyes turned back to him. “I heard about how brave you were. I’m so proud of you, Mieczysław.”

Stiles couldn’t check to see if Peter was looking, couldn’t tear his eyes away from his mom for even a second.

“How are you, mom?”

She placed her weightless paws on his legs to bring herself closer.

“I’m good, Stiles. I’m wonderful. Grandma says hello, though she couldn’t come this time, and Uncle Stan said he wants to wrestle you next time he sees you.”

Stiles gave a slightly watery little laugh.

“Tell him I’m gonna find a way to pile drive a ghost fox.”

“If anyone can do it, I’m sure you can,” she said, confident and laughing. She kneaded her paws against him a little, as if seeking the tactile comfort they were both being denied. They were both quiet for a moment, drinking in the sight of each other, and then Claudia sighed a little.

“How is your father?” she asked in a voice harder than it had been before.

“He’s going to go to rehab,” Stiles answered, the relief still evident in his tone. “Talia Hale is going to pay for it.”

“Is that right?” Claudia looked over at Peter, somehow conveying a suspicious eyebrow even as a ghost in the shape of a fox.

Stiles finally managed to tear his eyes away from his mother to look at Peter, who Stiles was surprised to see looking straight at Claudia.

“Yes,” Peter answered. “Talia has reserved a place for John in the outpatient program, in thanks for Stiles saving our family. Though I should say she is willing to do much, much more.” While his words were leading, his tone wasn’t, simply leaving the information there in case Claudia was willing or able to do anything with it.

Claudia looked at him for a moment longer.

“Is she willing to let Stiles run in your section of the preserve?”

“I’m willing to say, on behalf of the entire pack, that Stiles is allowed wherever he damn pleases,” Peter said pleasantly.

Claudia nodded and looked back at Stiles.

“I’m going to have to go soon. The door wasn’t open very wide tonight, but I had to try to see you anyway.” She leaned her nose to his cheek, the touch visible but sensationless, and then leaned back, dropping her paws. “I love you, my little Mischief.”

Stiles’ eyes began to water, as they always did when she said goodbye.

“I love you too Mom. I miss you.”

But she couldn’t reply, because she was already fading.

Stiles continued to stare at the spot where she stood, trying to see any trace of her momentary presence. But, as always, the veil was thin, and completely impenetrable from this side.

Eventually, Stiles looked back up at Peter, who was still sitting, still quiet. Still a second heartbeat. He looked back at Stiles.

“I’ll bring a thermos of something warm next time, alright?”

Stiles hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

He wasn’t alone in the woods any more.

#4k under the cut #steter #gen steter #fox!Stiles #child Stiles #Talia's not a terrible person here she's more like your 48 year old aunt who loves her family #and has just realized that she's actually been racist her whole life #and is now scrambling as she tries to figure things out and be better #hale fire #hale fire au #ghost foxes #ngl this might be Very Bad I wrote it fast and partly while putting my kids to bed #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #tumblr fic and kinda fic

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I just want to thank all of you for reading this ;u; the story is so so special to me and the fact that you love it really makes me utterly happy.

P.S. Book two starts next week! Hope you’re ready!

Words: 4,636

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Previous chapter // Book II

Chapter Eighteen: Fixing Mistakes.

It was a dream, it had to be.

She didn't feel pain, everything was silent.

Unless... unless she wasn't alive.

Mel opened her eyes at once and tried to sit up, she held her head in pain, closing her eyes to control the feeling.

"You're up," Someone said sternly.

Erick was sitting next to her bed. He was on the edge of his seat, scared of her sudden awakening.

"Flint?" She asked in confusion, "What?-How? "

"It's been a day," Erick sat back, "I mean, it's been a day since you visit the third floor. You fractured your skull."

"I'm alive?" She asked bewildered.

"You were lucky," He stated, "Dumbledore found you and Harry just in time"

"Harry," She sat again, trying to leave the bed, "where is he? Did he stop Quirrell? Ouch!"

"Stop!" Erick scowled at her, standing up and forcing her to lay again, "Pomfrey will kick me out if you get all lousy... Potter's fine."

He pulled one end of the curtain surrounding her bed and revealed the one next to hers: Harry was sleeping soundly, fewer scratches on his face.

"Why does my bed have curtains?" She frowned.

"I did it," The boy shrugged, "don't want anyone to see me"

"Oh," Mel mumbled, "if you don't want to talk to me then why are you here?"

"I didn't say that. I'm saying I don't want trouble. I shut the curtains so no one can spy while I'm here."

"Why are you here?"

"You saved the school."

"Harry did," Mel realized she didn't know what had happened after she lost consciousness, "Uhm, could you perhaps, explain to me how he did it?"

"You were there," Erick tilted his head, "but I guess you did fracture your skull, some memories must be fuzzy..."

Erick told her what he knew, most of it sounded like utter nonsense but she recognized some parts as true. The last bit was confusing, she hoped Harry could wake up soon so he could tell her the rest.

"Everyone thinks you're a hero. You and Potter. And let's say I... I felt guilty."

"Okay," She nodded, "well, I'm sorry I treated you badly. I was upset and things weren't going like I wanted to."

"I wasn't apprehensive either when I teased you about losing. I hope you still consider to keep our friendship"

"It would still be a secret, I suppose..."

"My parents wouldn't approve," Erick lowered his head, "my brother would kick my face if he found out, but you're worthy of my trust and I would be happy to have you around, I hope you can-"

"I do," Mel said, "it's nice of you to come and check on me, considering how you're not exactly used to care about others"

"We're good now?" He stretched out his hand, "You won't have to doubt me ever again"

"Alright," Mel shook his hand, "you should get out of here before any of my friends see you, though. They'll try to fight you thinking you're upsetting me."

Erick smirked.

"Have a good night, Miss."

"Goodnight."

Friends visited through the day, Miss Pomfrey allowed her to leave the hospital wing that night but Mel was reluctant to leave, she wanted to stay and wait for Harry to wake up.

McGonagall had to take her outside.

"You can come back tomorrow," McGonagall guided her to the Great Hall, "tonight you must go back to your tower."

When Mel arrived at the Great Hall, she was welcomed by a bunch of students that wanted to shake her hand and ask her about what happened, she was overwhelmed with the attention and couldn't sit down until the twins pushed the kids away and took her to Ron and Hermione.

She was glad to see her friends. Ron was healthy and good as new, he complained a lot when Mel hugged him and kissed his cheek, although he looked quite pleased afterwards.

When Mel arrived that night to the common room, Angelina Johnson was waiting for her.

"Mel! I'm so happy you're alright," The girl smiled, "I wanted to go to the hospital wing to give it to you, but Pomfrey wouldn't let me."

"Give me what?" Mel frowned.

"Harry didn't tell you?" She raised her brows, "Oh, I guess he didn't have time... he came to me one night and told me you were fond of Lucy, my cat."

"Oh, is she yours?" Mel beamed, "She's lovely! How is she?"

"Well, she had her kittens weeks ago, I already gave away most of them but Harry asked me to keep one so he could give it to you as an early birthday present, but the school year is about to end and..."

Angelina didn't say it, but Mel knew what she meant. Harry wasn't there, and they didn't know when he would return.

"Thanks," She said with a hoarse voice, "He... he really asked you?"

"Yes, look..." She grabbed a small box.

A tiny black cat was looking up to her, it had small green eyes and the cutest nose.

Mel teared up, holding the kitten on her arms.

"It's beautiful," She sniffed, "thank you..."

"Don't thank me," Angelina stroke her arm, "he'll get better, you'll see."

Mel couldn't sleep that night.

Next morning she asked Neville to look after her kitten -She named it Grey, thinking it was funny to call a black cat a different color, and as a way of honoring his mummy- and spend her entire morning next to Harry's bed, half-asleep and holding his hand, hoping he would grab it to let her know he was conscious.

When she woke up tense and sore, it took her a few seconds to notice she wasn't alone.

"I see you didn't sleep well last night," Dumbledore spoke up, "pitty, you have gone through plenty of trouble these days"

"Professor Dumbledore," Mel stood up, unsure of how to act around him, "I-Uh-I was worried. Harry, you see... He hasn't woken up since that night"

"I see," Dumbledore got closer, "maybe we can do something about it..." He put a hand on the boy's forehead.

Harry's sleepy eyes opened, he looked around and his stare landed on Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore.

The boy reacted fast.

"Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick –"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore, "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I –"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

The boy then noticed movement behind Dumbledore and his face mixed with both, confusion and relief at seeing his friend.

"Mel?"

"Glasses!" The girl hugged him, not as tight as she would have liked, she was scared of hurting him, "You've been unconscious for days! I thought... I'm so glad you're awake!"

"Days?" He wondered, when Mel stepped back he saw the table next to him, full of all kinds of gifts.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried, just like my niece."

"But sir, the Stone –"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

Mel didn't know that part of the story.

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in mid-air. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you –"

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer –"

"Not the Stone, boy, you – the effort involved nearly killed you two. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend – Nicolas Flamel –"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all – the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things which are worst for them."

"It still is a bit sad," Mel argued, "they weren't hurting anyone and yet they had to sacrifice their lives in order to avoid a bigger problem that didn't have to do with them"

"Some things are harder to quit than others. However, Mel, I recall you almost died trying to protect Harry from Quirrell. I know you understand how we can sacrifice valuable things for the people we love. My friend Nicholas loves the wizarding world as it is, and he does not wish to see more tragedies"

They stayed quiet for a moment, Dumbledore humming an unknown song.

"Sir?" said Harry after a while "I've been thinking ... Sir – even if the Stone's gone, Vol– ... I mean, You-Know-Who –"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share ... not being truly alive, he can- not be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded.

"Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me ... things I want to know the truth about ..."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie. I should offer the same to you, Mel. If you also have questions, that is"

"Well ... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day ... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older ... I know you hate to hear this ... when you are ready, you will know."

Mel didn't like that, it sounded hard, difficult. Something a child could not possibly understand without breaking apart.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Mel noticed that Harry had tears in his eyes. She'd never seen him cry, not in a long time and so out of the blue. It usually had to do with Dudley punching him, not with feelings. She searched for his hand, hoping he wouldn't push it away.

He didn't.

"And the Invisibility Cloak – do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah – your father happened to leave it in my possession and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things ... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

"And there's something else ..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape –"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him – Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

'Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes ..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt ... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father quits. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace ..."

"That doesn't sound polite," She mumbled, "now that I think about it... I do have a question."

"Yes?"

"Before Quirrell attacked me, I did... well, I don't know if I did it"

"You did," Harry looked at her intently, "I felt it. It was... strange"

Mel looked at them before continuing.

"I did something without my wand," She explained, "it felt like the things I would do whenever I was scared or angry before I knew I was a witch, I couldn't control it..."

Dumbledore's eyes shifted for a moment, if she had known him better, she would've recognized that look as one of fear.

"Emotions are a powerful thing," Dumbledore said finally, "you were overwhelmed by the situation, and desperate to find a solution. Your body acted on its own. It has happened before, some cases... do not end well. I suggest to try and learn to control your mind, it should be you the one making decisions, not your emotions, Mel."

She understood most of it, and that only made her more anxious.

"And sir, there's one more thing ..." Harry said.

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the Mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes ... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Earwax!"

Dumbledore left moments after, leaving them alone to talk in peace.

"Why didn't you tell me Angelina owned the cat I liked?" Mel asked.

Harry smiled guiltily.

"I wanted to give you a birthday present in advance. Owls might be dirty, but Emily can't say the same about cats!"

"It was nice of you," Mel beamed, "I named him Grey, he reminds me of you."

Harry frowned.

"You have it now? I wanted- wait, how can he look like me?"

"He's got messy black fur and green eyes"

"And you called him Grey?"

"I thought it was funny"

"Obviously," Harry rolled his eyes, grinning, "I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you personally"

"I'm just happy you're awake," She added, "I also think you're a hero..."

"You are too," Harry replied.

"Your Bloody Baron is perfect! Maybe you should consider working as a professional imitator," She teased.

"Bug off," He laughed, "you know, now that I remember... you never told me what you saw in the mirror"

Mel nearly choked with her chocolate frog.

"That's private."

"Come on! You know mine!" He insisted.

The girl hesitated, then, after finding a solution she replied:

"I saw myself as Headmaster. I was old and smart like Dumbledore, people looked up to me."

"That sounds like you," He agreed, "why were you so upset when you saw it, though? It isn't a bad thing"

"I thought it was embarrassing," She lied, "I know I'm not smart enough to be like him"

"I don't think that," Harry raised a brow, "I think that you could perfectly be it"

She hated his kindness, it wasn't helping the annoying thumping on her chest at all.

"Well, who knows," Mel shrugged, "maybe one day what I saw will be true, Glasses."

"I hope so, Dumby"

"Stooop," She groaned.

"I'll stop when you stop"

She knew that Harry wouldn't have said all those kind words if he had known the truth.

He would've been horrified to know Mel had seen them kissing.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron, "Flamel's just going to die?"

He and Hermione arrived at the last hour of the day, the visiting hours were about to end.

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that – what was it?" Harry asked her.

"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure," Mel quoted.

"I always said he was off his rocker-ouch!" Ron looked angrily at Mel, she had punched his arm, "Now what did I do?"

"Dumbledore's my uncle, be careful with what you say," She warned him.

"So what happened to you?" asked Harry to Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round – that took a while – and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the Entrance Hall. He already knew – he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?' said Ron. "Sending you your father's Cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did – I mean to say – that's terrible – you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the Mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could ..."

Mel thought differently. Sure, that was kind, but if it was the same with her; how he reacted after knowing what she did... that meant Dumbledore was hoping for the worst on her behalf.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's barking, all right," said Ron proudly, stepping away from Mel, "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course – you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you – but the food'll be good."

"Ah, need me a good feast," Mel sighed dreamily.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

Harry came back just in time for the feast, people whispered and tried to take a good look at him. Mel didn't try to stop them, something told her it was bound to be a constant thing as long as they stayed in the castle. Long six years awaited.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts ... Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, five hundred and twenty-two.'

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and stamping. Mel caught sight of Erick, when he noticed her eyes fixed on him, he winked in complicity.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore, "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes ... First – to Mr Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

The table burst in applause, Mel could faintly hear Percy proudly talking about Ron a few seats behind.

"Second – to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione lowered her face and hid it on her arms. Mel was beaming, she was so proud! Her friend Hermione Granger was just the best.

"To Mel Dumbledore, who gave away her own safety in order to keep others well, loyal 'til the last minute... I award Gryffindor with fifty points"

Mel didn't feel like she deserved so many, comparing to the rest of her friends her actions were minimal, barely something to recognize.

Ron ruffled her hair.

"I guess we could also be not-awful together..."

She laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Fourth – to Mr Harry Potter ..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The room was loud, Mel had never heard something like it before.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom."

The kids cheered and jumped, covering Neville in hugs and kind words. Gryffindor had won the house cup, everything was perfect.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

The lion overthrew the snake, scarlet and gold now illuminating the room.

Hermione and Mel were top of the year. It wasn't a surprise, she was well aware of her own efforts, the results were good enough.

The way back home was delightful, louder than the first trip. Harry showed her the gift Hagrid had made for him and she admired the first few photographs.

"Why is it that you always get the coolest presents?"

"Hey, you got a cat that looks like me!"

"That was a very narcissistic thing to say, even for the boy-who-lived." Mel teased, "Grey is cool though, that's true"

"Next time I'll make sure to give you the best gift," He assured her, "in person, too."

"Don't even," She shrugged it off, "that would only make me feel worse. As if I could possibly top Harry Potter and his crazy ideas! You'd probably get me a gold cauldron..."

"That was ONE time-!"

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all of you – I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry. "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled them as they moved towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Still a dummy," Mel added.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry, "well, maybe the dummy part"

They passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!" It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron, "Harry Potter! Look, Mum! I can see –"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry.

"I should know," A voice said from behind them, "yesterday I got the longest, most terrifying letter of my whole life listing all the things you did this year, Mel Dumbledore."

Mel froze, her mother circle the group of kids and stared at her expectantly, her arms crossed.

"You have a lot of explaining to do"

"Thanks for the fudge and the jumper, Mrs Weasley," Harry moved away from them, afraid of getting the same treatment.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," Mrs. Weasley nervous too.

"I was worried sick! How could you hide all those things from me?" Her mum asked angrily, "Your uncle had to calm my nerves with a potion, Mel. A Potion!"

"I'm sorry!" Mel pleaded, "I didn't want to worry you!"

"I worry alright! Bloody worried!" She exclaimed, "You won't leave the house in a week- Is that a cat?!"

"I never leave the house!" Mel retorted, hiding the cat's basket behind her back.

"No Harry, then!"

"What?!" Both kids exclaimed.

"Do you want it to be two weeks?" She offered.

They stopped arguing.

"Ready, are you?" It was Mr Dursley, looking as angry and displeased as always.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Mr Dursley, "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

"I'll get the car as well," Emily sighed, controlling her nerves, "it was a pleasure to see you again, Molly. Give me..." Mel handed the trunk and bags to her, keeping Grey in her arms and staying to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have – er – a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Mr Dursley.

"Oh, I will," said Harry cheerfully, "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. We're going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

"At last, you listen to me," Mel smiled, already planning to make Dudley's life a perfect little nightmare.

Next Part—>

Taglist.

@vampiregirl1797 @tiphareth2018 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #hermione granger #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #severus snape #rubeus hagrid #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #WITT fic

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