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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

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Three Men and a Baby

While you're out of town, Jack, Urban and Clay take care of a sick Brooklyn

Warnings: mentions of sick child, some angst

Requested by the wonderful 🫀anon!

"Alright, Brookie, let's try this." He glanced at the label, your handwriting scrawled across the top of the plastic container.

"Asparagus and Pear", he read aloud, scrunching his face in disgust.

"That sounds nasty", he whispered, his aversion to vegetables carrying him into adulthood. Brooklyn looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open to receive a bite.

She immediately spit it out as soon as the taste hit her tongue, flailing her arms and legs. He tried to give her another bite but she turned her head away, letting out a whine.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad." Hoping it would convince her to eat, he took a big bite, resisting the urge to hurl immediately. "Oh my god, that's disgusting", he mumbled, spitting it out in a napkin. Brooklyn clapped her hands in glee at her dad's reaction.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, your number and a picture of the three of you from Christmas flashed on the screen.

"Hey, baby", Jack held the phone between his ear and shoulder, wiping Brooklyn's mouth with her bib. "How's everything going?"

"It's going", you admitted, hoping your light tone was convincing.

You had driven a few hours out of town to visit your parents for a couple of days, to help them move out of your childhood home. As much as you hated to leave Jack and Brooklyn behind, your parents were too old to take care of the moving responsibility themselves and they refused Jack's offer to pay for movers.

"My offer still stands, I have no problem with us paying for movers, babe." You sighed, sitting down on the porch swing in front of the house, just out of your parent’s ear shot.

"Yeah, I brought it up to my parents this morning, and my dad was seriously offended. Said he doesn't take handouts from his son." Jack chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. He watched Brooklyn as she smeared some banana on her face.

"Son, wow. What an improvement from "that boy"."

"Yeah, he's finally coming around to you after us being together for eight years." You laughed, swinging your feet. "How's everything going? Is Brooklyn eating and sleeping?"

You knew you sounded worried, and while you completely trusted Jack to watch his own child, you just have an overprotective nature.

"Baby, she's fine. We're eating lunch right now, and then later on Clay and Urban are coming over to watch the game. She's got three people who love her to hand out with, and she's loving every second of it."

This time, Jack hoped he sounded convincing. He was a nervous wreck, triple checking everything to make sure she couldn't choke or fall or hurt herself. He didn't realize how much this was a two person job until he was forced to take care of her on his own.

"I know, I know. You're such a great father to her. I'll have to find a way to show my appreciation", your last words were suggestive; you were sure Jack was blushing on the other side of the phone.

"Are you sure you can't come back home tonight?" Jack was mostly joking, but also a tiny bit serious. You giggled, sucking your teeth at him.

"I promise the wait will be worth it, Mr. Harlow." Jack cleared his throat, his neck breaking out in hives. "Can't wait."

"Well give her all the hugs and kisses for me and I'll be back tomorrow morning. Tell Urban and Clay I said hi."

Jack hung up the phone just as Urban walked through the front door, Clay following behind him. Urban placed the bags of food and drinks he had brought over, on the kitchen counter.

"Chickadee!" Urban called out when he laid eyes on Brooklyn, completely ignoring his best friend who had extended his hand out for a greeting. Brooklyn squealed at glee at the sight of her two favorite people.

"Where's my girl?" Clay pushed past Jack, picking up Brooklyn from her high chair. He placed kisses all over her face, making her giggle.

"Wow, good to know who y'alls favorite is." Jack pretended to be offended as he unpacked the bags. "Its not like I'm your brother", he pointed to Clay, "or have been your best friend for over two decades", Urban shrugged as he sat down at the table.

"Don't listen to him, B, he's just salty you're way cuter than he is." Clay stuck his tongue out at Jack, Brooklyn mimicking him, sticking out her little tongue as well.

Jack rolled his eyes, taking Brooklyn from his brother. "I just need to put her down for a nap and then we can watch the game." He stopped in his tracks when he saw Urban scraping the bottom of Brooklyn's baby food container.

"Did you just eat that whole thing, Urb?" Jack gagged as Urban just shrugged. "Its asparagus and pears, man."

"What's not to like? Asparagus, good. Pears, good. And pureed food is just so much easier to eat. Why don't adults eat food this way?"

****

Jack checked the baby monitor every couple minutes, nervously making sure Brooklyn was sleeping soundly. The game was going sideways; Louisville's Basketball team was down 24 points to Kentucky in the fourth quarter.

"C'mon, pass the fuckin' ball!" Clay yelled at the TV, jumping to his feet as Louisville turned over the ball. "Dammit!"

"Clay! Please!". Jack shook the baby monitor in the air, willing his brother to quiet down.

"Oh, sorry." He slumped back down on the couch.

Jack held his breath, hoping Brooklyn wouldn't wake up. He sighed when he heard her start to wail, her cry traveling all the way from upstairs.

He jogged up the stairs, Brooklyn's cry growing louder as he approached her nursery.

"It's okay, baby girl. Shhhh." Her face was flush, her teeth chattering in between cries as he picked her up. Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying to soothe her, and immediately noticed that she was running hot.

Thinking she might have a fever, he wanted to make sure to check her body temperature. "Alright, alright, let's see." He bounced her on his hip while he searched the drawer of her changing table, trying to locate the thermometer. She continued to cry, her breaths becoming shallow.

Three beeps a few seconds later revealed that she had a fever of 104 degrees, and Jack was immediately worried.

His first instinct was to call you, but he didn't want you to worry when there was no way you could come home immediately. This was something he could take care of, and save you any anxiety.

"Is she awake? I want to play with this ball I bought her." Clay walked into the room, tossing a soft basketball between his hands, stopping in his tracks when he saw how upset his niece was. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. She's got a fever." Clay could see that Jack was scared, his face had gone white, and he looked physically ill.

"Okay, what do we need to do? Should we call mom?" Clay took Brooklyn from Jack, patting her back to try to soothe her to no avail.

"Yeah, let's do that." Jack was frantic, his hands shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He paced the room as the phone rang, eventually sending him to voicemail. "Fuck." Jack was in pure panic, his heart beating out of his chest. He had no idea how to help his baby girl, and he felt weak and useless.

Clay's heart dropped at the sight of his brother. "Hey, Jack. It's gonna be okay. Brooklyn's gonna be okay." Jack nodded, not sure if he completely believed him.

****

Jack tried everything to calm Brooklyn down over the next few hours. She wasn't taking any food or fluids, and she was inconsolable.

Every time Jack would put her down in her crib she would cry, and picking her up only worked for a few minutes before she was red in the face again. He never got a hold of his parents, so Urban had been calling around to every parent he knew for the past few hours to try to get some answers. It was after midnight when he finally reached his someone.

"Alright, so my dad said we need to get her fever down as fast as we can. The internet said maybe a bath or taking her in the shower. I told Clay to start a bath for her." Urban looked up from his phone to Jack who was sitting in the rocking chair, holding Brooklyn. "He also said some fever medication should help."

She had finally stopped crying due to pure exhaustion, because her little lungs were having trouble filling with air and a hard cough was starting to develop. Jack was grateful she was falling asleep while he rocked her.

"How is she doing?" Urban asked in a whisper, bending down in front of Jack, gently stroking Brooklyn's cheek. She stirred in her sleep, scrunching her face.

"She's still burning up, and she's starting to cough." The words caught in Jack's throat, his eyes starting to water.

"I've got the bath ready." Clay called from the bathroom. The room was steamy as Jack entered, the smell of eucalyptus hitting his nose.

"I don't know if I did it right, but I checked the temperature like you showed me." Jack dipped his hand in the water, confirming it was a good temperature.

"Thank you, man, I really appreciate it."

"Of course. We'll be right outside if you need anything." Clay and Urban left the room, closing the door behind him. Jack got Brooklyn undressed, wrapping her in a towel so she was covered. As soon as her feet hit the water, she was screaming her head off, as if the water was burning her skin.

"It's okay, baby. You're okay." He tried washing her off, but she wouldn't stop moving around, tears streaming down her face. "Please, baby, please calm down." Jack knew it was crazy to beg to a four month old baby, but he was desperate. Clay peaked his head in, the sound of his niece crying was breaking his heart.

"Everything okay?" Jack shook his head, wiping his brow. He tried to hide his tears from Clay, his fear and frustrations overwhelming him. "Urban, get in here. I've got an idea."

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray."

Clay started singing Brooklyn's favorite song, Urban joining in when he realized what Clay was doing. Even though neither guy could hold a tune, it was working, Brooklyn was starting to calm down, listening intently to her uncles, her cries turning into gentle sniffles.

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Jack kept her in the bath until he could feel her skin start to cool. He changed her into some cool, loose pajamas, and gave her a syringe of fever medication. After a couple of minutes she was finally sleeping, her lashes fluttering as Jack laid her in her crib.

He softly closed the door behind him, meeting Urban and Clay in the hallway, the baby monitor in hand.

"I don't know how to thank you guys for helping me." He ran his fingers through his hair, his hand resting on the back of his neck. "I've never been so scared in my life."

"That's what uncles are for", Urban clapped a hand on Jack's back. "That, and eating their niece's delicious pureed foods. You wouldn't happen to have any more, would you?"

Jack chuckled for the first time all night. "Let me make y'all some actual food."

****

Jack's eyes shot open, the sunlight streaming through the window blinding him. He lifted his head, chuckling at the sight of Clay asleep on the couch next to him, Urban in the fetal position on the floor. He searched for his phone, patting the cushion around him until he felt the rectangle under a pillow.

"Shit!" It was already 9:30. You were going to be home any minute and the house was a mess. "Clay, Urban, get up." Jack kicked Urban in the side, making him groaning out in pain. "What is your problem?", he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Y/N is going to be home any minute, and it looks like a fuckin' bomb went off in here. Get up and help me clean up." Jack walked into the kitchen, his breath hitching when he saw you standing by the formula maker, Brooklyn in your arms.

"Babe, when did you get here?" Jack walked around the kitchen, giving you a quick kiss. "How was your trip back?"

"The drive was good. I didn't run into any traffic." You placed Brooklyn in her high chair, leaning against the island. Jack sat down at the dining room table, resting his head in his hand as he played with Brooklyn's curls. "That's good. We missed you."

"Yeah, I missed you, too. How did everything go here?" Jack swallowed, avoiding eye contact with you. "Ok. It was pretty boring. We just fell asleep watching the game last night."

Clay walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms, an imprint of the remote on the side of his face. "Hey sis. How are my favorite in-laws?" Clay pressed a kiss onto your forehead, draping his arm over your shoulder.

"They're good. They said to say hi." Clay hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on atop yours.

Desperate to get out of the room before you started asking any questions, Jack stood, placing Brooklyn on his hip.

"We've gotta get ready to meet my mom for breakfast. She hasn't seen Brooklyn in a few days." He walked out of the kitchen, thinking he was in the clear.

"Oh Jack", you called after him, stopping him in his tracks. "You're mom called and said she needed to reschedule breakfast because she had a work commitment."

Jack closed his eyes. "Ok, sounds good”, he called back. He took a step before you spoke again.

"She also said she got your messages last night and she asked if Brooklyn was feeling any better." Urban caught the tail end of your sentence as he walked into the kitchen, his eyes growing wide.

"I’ve gotta go." Urban gave Brooklyn a quick kiss on the cheek before rushing out of the door, his shoes in his hand.

Clay started inching toward the foyer. "I've gotta go, too. I-I need to not be here."

You closed your eyes as you heard the front door slam shut.

"Babe, listen-", Jack stopped when you held up your hand.

"What was your plan? Just never tell me that Brooklyn was running a 104 degree fever? That it would just be okay that you kept that from me?" You were steaming, your stomach in knots at the thought that you weren't here to take care of your child.

"No, I did not want to keep anything from you, but I also didn't want you to worry while you were away." He clasped his hands in prayer, covering his lips. He didn't dare take a step towards you, feeling the anger radiating off of you.

"I can't believe you Jack! What if something happened? What if she needed to go to the hospital, or even the emergency room? Did you even think about how serious this was?"

Jack scoffed. "Of course, I thought about all of that! I was terrified, but I was here taking care of her, never letting her out of my sight. What, do you think I can't take care of my daughter without you looking over my shoulder?"

His words hung in the air, and you realized taking your frustrations out on Jack wasn't helping anything. You rolled your shoulders back, taking a deep breath.

"No, Jack, that's not what I'm saying at all." You pinched the bridge of your nose, a tension headache stuck at the base of your neck. "I just wish you would have told me. I just hate that I wasn't here. I didn't want to go away in the first place, and knowing that Brooklyn was sick, I feel terrible for leaving you alone."

Jack wrapped you up in a hug, his arms around your shoulders as you leaned your forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry. I never should have kept anything from you. I was so scared, baby, I didn't know what to do."

You looked up at him, cupping his face in your hands. "But you did do it baby, look at her. She's happy and healthy, all because of you." You both looked over at Brooklyn who was happily playing with a teething toy.

"You're never allowed to leave ever again. Anywhere you go, we go." Jack chuckled, giving you a gentle kiss. "God, this place is a mess."

"I'm sure you're exhausted, go take a nap, and I'll feed Brooklyn her breakfast. The house can’t wait." Jack yawned as he walked to the staircase.

"Jack?" His heart stopped again, his mind racing, trying to think if he had forgotten something else?"

"Yes, baby?" He returned to the kitchen again.

"What happened to all of Brooklyn's baby food I made before I left?" You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, pulling out empty containers from the fridge.

"Oh, I don't know, baby. Unrelated, but Urban asked if you could make a little bit extra of the asparagus and pear puree, and put it aside for him next time he's here. Again, completely unrelated to what you asked about." Jack gave you a small smile, Brooklyn letting out a giggle when he winked at her.

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dottores · 2 years

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LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ⅩⅢ. AND WHEN THE SEASONS CHANGE, WILL YOU STAND BY ME?

TEN YEARS EARLIER.

There was something wrong with you.

Both of them knew it. Something had changed in you after that day at the delinquent center. Something had changed in all of them, really, losing Izana was just a blow that none of them were prepared to take. But Rindou had prayed, he had prayed and prayed and prayed that the change was temporary, that everyone would bounce back.

And most of them did, to some extent.

Except you.

He should have known better. He really should have. You might not have known Izana as long as the rest of them had but the two of you had clicked in a way that Rindou had never really seen you click with anyone before. Not even them. All those days and nights spent in the music room, the way the two of you would bounce ideas off of each other all the time, planning out your future, their future…

You had never dealt with loss well. He had known that since you were kids, when they had met you a little while after your family had been killed in an accident. You had always tried your best to pretend that you were fine but they knew you weren’t. Just like they knew now, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

And Rindou was worried. He was so fucking worried and he did not know what to do. This wasn’t like the last time you had distanced yourself from them, when you had gotten aggressive, and angry, and upset. This time was different. Because you weren’t aggressive, or angry, and you didn’t even seem to be upset even though Rindou knew you well enough to know that you were.

You were cold. Aloof. While last time you would have started yelling at them for bothering you and constantly trying to convince you to do things with them, this time you just brushed them off--you were tired, you were busy with meetings, you needed to eat, you had to talk to your uncle about plans for the future.

Rindou couldn’t remember the last time you had hung out with them. He missed the late night movies, he missed waking up Ran with you and forcing him to join the two of you, he missed you.

He didn’t want to linger on the thought, instead shaking his head and tilting his head up, letting his gaze drift up to the sky above Izanagi Headquarters.

It was going to start raining, it was dark, and the clouds were moving fast--too fast. Rindou let out a breath as he looked back over at Ran, who was still sitting back on his bike, hands pressed against the seat as he stared up at the building you were in.

They had come to try to talk to you--knowing that once you got back home you’d lock yourself in your room and either work on some more stuff for your uncle or pass right out and they’d lose their chance.

Rindou opened his mouth, preparing to tell Ran that they should head home unless they wanna get caught in the rain.

He didn’t get the chance.

“You should go in there,” Ran’s voice was quiet. There was a tone that Rindou couldn’t quite decipher. Rindou looked over his shoulder, lips turned down and hair falling in his face as he eyed Ran. Ran did not meet his eyes. “She needs you, Rindou. I don’t know why she’s pushing us away like this but I-we can’t just let her do this to herself.”

“She needs both of us, Ran, that’s why we’re here,” Rindou’s voice was dismissive. He didn’t understand what Ran was trying to get at, and he didn’t understand why Ran wouldn’t meet his eyes. Obviously you needed them, that was why they were camped out across the street from Izanagi’s godforsaken headquarters.

“Ran,” Rindou called for his brother again. Ran ignored him, again, only staring up to the top of Izanagi headquarters, lips tugged down into a slight frown, a strange look in his eyes, “She needs both of us.”

“Not in the same way.”

Rindou fully turned around, head snapping toward Ran, eyes wide, confusion brewing in his stomach as he mulled over what Ran had said.

Not in the same way?

“The fuck does that mean?” Rindou demanded. Ran looked away. “Hey, I asked you a question.”

Ran did not answer.

But he didn’t need to. Because Rindou knew exactly what he meant, and he did not know how to take it.

Unconsciously, he looked back toward the building that he knew you were in, a tight feeling in his chest. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it before. Rindou let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding shut for just a second. God, he had thought about it so much. Ever since you guys were younger--since that night at the Sugawara estate, really--all the nights that he had spent up with you, watching those dumb horror movies you loved that he hated, he always imagined how you would feel whenever you were curled up at his side, body pressed against his, the number of times he had debated on reaching out, pressing his lips to yours, it was uncountable really; and all the days he would spend wandering around Roppongi with you, unable to draw his eyes from your bright smile and lit up eyes, he imagined what it would be like taking you out on dates instead of just going out as friends, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours.

“You know what it means,” Ran said, and Rindou forced himself to open his eyes and look back at Ran, lips parting to speak but he hesitated when he caught sight of Ran’s face. There was an expression on it that Rindou had never seen before--one that Ran was clearly trying to hide from his brother but hiding stuff from Rindou was nearly impossible. They knew each other too well for that.

Lips pressed tight and the corners drawn downwards, eyebrows lowered, eyes dull.

… He didn’t want this.

Or maybe he did on the surface, but deep down he did not. Rindou’s chest felt tight, he tried to push away the sick feeling that rose to his stomach, the tight feeling in his chest, so he could figure out why Ran didn’t want it, and why he was claiming he did.

Oh, his breath shook, he tried to steady it.

There was only one reason why Ran wouldn’t want him to be with you.

“I’m not doing that,” Rindou finally said, and he hated how his voice cracked, and he hated how much it hurt him to voice aloud. Ran’s gaze was dark as it shifted back onto him, angry. “I’m not, Ran.”

“Why the fuck not?” Ran demanded, and there was an edge to his voice that Rindou really didn’t like, one that promised violence. This was going to end in an argument, “You love her, don’t you?”

“So do you,” the words were bitter on Rindou’s tongue, speaking them outloud made him nauseous. Ran physically flinched at his words, drawing back, downturned eyes now wide and surprised. Rindou felt ill, taking his reaction as confirmation.

“What?” Ran asked, voice breathless.

“So do you,” Rindou repeated, voice steadier, more assured. “You love her too, don’t you?”

“No,” Ran said immediately, lying, and the rage hit Rindou so suddenly that he had a hard time controlling it. He was off of his bike in an instant, moving closer to Ran, blood running hot, skin burning.

“Why the fuck are you lying to me?” Rindou barely stopped himself from yelling at Ran, reaching out sharply to grab his collar. Anger flashed through Ran’s eyes, a type of anger that Rindou hadn’t seen in his eyes in years.

“‘Cause it’s not fucking true,” Ran knocked Rindou’s hand off of his collar, eyes dark and Rindou’s blood boiled. He reached forward again, this time with two hands, grabbing Ran’s collar again and shaking him.

“I thought we didn’t lie to each other, Ran, what the fuck?” Rindou’s voice choked, his vision blurred. Frustration hit him so hard it had him dizzy. You were cold and distant, Ran was lying to him, and Rindou didn’t know what to do anymore.

He wanted you, god he had wanted you since you were kids. But there was no way, there was no fucking way he could do that to Ran. He knew how much it took for Ran to open up to people, how hard and how intensely he loved--he couldn’t just…

Ran pushed him away, harder this time. Rindou grunted when his back hit the wall of the building next to them, his gaze snapped up, meeting Ran’s. “Shut the fuck up, Rindou,” Ran spat out, tone vile and venomous. Rindou nearly flinched, Ran had never taken that tone with him before. “Shut the fuck up and go to her.”

“I’m not doing that,” Rindou said, “I’m not fucking doing that, Ran.”

“Why not?” Ran hissed, “She fucking needs you, Rindou. All this time I’ve-”

The anger hit a peak, Rindou shoved Ran right back, forcing him to stumble back into his bike. Rindou’s hands were clenched tight at his sides, shaking. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t tell if he was angry or disappointed or upset--maybe both, really. Angry at Ran for lying, for trying to push him into a relationship with you when he knew that he loved you too; disappointed at himself, for having fallen so easily for you and not having even realized that Ran felt the same way about you, for being so obvious in how he felt; and upset because he knew all of those things he had dreamed of with you would never happen because he could never do that to Ran.

“I’m not going to get with the girl you love,” Rindou shouted, “It doesn’t matter how much I love her too. You’re my fucking brother, Ran.”

And Rindou wondered just how stupid he was over the past few years. He thought back to all of the times he had seen Ran act around you--the stolen glances and small smiles when he thought no one was looking, the way he was always looking out for you and making sure you were okay. Rindou had never realized Ran’s feelings had run as deep as they had, but how hadn’t he?

It had been fucking obvious.

It had been so fucking obvious.

All those times over the years when Ran had pushed Rindou toward you, putting you in situations that would bring the two of you closer together, pushing aside his own feelings because he knew that Rindou loved you. He felt sick to his stomach.

Rindou shut his eyes, taking a step back from Ran, “Ran, I can’t do that,” he shook his head, “I can’t do that.”

Ran straightened, pushing off from where he had stumbled back against his bike. He shot Rindou a livid glare, brushing off his clothes.

“Yes, you-”

Ran’s voice faltered, his gaze drifting off somewhere behind Rindou, a strange expression crossing his face. Rindou turned, following where he was looking, and his mouth dried when he caught sight of you exiting the Izanagi building, dressed nice in the outfit you had left the penthouse in at the crack of dawn this morning. You were talking to your uncle, walking toward an expensive car waiting at the front of the building.

Rindou took a step toward you.

He hesitated when you looked up from your uncle, eyes focusing in on where and Ran were waiting across the street by their bikes. Your name was on the tip of his tongue, he was ready to call out for you, to tell you to come over to him.

But you looked away.

Rindou’s throat felt tight as you took one look at them, recognized them, only to return to conversation with your uncle, getting into the car with him without hesitation.

Oh.

It stung. It stung bad. He remembered the days where you would flee school early, running to them giggling and excited, when they showed up at your classroom to pick you up before they got their tattoo, how your gaze had always been bright and thrilled to see them. He could practically picture the way you would raise your arms, waving to them before you would recklessly sprint across the street toward them, nearly giving both of them a heart attack..

But the car door only shut behind you, and even though the streets were loud and bustling with people, everything around him sounded far away and muted. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sleek black car as it pulled down the street, not until it was completely out of view.

His chest squeezed as he looked back at Ran, catching the hurt expression that flashed across his face as his eyes focused down the street where the car had disappeared to, all of the fight drained out of him as he let his gaze drop down to the ground, a sinking feeling rising through him that it wouldn’t quite matter what either of them had wanted.

NINE YEARS EARLIER.

Mucho had been next.

You felt numb as you walked ahead toward the warehouse that Mister Ayato and Mister Mado found out Ran and Rindou were at.

The sky was dark, gloomy--there had been no predictions of rain when you last checked the weather station but it really would be just your luck for it to start downpouring now.

You should be angry. You weren’t sure why you weren’t--you had told them over and over and over again to be back home by five at the latest. Now it was six, and you were going to be late to Mister Botan’s funeral.

Mucho had been next, and after Mucho, it was nearly Terano Minami—the leader of Rokuhara Tandai, the next gang that Ran and Rindou had decided to join under. And while there was no love lost between you and Terano, your first impressions of one another having been less than ideal, you couldn’t help the guilt that crept in you, festering once you had learned what had happened.

Was this your fault too?

You tried to atone for it. You did. You got Terano the best doctors Japan had to offer, the nicest hospitals, the most expensive treatments. But it wasn’t enough. They didn’t know when he would wake up, if he would wake up, even. And all you could do was wait. Wait for news, wait to find out if another person died because of you.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

You were tired of waiting. All you did your whole entire life was wait--wait for your uncle, wait for yourself, waiting for this curse to finally devour everyone you had loved.

Because you were certain of it at this point. The curse was real and it was only a matter of time before it took Rindou and Ran from you too.

You walked into the warehouse, ignoring the leers tossed your way by the unfamiliar men littered around the area. Your lip curled up in disgust as a particularly loud comment met your ears but you forced yourself to not acknowledge it--acknowledging it would only make them throw even more at you.

You didn’t really know where you were--well you did, this was apparently the base for the Kanto Manji Gang, the gang that Rindou and Ran and the rest of their friends were absorbed into after Terano had been beaten to the brink of death by its leader. But you had never been here before, you only knew this from the little information that Mister Mado and Mister Ayato had found out when you had mentioned the predicament to them. You had no idea what the layout of the base looked like, and you had no idea where Rindou and Ran were.

And you did not like the looks that kept getting thrown your way, and you liked even less the way that some of the men kept creeping closer.

Discomfort brewed in your chest but you forced yourself to keep walking, keeping your chin up and your back straight.

Your gaze darted around as you entered a larger room, and relief hit you like a truck when you caught sight of four familiar figures lounged in the corner of the room. You beelined straight toward them, irritation fizzing in your chest when you noticed they weren’t doing anything important to excuse their lateness. But you couldn’t hold it--the irritation fizzled as quickly as it came.

You paused several feet away from them, none of them noticed your presence and your eyes focused on Rindou and Ran. Your chest felt tight when you noticed the easy smile on Ran’s face as he leaned back against the wall, talking to Mochi and a scarred man you didn’t recognize, when you noticed how Rindou was relaxed on the ground, shooting jabs back and forth with Shion.

Izana and Mucho were not there. You could almost imagine Izana lounging on a nearby crate, chin propped on his hand as he watched over them. You could see Mucho standing next to Mochi, half-amused and half-annoyed as Rindou and Shion’s jabs grew more intense.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Once again, resentment and fear stirred in you but you pushed it back down, smothering it.

“You should be home,” your voice came out duller than you intended for it to. You stared ahead, down at Rindou and Ran, watching as their heads snapped toward you, eyes wide and expressions pale. “We are going to be late for the funeral.”

“It’s time already?” Rindou was pushing himself to his feet immediately, sharing a look with Ran.

“How’d you get here?” Ran asked at the same time.

“It is well past time,” you said in response, ignoring Ran’s question, “and you can’t attend the funeral in… that.”

You eyed the dark uniform adorning their bodies, shaking your head. You turned on your heel and started back the way you had come from, eyes catching a figure standing at the opposite side of the wrong--blonde hair, empty dark eyes trained on you.

He was familiar, you couldn’t quite place from where though. You didn’t pay mind to it for too long, instead only continuing on.

You were being cold to them, you had been over a year now. You knew it, and you felt guilty. So fucking guilty. You wanted to apologize, and tell them you missed them. It had been so fucking long since you did anything with them--more focused on learning from your uncle and the other Izanagi executives so you could learn the steps to start your own corporation.

You were doing what was best, you reminded yourself--the mantra you had begun to chant whenever doubt began to cloud your mind. Once you got your own company up and running, once you had the power you needed to keep them safe--from enemies, rivals, even that god forsaken curse--you would go to them, you would apologize and tell them everything, beg them to forgive you.

But until then, you had to keep your head on straight.

You heard Rindou and Ran call after you but ignored them, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you made your way out of the larger room and down the hall. Mister Ayato and Mister Mado were waiting in the car outside, dressed and ready to go to the funeral, you knew they were unhappy with Rindou and Ran but you had asked them to not start an argument over it--not yet, at least--and you hoped that they would keep to their word.

You were sure Rindou and Ran felt bad about losing track of time--and you knew you should be angry at them too, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to be. Maybe it was just the numbness of another loss, or maybe it was something else but-

A hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You paused, turning to look at the offender over your shoulder--Rindou’s hand dropped from your wrist as soon as your eyes met his, you raised your brows.

“We don’t really have time to spare,” you told him, “What is it?”

You didn’t mean for your voice to come out as sharply as it did, really, but anger flashed across Ran’s face behind Rindou, anger that he only just barely managed to push aside as he forced himself to look away. Rindou didn’t say anything, so you only waited a moment before letting out a sigh and turning back around, continuing back toward the car.

Your family. Izana. Mucho. Nearly Terano. Now Mister Botan.

Seven people, six untimely deaths, and one brush with death.

Who would be eighth?

Miss Yua or Mister Ayato? Mister Mado?

Shion or Mochi?

Your uncle?

Ran or Rindou?

You felt sick to your stomach, your body felt chilled over, as if you had just walked out of a freezer, your head felt dizzy. Calm down, you told yourself, now’s not the time.

You could picture your mom’s excited smile as the four of you drove to your recital, your sister happily telling you about her day at school, your father squeezing your shoulder and telling you he was proud of you. You could see Izana sitting with you on the piano bench, humming along a tune as he strummed the strings of his guitar. You could see Mucho standing with Miss Yua, trying to learn how to cook from her, bringing you and Izana some bento he had tried to put together. You could see Mister Botan’s smiling face as you returned back to the penthouse after school, asking you how your presentation went today, and you could see him ushering you inside, grabbing you both some treats as he sat you down in the lobby and listened as you rambled on about your topic.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Behind you, Rindou and Ran were talking but you couldn’t even make sense of what they were saying. It sounded like they were underwater, or you were, you couldn’t tell. Your vision swam as you continued walking forward, and you could feel how stiff your body was with each step.

The words rang through your head over and over again.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Your eyes drifted back to Rindou and Ran, where they were talking quietly to each other, sparing brief glances at you before returning to whispering to each other. The guilt hit you again, harder this time, debilitating.

You loved them.

A part of you had always known it, since you were kids but you had only recently come to terms with it—when faced with an ultimatum from your uncle: head to a prestigious foreign university and jumpstart the process to forming your own company or wait to inherit Izanagi from him. The choice should have been obvious, there shouldn’t have been any debate… but it wasn’t obvious and there was debate.

Because you would have to leave them, and you didn’t know how long you would be, and they wouldn’t be able to join you, and you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it. Every time you thought of the years you would spend apart—all of the memories you would make without them, all of the space that would grow between you—it made you sick to your stomach, to the point where you were keeling over in your room and dry-heaving, trying to mask your sobs and heaves by turning up the television so they didn’t hear you.

You didn’t want to do it if it would cost you the only two people you had ever loved but-

Your family. Izana. Mucho. Nearly Terano. Mister Botan.

What if being here costed you them anyway? Except in a far more permanent way.

Maybe you were better off gone.

Tragedy follows you and it was only a matter of time before it took everybody else. It was only a matter of time before you were alone.

You slipped into the backseat of the car, resting your forehead against the window letting your eyes slide shut. You would lose everyone, you knew it. You could feel it deep in your bones.

… unless you left first, that is.

---

PRESENT.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Rindou’s ears were ringing as he stared off to where you disappeared to, doors shutting loud, damning. He could barely breathe, his hands shook as he held Ran in place.

“Rindou, what the fuck did you do?” Ran roared, “What the fuck did you do? Why the fuck would you do that? I thought you fucking loved her, I thought you loved her.”

Rindou grimaced as Ran’s elbow drove deep into his side but Rindou was certain that it was his words that had knocked the wind out of him, not the blow. I do love her, Rindou wanted to scream at him but he couldn’t form the words. His body seized at the harsh blow delivered to his gut. His grip faltered around Ran, giving him the chance to push off the ground and stumble toward the door.

What did he do?

He stared ahead for a moment, not moving, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

He let you go.

Rindou’s body moved on his own as he threw himself forward, hand wrapping around Ran’s wrist as he yanked his brother back toward him before he could try to push the doors to the locker room open.

He felt numb, his body felt cold.

He let you go.

Ran thrashed against him, trying to push Rindou off of him, but he was weak, and was getting weaker with each passing second. He was stressing out his wounds, straining his body, and Rindou opened his mouth to tell him to stop but no words left his mouth.

He let you go.

“Let go of me,” Ran demanded and Rindou held him tighter, his heart felt like it was in his throat, tears stung his eyes. He could barely breathe, he couldn’t open his mouth to tell Ran no, he felt sick to his stomach. “Let fucking go of me, Rindou, you let her go, what the fuck is the difference? Let me go too.”

He let you go.

He did the right thing, didn’t he?

Doubt clouded his mind, he forced himself to repeat the words over and over and over again. He did the right thing--you knew what you were doing, and Ran wasn’t in any kind of fighting state. There was one gun, not enough bullets, if he had done as Ran said, if he had forced you to stay, they would have been gunned down, no question about it.

At least this way they had a chance. This way Ran had a chance.

But he let you throw yourself to the fucking wolves for it.

Was it worth it?

He felt as if the weight of the world had dropped onto his shoulders, he thought back to all those myths that you and Izana had been so interested in, and he wondered if this was how Atlas felt when he had to bear the weight of the sky.

He let you go. Was it worth it?

Was it worth it?

Ran would have died if he didn’t, it shouldn’t even be a question. Of course, he did the right thing, why was he even questioning it like this? Ran had always put him and his safety first, Rindou had to do the same.

But at what cost? Sacrificing you? The woman he loved? … the woman his brother loved?

Bile rose to his throat, he took another elbow to the gut from Ran--this time, he didn’t let go.

“Stop,” he tried to tell Ran, voice raspy and pain shooting up through his body, “Ran, stop.”

“Fuck you, Rindou,” Ran’s voice was shriller than he had ever heard it before, his eyes were wild. Rindou opened his mouth to tell him to stop but his eyes widened as Ran seemed to gain a sudden boost of energy, pushing Rindou away hard and sending him crashing back into one of the benches.

Rindou let out a string of vile curses, the pain of the metal digging deep into his side making his vision flash white. He forced himself back to his feet, preparing to drag Ran back down to the ground but he paused when he realized Ran hadn’t made any move toward the door.

His face was pale and his shoulders were slumped, he stared at the door with a sort of expression that had Rindou’s throat closing up with guilt.

“This is all my fucking fault,” Ran breathed out and Rindou shook his head, moving closer to him. He put his hand on Ran’s shoulder but Ran shrugged it off, looking away.

“Ran, it’s not-”

“I left the auction, Rindou,” Ran said, “I left the auction and put myself in the position to get caught. Which made her have to make the decision that led to me getting my ass beat. Which led to her breaking me out, which led to this. If I had just stayed in the fuckin’ auction hall like Kakucho said, we would not be in this position.”

“That’s not-”

“Fuck off, Rindou,” but there was no heat behind Ran’s voice this time and Rindou couldn’t look at his brother’s face anymore, he couldn’t stand the broken expression on his face, and he couldn’t stand the heavy feeling that kept pulling at his stomach.

He looked down at the ground, fists tight at his sides. You were talking to them on the opposite side of the door but he couldn’t make out what exactly you were saying. He should have faith--you always managed to talk your way out of situations. If Rindou had to bet, he would say it’s one of the things you were best at.

You would be fine. They would be fine.

He made the right choice by letting you go.

But Rindou couldn’t help the strange feeling that began to pass over him as he lifted his gaze back up.

His hair stood on end, the entire world around him tunneled as he stared at the doors to the locker room--something bad was about to happen, he realized, letting go of Ran’s shoulder and taking a step toward the door just as the deafening bang of a gunshot resounded through the air around them.

There were a lot of them. Too many of them. You couldn’t help the anxiety that started to pool in your gut, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes unconsciously started to dart around, searching for any possible escape routes. There weren’t any but you knew it wouldn’t have mattered even if there were one.

You couldn’t leave them here.

You kept your shoulders square as you raised your chin, eyes steady on the man at the front of the group. You did not recognize him. Tall, light hair and lighter eyes. He looked foreign. His gaze was cold, his smile was mocking.

You hated him.

You glanced back once, taking one look at the double doors of the locker room and after a second of hesitation, you moved, leaning down to pick up one of the weighted bars for lifting. Gritting your teeth as you bring it up to slide it between the handles, making sure that the door stayed shut and wasn’t able to be opened from the inside. The last thing you needed was for them to come out here and get themselves killed while you were talking.

You stared at the door for a moment, shutting your eyes as you pictured them behind it, and briefly, you wondered if that had been the last time you’d ever see them. You felt sick, and your hands shook before you forced them to stop, turning around, lips twisted down, eyes dark.

“If Sugawara wants Izanami, then they get to walk out of here. Alive,” you cut straight to the chase.

“You’re in no place to make demands,” the man noted, tilting his head to the side to eye you curiously. He holstered his pistol back at his side but none of the men with him lowered theirs. You kept yours steady in front of you. “I’m not going to negotiate with a gun aimed at my face.”

You grit your teeth--having the gun trained on their leader was the only sort of insurance you had right now, but you supposed it didn’t mean anything anyway. If you pulled the trigger, they would either just straight up shoot you, or at the very least subdue you and then kill Rindou and Ran.

Frustration bled through your skin and painted your blood black, you dropped the gun to your side.

Breathe in, breathe out. Think.

“What makes you think Kenji wants Izanami?” the man questioned, hands in his pockets as he took a step toward you. He looked at ease, relaxed, and resentment stirred in you. “We already have Izanagi-”

“Izanami is worth double Izanagi,” you interrupted, meeting his eyes, “and two night ago, I spent four hours talking to my lawyers in order to have it passed on to Kokonoi Hajime after I die. Bonten’s in a shitty spot now because you went after all of their current businesses, it won’t be as shitty once they have their hands on a corporation worth five trillion yen.”

The man’s lax position faltered, you kept your gaze steady.

You were lying. The company was still set to go to Takuya at your death but there was no way for them to know that.

Or they shouldn’t have a way, at least.

“Get Kenji on the phone,” the man’s voice was sharp and cold as he looked over his shoulder at one of the men behind him, who shifted uncomfortably at his words.

“Rui-”

“Now,” the man said harshly, waiting for the other man to scramble for his phone before turning his attention back on you. Rui’s lips twisted, “You’re a slimy little bitch, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like being backed into corners,” was all you said in response.

Rui smiled, it had your nerves on fire, “Neither does he,” he said ominously, and you couldn’t help the chill that ran down your spine at his words, the way every single cell of your body screamed at you to run, to flee.

Rui turned around, “Give me the phone,” he said, taking the phone from the other man and pressing it to his ear. You watched as he took a few steps away, speaking quietly to who you could only assume was Sugawara on the other line. You let out one steady breath, eyes taking one long look back toward where Ran and Rindou were on the opposite side of the door.

Did you do the right thing?

Now that you were out here, confronting them, you weren’t so sure.

No, you tried to convince yourself, no, you did what was right. There was no other option. Had you waited for them to come in there, they would have died.

Any option that ended with them dying was not actually an option.

You forced your gaze back to Rui, watching as he paced around listening to whatever Sugawara was going on about. You stiffened as he stopped midstep, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Are you sure?” he asked before wincing, “... alright, alright, I get it.”

Rui walked back over toward you, you eyed him hesitantly as he held out the phone, “For you.”

Staring at the device for a second, your lips pulled down as you took it from your hand, holding it to your ear, “What?” you asked.

“It didn’t have to come to this. I gave you a chance, y’know?” Sugawara’s tone was a sort of faux-sympathy that made your skin crawl, “More than one, actually. But I gave you a real chance that night, asking if you wanted to make a deal for Haitani Ran.”

“You would have killed us both,” you told him, and Sugawara paused for a moment before snorting.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “At least it wouldn’t have been all three of you, though.”

Your blood felt cold, your breath caught.

All three of-

“It’s going to be a pain in the ass trying to cover this to Ichirou, you’ve caused more trouble than you’re worth,” the fake tone dropped, replaced by a sharp and icy one that made your mouth go dry, “Kokonoi Hajime won’t be able to do anything with Izanami, he and the rest of the Bonten executives will be dead by morning.”

Your head snapped to the side as movement rushed near your head, eyes widening as Rui raised his gun to your temple. Your lips parted, a cry of warning on the tip of your tongue to Rindou and Ran but there was no time.

You never had enough fucking time.

Your eyes slid shut instinctively as his finger twitched on the trigger. You wanted to apologize, tell them that you were sorry, that you had been wrong. You wanted to warn them and tell them you had failed, you should have known you would, you always fail without someone else’s help. You wanted to tell them that you wished you had listened to them, that you would have stayed in the locker room with them so you could at the very least greet death together.

You didn’t want to die alone.

But you couldn’t, because everything was happening too fast and you barely even had time to think, much less speak. The gunshot was deafening, your ears rung, and you waited for the pain.

You waited, and you waited, and you waited.

It didn’t come.

Blood and mush splattered against your face, in your eye, across your lips. You forced yourself to look down when you felt something fall hard against your foot and you could only stare at Rui’s unmoving body at your feet--half of his face blown off, gun discarded on the floor next to you.

What the-

You didn’t have time to try to figure out what happened, diving down to grab his gun before throwing yourself behind some lifting equipment just as another bullet hit the wall by your head.

Once you had some sort of cover, you looked around, eyes darting through the mirrors set up across the gym as you tried to understand what was happening. Sugawara’s men were taking cover throughout the room, half of them already dead on the floor. You couldn’t tell where the bullets were coming from--the entrance, maybe?

You tried to keep your breath steady but it was almost impossible under the circumstances. Every inhale caught, every exhale shook, fear was freezing your body, rendering you immobile.

Don’t let it control you, you told yourself over and over again. Rindou and Ran were still trapped in the locker room—sitting ducks, although you supposed it might be for the best, considering they would have come out at the first gunshot and gotten themselves killed in the fire fight.

Protect the door.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You focused on what was happening around you. Most of Sugawara’s men had their attention trained on the barrage of bullets coming at them.

Most.

Your eyes darted around, training in on a man aiming his gun at the door. It was a thinner metal.

The bullet would go right through, and you knew Rindou and Ran would be right on the opposite side of it, banging against the metal trying to get to you.

Breathe in. Aim. Breathe out. Pull the trigger.

The man hit the ground hard, blood spurting from his neck and pooling in his mouth, choking and spasming on the ground. You felt sick to your stomach but you couldn’t watch for long. You were forced to take cover again as his death caught the attention of one of his friends, who was aiming in your direction in an instant, bullets flying in the air just over where you had been standing.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You had to control yourself.

“I’ll cover you,” you heard an unfamiliar male voice say and your eyes widened as your gaze shot back up to the mirror, catching sight of the figure in the mirror making his way toward you, another covering his approach from a little ways back.

He was going for the locker room.

Realization hit you like a truck, all of the air was ripped from your lungs as you realized where exactly the man was taking off to. You couldn’t get a good angle from where you were kneeling behind the machine, but if you stood or tried to move, you’d be in line of fire of the man that was covering him.

You didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the anxiety beginning to claw at your chest again. You could feel the panic rise, the way your breath quickened, the way your heart raced. You were hesitating, you could feel yourself hesitating and you couldn’t stop yourself. Your fingers trembled around the gun, the world around you was somehow sped up and moving in slow motion at the same time.

You had to risk it.

You’d have one shot. Make it count. You kept your eyes trained on the mirror, holding the gun steady in front of you before pushing yourself to your feet. You swiveled, aiming it in the direction of the man approaching the locker room and pulling the trigger without sparing a second.

He hit the ground, and then so did you.

A searing pain shot through your arm, blinding pain, you felt like you were on fire and you gasped as your hand flew to your bicep where a bullet had ripped through and tore out a chunk of your skin on the side of your arm. You bit down hard on your tongue, swallowing the cry of pain. Tears stung your eyes and you tried so fucking hard to push them away because you couldn’t afford to have blurry vision right now.

Get up, you told yourself, forcing yourself back to your hands and knees, your ears rung, your vision spun, get up.

You held the gun tight in your hand, breath ragged as you tried to push yourself up but a large hand wrapped around your other bicep, yanking you to your feet. You tried to push away, panic flooding your system but whoever was holding you was strong, much stronger than you.

“Oi, relax,” a voice grunted, and you paused, breath catching as your eyes snapped to a hulking figure standing at your right. Blonde hair, pointed eyebrows, and familiar red eyes stared down at you.

“Hey, princess,” a familiar voice heckled from a few feet away, and now that you were slowly calming down, you realized that the gunshots had come to the stop, the chaos in the room having come to an eerie still, Sugawara’s men lying unmoving on the ground.

Madarame Shion was crouching on the ground next to Rui’s head. Mochizuki Kanji kept you steady on your feet.

“Long time, no see,” Shion finished, pushing himself to his feet, a wild grin on his face. “You look like shit.”

You let out a huff of laughter that sounded more like a sob. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, “Fuck you, Shion,” you said, but there was no heat behind your words as you leaned into Mochi while throwing your good arm around Shion. Your chest felt tight, the tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over as reality, relief, finally hit you.

You felt a hand grab your hurt arm gently, “Fuckers are using RIP rounds,” you heard Mochi mutter.

“Yikes,” Shion said, pulling away from you to lean down and look at your arm, “Ouch, yeah, that gotta hurt. Glad it’s not me.”

You shot Shion a withering look but he only winked at you, nodding to the door to the locker room, “You might wanna let them out of there. Preferably before they find a way to burn this place down. We’ve gotta get out of here, I’m sure they’ll be sending reinforcements up soon.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward the locker room. The pain had you dizzy on your feet for a second but Mochi’s grip on your waist tightened, you thanked him quietly before moving to the door. You stared at it for a moment, throat tight, before you forced yourself to push the weighted bar out from where it was holding the doors shut.

The bar hit the ground with a loud crash, you flinched at the noise before using your foot to roll it out of the way. You reached forward with your good arm, pulling the door open, and let it swing open with a dull thud.

Ran stared back at you from where he was standing half in front of Rindou. You weren’t sure how many seconds passed as the two of you stared at each other, trying to process what you were looking at.

“You’re okay,” Ran had never sounded so relieved before, voice little over a breath as he rushed toward you, with a sort of energy you really didn’t think he had left in him. Your throat felt swollen as you felt his arms wrap snug around your waist, pulling you toward him, flush against his body. Your breath was shaky, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling as best you could. Your fingers trembled against his back, his palm smoothed out against yours, blunt nails digging into your shirt.

“God, I’m so-” Ran cut himself off, pulling back to look at you. His hands slid back up your body, leaving a burning trail in their wake until they came to your face, cupping your cheeks more gently than you had ever seen him be with anyone before. His eyes raked over you, his throat bobbed, “I’m so fucking mad at you. I’m livid, you have no fucking idea, you-”

He cut himself off, taking in a sharp breath, “You could have died. You-you can’t give yourself up like that, not for us. You-”

He couldn’t finish whatever he was trying to say, instead only pressing his lips together and looking away.

“Your arm,” Rindou’s voice was quiet, tight. You looked up from Ran’s neck, eyes focusing in on Rindou’s face, catching the strange expression that was decorating it as he held your arm. His lips parted as if to speak but no words left his lips.

Guilty, you realized, he looked guilty.

“Hey,” Mochi said, “We don’t have time for the waterworks, come on.”

Rindou bristled, eyes darting up from you to glare at Mochi but his glare fell almost instantly, “Mochi? Shion?” he asked, surprise lacing his tone, evidently just having noticed them.

“No shit,” Shion said, ever the eloquent one.

“The fuck are you guys doing here?” Ran’s voice was rough as he spoke, stepping away from you to pick up a discarded gun from one of Sugawara’s dead men. “I thought Sanzu said-”

“Fuck Sanzu,” Shion interrupted immediately, “He’s a fuckin’ asshole. Kakucho got word of what was happening over here. He told us. We weren’t just going to leave you guys to die.”

“Shion,” Rindou said quietly, and Shion looked uncomfortable at the change in tone, and the gratitude in Rindou’s voice.

“Fuck off, don’t get all sappy,” Shion muttered, “Hurry up and get yourself armed. We gotta get out of here still.”

Rindou nodded, kneeling down to grab a gun, dropping the magazine out to make sure it was loaded before rising back to his feet, pressing his free hand against your back as he led you toward the door, Shion and Mochi taking the front.

You winced at the sound of glass being crushed beneath your shoes, trying to keep your eyes off of the dead bodies littering the ground, trying to keep your mind off of the pain that was numbing the entire left side of your body. You tried to focus on Rindou’s hand warm against your lower back, on Ran walking a little bit in front of you. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard. Your entire arm felt like it was numb and on fire at the same time, you didn’t even dare to look at the wound.

“I’m sorry,” Rindou said quietly, and you turned to look over your shoulder so you could see him but he only looked away. You tried to say something, tell him that there was nothing for him to be sorry for, but Shion was speaking before you could push the words past your lips.

“We cleared out a good number of ‘em downstairs,” he said, pushing open the doors to the stairwell, holding them open for you, Rindou and Ran to pass through. “But I’m sure more’ve already showed up.”

Mochi let out a noise of agreement, “Kakucho texted us while we were on the way up here. Said another car pulled in.”

“Wonderful,” Ran muttered.

“At least it’s not-”

Another gunshot, Shion let out a string of curses, letting the door to the stairwell slam shut just as another three were shot at it from down the hall, denting the metal where his head was. The look Shion threw at the closed door was nothing short of lethal, Mochi shared a long look with him as Rindou stepped in front of both you and Ran.

“Go,” Mochi told the three of you, and all three of your heads snapped toward him instantly, questioning. “You’re not deaf, I said go. Go.”

“We’re not leaving you guys,” Rindou snapped immediately, “Fuck that. We’ll take them out and then get out of here together.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Mochi shot right back, “Ran is hurt bad, so is she. You need to get the two of them out of here, get a head start. We can catch up.”

You shook your head, a bad feeling settling in your stomach, “No, we-”

“Go,” Mochi said, voice harsher, “Go. We’ll be okay. If anything, you guys staying is going to put us at more risk. We’ll handle these guys and catch up.”

You shot a desperate look at Shion, waiting for him to speak up and tell Mochi that it would be better for the three of you to stay to help but he only nodded, grimacing as another round of bullets was fired at the door, “Go,” he said, “We’ll be fine. We’ll meet you at the safehouse. Okay?”

You wanted to argue, and scream at them that this wasn’t necessary but even as you opened your mouth another wave of pain hit you, making you sway on your feet. Rindou steadied you, taking one long look down at you before looking at Ran, who was in an even worse condition. He let out a shaky, frustrated breath, forcing his gaze back to Shion and Mochi.

“Don’t die,” his voice was low, it edged on pleading.

Please don’t die, you echoed silently.

Shion only winked at the three of you, “Back at you,” he said as he motioned for Mochi to join him at the door.

Rindou looked down at you as he walked over to Ran, wrapping an arm around his waist, “You can walk on your own?” he asked, and you nodded, trying to push away the pain and dizziness. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

---

Ran had passed out on the way back, his aggravated wounds having become too much for his body to handle. Rindou could barely stand to look at you.

Every time you would go into the other room to talk to him, he would turn away or leave the room after sparing one look at your stitched up wound. You tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was your choice to go out there, but he would only scoff, shaking his head.

“I let you go,” he would say, voice low, defeated, and when you tried to grab his shoulder and force him to look at you, he would shrug you off and finally leave the room.

He couldn’t do this forever, you tried to convince yourself as you stared at the closed door to the bedroom he had claimed, debating on making another attempt. But even as the words crossed your mind, you knew that Rindou very well could do this forever--he was just as stubborn as Ran when he got like this, just as stubborn as you.

You sighed as you walked away from his door, making your way to Ran’s room instead. The halls were dark, and the safe house itself was chilly. You let out a shaky breath, arms wrapped around your torso as you kept down the hall. Your eyes flashed up to the clock—it was late, it had taken quite a bit to get to the outskirts of Tokyo to the safe house and you’d been there for a few hours already.

You wondered if Ran was awake yet, but you doubted it. He would have come to find you by now if he was, even if he knew damn well that you would have rathered him to stay laying down. You couldn’t help the way your mind began to wander back to Rindou, guilt churning in your chest.

He had done what you wanted—he had let go of you. And you knew from the look in his eyes, from the way his fingers trembled around your wrist that he didn’t want to, that it had taken everything in him to let go of your wrist and hold Ran back.

And you couldn’t imagine what must’ve been going through his head when the first gunshot was shot--thinking that he was the one that let you walk to your death, thinking that he did it for the chance to save Ran but now Ran was going to die anyway and you got yourself killed trying to save the both of them.

You didn’t blame him for not wanting to look at you but it still hurt. You wished you could go back to this morning, before all of this happened, when the two of you had just woken up, basking under the morning sun, still half-asleep and talking quietly to each other as to not wake Ran. You could have stayed there forever with them, Ran curled up behind you, Rindou inches in front of you—it had been good. It had been good for the first time in years, and now it was all shit again.

But at least you were together.

It was the only thought driving you forward. All three of you were alive, all three of you were together. You had to be grateful for the small mercies, not take the smaller things for granted.

You let out a soft breath as you shook your head, continuing down the dim hallway til you reached the cracked open door at the end of it. Ran’s bedroom light was still on, and you rolled your eyes at Rindou, realizing he had probably forgotten to turn it off before leaving the room earlier.

Slowly and carefully, you opened the door, wincing as it creaked under your push. You slipped into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you, gaze flitting around the old room before you forced yourself to look at where Ran was still fast asleep in bed, laying still beneath the half-strewn off comforter.

You looked over his body, your throat felt tight and your eyes stung as you looked down at the dark bruises visible--they had only gotten worse with the jostling around in the frantic escape from the penthouse. The one on his lower abdomen had spread all the way around his side and, from what you could tell, back, it was an ugly black and red color, and you wished Miss Yua was around to take a look at the wound because you had no idea what you were looking at, all you knew was that it was bad and he was in pain.

His lashes brushed his cheeks as he slept soundly in the bed. Your hand drifted up to his cheek, fingers touching his skin so lightly that you could just barely feel him beneath you. He looked peaceful--more peaceful than you had seen him in a long time. And you knew from Rindou that he hadn’t been sleeping well--not for a while. You didn’t want to wake him, and you knew you should leave, let him get his rest but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You didn’t want him to wake up alone.

You swallowed thickly as your fingers drifted down from his cheek, trailing down his body to absently trace the tattoos decorating his chest down to the bruises. Your fingers hesitated above them, a sick feeling churning in your stomach.

Your fault.

The words rang loud, deafening in your head. This was your fault. Your choice. Was there another way? Had Sugawara been telling the truth? You knew he wasn’t. He literally admitted it on the phone; he was a scumbag that would have killed Ran had he known just how close the two of you were, and then he would have taken you out too but a part of you couldn’t help but doubt yourself.

What if this hadn’t had to happen? Look at yourself, you can’t even protect the two people you love most.

You shut your eyes, trying to force the tears away. I’m sorry, you wanted to tell him I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-

Long fingers wrapped around your hand, you opened your eyes and dragged your gaze back up to his face. Violet eyes peered up at you, brows furrowed, “It’s not your fault,” he murmured and you just shook your head and looked away.

“Hey,” Ran’s voice was low, rough from sleep, you forced yourself to look at him again, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“What if there was another option?” you hated how your voice cracked, and you hated how Ran’s thumb smoothed over the back of your hand, “I didn’t even give it any thought, Ran, there could’ve been something else. If I had just took a minute to think I-”

He reached forward with his other hand, palm, coming up to cup your cheek, fingers dancing along your cheekbone. Your words faltered as you leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes lidded as you looked down at him.

“There was no time,” Ran murmured, “You did what was best in the moment. You always do.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him no, he was wrong, but Ran’s expression left no room for any arguments. And even if it had, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to bring yourself to argue with him.

You didn’t have much fight left in you at all anymore. You wanted to give up, lay in their arms and let the rest of the world fade away. Fuck Izanami, fuck your uncle, fuck Sugawara, and fuck Bonten. All you wanted was them, in any and everything way.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, and you weren’t sure how many times you had apologized over the course of the past two or three days but it didn’t feel like it was enough. You were sure that you could chant it out as a mantra for the rest of your life, the only words you ever speak, and you would still feel like it wasn’t enough. There were no words to accurately describe just how sorry you were--not just for what happened to Ran, but for everything else too--and there was nothing you could do, no action to take that would convince yourself of your atonement, even if they did forgive you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sor-”

“Stop that,” Ran said quietly, squeezing your hand softly as his thumb traced over your cheekbone again, “I-”

Ran’s brows furrowed, confliction crossing over his face for just a moment before he let out a deep sigh, “I’m angry at you,” Ran admitted, “I’m so angry at you but… not for the wounds. That wasn’t your fault.”

You tried to look away but he turned your face back toward him, “Don’t do that again,” he said, “Ever. Don’t give yourself up. We don’t trade lives.”

You didn’t want to make that promise. You hoped that you could just stay silent and he would take the silence as an agreement but you should have known better than that. Ran’s jaw clenched when you didn’t respond, you could see his temper flare behind his eyes and you could see him struggle to rein it in.

“Promise me,” he said more insistently, his fingers pressing into your skin just a bit deeper, “Promise me.”

You let out a heavybreath, you tried to close your eyes but he only tightened his grip, making you keep your gaze steady on him.

“I promise,” you finally said after a few moments, even though you knew damn well you’d never be able to deny either of them again. “I promise.”

Ran inhaled sharply, eyes searching yours to make sure you were telling the truth even though you knew it was unnecessary, you didn’t think you’d be able to bring yourself to lie to him--either of them--ever again.

Ran leaned up, and you tried to stop him, noticing how his abdomen tensed as the pain hit him, but you were taken off guard as the hand on your cheek slid behind your head, pulling you down halfway to meet him. You inhaled sharply against his lips, hands frozen on either side of you, eyes wide just for a moment before your body reacted on its own, lips moving against his.

You shouldn’t be doing this, the thought made your hands tremble, but instead of pushing yourself away from him, you only shifted closer. The kiss was different from the one the two of you shared that first night--that one had been fueled by desperation, a loss of control, this one…

This one you wanted. And that wasn’t to say you didn’t want the one from the first night but you wanted this one in a different way, a more intense way.

You brought your hands up to Ran’s face, cupping his cheeks, you let out another shaky breath into his mouth and your eyes slid shut as one of Ran’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, smoothing over your back. His skin was hot against yours, burning, only a few touches and you could barely think straight.

This one was different. The noise you let out into Ran’s mouth would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances, you could feel your face heat up but Ran seemed to pay no mind, more focused on pulling you closer to him, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. You didn’t quite know how to describe it but it had you dizzy, light-headed, not in the same way the one at the club left you.

A strange feeling passed over you as your body pressed flush against Ran’s, half on top of him as his hand slid down your body, wrapping around your thigh to hook your leg over his waist. You should be pushing him away. You knew that. This was wrong, and not just for the obvious reasons—Ran was hurt, you shouldn’t be putting more strain on his body but also-

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Your breath caught as you pulled off of Ran. His eyes were hazy, unfocused on you. The violet lidded in a way that had your blood running hot, but you forced yourself to ignore it, pushing up to turn around.

Rindou stared at the two of you, lips parted, an indecipherable expression on his face and a glass of water in his hand, one that he had clearly been bringing for Ran. He looked away sharply, placing the water down on the dresser before he turned on his heel and walked back the way you came.

Oh, you had seen this play out before, you recalled, guilt making your stomach drop as you forced yourself to your feet, you wouldn’t let it end the same way this time.

“Rin, wait,” you called, chasing after him. He was already three-quarters of the way down the hall by the time you caught up to him. “Rin,” you said again, voice catching, “Hold on!”

You grabbed his wrist, but he only shook it right off. Irritated, you went for it again, and this time, he turned it on you, maneuvering his wrist out of your hold and swiveling it to grab yours, holding it at an uncomfortable angle as he pushed you back into the wall, pinning you in place.

“Stop,” his voice was low and rough. You could see the hurt swimming behind his eyes, but it wasn’t just hurt. There was something else there. Regret? Acceptance? You couldn’t tell, “Just stop.”

“What do you mean stop?” you asked, looking up at him, trying to get your wrist free from his hand but you couldn’t, his grip only tightened. “Rin-”

“Stop as in leave me alone,” Rindou said, shaking his head and taking a step away from you, “I made my choice. I let you go. Go back to Ran.”

“You what?” you breathed out, there was a cryptic undertone to his words, one that you weren’t quite sure that you liked, “Rin, what are you talkin-”

“Stop,” he raised his voice, saying your name sharply, and you flinched back. He faltered at your reaction, shoulders dropping, if only slightly, eyes shutting. “Just go back to Ran. Please.”

“No, Rin,” you shook your head, mind running a million miles a minute. I let you go, was he talking about back at the penthouse? He had to be but it didn’t make sense. How did that relate at all to what was happening right now? “Rin, are you talking about back at the penthouse, I don’t-“

“I let you go,” Rindou said again, but there was no anger in his voice this time, only distress. “I let you go. I let go of your wrist and let you walk to your death, I let you go when he was fighting tooth and fucking nail to make you stay, begging me to at least let him go out there with you. I just let you go.”

You faltered, shaking your head and trying to reach back out for his hand but he stepped away, “Rin, I asked you to, that’s not-“

“No,” Rindou said, shutting his eyes, his voice was weak and all you wanted to do was reach out and hold him, “You don’t-you don’t understand. The first gunshot, when it went off. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and I had let go of your wrist, I let go so you could sacrifice yourself to try to save us. I let you die for nothing.”

“I’m not dead though, Rin, I’m right here and I’m okay, I-“ he didn’t let you finish. Again.

“That’s not the point, I forfeited any-“ he cut himself off, stammering over his words before he squeezed his eyes shut, rephrasing. “Ran fought for you, and I gave you up. I let go. Go back to him. I’m okay, really.”

“You didn’t give me up, and you didn’t let me go,” you cried out, getting frustrated with his stubbornness. You pushed his chest hard, making him crash back into the opposite wall. “You fucking believed in me, Rindou. Stop throwing a pity parade and-“

“Stop!” Rindou yelled this time, anger flaring in his eyes. And you felt overwhelmed, anxious, because Rindou was getting the wrong idea, understandably, and he was spiraling and you didn’t know what to do and you didn’t want him to feel this way. Because you didn’t want Ran, you wanted them both. “Fucking hell, I know you want him, I saw you two that night at the club. I saw you just now! Why the fuck won’t you let me do the right thing and walk away? Both of you, neither of you fucking give a shit about what I want. He didn’t back then, you don’t now. I’m trying to make this fucking easier on myself. I fucking know you want him and-“

“I want you both!” you shouted at him, interrupting him mid sentence. Rindou froze from where he was standing in front of you, and you froze too, mind spinning as you processed the words that you had just spoken out loud—the same words you had never dared to speak all of those years ago—before you spoke them again, quieter this time, less heat behind them. “I want you both.”

Oh god.

You didn’t move, keeping your gaze trained forward as soon as you fully registered what you had said. What the fuck was wrong with you? Now was not the time for this. You-

“What?” Rindou’s voice was little over a breath. You shook your head and took a step back. He matched your step, keeping the distance, “No, don’t you dare try to back out now. You don’t get to say something like that and then try to pretend you didn’t.”

Your bottom lip trembled. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Ran leaning against the doorframe of his room, watching you, and you had half a mind to snap at him and tell him to get back in bed.

Where had that come from? you tried to ask yourself. But you supposed that wasn’t the question—you had always loved them, from the beginning, the years abroad hadn’t changed that no matter how hard you might’ve tried to convince yourself and Rindou had pushed you into finally admitting it out loud.

You let out a shaky breath, hands fisted tight at your side, “I said what I said. Now isn’t the time though, we should talk about this once we’re out of Tokyo.”

“Technically we’re out of Tokyo,” Ran butted in, eyes sharp and curious as he watched you.

“You know what i mean,” you snapped right back, glaring at him, “Go back to bed.”

“Join me and I will,” he winked and you felt hot as you glared harder before looking away, the embarrassment slowly beginning to hit.

“I-“ you began, closing your eyes when you stuttered over your words, “We shouldn’t talk about something like this until we’re safe.”

“We’ll never be safe,” Rindou murmured and you grimaced, his words weighing heavy on your chest because you knew they were true.

“I don’t really know what else there is to talk about,” you tried a different approach, but from the way Rindou rolled his eyes, you knew it was going to go just as poorly. “I said what I said-“

You were cut off as Ran nodded at Rindou, and Rindou scoffed, grabbing your good arm and dragging you back into Ran’s room. You struggled, kicking the back of his knee and spitting out curses, but he only ignored you.

As soon as the door shut behind the two of you, another heavy silence settled.

“How long?” Ran asked, moving to sit back down on the bed, arm resting on his torso. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate, “How long have you known this?”

You did not want to answer, but they were not giving you a chance to change the conversation and you couldn’t think straight.

“Since we were younger,” you finally said, and they both shared a look. You tilted your head up, trying to hide just how humiliated you felt. “Kids, really.”

Ran snorted, taking a sip of the water that Rindou had brought him, “Could’ve saved me and Rindou a lot of arguments,” he murmured, amused and you forced yourself to look back down from the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” you asked but then your lips twisted down as you remembered Rindou’s words: he didn’t back then, you don’t now.

“Nothing,” they chorused at the same time and you glared at them.

“Are you kidding me? You’re making me answer all this shit but you won’t?” you snapped, moving to rise off the bed but Ran’s arm snapped out quicker, tugging you back down.

You scowled as your back hit the bed, wincing as you jostled your bad arm around, “That hurt,” you muttered, and he gave you a half-assed apology. You tried to sit up but his palm pressed against your chest, pushing you back down, “You’re not funny,” you told Ran.

His lips curled up into a sly smile that nearly had you squirming, “I’m not trying to be,” he said and you let out a half-nervous, half-irritated breath, looking to Rindou for help but he only pointedly looked away.

“Why did you leave then?” Rindou was changing the subject and you wanted to throw a fit because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing it. “If you knew back then.”

“Because I couldn’t let my feelings get in the way of my goals,” you said right back and Rindou winced, looking away.

“We weren’t your goal?”

“You guys were always my ultimate goal,” you said quietly, giving up on trying to get Ran to let you sit up, staring at the ceiling. “But there were things I had to do first. I told you last night, the detours… there were just… a lot more than I thought. It took longer than I thought. But being with you guys, that was always my goal in the end. You guys are all I’ve ever wanted.”

Neither of them spoke for a while and Ran finally let go of you, you immediately took the opportunity to sit up, shooting him a glare before you settled back down, cross-legged between them on the bed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this now,” you spoke softly again, staring at your lap, “There’s too much going on, we still need to figure out how to get out of Japan and-“

“We’re not getting out of Japan until shit calms down, there’s no way. Unless you have a secret private airport you can bring us to,” Rindou countered and your shoulders slumped.

The only private airports you knew of were your uncle’s, and Sugawara would have eyes all over them right now.

“That’s what I thought,” Ran’s eyes danced with a sort of delight you hadn’t seen in them for a long time. Next to him, Rindou looked just as interested and an anxious feeling settled in your stomach as the two of them shared a look—they had always been most dangerous when they worked together. “So how ‘bout you sit back and relax and tell us everything this time?”

WC: 12.5k

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED !!!

— feedback on character development and story progression pls do not nitpick little mistakes — i didn’t even run this chapter thru grammarly 🥹

#ran x reader #rindou x reader #ran smut #rindou smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #ran x you #rindou x you #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #tokyo revengers x reader

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 8 months

Text

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist

Created: August 24th, 2023

Last Checked:

A Different Kind of Reaping-norbertsmom (Tumblr)

Summary: Arranged Marriage fic with a jealous Gale set In Panem-AU

A New Recipe-Mollywog (AO3)

Summary: He had painted the storefront sign himself: ‘Mellarks’ in honor of his late family. He supposes the muted orange ‘S’ at the end implies more than one, but he's the only living Mellark in the district at present.

A S.W.A.N Story-MegaAuLover (AO3)

Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a smart girl. Brilliant, actually. She has more degrees than she has fingers on one hand. But she has never felt beautiful or interesting. When she is asked to be Madge's maid of honor Katniss has serious doubts she'll fit in with her childhood glamorous friend. Will she survive the wedding and find love? Or will she be a total embarrassment.

all the version of me dead (and buried in the yard outside)-rosaeles (AO3)

Summary: “I’m here,” Peeta murmurs. “Brought you something to eat.” Katniss wants to reply. Would like to thank him for everything he’s doing. I missed you. She wants to yell it from the rooftops. Scream herself hoarse with it, but she doesn’t. Because her throat is rusted after weeks of barely using it, so all she says is; “Please don’t touch me.”

Almost Believing-HalfHope (thesweetnessofspring) (AO3)

Summary: This is Peeta's POV from three chapters of my fanfic "I Do." Best to read at least through chapter 17 of that before coming here. Peeta and Katniss are married, but are taking things slow. Peeta's willing to be patient, to take his time, wanting Katniss to want him, too. But after a revelation about a conversation Katniss had with Gale, he believes Katniss's so-called love came only out of pity. She has to convince him otherwise.

Angel Kisses-VanillaCottonCandy (AO3)

Summary: When his teeth graze my soft flesh though, I let out an embarrassing moan and pray no one comes in now, looking for bread or cake. Between Peeta leaning against the doorframe in his tight shirt and the attention my neck is receiving, it’s going to be a while before I’m going to willingly release him back to work. I tighten my legs around his waist as his mouth moves to the opposite side, his lips planting kisses right where he can feel my heart pounding beneath his touch. For a split second, I’m extremely grateful he’s holding me up, because there’s not a shot in the dark that my legs could sustain me right about now. / Post - Canon Married Everlark Request For Everlark Neck Kisses

Arranged-CassandraO (AO3)

Summary: Facing the death of her mother, 14-year old Katniss Everdeen and her 10-year old sister Prim move in with their widowed maternal grandmother, the apothecary's wife. In a world in which unmarried women cannot own property, Katniss' grandmother arranges with the town baker to marry off her eldest granddaughter at sixteen to protect her in case she dies before the girl is ready to marry. Luckily for all, Katniss gets to marry the youngest son, her close friend Peeta. Now, married young, the summer is coming, and with it, the 74th Annual Hunger Games

Be Still-snapcrackle (AO3)

Summary: After the war Katniss and Peeta slowly grow back together, despite being so broken. The story begins during the final chapter of 'Mockingjay', before the epilogue, and chapters get longer and more detailed as Katniss slowly heals.

Boy In The Bubble-Miss_Missy (AO3)

Summary: The last thing Katniss expects to hear about her best friend Peeta is the fact that he not only got into a fist fight with one of the biggest guys in their school but also the fact that he quote “almost killed him”. Now Peeta is refusing to explain to her or his family what happened or why he punched Brutus in the first place. Katniss is trying her best to help but no matter what she does Peeta just keeps pushing her further away. All she wants to do is help, Katniss refuses to loose another important person in her life

Catching Fire from Peeta's POV-thismustbeagoodidea (AO3)

Summary: “You think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” Katniss finishes for me. “It’s crossed my mind,” I say grimly. But the fear I felt last year, of dying for nothing, of becoming no more than a Capitol puppet, is quieting.

Chain of Fools-SoThere (AO3)

Summary: We all get a little jealous sometimes. Modern AU.

#t #masterlist #teen and up masterlist #everlark #everlark fanfiction #thg #thg fanfiction #finick #coffee shop

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kzjwe · 11 months

Text

FRIENDSHIP

Nobara Kugisaki × F!reader

FLUF ♡ / ANGST▽

Warning: childhood friends, loud Gojo, friend to lovers, violence on Yuji.

Athletic, sarcastic, intelligent, beautiful, determined, protects her friends and stands up for herself and her ideals.

These were just some of Kugisaki's qualities, just some of the infinite ones that made (Y/n) fall so madly in love.

(Y/n) met Kugisaki when they were just little girls. Nobara was considered the village weirdo, yet (Y/n) somehow managed to become friends with her.

The more time passed, the closer they got together, thus ending up spending most of their days together, running in the streets, reading together or talking about this and that.

It was perfect.

But everyone knows that perfect never lasts long. This was also the case for (Y/n). When Saori and Fumi arrived in the village Y / n knew that it would not be good for his friendship with Kugisaki. (Y/n knew of her friend's interest in the City, he knew how much Kugisaki hated the country and wanted to move to a big city.

but she never thought that Kugisaki would actually leave, at least not until she came of age. The day Fumi and Saori introduced themselves to Kugisaki telling her they were from the city (Y/n) she felt something crack inside her.

The way her best friend's eyes lit up at that information, the smile that came to her face, and Kugisaki's excited tone gave her a completely different effect than usual. That smile, that hope, and those quotes from her weren't aimed at her. Indeed Kugisaki had never addressed such joy to (Y/n) , but yet she was addressing it to strangers.

From that day on Kugisaki was all about the city, rambling about how Fumi and Saori's tales intrigued it, and soon the days (Y/n) spent with her best friend became days listening to Kugisaki conversing with the two. strangers, running after the three, reading alone in a corner, watching them play outside and then, when the two finally left them alone, listening to Kugisaki imagining living in the city with Saori and Fumi.

(Y/n) hated him, hated the way Kugisaki no longer cared about her, hated the ease with which she was pushed aside, the ease with which her dearest friend's precious attentions were taken away from her.

The four grew up together and the more they grew the more (Y/n) felt crushed by the friendship between Kugisaki and Saori. As they grew older all four began to develop physically as well, and (Y/n) slowly began to lose interest in boys, over time she found herself looking more and more at the girls of her village and less and less at the boys. For her part, however, Kugisaki often found himself telling (Y / n) about his experiences and the boys who attracted her attention or some gossip going around among the girls at school or the new fashion magazine she'd bought .

Y/n's life went on with monotony: school, park with the three friends, home, homework, walk with the three, home, sleep. This was the daily routine. Over time, however, Y n had learned to accept the presence of the youngest among them, and while before sitting under the tree in the park there was only her, watching the two sisters and Kugisaki on the swings, now there was also Fumi leafing through a manga and occasionally asking questions to (Y/n).

This was until Saori and Fumi left. That day Kugisaki knocked on (Y / l / n)'s door with tears in her eyes and as soon as Ms (Y / l / n) opened her door the little girl ran into (Y / n)'s room. That day Kugisaki cried in her arms.

Every now and then Kugisaki claimed to see "presences", and she always tried to convince (Y/n) of the truthfulness of this, but the girl was convinced that her friend was only saying it to scare her, after all it was Nobara Kugisaki. It was like this until Nobara communicated to (Y / n) that she was going to study in Tokyo in a renowned school for sorcerers who were "fighting" curses.The first time (Y/n) burst out laughing, but when she saw that her friend was more than serious another big crack formed inside her. She couldn't believe it, the day she most feared had really come. She (Y/n) she hoped that Kugisaki would never leave her, that she would always be by her side or at least not so soon. At that moment the young girl's eyes filled with tears, tears that began to flow as soon as Kugisaki embraced her.

That day (Y / n) cried in the arms of her friend and Kugisaki promised that they would see her again, promised to text her every day and call her from time to time.

Among Nobara's qualities there is also loyalty and credibility, she always keeps her promises. So after a year of calls and texts (Y / n) finds herself observing an extremely bizarre man at Tokyo station with a pink suitcase in his hand -hers pink suitcase-

«Oh you really are like Maki described you!» the man's voice is decidedly high and (Y/n) wonders if maybe he's a little deaf.

When Maki went to him to tell him about the girl who tormented Nobara's thoughts so much, he immediately understood what was the perfect solution to make Nobara "normal" again.

So two weeks ago Y/n received a letter with a crest of some school, the sender identified himself as Gojo-sensei, teacher of Tokyo Jujutsu High School of Sorcery, as well as the school Kugisaki attends. Gojo asked (Y / n) to spend a week or two in their school since Kugisaki seemed to be extremely down in the dumps - as he had defined her - and that in case of a positive answer he would think the school at all costs of the trip . Obviously (Y / n) accepted somehow managing to convince the parents of her. and that's how she got into this weird situation.

So many questions were going through Y/n's head, like who was Maki? Why does Gojo wear sunglasses in the car? Why is his hair white but he looks young? but the one that tormented her the most was "How is Kugisaki?" .

The car ride passes relatively quickly, Gojo babbled something about wanting sweets and (Y/n) gazed at the Tokyo streets in awe. Now she understood why the city fascinated her friend so much. The car stops and the two get out. The structure in complete Japanese style is surrounded by majestic trees and Y / n almost seems to be no longer in Tokyo, but in her village. Sensei's large hand awakens her from her trance. «Come on, I'll show you around» the young woman looks horrified at the man as he stuffs a whole mochi in his mouth, but decides to follow him anyway. Sensei shows her the rooms, the kitchen, the training ground, a talking panda eating sushi,the garden and essentially everything she may need, up to a large corridor full of vending machines. There where (Y / n)'s eyes fill with tears and her vision blurs, where her heart starts pounding so hard that she can hear its beats, where Kugisaki Nobara is.

She watches Nobara kick the leg of a pink-haired boy sitting next to her. the boy withdraws stretching his leg and moaning in pain while Nobara yells at him. the scene makes (Yn) smile, but makes the man behind her burst out laughing. The man's awful and exaggerated laughter attracts the attention of the two young men. Thus the eyes (c/o) of Y/n meet the amber ones of Kugisaki. Without even knowing how Y / n finds herself wrapped in the arms of her closest friend letting her peach scent fill her nostrils and her warmth radiating from her body bringing her comfort .Meanwhile, Nobara hoped that her friend could not hear her heartbeat, that no one would notice that the reddish color on her cheeks is not makeup and that her eyes are shiny. As if burned Nobara away from Y/n suddenly remembering the presence of Yuji and Gojo. «I- what are you doing here (Y/n)?» Kugisaki doesn't miss the spark of pain that crosses her friend's eyes and she immediately curses herself for always being so abrupt. “I brought her! is a surprise ! Come on Yuji let's leave Nobara with her friend »saying this Gojo starts dragging the pink-haired boy out of the corridor before completely disappearing from your visit.

"How does a man like that teach a school?" (Y / n) asks returning his gaze to her friend. Nobara just shrugs unable to do anything but notice how much her friend has changed in one year. (Y/n)'s hair is slightly longer than the last time he saw her, her eyelashes seem thicker making her gaze even more intense, her way of dressing is more fashionable, she doesn't wear any type of makeup from the long journey, she has slight dark circles under her eyes, her lips look pinker and smoother...more inviting, the same pink that adorn her cheeks and she's also taller than last time, now they're the exact same height.

(Y/n) does not miss the way Nobara looks at her and her heart beats even faster if possible. (Y / n) is at Jujutsu High because her friend, according to Sensei, was different than usual, down in the dumps; what she doesn't know, however, is that Nobara has realized in recent weeks that her friendship with Y / n is no longer enough for her.

#jujutsu kaisen #nobara x reader #nobara kugisaki #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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sakurarisen · 2 years

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Though Sera does her best to show maturity and strength to those she meets, there’s no denying this is born from being forced to grow up far too quickly and early for her own good, and as a result she hides anything that could be deemed ‘childish’ from anyone she doesn’t trust with her very life. Acting like a kid, being bouncy and easily excited, showing how deep her lack of understanding or the world and social situations truly goes, experiencing the childhood she was forced to skip out on... These are all hidden by choice, fearing being a burden or pushing people away. The more freely Sera acts and the more childish and silly she can be, the more she trusts the person she’s with, making for a good indicator of her her comfort and someone’s closeness with her.

Even so, there are certain things that are less hidden and far more easily noticed; light up sneakers, for one, are something she wears off and on while living in Midgar, and it’s incredibly difficult for her to pass by a playground without at least sitting on a swing for a little bit. She’s easily distracted by things that sparkle, and above all else, is incredibly partial to plush toys - Enough so that those who visit the Fair Household, be it in Gongaga or Midgar, are likely to find one of her prized possessions somewhere within the house: A stuffed husky.

About the size of a standard teddy bear, the dog, named Zax by Sera herself, has been both clearly taken care of, but also shows signs of being very much loved; its stitching has been clearly repaired in several places along its seams, and the stuffing is thinner and readjusted around its middle from being hugged countless times since being obtained. Its limbs also move a bit easier and are more akin to being ‘floppy’ compared to one fresh off the store shelf, a result of being carried around by the paw, and the tail has begun to droop despite multiple attempts to re-stuff it by friends.

Though she never takes Zax out of the house in a fear of losing him, Sera is convinced he’s made of magic, and uses the toy as something of a means of keeping herself grounded. A part of her considers his magic connected to Zack, carrying with him the ability to share her emotions and feelings to the other man, but even past that Zax is special - He’s soft and something to fidget with, distract herself by petting him, a toy to hug tight, a sounding board when she’s scared and feels the need to babble... He’s the first toy she’s actually had for herself and her first possession in Midgar, and carries with him a great deal of meaning that resulted in him being one of the items she couldn’t leave Midgar without on her quick dash away from the city.

Even as an adult in Gongaga, Zax continues to serve the same purpose and routinely shifts around the house as needed, helping her to deal with stresses and loneliness she can’t deal with on her own. She’s afraid of showing off her less awkward side to those she doesn’t trust and doesn’t know how they’d react, and understands there’s a time and place for it, but Zax is something she will always happily admit to - And tell you his name and where he came from with a bright smile!

#Colors Of Sakura [Headcanons]#Sera never had a childhood?#Not a typical one anyway - She spent most of it kept to one room with a hand-me-down teddy bear of Ami's and her siblings #And then had to grow up by the time she was 9 and deal with things nobody ever should #She's definitely mature and knows how to be an adult but lacks a lot of understanding and lessons most people would've grown up with?#And thereis definitely still a kid in there that wants to experience being a kid - Which is where this HC comes in #Sera when she's comfortable can be silly and teasing and gonna ask if you'll go to a playground with her?#It takes time to get her to be that loose and comfortable with herself for a lot of reasons but #If you get her like that you know you're really close to her and she considers you a really tight friend #If not part of the family #Zax is an outlier; if you're in the house you're already probably a good friend to start with #And she won't ever hide Zax <3 #He was a gift from (my) Kunsel and has been her (stuffed) support dog since - Since she can't have a real doggo #And just looking at him you can tell he's been loved and cared for <3 #If Zack isn't home she'll sleep with Zax - If Zack IS home he sits on the nightstand #The more lonely and bothered and unsettled she is the more she relies on Zax to keep her grounded?#He's a special doggo <3 #Trauma countering doggo <3 #...Also yes I literally googled 'stuffed husky' for that picture #I can't draw doggos - Let alone stuffed ones XD #But that's pretty much Zax <3

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kikixreverie · 3 years

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Hi- may I ask for an angst-mix with Bucky x reader: she had her share of abusive/toxic relationships in her past, but it was nothing she spoke of, and not now when she had James. It wasnt like she thought she was gonna be triggered again, not by him, any other guy- buy not her Bucky! Some tiny bickering evolved to a large dispute, and before she knew what was happening, she shied away from him, making herself small, awaiting the blow - that never came... And instead she was overcome by shame...

Pasts and Apologies

Bucky x Fem!reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - Mentions of domestic abuse from ex, some descriptions of abuse, angst, trauma

A/n - Okay I definitely went hard on the angst for this one. I kinda just went off on one so not so much bickering and more just a full blown argument but I've been feeling kinda angsty lately so I kinda accidentally made this darker than I expected. Please read the warnings and do not read if you think this could trigger you.

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Love had not been kind to you before Bucky. Every decent memory of your ex was clouded with uncertainty, you would walk on eggshells around him, terrified that saying the wrong thing would set him off and you'd be calling Sam again, sobbing down the phone, cradling another bruise at the hands of your 'partner'.

You were together for years, devoted to and unconditionally in love with the man that you had met in high school. Childhood sweethearts.

He always was quick to anger and he wasn't shy about that. He never had any issues with shouting at you when you pissed him off, just as he never had issues with shouting at his mother or younger brother, but at the time, you had always stood up for yourself and defended the poor woman, making him apologise, and he let you, he always let you clean up his messes.

The first few years were spent in ignorant bliss, you constantly ignored the fear that would creep up your spine when he got angry, but you could manage a screaming match or two, you could manage it all because you loved him, you depended on him despite that he wasn't at all dependable.

The arguments were tough, but you never expected it to go further than that, but eventually, it did.

The first time he was physically aggressive was on his 22nd birthday. He had insisted that he spend his birthday with his friends, calling it a guys night, and you were fine with that, you knew how handsy he got when he was with his friends anyway, so you spent the day with him instead, making sure to keep him happy and spoilt rotten.

As the night crept on, you had tried to wait up for him to return, just as he had asked, but as it passed 3am you decided that he wouldn't mind you going to bed since you had work the next day, so you crawled into bed and fell asleep, a mistake, at the time, you didn't know you had made.

When he returned half an hour later to see you unconscious, he woke you up with his shouting, angry that you hadn't stayed up for him, convinced that you were ruining his night on purpose. The loud awakening was enough alone to trigger your fight or flight but when he threw the duvet off you and grabbed your ankle so tightly you knew a bruise would form, you were terrified. He dragged you off the bed and pushed you towards the door, telling you to fuck off, and you did, tears streaming down your face as you laid awake on the couch till morning.

It only got worse from there, when he realised that he could hurt you and get away with it, it became his favourite past time, he'd look for reasons to shout at you, make you do things that would piss him off just so he'd have a reason to be cruel.

When Sam started noticing dark bruises on your skin, he was livid, and despite how often you'd try to convince him that it's just clumsiness, Sam knew better.

There were rare days that you would have long conversations with Sam, you'd talk about how you'd lost all your friends and distanced yourself from your family but you didn't blame your abuser, you blamed only yourself, and Sam would beg you to leave him but you'd be sobbing in his arms, telling him that you still loved the man who hurt you, that he didn't really mean to hurt you and you'd feel even more guilt if you ever got him in trouble for it.

It was a long and hard journey, but the moment you told Sam that you wanted out, he was there for you, offering you to stay at his place and helping you call the cops. He gave you all the resources he could possibly find through the VA and set you up with an amazing therapist and eventually you were living in your own place, talking to old friends again, and filing a restraining order against your ex.

It was nearly two years later when you met him. Introduced through Sam, you met the love of your life on a Sunday. He was quiet and focused, with hard eyes scanning the room, looking for escape routes, analysing people's faces.

You smiled gently at him when you met, opting for a small nod in greeting instead of a handshake. You stayed near him for the remainder of the gathering, not pressuring him to speak to you, just sitting in silence. You were drawn to him, his behaviour was so similar to yours.

You knew what it felt like to want to just blend into the corner, to stay unnoticed, you understood the need to know how to escape a room, and you saw the way he hesitantly returned your smile and then struggled to chase his smile away once you had sat down beside him.

You and Bucky soon became each other's rocks, always there for the other on the hard days, days that you would spend just walking or reading together in calm silence. There was no doubt that the two of you loved each other, and after months and months of trying to hide longing glances and blushing cheeks, you finally confessed to each other, and the rest was history. You trusted him like you had never trusted anyone before.

As your relationship progressed, Bucky started to notice some strange things in your behaviour, how you'd always ask his permission for you to go out with friends, how you were always quick to apologise in any situation and distanced yourself from him when he was the slightest bit irritated.

He had tried to ask you about it, but you always changed the subject as soon as it was mentioned, ensuring him that it was nothing to worry about.

To tell the truth, you were embarrassed, you were ashamed that your ex still had this effect on you, and no matter how many times you told yourself that he would never, that your Bucky would never, your brain refused to allow you to believe it and you continued with the odd behaviour that you used as a defence mechanism when in the abusive relationship.

You never spoke out of line, you never asked him where or who he was going out with, and you never let small bickering escalate.

It was only after you had overheard Sam and Bucky in a heated conversation, Sam scolding Buck for being reckless and stupid during a mission, that you had your first argument with him.

You had called Sam while Bucky was at the store, convincing him to tell you what had happened and after a few minutes of guilt-tripping, Sam finally confessed that Bucky had practically ran into open fire, endangering himself in an attempt to shut down a Hydra base, it could've very easily been fatal, and it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

You knew it was wrong, you knew you should've just asked Bucky about it, but you couldn't help yourself, and you knew that Bucky would've downplayed the whole situation.

When he returned home you were pacing up and down in the living room, chewing the inside of your cheeks and your nails to pieces because you could've lost him, Bucky could've died and he was acting as if it were nothing.

"Doll?" You could hear the worry in his voice as he placed the shopping bags on the kitchen counter and walked over to you, standing in front of you to stop your movement, pulling your hand from your mouth and kissing your knuckles.

It was supposed to calm you, and it almost did, but as his soft lips grazed your hand, and his eyes met yours, your mind kept wandering to the fact that he could've died.

This moment could've never happened, instead, you'd have Sam or Steve at your door, trying to deliver the news of their best friend's death, your lover.

"Honey speak to me" He looked utterly confused, but the look only made you feel angry.

How could he be so reckless?

"I just got off the phone with Sam."

He froze, eyebrows furrowing and taking a step away from you, waiting for you to explain.

Your gaze didn't move from the floor, trying to even out the anger and worry rushing through you, settling like a heavy rock in your stomach.

"He told me about the missions, about how you've been acting."

"What do you mean, how I've been acting?" He scoffed, sounding offended, and you sighed.

"How reckless you've been acting. Sam said that Tony's considering pulling you out of missions! How many times have you endangered yourself like this? How many times is it gonna take for you to realise that you could fucking die out there, James."

Your voice was stern, and the tone felt foreign against your tongue. Bucky's kept his face hard, refusing to show any emotion, but you could see the way his jaw clenched harshly, eyes glued to the corner of the room, ignoring your fiery glare.

"Were you ever going to tell me? I thought that all the injuries you got were fairly normal for the jobs you do, but when I hear that you run into open fire, that you make decisions on your own before talking to your team, that you've gotten fucking stabbed in the past, and you never told me, how do you expect me to react?"

He sighed heavily through his nose, jaw ticking in annoyance towards his friend, angry that he had told you even though it wasn't his place.

"I told him not to tell you." His voice was gruff, the words spoken harshly under his breath and you felt your anger flair again.

"What and you think that's okay?!"

His gaze shot to yours, looking at you incredulously.

"Bucky we're partners! You're supposed to tell me this shit, you're supposed to tell me when you've nearly died on a mission, you're supposed to trust me."

"You think I don't trust you?!" His voice was slightly raised and you felt your annoyance spike, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."

"Of course I'm gonna worry, James. This is a big deal, I can't believe you've been getting seriously injured and not telling me."

"Well, I don't think it's that big of a deal, Sam shouldn't have fucking told you. This wouldn't be happening if he had just kept his mouth shut, but no! Of course not!" Bucky's eyebrows were drawn in tight with annoyance, wishing you'd just drop the subject, "I'm not stupid, I know what I'm doing."

"What the hell do you mean 'You know what you're doing?' You know that you're not supposed to endanger yourself to complete a mission, yet you do it anyway. I'm glad Sam told me because otherwise, I doubt I'd ever find out!."

"I don't see how what I do on missions is anything to do with you. Sam is exaggerating. I'm fine!"

As Bucky's voice raised, you started to lose focus, flashbacks of your past echoing in your mind and in his annoyance, Bucky didn't notice the way your eyes had gone distant, losing sight of the man in front of you, the man you loved, and forming the image of the man you still see in nightmares, the man you're so terrified of seeing in the street that you haven't stepped foot in Queens since leaving him.

You could almost feel the sting of his palm against your cheek, the burn of his hand, tight around your wrist, and you tried to remind yourself that it wasn't real. It had been months since you'd had an episode, and your steps to control them were hard to find with the false image of your abuser so clear in front of you.

"Are you even listening to me?" The statement dragged you back to reality and you felt yourself calm when your eyes focused in on Bucky, reminding yourself that your ex wasn't here, that Bucky wasn't like that, he would never, but as he raised his arm to push his hair out of his face, everything flew out the window and in the moment, you were 21 again and you were sure he was going to hit you, your exes face flashing behind your eyes again.

You flinched, a gasp falling from your lips as your eyes squeezed shut and your head ducked down, breathing heavily through your nose as you awaited the hit.

Time slowed.

Bucky froze completely, his eyes wide and frantic as he quickly stumbled away from you, shaking his head as self-hatred ran through his veins, disgusted at himself for making you think even in the slightest, that he would ever hurt you.

"Doll?" He sounded absolutely broken.

Your head shot up, panic flooding through you when you realised what you had done and pain replacing the feeling when you saw the agony on Bucky's face.

"Y/n, I- I would never-" He kept his voice at a pained whisper, not wanting to scare you further as he stayed at a distance.

You collapsed to the floor, sitting on your knees as the weight of the situation pulled you down. Your hands raised to cover your mouth as a sob threatened to tear through you, so fucking ashamed of what had just happened, so fucking ashamed that your ex had done this to you, and you had let him for so long, ashamed that he still haunted you.

"Babydoll I-" He struggled to find the words, terrified that he had just lost you, wanting to reach out and hold you but scared shitless of hurting you more than he already had, "I don't know what- I'm so fucking sorry y/n, I can't- I can't even fathom the thought of-"

His voice trailed off, unable to even say the words and you felt your guilt tenfold.

"N-No Bucky, I'm sorry I thought-" You struggled to speak through your crying, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you rocked yourself gently in an attempt to self-soothe.

"Why are you apologising honey? This is on me, this is-"

"No, it isn't, I promise Buck this isn't you, it's.." You couldn't get the words out, you couldn't tell him, "Just come here, please."

You wanted him to wrap his arms around you, you needed him to know that it wasn't him, you know the way his mind works and you knew that by now he would already be drowning in guilt and self-hatred.

"I don't think that I should. I don't want to hurt you, I can't- I can't hurt you" You smiled at him gently through your tears and your chin wobbled as you saw the tears running down his cheeks too.

"It's okay. I'm okay Bucky, I just- I-I need you over here, I need you - I need you to touch me. I need you."

He was over in an instant, falling to the floor beside you and letting out a huge sigh of relief when you instantly wrapped yourself around him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and crawling into his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible, to rid the memories of the pain, to remind yourself that his touch is good, his touch is safe.

Arms enveloped you and he held you as tight as possible, the both of you crying.

After the two of you had calmed down and a comfortable silence enveloped you, Bucky knew he would have to break it.

"Why did you think that I would hit you?" He asked, his voice tentative and gentle and you sighed, knowing that it was time for you to tell him.

"I didn't, I don't, I promise."

You lifted your head from his shoulder but still stayed on his lap, instead, resting your forehead against his.

"Then why-?"

"I thought I was better, I-I thought it was all over but I just- I lost myself again. Everything got all foggy and I lost where I was and I just, I thought I was there but-" The floodgates opened again and you knew that Bucky had no clue what you were talking about but the words just kept coming.

Bucky's eyebrows were furrowed tightly and when your vague, confusing explanation only made his worry grow, he felt himself pulling you even tighter against him.

"Doll, Did someone hurt you? Is that why you're always walking on eggshells around me? Is that what the nightmares are about?" He struggled against the words, not wanting to say them because he didn't want to believe them and he watched in agony as you swallowed hard and nodded slowly, your hands coming to rest on the back of his neck as you continued to hold your forehead against his.

He refused to let his anger show, he wouldn't do that to you, especially with you so fragile, but he couldn't hide the pained shaky breath he let out at your confession, "Fuck, I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry that that happened to you. Was it your ex? Did he hurt you?"

You nodded again, doing your breathing exercises, and calming yourself so that you could explain your situation fully to your partner.

"I should've told you, I know, I just, I'm so angry that I'm still like this, I just wish it would all go away and I could forget about what he did. I thought I was better. I can't stand that I'm still so haunted by that asshole" Bucky nodded along as you spoke, brushing his fingers up and down your back to help calm you.

"It's okay, Doll. Things like that don't just go away. Believe me, I wish they did too, but things will get better, I promise you that. Thank you for telling me."

You scoffed in self-deprecation, "I should've told you ages ago."

"That doesn't matter, you've told me now, and I'm sure it wasn't easy, so thank you for sharing" His voice was so gentle, his hands caressing your back almost making you feel sleepy.

"And Buck?" He hummed in response, letting you know that he was listening, "About the mission thing, I'm just worried about you. I can't lose you, I need you, and I need you alive."

A gentle smile lifted his frown and he nodded in understanding, feeling bad for getting mad in the first place, and you leaned back, looking down at him, your hands playing with his hair.

"I know. I'm sorry for being an idiot, It's just so hard to look at them and remember what they did to me and know what they've done to so many innocent people and I just lose it, all rationality out the window" You nodded at him, understanding how painful some of the missions must be.

"I'm sorry I got so upset with you, and I'm sorry I went to Sam instead of talking to you. Don't be mad at him, I kinda forced him to tell me" You gave him a sheepish look and he breathed out a small laugh, his nose crinkling like you always loved.

"It's okay doll, I'm sorry for being so careless and hiding the stuff about the missions, I promise I'll be more careful, I gotta make sure I always come home to my sweet girl. And don't worry about Sam, you deserved to know and I know what you're like."

You tutted at him and he smiled in response, the adorable, loving look on his face making you pull him into the sweetest, softest kiss which he instantly returned.

After sitting together in each others embrace for a while, the yawns eventually started. You were both positively exhausted from all the emotions you had both just experienced so Bucky wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted you both from the floor, discarding the groceries still left in bags in the kitchen and carrying you to bed, holding you as close as physically possible as you both drifted off to sleep.

#bucky oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #bucky requests

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 3, 451

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jungkook whispers against your cheek but it’s nothing like sweet nothings that would comfort you.

No. It’s dirty, it’s relentless when he hooks his fingers upwards against your spongey walls while his other hand clamps on your mouth to keep your gasps at bay. There’s nothing that you can do when he has your pleasure quite literally in the palm of his hands.

“Mmph.” You groan, hips bucking upwards despite your mind telling you that this was wrong, that you weren’t like this.

But Jungkook had a way of clouding your conscience and leading you to unmapped territories when he looks at you with his doe-eyes that looked nothing like innocence but more like trouble.

Jungkook’s absolutely brutal when he finger fucks your pussy until it's squelching within the bathroom walls, nearly overpowering the music from outside. You’re pathetically whining and moaning under him, back stained with sweat while he presses you against the sink. When he looks at you, it’s almost worth it.

Almost.

“This fucking pussy gets wet only for me, yeah?” He growls, eyes barring anomalistically when he releases his other hand from your mouth to grip your chin to look at him.

You can’t control the moan that you let out when he drags his fingertips across the spongey surface of your cunt, your hole fluttering around his long digits that hypnotised you every single time.

“J-Jungkook—” You gasp when he presses his thumb against your clit, your wetness lubricating the movement until your legs shudder around his hips while his eyes zero onto your pussy.

The way he revs up his spit at the back of his throat should’ve been disgusting and you should’ve run for the hills, but Jungkook had a way of making everything you were taught to avoid look appetising because a dollop of his slaver drops directly onto your clit and you feel your stomach clench.

“Fuck. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?” He hisses, “Acting so prim and proper on the outside but you just wanna get fucked like a dirty little secret, huh?”

You shake your head when he pounds harder into you that your body is hiking up the sink with the force he’s exerting into shoving his fingers into your pussy. Tears of ecstasy or shame—you don’t know—but they’re accumulating at the edge of your eyes and threatening release, just like your orgasm that’s impending.

“You’re a liar.” He spits at you and it’s not as malicious as it should be because he’s smirking, a grin so menacing but addictive that you can’t help your dazed eyes that fall onto his face.

Your hand is gripping his shoulder while the other holds onto the sink because your pussy is spasming around his fingers and your wetness is everywhere. It’s on his jeans, fingers, and the remnants of your juice taint his lips—and you feel your stomach clench harder while your mind grows fuzzier.

“N-Not lying.” You whimper.

Jungkook scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, “You’re a liar. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? What’s everyone going to think if they see you fucked out with just my fingers?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he leans down in one sudden motion that you can’t even catch up with and envelopes your throbbing bud into his mouth and sucks. Sucks so hard that you scream and you’re sure the partygoers know exactly what’s going on in the bathroom.

“Jungkook!” You scream, clutching his hair.

He chuckles darkly against your pussy but doesn’t relent his actions. The dark locks between your thighs make everything much harder to focus on, but all you can feel and see in Jungkook.

“N-No—I c-can’t—fuck!—” You’re not pushing him away but your hips are unconsciously grinding against his mouth when he finger fucks your pussy all while giving you the beautiful stimulation from his hot mouth.

“You’re going to cum for me and drench my face, yeah?” He mumbles into your pussy but it’s nothing short of demanding, “Gonna eat your fucking pussy clean.”

You’re so close, so so close and Jungkook feels it. He’s generous today, hooking his fingers deeper, and harder until—

“Fuck!” You scream.

Jungkook smirks against your pussy, knowing he’s found it. And Jungkook is someone who doesn’t stop when he knows he’s doing well, he just goes harder. That’s exactly what he does that pushes you over the edge.

He hooks his fingers until you’re nearly lifted off the sink, but his hand presses against your stomach to keep you still, prolonging the intense feeling of pleasure mixed with pain.

“J-Jungkook—f-fuck, I—can’t—p-please—I’m c-cumming—” You’re a blubbering mess and you’re outwardly crying, and Jungkook loves the tears that stream down your face as a result of his hard work on your pussy.

“Cum for me pretty.” He rubs your clit vigorously as he pulls away just to see you unravel.

And you do, so intensely and captivatingly that Jungkook nearly cums himself on the spot. But you were a sight to behold when your face contorts in pleasure, pussy clenching uncontrollably while you spurt the evidence of your orgasm all over the sink and onto Jungkook’s clothes.

Your orgasm is all too long and too short, but it’s good. It sends you away to a spiral of acute gratification that doesn’t disappoint. You barely make out Jungkook’s darkened but pleased expression when your body shudders from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When you come down, and you blink your eyes to come back to the world—the first thing you see is Jungkook’s stained shirt like he spilled water on it but it was just the proof of your arousal and his effort.

Jungkook tugs you close to make sure you see the way he sticks his three fingers into his mouth, smirking at your wide eyes.

“Good girls taste the best.” He hums.

You blush despite the fact he’s seen the worst and best parts of you, hiding away from his keen gaze when he leans down to chase your lips.

“The p-party.” You mumble.

Jungkook scoffs with a wicked grin on his face, “Bet everyone heard how loud you get for me.”

You grimace at the thought of walking out there, where your friends and peers are after the session Jungkook put you through with the redness on your cheeks that could only allude to one thing.

And what you did with Jungkook comes crashing down onto you all at once, even if your stomach still flutters at the pleasure he’s given you. You weren’t like this. You didn’t follow men into bathrooms and let them stick their fingers into your pussy just so you could chase your high. You didn’t let men like Jungkook touch you the way he did when he squeezed your cheeks to look at him.

You broke all of the rules you made for yourself, compartmentalised in your brain—and you can only blame—

“Jungkook.” You say softly, eyes looking up to him and you’re sure he sees your dried tears, “This has to stop.”

For the second time of the night, Jungkook looks like he doesn’t believe you. And that’s probably because you don’t even believe yourself.

Jungkook smirks, “You say that every time it’s over but you’re the one looking for me when I’m gone.”

“I don’t look for you.” You frown.

He scoffs.

“You don’t? Then why would the esteemed _____ who sets the fucking curve all the damn time turn up at a house party where she doesn’t belong?”

You purse your lips and look away. You both knew that parties were not your thing and definitely not one where a bunch of drunk college students was involved.

“You know the only reason I’m here tonight is because of Jimin and Tae.” You snap.

He rolls his eyes before caging you into the sink, and you realise that your skirt is still lifted up—wetness sticking your thighs together in an uncomfortable way that makes you wince.

“And where are they now?” He sneers, looking at you in a mocking manner.

You clench your fists by your side and try to look brave in front of Jungkook. There was no reason why he had this effect on you when you were older than him when he used to worship the ground you walked on when you were children. Now that the tables were turned you had no clue how to navigate it.

“They’re—they’re …” You appeal helplessly, “Does it matter?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek in a way that you noted came from a childhood habit turned attractive, and you hate yourself even more for feeling your heart flutter.

“That’s what I thought.” Jungkook snorts.

He pushes himself off the sink and away from you, and you unconsciously find yourself chasing him. Jungkook notices this but chooses to just smirk at you. You try to glare at him and convince both of you that you didn’t want him, that you wouldn’t come back.

But when Jungkook cups your jaw with his right hand and brings his lips to yours before he leaves, you know that choice was never yours, to begin with.

Sana approaches you out of the blue after one of your lectures and you know something is up when her eyebrows are raised.

“Hey, ____!”

You turn around, nearly slamming into her when she steadies herself, eyes inquisitive with a knowing smile that you don’t like.

Sana was one of those people in college that you were friends with purely for convenience. She was in a few of your lectures and somehow always ended up in your group during projects; so it was strategic for you to maintain an amicable relationship with her.

You thought you could see yourself being good friends with her, but she was far too extroverted and involved in campus affairs. Not that was a bad thing—but it was bad for your social ineptness and lack of engagement in social settings. And the fact that wherever she went, gossip seemed to follow.

“Sana.” You greet with a small smile.

She nudges your shoulders before the two of you fall into similar steps as you make your way out of the lecture hall.

“How have you been?” You know it’s small talk and that she’s easing you in, which only settles the anxiety further at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ve been busy.” You shrug, “Mid-terms are around the corner.”

She snorts, “By corner you mean two months down the road and you’re just being an overachiever?”

You blush at being called out and you know she meant no ill-intent. She laughs at your reaction while you offer her a sheepish smile in return.

“It’s always good to be prepared.”

She nods her head as the two of you approach the outdoor student lounge where a few other college kids were either dozing off or typing away on their laptops for last-minute assignments.

“So I heard …” Sana trails off and you sigh knowingly, already somewhat prepared.

“You heard …?” You parrot.

“You and Jeon are close, right?”

You stop in your tracks when you hear his name, as you feel her stop right behind you while you tuck your laptop to your chest.

“J-Jeon?”

Sana nods when you turn around to face her. You hope she isn’t as observant as you think she is because your face is undoubtedly red right now.

“Yeah. Jungkook.” She reaffirms.

“We’re … we grew up together.” You tell her, “With Jimin and Taehyung.”

You made sure to include your other two friends because you didn’t like where the conversation was going, and you needed to ensure there was some form of distance established between you and Jungkook, not wanting to further entangle yourself with him than you already are.

She raises an eyebrow, “So you’re close?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I guess you could say that. We went to the same high school so it was natural for our paths to cross.”

Sana nods her head slowly as if processing the information.

“Why—”

“But you’re older than him, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

You blink at her, then you nod. Redness on your cheeks already appearing.

“Yeah. B-But … I mean by only two years. It’s not like that’s a lot.” You say defensively.

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify that because there was no reason why Sana needed to know that you were just two years older than Jungkook. It was the type of information that was unnecessary and redundant given that she clearly pointed out the fact you were older.

Sana hums before looking at you with knowing eyes, but you try to pretend like you don’t see it.

“And you’ve never fooled around before?”

Her question makes you choke and causes heat to rapidly rush to your cheeks.

“What?” You cry, “Of course not!”

Sana looks at you dryly before schooling herself with a neutral smile.

“None at all?” She pries, “But he’s so hot?”

You roll your eyes, already wanting to leave the conversation, knowing it wasn’t the wisest decision to have allowed it to prolong this far after Jungkook’s name was brought up.

“He’s like a litter brother to me.” You snap.

You hate that you know you’re lying through your teeth because you would have not let a little brother do the things Jungkook has done to you.

Sana nods, sides of her lips twitching upwards at your answer.

You sigh, “What is this about?”

She waves you off.

“Just wanted to know if he was single.”

You raise an eyebrow, heart nearly stopping at the insinuation.

“Okay …?”

Sana smiles up at you like she wasn’t interrogating you on your apparent relationship with Jungkook, a young boy turned bad with the realism of college-hood and social interactions that you can’t even compare him to the boy you knew from high school; all awkward and limbs.

“My friend’s asking. You know Jennie?”

You almost turn pale. Because of course, you know Jennie because she’s beautiful, popular, outgoing and everything that you weren’t; and everything Jungkook should’ve liked—and you were sure he did.

“Y-Yeah.” You stutter.

“She always thought you two were together so she never made her move. At least I can tell her that isn’t the case.” Sana chirps.

“Y-Yeah … you can.” You mumble, eyes looking away and the only thing plaguing your mind is the visual of Jennie and Jungkook together.

“But I always did try to tell her that she was in her head about the two of you.” Sana laughs.

You turn around, and your heart knows you should keep your mouth shut but you were always too curious for your own good.

“Oh?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Sana shrugs, “I mean. You’re top of the class, Ms. Student President and always put together. And not to say Jungkook isn’t but … he’s not exactly like you, you know?”

You know that. Because every time you look at old pictures of you and Jungkook you already felt the disparity, the clear-cut chase that he was at the top of the food chain while you were always left with the leftovers. You weren’t the type of girl that hung around Jungkook’s circle and he wasn’t the type of person you would hang out with.

The two of you weren’t young anymore and Jimin and Taehyung weren’t able to be that bridge between the both of you either. You and Jungkook were so drastically different and it scared you because you remember a time where you thought he was the endgame.

“I guess you’re right.” You say softly.

“Anyways. Sorry for bothering you!” Sana smiles before tugging her bag over her shoulder and offering you a small wave before she darts off in the other direction.

You’re left standing in the middle of the lounge with a heavier sense of dread on your shoulders, and the image of Jennie in your mind. She’s pretty. And you bet she’s nice too, but fun enough for Jungkook to want. Nothing like you.

But you shake your head off with the thoughts. You didn’t even deserve to think about this because Jungkook was never yours. Even if he tempts you with his words and his scalding touch, you were just someone familiar to him.

He didn’t want you.

You purse your lips and will yourself not to shed a tear in public, so you quickly turn on your heel to head towards the library; where the world is a lot quieter.

“Did you see this?” Jimin leans closer to shove his phone in front of your face.

You frown and ignore him, but he’s like an annoying brother who won’t budge when he waves the device even more.

“What?” You snap, eyes shut in irritation.

“Damn. Who pissed in your cereal?” Jimin mutters.

You roll your eyes and sigh, looking at him with a softer expression.

“Sorry.” You wince, “I just had a bad day and … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded it on you.”

Jimin smiles at you pitifully before turning to face you, placing his phone downwards on the table.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You think about what’s been bothering you and you can only think of Jungkook. How he pretended like he didn’t know you after he fingered you in the bathroom at a party. How Sana didn’t think you and Jungkook were possible. How Jennie was interested and she was gorgeous. How Jungkook would be too.

“Nah.” You wave him off, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Jimin eyes you sceptically but you rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You sure?”

You nod, before cocking your head to his phone.

“What did you want to show me?”

He blinks at his phone and then picks it up, already in a different mood when he opens his device to his Instagram page.

“Did you know Kook and Jennie were a thing?” Is the first thing you hear after Jimin shows you a video that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It’s Jungkook—and Jennie.

But that’s not it.

They’re kissing, quite passionately and people are egging them on when Jungkook slips a leg between her thighs while he cradles her face against his own. You see people cheering and hollering when Jungkook slips his tongue into her mouth, and Jennie smiling against the kiss.

It was at the party. The party where he fingered you and kissed you on the lips before he proceeded to pretend like he didn’t know you and disappear.

You wonder how you missed all of that.

“______?” Jimin calls out to you.

You blink up at him before he looks at you with a confused yet concerned expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You clear the lump in your throat, and your point is proven. They do look good together.

“I-I …” You mumble, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Jimin doesn’t believe you and he sets his phone down, but before he can say anything a new figure joins you at the table by slamming their stuff down.

When you look up, you see Jungkook—and it hurts so badly when you recognise his cocksure smirk with his eyes trained on your face.

“What are the two of you whispering about?” He snorts, settling into his seat.

Before Jimin can say anything, you push yourself up abruptly that startles both Jimin and Jungkook.

“I have to go.” You blurt.

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, “Are you really okay—”

“Yes.” You say tightly, packing your belongings as quickly as you can without sparing Jungkook another glance.

“You’re not even going to say hi?” Jungkook asks, and if you were in a better headspace then you’d hear the slight irritation in his tone.

You purse your lips, but still, keep your eyes away from him. You don’t respond to him, and neither do you flatter Jimin’s concerned stare.

But before you can leave, Jimin grabs your wrist and your breath hitches, head-turning slowly to face him while you ignore Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.

“Text me?” He says softly.

You knew from Jimin’s eyes that he’s worried, and you felt slightly guilty for leaving him behind like this when you promised him to study. But you couldn’t be around Jungkook right now. Not when your mind was everywhere and you were confused about everything.

Not when the video exists.

“I will.” You reply, equally as soft.

You tug your hands away and don’t spare Jungkook another glance before you’re rushing out of the library, the lump in your throat more apparent than ever.

973 notes · View notes

lokislastlove · 2 years

Text

Rural Rivalry (Clark Kent x Reader x Bucky Barnes) p4

Summary: Moving back home is made tolerable when you start dating you old grade school crush, but tensions build between him and your childhood best friend.

Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, smut, fingering, rough sex, spanking, (some others but ya know… spoilers 🤫)

Note: This was the first thing I ever wrote, and I decided to go back and edit the hell out of it because it was BAD 😬. I feel a bit better about it now so I figured I’d post it. Fuck it. THIS IS A DARK FIC! Mind the warnings y’all. 😘

🍂

Chapter 4:

It’s been three days since you last talked to Bucky. You’ve fill his inbox with voicemails in a full rainbow of emotions and no one has seen him since he stormed out of the Festival. After the first day of radio silence, you try to understand that maybe he just needs time to calm down before he can face you. By the second day, your patience breaks and you visit his apartment, but he isn’t home and his car is gone.

“Maybe he went to stay with his sister in the city? Can you call her?” Wanda offers, stirring her tea as she settles next to you on your bed.

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t have her number though,” you bemoan, hugging your own hot mug to your chest.

“He’ll be back, honey. Don’t worry,” she pats your knee.

“But what if he got in an accident somewhere? He could be hurt. H-he was angry and had been drinking,” you fret, trying to hold back the tears.

“Officer Stark said he’s been checking all the highways. If they find anything, they will tell us.”

You nod, though not entirely convinced. You just can’t shake this growing sense of dread. The longer he ignores you, the more menacing the fear becomes.

“Have you talked to Clark since…ya know?” Wanda asked breaking you from your thoughts.

“No, and I don’t really want to,” you sniff. “He was so different, Wanda. He scared me. I’ve never been scared of Clark before.”

Wanda shifts in her seat, avoiding eye contact as she bites her lips in thought, her brows furrowing slightly. You look at her curiously before she finally looks up, guilt written all over her face.

“I’ve seen him like that,” Wanda mutters, voice small. “After the bonfire. I didn’t tell you because I had been drinking and he’s always been so nice... honestly, I don’t think I believed myself for a while.”

You stay silent, waiting for her to explain, as she takes a calming breath and continues.

“He was upset, I could tell. He asked me what you saw in a guy like Bucky. I was drunk and so I said ‘what’s not to like’,” she scoffs at herself. “. . . Then it gets a bit fuzzy but I remember I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away and . . .” Wandas pauses, voice catching in her throat and her eye water.

“What?” You press gently.

“I don’t remember his exact words but he basically called me a whore and he could never like someone like me,” a tear slips down her cheek and she brushes it away quickly as she takes a deep breath. “There was something about his eyes that scared me, he looked… dangerous. And when I saw him looking at you on the dance floor, I felt that same ice run through my veins as I did that night.”

—

It’s Friday, day five, and still nothing. An entire work week of Wanda trying her best to distract you, attempting to keep things light and cheery. Despite her valiant efforts it does little to lift your mood. Sleep resists you, and when you do fall asleep your dreams often turn to nightmares of Bucky never returning or coming home with a new girlfriend. You’re a nervous wreck, heart rate skyrocketing with every new call or text.

Wanda grabs the bucket from your hand before you reach the bathroom. “Hey, let me do that. Why don’t you go home, have a glass of wine, take a bath and try to get some sleep.”

Too exhausted to argue, you nod, “thanks, Wanda.”

“Call me if you need anything, ok?” She rubs your shoulder ushering you toward the front door, grabbing your purse and coat on the way.

“Stop worrying about me, go have fun on your date tonight. I promise, I will be ok,” you assure her with the best smile you can muster.

“Ok, I’m just saying. Family comes first.”.

“Yeah, I’ll go home and hang out with my parents and try to get some sleep. Thank you for letting me stay with you for the past couple nights, but I suppose I can’t avoid home forever,” sigh and give her a hug before waving goodbye as you walk to your car.

The drive home is quick, your mind on autopilot as you pull up to the detached garage. You avoided coming home, the idea of talking about everything with your parents sounds awful. and you aren’t particularly keen on being so close to Clark. You don’t notice that the house is abnormally quiet and dark until you step through the back door and into the kitchen.

“Hello?” Your voice drifts through the still air.

A single bulb over the sink casts a dull yellow glow to the normally bright and comforting space. The kitchen is spotless with the exception of a slip of paper on the counter.

Hey honey,

We would have called but didn’t want to bother you at work. Martha’s new boyfriend got tickets to a show in the city, and you seem to need some space right now. We will be back by Sunday night at the latest. Call if you need anything.

Love you,

Mom and Dad

PS. Clark has the hotel information in case of any emergencies.

With a sigh you drop the note back on the counter and look around the quiet room. So much for family time. You toss your purse on the counter and decided to unwind with a hot bath. Leaving your shoes and coat by the front door, you trudge upstairs, slowly removing your work clothes.

The bathroom door squeaks as you push it open with your bare foot and you blindly flick on the light. The row of exposed lightbulbs above the sink glare harshly in your eyes, giving you an instant headache. So you decide to grab some candles instead, satisfied with their calming glow.

The pipes in the wall groan and the tub fills with hot steaming water, bubbles building as you toss the rest of your clothes in the hamper. You test the water with your toe and sink in, letting the heat envelope your tired body.

You reach over to the window sill to the tiny old radio and scan for some calming music. The smell of the bubbles, the heat of the water, and the soft drone of the radio help to quiet your brain. Maybe some time alone at home is exactly what you need after all.

Your mind drifts back to the note from your parents, if they were invited by Martha then that means… Clark is alone at his house too. Fuck. Maybe you’ll invite Wanda to come over tomorrow, she can keep you entertained by recounting her date with Loki. A part of you gets the urge to text her now, but after all she’s done for you, she deserves some fun. You resign yourself to hiding away in your room for the night and attempt to block out the world.

The bath lasts a solid hour before the water became too cold to tolerate.You grab the thin robe from the back of the door and make your way downstairs to grab a snack and glass of wine. You tie the robe tight and tap your lip while you ponder what to eat. With all the stress, you don’t much of an appetite, but you know the wine won’t sit well on an empty stomach.

A half empty bottle of white wine sits on the counter and you decide to finish it off, the countertops cold against your thighs as you sit there sipping slowly. You grimace at the bitter taste, mom always goes for the cheap stuff.

The microwave hums as you swing your legs and wait for the popcorn to finish. At the sound of the first pop, something startles you. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end and your breath stills as you swear you see a shadow pass by the living room window. Too afraid to move, you watch through the archway into the dark living room, listening for any further disturbance. The house is quiet save for the popping and the tick of the old grandfather clock in the hall.

The microwave beeps and stops, the silence thick and tense. After another minute of waiting with no signs of life you take a shaky deep breath in and slowly lower yourself to the floor. You toss back the wine quickly to help settle your nerves, and leave the glass in the sink.

With a bowl tucked under one arm, you lock the kitchen door and cross the dark living room into the hall. You take a quick peek out the small window on the door before snapping the deadbolt closed. After a second of deliberation you decide to leave the porch light on, and continue up the stairs. The sound of your bare feet on the wood floor echo down the hall as you make it to your bedroom.

You only just close the door when the small light in the corner of the room flickers to life. You scream in shock and drop the bowl with a loud crash, popcorn flying everywhere.

Clark sits there in your oversized reading chair next to the window, dirty flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows and some light bruising around one eye. He watches you, expression unreadable, legs open wide, one arm hanging loosely over the arm while the other supports his chin.

“Evening, sugar” his deep voice floats across the room.

Despite your distance, you press your back against the wall. Your breathing escalates, feet frozen as if buried under in foot of cement. You watch as his eyes flicker down your body, lingering on your exposed legs and heaving chest.

“Clark! Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” you squeak and bring your hands to your chest, pinching your robe closed.

His gaze slowly drifts back up to face, the darkness behind his smirk causing you to shiver.

“It’s not the first time I’ve snuck through your window,” he teases, quirking a brow.

“Why didn’t you just use the front door? You know our parents are gone.”

“That’s no fun,” Clark pushes himself out of the chair and steps toward you.

You press yourself further into the wall and hold your hand out instinctively. “Clark,” you warn softly as you watch him near.

“You afraid of me, Sugar?” Clark mocks, placing a hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“You haven’t exactly seemed like yourself, lately,” you argue, your hands shaking as he takes another step closer. Your vision blurs slightly and you shake your head as you blink rapidly.

“How would you know? You’ve been avoiding me for months,” he returns, menacingly calm.

“Clark, please. We talked about this. I told you I was going to try to fix it. But what you did at the auction was not ok,” you chide bitterly.

“What? You’ve always wanted that movie date and it seemed like the perfect way to spend time together and make up for the time you spent ignoring me,” he takes another large step closer.

“Clark, I have a boyfriend. At least, I hope I do,” your eyes drop and your voice trails off as Bucky’s face flashes in your head.

Clark’s jaw clenches, grimacing as tilts his head as though your words burned him. He closes his eyes briefly and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath in through his nose, stopping right in front of you.

“A boyfriend who doesn’t return your calls and runs out on you is hardly worth your time.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh sweetheart, it’s a small town. You know news travels fast. He didn’t even send you a text?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your heart aches at his words, you can’t even try to defend Bucky’s actions. What Clark did was petty, but for Bucky to just walk off and ghost you like this? That’s not how you treat someone you love. Your eyes burn as you try to fight the tears, hands grow heavy and fall to your sides in defeat. Finally, someone puts words to the fear you’ve been smothering.

“Oh, sugar. I’m sorry,” he pulls you into a hug, his familiar scent and the feel of his arms break your resolve.

It feels good to be held. You don’t put up a fight, that fear you felt only a moment ago fizzles out, replaced by a craving for comfort. You sigh as the heat of him warms and relaxes you, needing the relief after the long week of stress. You don’t have the energy to stay mad at him. At least he is here for you, unlike Bucky.

You weakly wrap your arms around Clark’s waist and he hums his approval into your hair, gently swaying you side to side until you sniff and tilt your head up to look at him.

“What happened to your face?” You ask, tracing the fading half circle bruise around his eye delicately.

Clark shakes his head with a smile, “It’s not important right now,” he assures you.

He catches your hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing it softly. You blink and pull it away, unnerved by how easily he slips across the line from comforting to intimate.

“Ok,” You stiffen, suddenly aware of how little is covering you as embarrassment heats your face.

“Um, maybe I should put on some clothes,” you laugh, waiting for Clark to step away.

But he doesn’t, he stands there looking down at your chest, the blue of his eyes disappearing as his pupils dilate.

“Clark,” you swallow, suddenly feeling vulnerable as the tension builds. You cross your arms and try to push past him to get to your closet.

“Don’t. You look beautiful, besides it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he flirts with a grin.

“When we were kids doesn’t count, Clark. Besides, I’m getting cold,” you shiver and adjust your arms to cover your hard nipples clearly noticeable through the thin satin.

“I can keep you warm,” his eyes twinkle as he run his large hands down your arms. The sensation makes your skin tingle and you notice a heaviness settle in your limbs.

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Clark,” you roll your eyes and try to brush him off, but your muscles ache as if your strength is slipping from you. He grips your biceps firmly and you gasp.

“What are you doing?” You tremble.

He’s quiet, as he stares at you. A cruel smile growing as he watches you try and fail to fight against him.

“Clark,” you cry, barely able to reach his abdomen in your attempt to push him away.

“How do you do it?” He hisses, through his teeth.

“What?” You ask, confused, the world blurring around you.

“Pretend like we are just friends?”

“We are friends, Clark. You are like a brother –,” he cuts you off as he shakes you harshly, your head spinning.

“No! I don’t want to hear that bullshit. It’s always been more and you know it,” he growls, bordering on yelling.

“Clark, stop. Somethings wrong, I feel weird,” you struggle to stay upright, hissing at his tight grip on your arms.

He lets you go and you fall back into the door behind you. Your hand fumbling blindly for the handle, desperate to get away while you can still move your legs.

“Drink a little too much tonight, sugar?” He smirks as you find the knob.

Using all your strength you spin, pull open the door and try to flee the room. Clark watches in amusement as your foot slips awkwardly on the spilled popcorn bowl and you stumble into the hallway. Your heart thumps loudly against your chest, legs wobbling after only a few steps before giving out all together. Your head collides with the floor hard and you close your eyes, listening to his heavy footsteps near as he stands over you.

“What’s happening?” You mutter, unable to move even though your skin feels like it might combust from all the stimulation.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he chuckles darkly as the world fades to black.

You awake to the sound of grunting, broken and echoing, as if you were in a long tunnel. A small groan escapes you as you try to move your head, your forehead dragging along a rough dirty surface. The smell of dirt, manure and something sweet fill your nose. Your eyes flutter open but everything is out of focus.

You feel the shards of dry hay between your fingers, which explains the smells, you you spot a blurry blob wiggling several feet away. The grunts become more urgent, a familiarity behind the tone. You hiss as you go to push yourself up and your arm tingles painfully, trapped under your body awkwardly for who knows how long.

“Mmmf,” the voice persists and you squint at the wiggling blob, rubbing your eyes with your non-numb hand.

“Bucky?” You gasp, his long greasy hair dangling messily in front of his face.

Your heart drops as you finally take in the full picture. He sits bound and gagged, tied to a wooden support beam inside a large barn. His eyes are pleading as he shimmies his shoulders and shakes his head desperately. Your mind is fuzzy and your body is weak, but you have enough sense to know where you are, you grew up playing in here, this is Clark’s barn.

Bucky’s pained moans light a fire in you and you drag yourself over to him. Your thin robe slips open with your effort, exposing your nudity but you don’t care. Brushing his dirty hair aside, you notice the blood and bruises marring his face.

“Oh my god, Bucky. What happened to you,” you cry.

Some of his cuts are already healing while others look fresh enough to still bleed, making him hiss when you accidentally brush over them. You tug on his restraints but you’re still weak and your numb hand pricks painfully as the blood rushes down to your fingers.

Bucky let’s his head fall against yours with a soft sob as you hug him against you. Relief washes over you to find him alive, not dead in a ditch somewhere or hiding out with some new girl as you had feared. Tears flow down your face and you manage to slip the gag down below his chin.

“Oh, darlin. I’m so glad you’re ok. Did he hurt you?” He asks, voice raw and strained.

“Me?!” You scoff. If only he could see himself, muddied, bloody, his new navy suit torn, exposing even more cuts and bruises along his torso. “Jesus. Bucky how long have you been here?”

He shakes his head and looks up at you, a mixture of regret, shame, sorrow, relief and adoration all pouring out of him at the sight of you. You return his small smile until his eyes flick over your shoulder, his face suddenly paling with fear.

“Oh don’t mind me. I’d hate to break up this adorable reunion,” a deep voice slithers from behind you.

Your head snaps around and you spot Loki leaning casually against the open barn door. He takes a quick peek out the door and shuts it, slowly strolling over to you with his hands clasped behind his back. You shift your body in front of Bucky’s defensively.

“Leave her alone. Don’t you dare touch her, you fucking creep,” Bucky spits over your shoulder, fighting his bonds.

“Now now, Barnes. That hostility of yours has done you no favors thus far. Let’s try to remember our manners,” Loki smirks.

His heeled footsteps have you shaking with fear, there is a grace and a malice in the way he moves. He comes to a stop, towering over you as he lets his eyes drift down your scantily clad body. You cringe and adjust your robe, unconsciously leaning backward into Bucky.

“Mmm,” Loki hums. “I can see now why you have so many admirers, my dear,” he drawls, eyes twinkling at your discomfort.

“Fuck you,” you snarl.

Loki may be thin, but you know you are no match for him and that fear in Bucky’s eyes when he saw him makes you wonder how dangerous he really is.

“Did you do this to him?” You demand, that flicker of anger sparking inside you as you imagine all the time he probably spent torturing the man you love.

“Don’t. Just run. Please,” Bucky whispers behind you.

“Shut up,” you growl back, still glaring at Loki.

Loki chuckles and reaches down without warning, dragging you to your feet and away from Bucky. You yelp in surprise and reach for your boyfriend, as he yells back for you.

“Let her go!” Bucky shouts angrily.

Loki turns you to face Bucky, one hand tight around your neck and the other wrapped around your middle, pining your arms to your sides. You whimper and struggle against his hold.

“Mmm. Yes, right there,” Loki purrs, pushing his pelvis harder into your wiggling backside.

“Loki!” Roars another voice.

Lokis laughter softens but his grip doesn’t as he turns to face Clark, standing in the doorway looking furious.

“Clark,” You choke out desperately.

Loki loosens his hold, hands tickling across your exposed breast before dropping away completely. You run toward Clark, his arms open wide in welcome for you.

“No! Don’t!” Bucky calls, voice breaking.

You spare a quick glance at Bucky, his face twisted in fear and the memory of Clark waiting for you in your bedroom, standing over you as you try to escape gifs you like a ton of bricks.

“You,” you breath as you look at Clark, eyes widening in understanding. “You did all of this?…How could you?”

Clark stands there stoically, the subtle tick of his jaw and the raise of his chin telling you all you need to make your heart shatter to pieces.

“I told you, darlin’. He’s not your friend,” Bucky asserts, glaring at Clark while a small sob escapes you.

“Sugar,” Clark coos, taking a large step forward, hands outstretched placatingly.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me,” you cry, overwhelmed by all the red flags you had ignored so stubbornly. Everyone had tried to tell you, but you ignored them. How could someone you love do something like this?

“I trusted you,” you accuse Clark sadly, while Loki snickers and circles around closer to Bucky.

“So naïve,” Loki smirks, brandishing a knife from some hidden pocket as he squats down next to a squirming Bucky.

Your breath hitches and you rush toward Bucky protectively, ready to tear that scrawny bastard to pieces. You almost make it to him before you are caught by Clark’s bulging arms, as they lock around your stomach.

“Stop!” You shriek, flailing helplessly.

“Do you know what your little boy toy did?” Clark hisses in your ear. “After the auction?”

Your struggles cease as Clark tightens his hold around you, making it hard to breathe. You go quiet as you watch Bucky’s brow curve in shame, that familiar puppy dog expression he does when he knows he fucked up.

“He stormed off in a fit of jealousy, didn’t even have the decency to talk to you first.” Clark tuts, “then where does he go? He drives here, to my house.”

You shake your head in denial.

“Oh yes. He sat here in the dark and when I got home he pulled that knife on me,” Clark nods towards Loki, who drags the tip of the blade down Bucky’s cheek and chuckles cruelly.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted him to leave you alone,” Bucky laments, barely noticing the new scratch down his face.

“Naturally, I had to defend myself. It probably would have been a more even fight, had he not been such a sloppy drunk,” Clark scoffs smugly. “But really, I did it for you, sugar. I could only imagine how he’d take his anger out on you… again.”

Your blood runs cold and you go stiff in his arms. You never told anyone except Wanda.“What?” You wheeze in dismay.

“It’s ok. I won’t let him hurt you anymore,” he whispers darkly into your neck.

#dark fic #clark kent #clark kent x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #crossover AU #MCU #DC #Rural Rivalry

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yurimother · 4 years

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How 'She-Ra' Delivered on Queer Promises and Helped Revolutionized LGBTQ Representation

DreamWorks's She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has already cemented its place among the short but rapidly growing list of children’s animated shows with impactful LGBTQ representation. Showrunner Noelle Stevenson made it a point to push and fight for more diverse characters in every aspect from race, to personality, to sexual and gender identity. However, the finale of the GLADD Award-nominated program delivered on a revolutionary promise built up throughout all five seasons and completed one of the greatest queer narratives ever seen in children’s media.

As She-Ra progressed, Stevenson became more encouraged and inspired to pressure executives to allow more and more explicit LGBTQ characters and relationships. While ever-present in the series, season one only featured a background couple, Spinnerella (Noelle Stevenson) and Netossa (Krystal Joy Brown), and of course, the famous dance sequence between Catra (AJ Michalka) and Adora (Aimee Carrero). While this amount of representation is comfortably leagues ahead of the vast majority of cartoons, the show only upped the ante and the amount of representation from there. Season 2 introduced viewers to George (Chris Jai Alex) and Lance (Regi Davis), Bow's fathers. The series presents them in a normalized fashion as a happy gay couple in love that built a family together. Jacob Tobia's non-binary Double Trouble featured heavily in season four, making them one of the first non-binary characters in children's animation and one of the first to holding an integral role in the show, a major step in representing such identities.

The many achievements and strides She-Ra in LGBTQ representation featured in She-Ra will doubtlessly affect other projects in the industry and help further programs walk a similar path. However, the greatest queer story inShe-Ra is the spectacular series-long arc exploring the relationship and dynamics between de facto antagonist Catra and protagonist Adora. The former friends, who grew up together in the ranks of the Horde, turn enemies at the start of the series after Adora gains the power of She-Ra and betrays Catra, joining the Rebellion.

Fans quickly began speculating on the nature of Adora and Catra's relationship during season one, mainly because of the Princess Prom dance scene. After the young women shared a charged and sinister dance, fans quickly began supporting and analyzing "Catradora." The next three seasons would gradually and gracefully define both characters' complicated feelings for each other. Initially, Catra attempts to rationalize Adora's leaving as a relief or else forces herself to appear apathetic towards it. She continuously uses the excuse that she is no longer living under Adora's shadow to gradually build up more power, rising through the ranks of the Horde while stepping on those who helped her.

While Catra's motivations are appropriately layered and complex, it becomes clear that she is attempting to win approval, to be less alone than she has felt since Adora abandoned her. She seeks others' approval, including her abusive maternal figure, Shadow Weaver (Lorraine Toussaint), and the cruel Hordak (Keston John). However, Catra does not realize until confronted by Double Trouble's gut-wrenching and emotionally resonating analysis of her psyche. They inform Catra that the reason she is alone and abandoned, she pushes others away. The realization that her problems and loneliness are by her own doing combine with her guilt for betraying her allies Scorpia (Lauren Ash) and Entrapta (Christine Woods), leads Catra to an emotional breakdown.

Thee fifth and final season of She-Ra opens with Catra still plagued by loneliness and self-doubt. She starts to form a bond with Prime's captor Glimmer (Karen Fukuhara), seeing her guilt reflected by Glimmer's regret for trying to use the Heart of Etheria's power. Eventually, Catra learns about Adora's impending rescue attempt and the villainous Prime's plants to capture her once she arrives. Ultimately, all the feelings and circumstances surrounding Catra clash together as she remembers a childhood promise that she and Adora would always be friends. The revelation that she loves Adora finally causes Catra to turn and do "one good thing," protect Adora. She frees Glimmer to prevent Adora from walking into Prime's trap; thus, Catra becomes the Horde's prisoner.

Adora's character arch is much less tragic than Catra. The "frenemies" clash multiple times throughout the early seasons with an ever-shifting dynamic that hints at their intricate relationship and confused romantic feelings. But, at the end of season three, Catra's reckless plan against Adora almost leads to Eternia's destruction. As Catra taunts and blames Adora for her suffering, Adora seemingly ends their conflicted relationship, noting that Catra's misdeeds are all her own, "You made your choice, now live with it."

In the final season, Adora has lost the powers of She-Ra. But, she continues to charge into battle headfirst, exposing herself and her tendencies to put other's wellbeing before her own. This tactic mirrors why Adora left Catra's side in the first place all the way back in the first season. She places more importance on duty and service to others than herself and her friend. Later, while Adora, Bow (Marcus Scribner), and Entrapta are traveling towards Horde Prime, Catra sends a signal to their ship, apologizing for everything she has done while teleporting Glimmer to them. Adora decides that she cannot leave Catra behind, and the Best-Friend Squad hurries to rescue Catra from the Horde. Adora saves Catra not only from Prime's vile clutches but her loneliness too. Adora's exclamation "You matter to me" is a powerful and victorious moment, as the two friends turned enemies unite, and acknowledge their connection.

Unfortunately, even after the Adora and Catra are together again, conflict continues to rise between them and with themselves. Catra feels unlovable because of her past and so convinces herself that Adora will not accept her feelings. She continues to struggle with abandonment, especially when Adora willingly takes the responsibility of a suicide mission to destroy the Heart of Etheria, yelling, "It doesn't always have to be you." Sadly, Adora again abandons her, putting the good of everyone else above herself and Catra. Acknowledging that Adora, "Always sacrifices everything for everyone else," Catra runs away. However, upon realizing that Prime is moments away from taking control of the Heart and killing Adora, Shadow Weaver and her run to rescue the girl she loves.

As Adora journeys to the Heart, she sees and an illusion of Catra, envisioning that her friend meets her to approach the suicide mission together. Soon, Adora faces a vision of Mara (Zehra Fazal), the previous She-Ra, who tells her that she does not always need to sacrifice herself and is deserving of love too. She becomes trapped without her powers by a first-ones' guardian until Catra and Shadow Weaver save her. Telling Adora to go on, Catra stays to fight the beast in vain. Moments before destroying the Heart and herself, Adora finally chooses to return to Catra, to put Catra and her own happiness over her sense of duty.

As Adora and Catra approach the Heart, the former almost succumbs to Prime's power and has one final vision. Adora dreams of living a life in peace in Brightmoon alongside her friends, Glimmer and Bow, and with her loving, playful partner Catra by her side. In the apparent final moments before her death, Catra reaches out to Adora. At last, the two confess their love for each other and embrace in a momentous kiss, restoring She-Ra's power to Adora. Renewed in strength and standing beside her beloved, Adora finally destroys Horde Prime. The series ends as Adora and Catra plan to travel together and restore magic to the universe and fades to black as the couple prepares to take their next journey together.

as Adora and Catra plan to travel together and restore magic to the universe and fades to black as the couple prepares to take their next journey together.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has always been a powerhouse of LGBTQ representation, especially the final season. For example, it heavily features former background characters and married couple Spinnerella and Netossa in leading roles, as Netossa attempts to recover her wife’s mind from Prime. However, the relationship between Catra and Adora is not only the series highlight but a revolutionary in LGBTQ representation in children's television.

LGBTQ history in children's media and cartoons is disappointingly brief and, at times, unpleasant. Early examples mostly featured coded queer characters with harmful and stereotypical traits, such as the Silver Spooner from Dexter's Laboratory. Some works were able to include less harmful depictions. Networks allowed characters like Richie from Static Shock, who is gay, to exist as long as their identity was kept extremely subtextual.

Slowly some more limited progress was made, and a few less offensive or hidden characters were permitted to appear in one-off and minor roles. Nelvana's Canadian animated sitcom, 6teen included many vague but most neutral references to homosexuality and eventually a one-off character Jean, who says that she is "gay" and has a girlfriend. Notably, this 2009-episode marks not only one of the first moments of a character confirming their sexuality but also using the word "gay." This feat is so rarely replicated even in LGBTQ family media that even giants like Steven Universe do not include it. Outside of pedantic educational programs on minor networks, it may be the only time someone said "the-G-word" in such media until 2019's Kippo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (live-action sitcom Andi Mack on Disney Channel also used the term that year). Sadly, American showings cut 6Teen's references to homosexuality, and the episode featuring Jean never aired at all outside Canada.

When most people look back to the beginning of the recent small boom in cartoon LGBTQ representation, they point to The Legend of Korra. In 2014, the series finally ended with female leads Korra and Asami taking hands and going on a private vacation in the spirit world. The Korra moment set the LGBTQ fandom on fire. Even so, the show faced incredible resistance and backlash. After the final episode aired, creator Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino had to go online to confirm that the somewhat ambiguous finale indeed depicted a same-sex romance. They then began to face backlash from a section of the fandom who believed bringing this badass bisexual moment to television was only for fanservice or to forward an agenda.

The Legend of Korra was a revolution in modern children's television, putting cracks in the oppressive dam that kept such dynamics out of the limelight and slowly pushed back against the status quo, allowing for more LGBTQ representation. Now, over five years after Korra, numerous children's programs feature queer characters in minor and supporting roles, often more explicitly than Korra was able to do. The Loud House includes a main bisexual character, and there are queer characters and couples in multiple works, including but not limited to Gravity Falls, Adventure Time, and Craig of the Creek.

The most notable LGBTQ representation in a children's cartoon comes from Rebeca Sugar's incredible creation, Steven Universe. As with She-Ra, LGBTQ characters make up a large portion of the cast and it features several groundbreaking LGBTQ scenes, including the iconic wedding of Ruby and Sapphire.

Sadly, many of these works had to fight tooth and nail or suffer through horrific backlash because of their dedication to diversity. Alabama banned an episode of Arthur that featured a gay wedding, and the depiction of lesbian mothers in Clifford the Bid Red Dog caused some parents and organizations to speak out against it. Perhaps most famous of all, Rebecca Sugar had to struggle to put LGBTQ representation on the small screen. Ultimately, to make the wedding scene happen, Sugar had to lay everything on the table and was willing to see themselves separated from the show and have it end to bring their vision to life. Unfortunately, many other countries censor the show to remove LGBTQ content. Still, Sugar's tireless work has pushed the boundaries of LGBTQ representation in children's media so incredibly far, allowing shows like She-Ra to exist.

The recent rapid progress of LGBTQ representation becomes apparent when comparing She-Ra to the "originator," Korra. The series share similar themes and mutually place importance on diversity in its main cast. At the climax of both programs, two female main characters became romantic partners for the other. However, the differences are what truly sets them apart and highlights the progress representation has made. Back in 2014, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes was the most action Korra could feature.

However, a myriad of queer characters and identities perforate She-Ra, all of which are more apparent and obvious thanks to actions including kisses, confessions, and other actions. This difference is especially true in season five, where even the title cards feature Netossa and Spinnerella engaged in a passionate kiss. Of course, the main couple was permitted a full on-screen confession and kiss, as Catra and Adora locked lips in the final episode. Finally, many "critics" complained that Korra and Asami's relationship came out of nowhere, despite it progressing the show’s last two seasons. If one were to assert the same claim about She-Ra, they need to completely ignore how Stevenson built Adora and Catra's romantic relationship as a fundamental aspect of the show from the very start.

She-Ra's depiction of queer characters was deliberate, explicit, and incredible. Not only did LGBTQ side characters express their identities in a variety of ways, but the main couple also got to show their love with both words and a kiss. Furthermore, and perhaps even more importantly, the main couple in She-Ra got a happen ending and a future for them and the viewers to imagine and look towards with excitement. Sadly, many LGBTQ characters and couples do not get to experience such conclusions. For decades, queer relationships ended in tragedy, often with the death of one or more queer characters killed off as part of the "bury your gays" trope. Even if the characters live, narratives rarely provided a happy future for those with queer identities. Sadly, this trend is alive and well. Recent examples include Adam from Voltron: Legendary Defender and Annika and Neha from The Dragon Prince.

Stevenson actively set out to avoid this trope in She-Ra, telling the Los Angeles Times, "I can't see another gay character die on TV for the moment." Not only did she not kill Adora and Catra, or any of the show's other queer characters, she gave Adora and Catra, the two lesbian leads in love, a happy ending. The show even offers viewers and Adora a glimpse of one possible future for the couple in the final vision of domestic bliss in Brightmoon. Both Adora and Catra struggle and suffered greatly, but they were allowed a happy ending and the opportunity to look forward to a life together. For the two main characters of a children's cartoon to achieve such a fantastic ending in such an explicit way is a genuinely revolutionary moment of representation, proudly standing alongside defining scenes like and Ruby and Sapphire’s wedding in Steven Universe. Importantly, both shows are made by queer creators, showing young viewers that people like them can achieve and create great things and that there are those out there fighting for them. For these reasons, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is one of the single most significant works of LGBTQ representation in children's media.

Queer representation in children's media matters so much, likely more than it does in any other medium. It normalizes LGBTQ identities for families and sends a powerful message to all LGBTQ children who may be feeling sad or alone or sacred: 'You are not alone, you matter, and you are accepted.' These words, implied with every positive depiction of queer identities, save so many children and young adults from unnecessary suffering and sometimes even saves lives. Noelle Stevenson and She-Ra will likely create giant waves in the medium just as Steven Universe did before it, and generations of queer people, myself included, wait with bated breath to see what results from it.

#She-Ra #yuri #gay #catradora #lesbian #lesbians #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #news #essays #article #girls love #wlw #catra #adora #noelle stevenson #non-binary #cartoon #cartoons #history #shera

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

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I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

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komoreangel · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader

scenario: you met when you were both very young, and since the day he left you behind he still feels an undying fear for what sight would await him if he dared to return home.

or…

thantophobia - the fear of losing a loved one. but he had made it perfectly clear that you did not fall under that category when he left you and all of your promises behind.

request: okok my first idea was: scaramouche childhood friends to enemies to lovers. take with that what you will <3

a/n: hi anon ty so very much for the request we all know i love scara <33 but i did tweak it a bit basically its childhood friends to enemies to scara loves reader but reader isnt convinced (with a hint of 'ive always loved you' thrown in)

side note: this is a rewrite of an excerpt i wrote for a scara x oc, in which the oc was female (the same is said here but i will avoid using pronouns) and adopted into the kamisato clan as a princess (minor inazuma spoilers). the same situation is stated here. also i am 1000% willing to write more of this (includes my personal headcanons for scaramouche’s backstory, not canon!!)

growing up, you had always had poor health

your mother worried for you a lot when you were younger

she didn’t like to let you go outside much either

you spent most of your time in the palace walls while she worked, frequently being taken to see the royal physician

you would sit outside the door while your parents talked with the doctors about your “condition”

you weren’t even that sick

just weak for your age

that was when you first met him

he was training to be a soldier along his father

you were like a ghost in his eyes

sitting in the hall in the middle of the night

knees pushed to your chest, snoozing in the soft light of the moon

he was naturally a curious boy, so he kneeled in front of you and poked your shoulder

“hello?”

you startled awake

“wah-!” he fell back at your sudden movement

“who are you?” you asked

your voice was soft, and gentle, like a midnight breeze

“i’m [redacted].”

you remember what he told you, but some part of that memory had been erased from your mind…you wonder to this day what he could have said.

“my name is y/n.”

he thought it was a pretty name, although he wasn’t going to say anything

the two of you sat in the moonlight, talking quietly amongst yourselves

“why are you sitting outside the physician’s office?” he asked you

“my mama says i’m sick, and that going outside will make it worse.”

“oh. are you going to get better soon?”

you smile at him, a gesture that makes his chest tighten, although he can’t fathom why.

“yeah! she says that if we can afford to get some medicine from liyue, i’ll be all better! then i can start making friends!”

he slightly smiles

“can i be your friend, [redacted]?”

you had even said the name yourself once. why couldn’t you remember it?

his expression shifts to a slightly surprised look

“you…want to be my friend?”

he was quiet even then, and his silent expression would grow to an angry one over time

“yeah! you’re interesting, and you’re one of the few people who bothers to talk to me.”

he doesn’t speak for a while.

“you can say no if you want to.” you say to him.

“okay. i’ll be your friend.”

it’s a short response, but the bright grin that lights up your face makes it worth the wait

“yay! i can’t wait till i’m better so we can hang out more!”

you two talked in that hallway a lot

meeting after dark, talking about anything in the world

when you were about six, the worst of your illness hit you

the doctors didn’t even know what was wrong, and there were nights when he would sit outside the physician’s office alone at night, hoping, praying that the sun would shine on a world that still had you in it

you would collapse from exhaustion at the slightest overexertion

his father always told him he had to be careful with you, not only were you shorter than him, but you were also very fragile

those hours spent sitting in the hallway alone, he got to do a lot of thinking

he wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how

then, there was a sudden burst of hope

you were going to liyue with your parents

you would get the help you needed

he was happy for you, even if it meant you would have to spend time away from him

and then there was the terrible news

the ship had gone missing

you had too

he couldn’t sleep for days on end

his father was worried too

when he saw you again, you found yourself shuddering on the shores of inazuma

he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, as if his strength alone could undo everything that had happened

it was one of the few times he showed affection in public

he rushed you to the healer again

and this time there was no hoping

there was no praying

there was just the pit in his stomach, the fear that coursed through his veins and fueled his blood

every second felt like a decade, it was a moment in which you weren’t perfectly healthy and safe

the townspeople began to spread rumors, as people do

the guard’s son who was lovesick with worry for the sickly orphan girl

what a pity, no?

he wanted to shut them up. he wished he had the power to shut them up.

when even his father had to drag him away from the pharmacy, he didn’t talk to anyone for a very long time.

this was around the time he grew sour and snappy

his simply quiet demeanor developed into a scowl that constantly graced his face

he only smiled the day you were released from the physicians.

you weren’t fully healed. but you felt better than you ever had in your life.

his father took you in without a second thought, and he was just happy to have you with him.

“i’m better, scara.” you said to him, a happy smile on your face

“i was wondering when you’d hurry up and get well.”

you were a bit troubled by his attitude, but no less, you were happy to see your friend again.

it went like that for a long time.

he was rude, but you didn’t care because you knew what he was like underneath.

some nights he would sneak into your room and talk to you.

he told you he was just bored and felt like annoying you.

but his real reason was to make sure you were still breathing.

he always worried about you

so the day you received your vision, he felt a lot of relief

surely this meant that you could protect yourself. you were safe.

then the worst of all things happened.

his fathers death.

the day he felt like his world was ripped from underneath his feet.

almost immediately, the electro archon, baal, herself, intervened, and declared that you were to be adopted into the kamisato clan.

why you? why couldn’t he keep you with him? he was old enough to be able to take care of both of you

baal didn’t like his questioning. she said she knew what was best for you.

it was strange. because in the days he spent with you after, although not many, you didn’t seem sick at all.

for the first time, you seemed perfectly healthy.

he was glad for that…but he wasn’t happy. you could see that easily.

you knew this wasn’t the right thing for him

he stuck around for a year. you suppose you’re lucky he even stayed that long. you were pretty much his only reason.

sure he found friends in ayaka and kazuha…but he was unhappy.

he knew there was no point in staying, so he thought it was time he took his leave.

he approached you one day, as the sun began to set

you were worried for him, as he had been very angry towards baal and the emperor lately.

“scara, is there something you want to talk about?”

you watch as he stands before you

he blurts out, “run away with me.”

you’re taken aback almost immediately.

“what?”

he repeats his statement

“i’m going to flee from inazuma. come with me.”

“scara..”

his expression, as it does often these days, turns stern and serious.

“i’m not going to ask you again. come with me, y/n.”

you’re tired of him ordering you around.

“you know i can’t. i have duties here. i can’t just betray my country for you.”

“you know baal wants me gone. she’s going to kill me if i stay. she might do the same to you.”

you scoff at his words. “she won’t harm me or you. you’re being dramatic.”

he spits out his next words, laced with venom. “baal killed my father. i hate her and so should you.”

“scara.”

“it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about him just because you’re royalty now.”

“scara.”

“don’t call me scara. come with me if you ever cared at all.”

“scaramouche!”

he goes quiet

“don’t go. please.”

he frowns

“you know i can’t do that.”

you want to try and make him stay

but he won’t. you know nothing you say will convince him. he won’t let himself be convinced by you, even if that’s what he truly wants.

you inhale

“get out of here.”

“what?”

“go. leave. and take this with you.”

you throw the necklace you were wearing at him, and he catches it. baal had exiled him, it was true, but he couldn’t expect you to throw everything away for him.

“wait, what are you-“

as the two of you stare each other down, you hear ayaka’s voice coming from the courtyard, calling for you.

she has a guard with her, as the emperor assigns every royal family member. you managed to ditch yours early on.

“the guard is gonna get you if you stay, scara. get out of here, now.”

he scoffs

“whatever. i can’t believe i thought you were worth risking my life.”

he pockets the necklace and steps over the wall, and he’s gone.

nine years of friendship and he threw you away like you were nothing

in truth, the minute he was out of sight, he threw down his bag in anger

he turned around and you weren’t there anymore

you gave up on him

so if he hated you, you deserved it

it might be worth a hefty price anyway.

at least that’s what he told himself

(he never stopped missing you. almost as soon as he joined the fatui, he requested an audience with the tsaritsa to ask her how you were doing.)

“a simple agent, asking that much of me? and for a girl? that’s very bold of you.”

upon hearing it was about you, the cryo archon grew very interested. of course she remembered you.

the sickly orphan she gifted a vision to at a very young age.

she told him you were well

what she didn’t tell him was about baal going berserk and massacring thousands of her people.

upon receiving the news, he felt that chill upon him once again

the fear that fell onto his shoulders, weighing him down, too scared to ask for more information. he didn’t want to be told you were gone.

“the royal family was not harmed.”

he felt his muscles relax as he calmed down.

he quickly reassumed an upright stance.

he was the sixth harbinger. he has no weaknesses. he cares for nothing and no one.

but beneath his mask, the fire of his love for you burned brighter than the flame of any pyro vision.

a/n: ok so i really enjoyed this….scara banner when. i did tweak it a bit but i have other things written for this scenario in which scara returns to inazuma and reader is (deservingly) PISSED with him :) lmk if you want me to post those !

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marauderundercover · 2 years

Text

How We Fell: Ch. 29

Day 29: To Do List/Sweet

AO3

There were a million and one songs about heartbreak. A million and one different songs about breaking up. About love being ripped away because of differences, or cheaters, or just falling out of love. What Marinette struggled to find, were songs that explained the hurt of an ended friendship. Of a platonic relationship that meant everything, suddenly being ripped away like it was nothing. She tried to think of the good times. Of the first three years of knowing Adrien, of knowing Chat Noir. The late night picnics. Standing up to his dad for him. Loving him. Or, thinking she loved him anyway. Class parties and dances, group projects and laughter. All of the time they spent as Ladybug and Chat Noir on the rooftops. Patrolling, chasing each other and playing hide and seek. Whispering long into the night about their plans for the future. Their hopes and dreams. But it hurt too much. To think of those times. Of how he'd thrown everything away based on promises given to him by a man who had been nothing short of cruel to him for years. A man who he knew had tortured Paris for years.

It hurt even more, thinking about how the last two years were a lie. That while they were all planning their futures together, with giggles and promises of shared lives, he was helping a terrorist. While they laid on rooftops and mourned their lost innocence, the childhoods they had lost to a crazed man, he was helping that man. It hurt to think that he had willingly helped a man who had killed each and every one of their friends. Who had killed them. Marinette was hurting. She had lost her partner. Her other half had become corrupted. Her friend. Her first love. Nino was hurting. Nino had lost one of his best friends. The boy who had promised to be a brother. The one who was supposed to be the godfather of his children one day. Plans they'd had since collège were broken. Shattered into a million pieces. Jon was hurting. He'd revealed the promise ring he had bought Adrien. The hope he had of helping the boy escape his contract with his father. So that he could move to the US. So that he could start a life with Jon. Broken promises and abandoned plans were what they had left of their relationships with Adrien Agreste.

---

Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not want to get out of bed. She had a to-do list three miles long. As Ladybug, she would have to make an appearance at Gabriel, Nathalie, and Adrien’s trials. As Ladybug, she was also expected to arrange some sort of press conference to explain the situation to the rest of the world, who had been blindsided by the sudden halt of Gabriel’s brand and the appearance of his wife’s corpse. Because no matter how hard she had tried, and she had tried hard enough that she’d nearly blacked out, there wasn’t enough left to bring Mme. Agreste back. She was completely gone. She also should talk to Damian. And Nino. And Jon. Maybe work on some of her commissions for the new year. But she couldn’t do any of that. She couldn’t even work up the needed motivation to actually get out of bed and do anything at all. What was the point? Most of Paris was celebrating. She didn’t feel like celebrating. Her parents had called her, excited, but worried about how she would take the news. She’d managed to convince them that she was fine. That she didn’t need them to come over to Gotham. Because that’s where she was again. In her bed, in her apartment in Gotham with no risk of akumas hanging over her. She should be happy. Or, something. Instead, she was numb. Completely numb. Her phone had been ringing nonstop for days. She knew it was wrong to ignore it, wrong to push everyone away. But she couldn’t even bring herself to talk to Tikki. The special communicator she’d received from the Young Justice started flashing wildly, making a high pitched noise. Swallowing back the urge to puke, she transforms and portals to the nearest Zeta tube entrance. She wasn’t supposed to portal directly into YJ headquarters unless absolutely necessary.

“Recognized, A62 Ladybug.” The robotic voice says. Before she can process what’s happening, arms are wrapped around her.

“You wouldn’t answer your damn phone! I was so worried- you isolated yourself completely. LB.” Carapace says gently, hugging her tight. Tears spring to her eyes as she tries to choke back a sob.

“I didn’t- I couldn’t-” She tries to say.

“I know.” He says softly. “I know.” And for the first time since Adrien’s initial betrayal a week ago, Marinette cries. She mourns the friendship and the person she thought she knew. She finally accepted that he chose to betray them. He chose to work with Hawkmoth. He wasn’t just a mindless akuma. Marinette barely registers the cool tile underneath them as they sink to the floor. She vaguely hears other heroes in the room, but she can’t bring herself to care at the moment. Instead, she lets her oldest friend hold her in a hug as they both cry. She’s not sure how much time goes by before she gently pulls back from the hug to wipe at her eyes. Carapace-Nino- gives her a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I blocked you out.” Marinette says, sniffling slightly.

“It’s fine, LB. But we’re what's left of the team now. We’ve gotta be there for each other, just like we’ve always been.” He says, reaching over and ruffling her hair. She rolls her eyes at him, swatting his hand gently.

“You’ve always been the brother I never wanted but was forced to have anyway.” She says with a small smirk. He snorts, standing and offering a hand to help her up. She takes it, then finally glances around the room to take it in. She was certain that there’d been more people when she arrived, but now she saw only Jon standing there. Or more specifically, the redness and puffiness of Jon’s eyes. He makes eye contact with her and she opens her arms, offering a hug. He nearly knocks her to the ground, but Nino helps her steady herself as Jon wraps his arms around her, shaking slightly. She tightens her hug, trying to give him some sort of comfort. They stand like that for a few minutes, Marinette whispering soft reassurances as she hugs her friend. Slowly, he pulls away and gives her a sad smile.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He says softly. Marinette shakes her head.

“Don’t apologize.” She says. He frowns.

“You knew him longer.” He says, and she can practically see the shield he’s trying to put up around his emotions. She touches his arm and he finally looks her in the eyes. She shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter how long we knew him. You loved him, and he hurt you. You’re allowed to be upset about that.” Marinette says. He blinks, but nods, giving a half smile.

“Someone’s been insanely worried about you.” He says, stepping to the side slightly. Her eyes widen as she makes eye contact (as well as she can with his mask) with Damian. The tension in his shoulders immediately melts and he rushes forward, wrapping her in a hug. She clings to him like a lifeline, letting out several shaky breaths. He mutters something to her in Arabic and she just clings to him. It takes a minute, but he steps back and frowns down at her.

“I have tried to call you several times to see how you were handling this.” He says softly, the concern clear in his tone. She winces.

“Yeah, I uh, I wasn’t handling it. Like, at all. I haven’t even talked to Tikki.” She says. He frowns.

“Tikki?”

“Magical being that gives me my powers.” She says. He raises an eyebrow, but just nods.

“We should talk about this.” He says. She frowns, and he gestures to her. She frowns and glances down, realization hitting her as the spots on her suit makes everything click into place.

“Did you want to talk here or?” She trails off, the conversation she had been dreading was close to happening. And she was terrified. What if he left her? What if he never wanted to see her again.

“Probably best to speak elsewhere.” Damian says with a pointed glance at Jon. Marinette snorts, immediately covering her mouth and nodding.

“Yeah- wait. What was the emergency? My communicator-”

“We needed to get you here. Everyone was worried about you.” Nino says, arms crossed. She winces.

“Oh.” She says softly.

“Yeah, oh. I’ll let you go home now, but LB, you’ve gotta keep in contact with me, okay? Especially right now. There are a lot of things we’re supposed to be taking care of right now and I don’t want you trying to do it all on your own. If you have to, portal into Paris or portal me into your place Either way, we’re a team, LB. And I’m not going to let you down.” Nino says firmly. Marinette grins, wrapping him in one more hug.

“What would I do without you?” She mutters into the hug. He snorts.

“Uh, never sleep, fall apart, fall victim to thought spirals-” He starts listing off. She pulls back and glares at him.

“Yeah, okay, I got it.” She huffs. He just grins. Sighing, she gives him a tight smile before heading for the Zeta tubes. Time for her talk with Damian.

---

Marinette detransforms in her room and immediately pulls her hair into a bun. Damian hadn’t followed her straight home since his suit actually had to be hung up. Tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands, Marinette tries not to start panicking.

“I’m sorry.” Tikki says softly. Marinette flinches, turning to face the kwami. She frowns, shaking her head.

“Why are you sorry?” She asks. Tikki frowns.

“Because I couldn’t tell you.” They say softly. Marinette’s eyes widen.

“You knew?” She asks. Tikki huffs.

“Not…exactly. I didn’t know everything, but I knew something was wrong. He’d forbid Plagg from talking about it. Which was something Adrien had never done before. That was worrisome to me. So I tried to investigate it, but there were so many blocks and challenges and- I knew something was wrong with Adrien. But I never could have guessed-” Tikki stops, their eyes filled with tears. Marinette sighs, opening a hand and catching Tikki as they fly into her. Cuddling them close to her, Marinette smiles softly at her friend.

“You can’t blame yourself, Tikki. I know if you could have done something, you would have. You tried to tell me something was wrong. Several times and I just…I didn’t listen like I should have. I’m sorry for letting this go on for so long.” Marientte apologizes. Tikki sniffles slightly.

“I need to talk to Plagg while you talk to Damian.” They say. Marinette nods.

“Of course.” She says, pulling the ring’s box out of the Miracle box and cracking it open. Plagg flies out, eyes sad.

“Hey there Pigtails.” He says, but his voice was sad. Lacking any of the usual teasing tone. Marinette smiles sadly at him.

“Hey Plagg. There’s camembert in the fridge, just don’t make a mess, okay?” She says. He smiles, but it’s much smaller than she was used to seeing from him.

“Thanks.” He says flatly. She nods, the sound of her front door opening making her refocus. Letting out a shaky breath, she moves to the living room, giving Damian an awkward smile.

“Did you need anything to drink?” She asks, desperate to postpone the conversation. He shakes his head.

“No, thank you.” He says. They stand, three feet apart, in an awkward silence for two full minutes before he gestures to the couch. “Let’s talk.” He says. She nods, dragging her feet. Sitting on the couch, she pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them close.

“I was twelve when Master Fu gave me the Ladybug Miraculous.” Marinette starts softly. “I hated it the first day. I was terrified, I had no training, no preparation, nothing. But then Chat Noir showed up. And he assured me that we could do it. He believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself. We fought for almost six months with just the two of us. Eventually, Master Fu trusted me enough to pull in temporary heroes. And once that failed, and I was given guardianship of the box, it was just me. And Chat Noir. I was barely thirteen and in charge of this magical box and protecting a city and it was- it was so overwhelming.” She says.

“Marinette, you don’t have to-” Damian starts, but she shakes her head.

“I have to explain it all.” She says determinedly. “Some attacks weren’t that bad. They even made me laugh at times, but then- then there were akumas that killed people, and I started having nightmares about akuma attacks. I had to do my best to not have nightmares though, because Hawkmoth could akumatize you for nightmares. So I just kind of stopped sleeping. And then I died for the first time. It was only a few months after I became the Guardian. I was stabbed uh, through the chest, and I was able to hide. Tikki took the earrings to a friend and she was able to win the battle for me. I died several times. And I also found out, that the more people who died or were injured in an attack, the less the Cure could help me and my team. There were times that I- there were times that I had the ladybugs completely heal Chat Noir or someone else fighting with me instead of helping me.” She admits, furiously swiping at the traitorous tears. Damian’s mouth twitches into a frown, his fists tightly clenched. Marinette sighs. “Anyway, that kept happening until eventually, I pulled Carapace onto the team as a permanent hero. I think that was two years ago. I was Multimouse a couple times. Mostly to throw Chat Noir off my trail when he got suspicious of my identity.” She says, taking a deep breath.

“Angel, you don’t have to continue.” Damian says softly, his face unreadable. Marinette nods.

“Yes I do. Do you remember when the Justice League first met with my team?” She asks. He nods. “I figured out Jon’s identity then.” She admits. Damian raises an eyebrow.

“How?” He asks. Marinette snorts.

“I adore him, he’s a great friend, but, no mask? Seriously?” She rants. Damian smirks.

“I have attempted to persuade him to use a mask.” He says. She shakes her head, smiling.

“I doubt he will, but I knew right away who he was. I didn’t know you were Robin, though.” She admits, and his shoulders relax slightly. “But I did figure it out before you called me Angel at the rescue.” She says.

“How?” He asks, probably wracking his brain for any way he could have messed up.

“Your mom.” She admits. Damian drops his head into his hands.

“I should have known.” He mutters, shaking his head. Marinette frowns.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I knew sooner. I was just- I was terrified. And then when you knew I knew, I’m sorry for not telling you about Ladybug. I wanted to tell you, more than anything. But my identity being revealed literally caused the end of the world in an alternate timeline, which now that I think about it, I should have led with that.” She pauses, blinking. “Sorry, but I was just scared that I’d ruin everything. I didn’t- I couldn’t.” She says. Damian sits, frowning slightly.

“I didn’t figure it out until the day Hawkmoth was revealed.” He says. She whips around to face him, eyes wide.

“You figured it out?” She asks, in shock. Tikki had said that no one could figure it out. Only if she wanted them to. Damian sighs.

“You screamed, and your call dropped. I was…worried. In my efforts to find you, I went to the Cave where I heard you speaking to my Father. I was able to see the video call and realized it was Ladybug, but as I watched, it was almost as if the magic was lifted. Everything became clearer, and I knew it was you. And that you needed help.” He says. Marinette frowns.

“Tikki told me that no one could figure it out unless I wanted them to.” She says. “I guess I didn’t have to consciously say that I wanted you to know. The magic just knew how hard it was getting, keeping it a secret from you.”

“Would you have told me? Eventually?” He asks softly. She nods immediately.

“God yes. I wanted to tell you once I knew you were Robin, but I was so worried. I didn’t want you to have to completely police your emotions in Paris. It was wrong of me, but I was scared.” She admits. Damian nods, hesitating a moment. This is it, she thinks. He’s going to break up with me. Instead, he sighs.

“I am not experienced in relationships,” He starts. “I love you Marinette, and I want to continue our relationship. But I also would like to work on our communication.” Marinette nods immediately.

“I agree.” She says instantly. “And maybe, even if it hurts, we could talk a little about our pasts as well as our future? I- you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just- I think I’ll need to.” She admits softly. Damian brings a hand up to cup her cheek.

“I will tell you whatever you want to know, love. There may be some things that I can’t talk about completely. Some things…they’re still too hard.” He says. Marinette smiles sadly at him.

“I understand. And you don’t have to tell me everything, I’d understand that too.” She says. He smiles softly at her. His eyes flicker to her lips and then back up to her eyes.

“May I kiss you?” He asks. Marinette nods, immediately melting into his kiss. Things weren’t perfect, but they were alright. They would figure it out together. She didn’t have to do this alone.

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#maribat #maribat fanfiction #maribat fanfic #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #maribat nino lahiffe #maribat jon kent #maribat superboy #maribat robin #maribat ladybug #maribat carapace #maribat adrien agreste #maribat chat noir #daminette #maribat december #daminettedec21

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

The Only Woman

Pairing: (Henry Cavill!)Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Requested: Yep - “Hello Ma’amMay I request a Sherlock Holemes x Redaer?That when they were younger she was BSF with Sherlock and Mycroft. And all of the sudden they disappeared and never wrote to her a letter or nothing. And she got closer to Enola and when Edoria disappeared she reunites with Sherlock and Mycroft and Reader is Mad and Sad that he left without saying nothing. She always was in love with him and at the end she finds out he also was in love with her! And lots of fluffThank You so MuchAnonymous (she/her/hers)”

Summary: Basically just the request

Warnings: Probably some swearing, some 20th century misogyny, pining, fluff, angst, denial, all that fun stuff, probably ooc Sherlock but we vibe with it because he’s soft af

A/N: My first full length Sherlock fic! I should mention that my requests aren’t actually open right now, especially not for full fics but I was inspired by this request and so decided to make it into a full one! I hope you guys enjoy, please remember to reblog, comment or send an ask letting me know what you think and if you want to see me write more for Sherlock (and Henry and his other characters for that matter) in the future!

Y/N had been essentially another resident of the Holmes household her whole life, having been introduced to the family through the two boys - Sherlock and Mycroft, whom she had run into while out playing in the woods. Her family lived in the house nearest to the Holmes residence, technically making them neighbours.

Sherlock and Mycroft didn’t exactly do ‘friends’, that much had been clear even to Y/N’s young mind after meeting them. She was a year and a half younger than Sherlock and yet she still knew more about interacting with other people than he did. Not that either of the Holmes boys had ever seemed interested in other people, they had their brains to keep them occupied, and when they failed to find entertainment in learning, they had each other.

Despite this, they took a shine to Y/N when they found her playing make-believe on her own in the woods and insisted that she come over to have dinner with them and their family.

Mr and Mrs Holmes had gone out of their way, following that initial visit, to make Y/N feel as welcome as possible at Ferndell Hall. At first this was simply because they were astounded that their sons had actually made a friend and seemed interested in maintaining this friendship, but then it was partially as a result of the somewhat turbulent relationship that it became clear Y/N had with her family.

Eudoria in particular had ensured that Y/N knew she could always come and visit, that there was a spare bedroom that could be set up should she require it, which Y/N only began to take advantage of as she grew up and the rows with her parents over her future became more frequent.

However, it was always Sherlock that she was closest to. While she considered Mycroft a friend, and he had grudgingly returned the sentiment, they had never clicked in the same way that Y/N had with Sherlock. Occasionally Mycroft would storm off midway through a game, frustrated by Sherlock’s intelligence which so trumped his and Y/N’s, or he would simply decide that he was ‘above’ having friends.

Sherlock never much minded Y/N hanging around though. Truthfully, now that she was grown, Y/N looked back at their years of friendship and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his reason for tolerating her company was because she gave him the awed reactions that he secretly desired from his intelligence.

She had fond memories of her childhood with the Holmes. At Ferndell she never felt the need to pretend to be a young lady ready to be married that her parents so desperately wanted her to be, even as a child. Mr Holmes encouraged her to continue her studies beyond what her Governess would teach her, and Eudoria actively tried to teach her all that she could, going so far as to teach her alongside her sons on occasion - Mycroft wasn’t exactly fond of that, though Sherlock appeared to enjoy her company.

And then there was Enola, a surprisingly timid child considering the family that she had been born into - though Eudoria was convinced that her shyness was a trait that she would soon grow out of. Enola adored Y/N.

While Sherlock and Mycroft paid their little sister no mind, too caught up in their own lives to acknowledge their baby sister’s, Y/N was fond of Enola. Having grown up in a male-dominated household with only brothers for company, she had always wanted a younger sister.

It was Mr Holmes’ death that changed everything.

Not long after his death, Y/N was saying goodbye to her two closest friends as they left for Boarding School. Y/N had promised to write to them and had been encouraged to do so by Sherlock, who seemed thrilled by the prospect of their continued communication and Mycroft had also seemed somewhat in favour of the idea.

Y/N wrote to the brothers for a year after they left. Her letters to Sherlock in particular were long and full of detail about both her life, her parents continued attempts to interest her in marriage and her attempts to further her education, as well as the lives of Eudoria and Enola.

After a year of these letters, however, Y/N had yet to receive word from either brother and thus, with a heavy heart, she had halted her letter writing and turned her mind away from the Holmes brothers.

Eudoria had ensured that Y/N still knew that she was welcome whenever she wanted to come over, however, and so Y/N’s life at Ferndell continued even with the absence of the boys she had considered to be her closest friends.

Y/N had been the first to be informed that Eudoria had disappeared, Enola having ran over to her house the day of her sixteenth birthday in a state of distress, imploring the older woman to help her. They had agreed that it was best for Sherlock and Mycroft to be contacted at once, with Sherlock’s career, Enola had been certain that her brother would make himself indispensable.

Y/N had been less keen on writing to the Holmes brothers, dreading having to see her old friends again, still far more hurt than she could care to admit about their silence following their departure. Every time in the past week that Enola had brought up the topic of her brothers, Y/N had been quick to change the subject.

A decision that she was coming to regret now that she approached Ferndell to find an automobile parked outside of it. Y/N bit back a groan, aware that its presence more than likely meant that Sherlock and Mycroft would be waiting inside.

Y/N didn’t knock before she entered, she never had as she had basically been a part of the family over the past few years.

She could hear the low mumble of voices coming from the drawing room, which were becoming steadily louder and Y/N’s expression dropped into a deep frown as she stepped towards the room, recognising Enola’s voice, breaking with emotion, even through the closed doors.

Before she could place her hand on the knob, however, the door was flung open and Enola rushed out, crashing into Y/N, who almost dropped the bags she was holding.

“Enola?” Y/N breathed, her hands gripping onto the young girl’s shoulders, steadying her.

“Y/N!” Enola embraced her tightly, though not before Y/N caught sight of her face, flushed red and eyes shining with tears, her expression the picture of distress.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong? Why are you… in your undergarments?” Y/N asked in a rush as Enola pulled away. The teenager wiped fiercely at her face, clenching her jaw.

“My brothers are here…” Enola seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before shaking her head. “I wish to be alone.”

With that, Enola pushed past her and shortly after Y/N heard footsteps on the stairs. Y/N looked back to the door to the drawing room and caught a glimpse of a man holding a book, chestnut curls falling over his forehead, his brown eyes just visible, his brow furrowed as though he were frowning.

Sherlock was recognisable immediately. His eyes moved over to the door, away from the chair Y/N knew to be facing him in the room which she assumed seated Mycroft, and his book lowered, his head raising and his lips parting in slight surprise - an expression that Y/N had never seen on him in the entire duration of their friendship.

Before he could say anything, however, Y/N turned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said from where she was kneading bread dough on the kitchen counter.

“Morning, Mrs Lane - I see that Enola’s brothers have arrived.”

“Yes, they got here yesterday,” Mrs Lane confirmed as Y/N placed down the bags of food she had bought and began to unpack them into the pantry. Knowing how overworked Mrs Lane had been, staffing the house alone, particularly since Eudoria’s absence, Y/N had taken to doing the food shopping for them.

“Enola seemed very upset,” Y/N said, unable to conceal her worry.

“Yes - Mr Mycroft has been less than impressed by both the state of the house and Enola herself.”

“Why?” Y/N demanded, her frown deepening, the beginnings of anger festering in her stomach.

“He doesn’t think Mrs Holmes did a good job of raising her,” Mrs Lane looked equally disgusted by the words even as she spoke them. “He wishes to send her to a finishing school to turn her into a proper lady.”

“But can’t he see that she’s happy here?”

“I don’t think Mr Holmes much cares,” Mrs Lane admitted.

“What does Sherlock think of all of it?”

“He has been rather silent on the matter, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said, shaking her head and sighing. “I fear Enola has been rather disappointed by the brother she so idolised.”

“She said she wished to be alone for a while,” Y/N said, leaning on the counter and rubbing her forehead, wanting to ease out the deep concern she was feeling for the girl she had come to think of as a sister. “I’ll try and talk to her in a little bit,” she decided and Mrs Lane nodded her approval.

Y/N ventured out into the garden half an hour later, figuring that that was ample time for Enola to think it over for herself. Y/N knew exactly where the Holmes daughter would be, she knew that Enola had a favourite tree in the garden where she would go, should she want to get away from the house for a little bit.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find Sherlock walking back from the direction of the very tree Y/N knew Enola to be hiding in. He looked deep in thought, but there was no denying the very slight smile that lifted the corners of his lips.

Y/N allowed her head to fall, her eyes on the ground, hoping against hope that there was even the smallest chance that Sherlock may not notice her.

“Y/N - it was you I saw,” there was an edge of something like delight in his voice as he spoke and Y/N wanted to look up, to see his expression, to confirm that he was smiling as he acknowledged her.

Instead, she chose to ignore him and attempted to continue walking.

“Y/N!” Sherlock called, and reached out a hand to gently take hold of her arm, pulling her ever-so carefully back to stand in front of her.

“Mr Holmes,” Y/N returned his greeting, lifting her head to watch his features fall into a slight frown.

“I wasn’t aware that you would be here,” Sherlock said, his eyes searching hers.

“I was always welcome at Ferndell,” Y/N responded stiffly. “Now I must go and speak with Enola,” she said, turning ready to leave him.

“Y-” Sherlock cut himself off from saying her name. “Miss Y/L/N,” he corrected, and Y/N risked a glance at her old friend over her shoulder, seeing his brow crinkled in confusion, an expression that she had rarely seen during their childhood.

“Yes, Mr Holmes?”

“How have you been?” Sherlock was floundering, that much was obvious. All the articles about him that Y/N and Enola had read, all her memories of him from her younger years had always portrayed him as being calm, collected, ready with his words. Seeing him now, in this state of uncertainty, caused by seeing her for the first time after so many years, it brought her a sense of satisfaction.

“Fine thank you, now if you’ll excuse me,” she didn’t give Sherlock a chance to respond, walking away from him as quickly as possible, though she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she left him behind.

Enola was sitting on the grass at the base of the tree, her back pressed up against it, her sketchbook balanced on her lap but her eyes were glazed over and looking at the scenery rather than at the pages.

“Can I join you?”

The teenager started, her eyes widening in slight shock but then she relaxed as her eyes landed on Y/N, who she offered a small, tired smile and nodded her head. Once Y/N had seated herself on the ground, Enola scooted over to rest her head on her shoulder and let out a long sigh.

“I’m glad to see you’ve put on clothes now,” Y/N finally broke the silence and the younger girl laughed a little.

“Apparently my proportions are incorrect,” Enola informed her.

“Yes, I often find myself thinking that,” Y/N teased and Enola giggled again, playfully elbowing Y/N in the side. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to go to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School for Young Girls.”

“Finishing school is the worst,” Y/N agreed.

“I remember when you went,” Enola murmured. “Mother said you hated it.”

“I did,” Y/N confirmed. “I begged my parents every holiday to not send me back, I think I even asked your mother at one point to adopt me so that I wouldn’t have to go,” Y/N chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. “It was a source of great amusement for my brothers.”

“Mine too,” Enola said darkly. “Mycroft is an utter pig, you know.”

Y/N laughed again at the choice of words.

“Family reunion didn’t go quite as planned, I take it?”

“I didn’t have a hat or gloves,” Enola sighed.

“So off to finishing school?”

“The only logical course of action,” Enola agreed, her tone biting. “You were friends with them, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, wary of where this conversation was going. “But I stand no chance of changing their minds. Mycroft was always stubborn, even when we were children, and I haven’t seen them since they went to boarding school.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could help,” Y/N said, her heart aching for the young woman.

“It’s okay,” Enola murmured. “I was just wondering, though… Sherlock was talking about me as a child - you must have known me at the same time as him, yes?” Y/N nodded her confirmation. “I think I have more memories of you than him or Mycroft.”

“I spent a lot of time with you,” Y/N shrugged.

“He said that I used to drag a pinecone around with me.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself from laughing as the memory struck her.

“Oh yes - a little pinecone, wrapped in wool that you dragged around on a string because of Queen Victoria’s spaniel. Called… Dash? I think?”

“That’s what Sherlock said, yes,” Enola straightened up, a slight grin on her face. “So it’s true?”

“Yes, you were rather obsessed with the thing,” Y/N confirmed, still chuckling a little. Silence fell between them, comfortable and thoughtful.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“What were my brothers like growing up?”

Y/N thought hard before answering, her mind going back to her childhood.

“They were fun,” Y/N said at last. “They both knew that they were smarter than me, and I think that that was at least part of the reason they kept me around. Sherlock would teach me things - things that my Governess wouldn’t have thought I ought to know…” Y/N trailed off. “They were kind,” she admitted at last. “Albeit a little aloof at times, a little arrogant, they were always kind to me. I think Sherlock could tell immediately that I was unhappy with my family, and that was why they brought me to Ferndell,” Y/N confided.

“Mycroft was kind to you?” Enola asked, staring at her wide-eyed.

“He didn’t know any better until he went out into the world,” Y/N replied, smiling a little.

“I won’t let him send me to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School For Girls,” Enola stated defiantly.

“No,” Y/N agreed. “I don’t think that you should.”

///

Y/N was reading outside when the maid came to see her.

“Miss Y/L/N, there’s a Mr Holmes here to see you,” Freya spoke, her eyebrows raised just a tad in a teasing way, indicating that she thought it was a romantic house-call. Y/N frowned in return.

“Mr Holmes?” She repeated. “Not Enola?”

“If it’s Enola then she’s certainly changed a lot since I last saw her,” Freya said. “Mr Holmes is in the drawing room.”

Y/N closed her book and stood, following the maid inside, through the house and into the drawing room. She pushed the door open, still confused as to why either of the Holmes brothers would feel the need to make a house call to see her.

Sherlock was standing in the drawing room, his back to her as he stared at the painting hanging above the fireplace. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but the soft sound caught the attention of the detective anyway. Sherlock turned and offered her an unsure, gentle smile.

“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Y/N said, bowing her head just slightly towards him. She thought she saw Sherlock’s smile falter just a tad before he returned her greeting. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m afraid I bring some bad news,” Sherlock said, walking away from the fireplace. Y/N stepped further into the room and indicated a chair. “Thank you,” he said as he sat down, Y/N seating herself in the armchair across from him. “Enola has run away.”

“Is that really all that surprising?” Y/N sighed, though his words did immediately cause her to worry for the young girl.

“Were you aware of what she was planning?” Sherlock asked.

“No. It just doesn’t surprise me.”

Sherlock looked at her for a long moment, seemingly analyzing her expression and finally he gave a slow nod of his head.

“So I take it that she hasn’t contacted you at all?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday when I left Ferndell,” Y/N confirmed, attempting to keep her features as neutral as possible.

Sherlock frowned at her, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Even if she had, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”

“No,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “But you can’t blame me for that. We both know that Finishing School is not where Enola’s time would be best spent. Besides, from what she told me Miss Harrison seems a foul woman.”

She thought she saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as though he wanted to smile, but then he schooled his expression into one of neutrality again.

“You know, there was a time when you would tell me everything,” he reminded her.

“And there was a time that you found me utterly insufferable for that,” Y/N countered, her words sounding like she was spitting venom at him.

“I never found you insufferable,” Sherlock said, a chuckle in his voice.

“Is that so?” Y/N mused, quirking her eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps a little slow at times, but I wouldn’t take that personally,” she hated how teasing he sounded, as though nothing had changed since he left. Sherlock clearly picked up on the anger festering in the pit of her stomach and spoke again before she had time to lash out. “But I never found you insufferable.”

Y/N made a noise conveying how unconvinced she was by his words and she stood from the chair.

“If that’s all…”

Sherlock’s eyes flashed with something similar to disappointment before he, too, stood and adjusted his suit jacket slightly.

“Yes… that’s all,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”

Y/N nodded and watched as Sherlock crossed the room to stand in front of the door, reaching out a hand towards the doorknob. Before he could turn it, though, Y/N was hit by a sudden wave of concern.

“Mr Holmes?”

The man paused and looked back at her over his shoulder at her.

“You… if you find her, or here anything… could you let me know? She’s only young… I worry about her.”

Sherlock bowed his head in a sign of consent.

“I will keep you updated, I promise.”

“Thank you… Sherlock.”

Just as Sherlock had promised, he kept her updated on the situation with Enola as best as he could and she received letters from him every other day, even if he had found no new leads.

On the days that he had nothing new to report, his letters were filled with updates about his own life, general musings, his theories about both Enola’s whereabouts and other, unofficial cases that had caught his eye.

In short, they were the most un-Sherlock-like letters that Y/N could have ever imagined receiving and every time the post came she felt her heart lift in hope that there would be another one for her.

The only letter that Y/N had replied to, however, was one dated about a week and a half after Enola’s disappearance, in which Sherlock told her that he had asked Mycroft to pass over his duties and to make Enola his ward, filing Y/N in on the details about what had happened with Enola and the case of the missing Maquis. Sherlock had also let her know that he had attempted to make contact with his sister via newspaper and that she had indeed come to the meeting spot but had been disguised.

From the tone of that letter, it had been clear to Y/N that Sherlock truly cared for his younger sister, and that he knew that she would be capable of taking care of herself despite the worry that he so clearly felt over her.

After having received a response from Y/N after that letter, Sherlock had implored her to keep replying, but Y/N had not. She was afraid of falling into the same trap that she had when they were kids - of allowing herself to get too close to him, to feel something for him, when it was never going to go anywhere.

Y/N had allowed her heart to be broken by Sherlock Holmes once before, when she was too young to truly understand matters of the heart. She wasn’t going to do it again.

About a week after receiving the letter recounting the tale of Enola and Tewkesbury, however, Y/N got another surprise in the post. A letter from Enola herself, detailing Y/N with much of the same information that had already been given to her by Sherlock, though with more detail and far more reassurance that she truly was safe and secure and comfortable in her newfound lodgings in London.

In the final paragraph of the letter, there was a plea from Enola, imploring Y/N to go and visit her in London - she had attached a date for the following week and the address of a cafe that she said she thought Y/N would appreciate.

And so Y/N found herself boarding a train the next week, ready to meet Enola in London, agreeing to stay with her for a couple of days so that they could properly catch up.

Just as she was settling into the carriage, the train about to leave the station, the door slid open again and a familiar face appeared.

“May I join you?” Sherlock asked, a somewhat nervous smile on his face. Y/N returned it and nodded her head.

“Of course,” Sherlock entered into the compartment, closing the door behind him and placing his bag onto the overhead luggage rack and taking the seat opposite her. “I wasn’t aware that you were back here?”

“Only for a night - Mycroft demanded my help,” Sherlock explained. “I thought about visiting you, but I was unsure of how much it would be appreciated,” he added. Y/N bowed her head a little, finding herself unable to maintain eye contact with him. “You didn’t reply to my letters.”

“Yes I did.”

Y/N risked a glance up and saw Sherlock’s lips quirk a little, holding back a smile.

“I apologise - you replied to only one of my letters.”

“That’s one more than you replied to of mine,” Y/N pointed out, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Sherlock didn’t even attempt to keep his smile at bay, grinning at her in the familiar cheeky way that Y/N remembered from their childhood.

“I wasn’t aware of how good you were at bearing grudges,” he mused, leaning back in his seat.

“Well perhaps if you’d come to visit you would have realised,” Y/N muttered, opening her bag that rested on the chair beside her and pulled out the book she was reading.

Before she could open it, though, Sherlock’s hand pressed down on the cover, preventing her from doing so.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” he whispered and when Y/N met his eyes again they were so filled with genuine apology and concern.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew what an apology was,” but she smiled a little, seeing how Sherlock’s eyes brightened

“Well I’ve been attempting to catch up on them as of late.”

“Enola?”

“I have yet to find her to give her one,” Sherlock confessed, leaning back at last. “You’re going down to see her, aren’t you?”

Y/N knew there was no point in denying it, Sherlock was always capable of telling when people were lying. He had always been particularly quick at picking up on Y/N’s lies as well when they were children.

“Yes - she wrote inviting me down last week,” Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Would you… would you let me know that she’s safe - that her lodgings are comfortable?”

“I’ll let her know you asked,” Y/N said instead, her voice quiet and full of understanding.

“Thank you,” Sherlock swallowed hard.

Silence fell between them. The most comfortable silence that had existed between them since their reunion.

��I did miss you, you know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“When I left home - I did miss you. I know you think I didn’t, and it’s understandable, but I did,” Sherlock confessed.

“Why didn’t you reply?” Y/N asked and she hated the desperation in her voice, the plea to understand why so many years had passed in silence. “Why didn’t you come and visit?”

“I don’t have a good reason for why I did - or didn’t - do any of it. And I’m so sorry,” Sherlock sighed but Y/N frowned at him, noticing how his gaze briefly dropped her own as he spoke, how his fingers fidgeted slightly on his lap.

“I know you’re the detective of the two of us, but I know when you lie, Sherlock Holmes,” Y/N didn’t know what made her do it, but she lent forwards and grabbed one of his hands between her own. “Tell me the truth, Sherlock.”

Sherlock studied her hard for a long minute, his eyes sweeping across her face, taking in every inch of her features and there was an emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.

“Mycroft used to… make fun of me, when we were children. Because he knew how I… how I felt about you. I’ve never quite… understood why he did, he always liked you, even if he never admitted it, but I hated it. I hated Mycroft making fun of me, it made me feel like he was smarter than me…” Sherlock’s cheeks reddened. “I did not mean for that to sound as conceited as it did.”

“To be fair, you were quite a conceited child,” Y/N teased, squeezing his hand and Sherlock chuckled. “But… what do you mean, how you felt about me?”

“You really want me to spell it out for you?” Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself, I always was a little slow,” she grinned, “at least compared to you.”

Her heart was pounding out of her chest, she could barely breathe from the excitement at the idea that Sherlock was hinting at what she thought he was.

“You have to know by now that you are the only woman who I have ever held a place for in my heart.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders bashfully. “Or you were.”

“Enola?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. He lifted her hand tentatively up, pressing his lips gently against the back of it, keeping his gaze lowered. “I just hope that you know you never left it.”

The rest of the journey passed in a blur, the two of them having the final catch up that had been missing for so many years, everything feeling as though it was falling back into place, just like everything had been when they were kids.

By the time the train pulled into the station at London, Y/N had no desire to say goodbye to Sherlock Holmes, and by the way he loitered with her on the platform, it appeared that the sentiment was returned.

“Where are you headed?” Sherlock inquired. “I know Enola wouldn’t want you to tell me her address, but…”

“I’m actually meeting her at a cafe,” Y/N told him, adjusting her grip on her bag and smiling at him.

“In that case… would you allow me to escort you? London can be rather confusing at times, especially for those used to the country lifestyle,” he suggested and if Y/N didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was blushing a little in embarrassment.

“I would appreciate that yes, thank you Sherlock,” she agreed and Sherlock offered her his arm.

Enola did not seem overly surprised at Sherlock’s presence beside Y/N. There was a slight raise of her eyebrows, a knowing smile on her face and a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she walked over to them, her arms laden with a bunch of yellow roses.

“It’s so wonderful to see you again,” she said, completely bypassing her brother and embracing Y/N as carefully as she could with the flowers in her hands.

“I was so happy to hear from you, I was so worried about you,” Y/N told her, pulling away and examining her surrogate sister for any trace of hurt.

“I promise I’m fine,” Enola laughed, holding out the flowers for her. “I bought these for you, though.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

Enola’s eyes slid over to Sherlock at last, who was standing awkwardly to the side. Y/N could sense how his own gaze was flicking continuously between herself and his sister, clearly overjoyed at seeing her again but also wanting to continue the conversation he and Y/N had been holding on the train.

“It’s more of an apology, actually,” Enola mused. “I’m afraid that something has come up and my assistance is required… elsewhere. Perhaps Sherlock would take my place?” She raised her eyebrows at her brother.

“I-uh-”

“Fantastic!” Enola cheered, hugging Y/N once more and giving a nod to her brother before rushing away.

“Did your sister just set us up?” Y/N asked, turning to face the younger Holmes brother.

“I think so,” Sherlock confirmed. “For what it’s worth, she hasn’t gone far, I believe she has every intention of snooping on us.”

Y/N laughed at that piece of knowledge, rolling her eyes affectionately at Enola’s antics before placing her hand once more in Sherlock’s arm. He reached across her to take her bag to allow her to hold the flowers.

“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would we?” Y/N said, nodding towards the door to the cafe, not missing the affectionate smile it brought to Sherlock’s face.

As he held the door open for her, Y/N reached up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

#Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #henry!sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #enola holmes #enola holmes fanfiction #courts writings

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cj-sparkss · 3 years

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blue butterfly -

request | Hii! Can I ask for a request, where the reader is childhood friends with eren, mikasa and armin and has been in love with eren for awhile, but she had a feeling that mikasa also had feelings for him, so she kinda ignored her feelings (reader's kinda a nonchalant and calm person so not many people are able to read her emotions?) not knowing that eren also had feelings for the reader. Then somehow Mikasa found out about reader's feelings and had a conversation with eren and *poof* some fluffy confession from eren or something.😅😅Btw i love every single one of your fanfics and I am so glad I found your account. Arigato!!❤

eren’s masterlist:

the soft breeze blows away in the background, ruffling the virescent and tattered leaves on the old bark wooded tree. the jays are chirping their famous musical songs from the sky, the golden sun shining upon the grassy field below.

“hey, look at this!” the golden-haired boy softly nudges your side with his book, bringing your attention back to him. he scoots closer to you, close enough so that you can clearly be able to see the book set in his hands. with a slender finger, he points to a certain image on the page, the paper noticeably old and worn out, slightly a yellowish-brown, the corners of the material curling up and inwards.

looking down to where his pointer finger is directing to, you see a black and white photograph of a peculiar insect. you tilt your head, as if changing your perspective would help you understand it better.

it’s... a butterfly? but this one is different. the wings almost look like they have fur, the antennas white and black, almost flawlessly painted in stripes, as if manmade.

“armin, what is this?” you lift your head to look at the boy, a puzzled expression on your face, but also a curious one, eyes pleading for him to tell you more.

armin looks at you with those bright blue orbs, eyes filled with flaming wonder and excitement, painfully happy that you want to know more about what he’s showing you. “well you see, this is the-“

“armin!”

the both of you snap your heads in the direction of the voice. walking across the grassy area are mikasa and eren, eren being the one to call out armin’s name. he’s is waving his hand, a bright toothed smile plastered on his face. mikasa is beside him, a tiny smile on her face as well.

“hey guys!” armin gleefully waves his hand at the duo, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. mikasa and eren trot closer to the both of you, taking a seat across from you and armin on the grass. eren sits back in front of you, stretching his legs out to the side, extending his arms behind him to hold himself up, while mikasa sits cross-legged in front of armin.

a soft breeze blows over you guys. eren’s gaze wanders to yours, and he smiles softly at you, turquoise orbs glowing. “hi.”

you smile back. “hi.”

“what are you looking at?” mikasa asks, curiously gazing at the thick book in armin’s hands.

“oh, this!” armin beams, setting the book down on the grass in the middle of the four of you, the page still set on the mysterious butterfly he was showing you earlier. once again, he points to the image on the page, circling it. “i was going through it earlier, and i stumbled across this page. it’s a butterfly.”

“it looks interesting.” eren points out, tilting his head to the side. you and mikasa nod your heads in agreement.

“well, that’s because it is.” armin looks up, eyes glancing over each of your faces before pointing directly at the butterfly.

“you see, it’s called palos verdes blue.” he positions his pointer finger on the wings. “it’s wings are fuzzy, they look brown when they flutter closed. but when they are open, it’s a mesmerizing shade of blue, almost silver. it’s one of the rarest butterflies in the world. unique”

“wow”, you mumble under your breath. besides the photo not being in color, you can see its beauty simply through the page.

you’ve always been a sucker for armin’s new findings, you find them almost as fascinating as he does.

“it’s beautiful.” mikasa says.

“it is.” eren seconds.

you all sit in silence, admiring the picture, and simply just the world around you.

you glance over at eren, who is now looking up into the sky. his eyes are lost in deep thought, brows furrowed together, plush pink lips slightly parted.

you look at the way the breeze slightly blows his brown hair, length ending slightly below his jawline. you look at the way his emerald orbs shine brightly in the sunlight, and how his eyes seem to remind you of the butterfly armin has described. they're both beautiful.

and you once again come to a realization, one that you have come to many times before. you’re in love with eren. and every day since you were children, you seem to fall even deeper.

you turn your head, and then what you see makes your stomach sickeningly churn. mikasa is also staring at him. and the look in her eyes — you get the same one too — you think it’s more than just a look of fondness.

you have gotten this feeling before. when you see eren and mikasa a little too close together, when you see the stolen glances from across the room that no one else noticed, you can’t help but feel… jealous?

is that it? maybe. probably. but you’ve never shown it. at least, you thought you did.

but over time, armin has seemed to notice. he noticed when you stared at eren for a little while longer than you should have, noticed how you always seemed to stumble over your words when he got too close, despite the years of friendship. noticed how you cared about him, in a way different from how normal “best friends” would care about him.

and yes. you have thought about confessing. many, many times in fact. but anytime that you would get the stomach to confess, you looked to the side, and mikasa was there. right next to him. always.

you don’t blame her. if you could, you would get close to eren as much as you could too. you just wish you were in her position, taking care of him when he got hurt, the one to fuss over him whenever something bad happened.

you’re pretty sure she loves eren too, maybe even more than you do.

so you decided to ignore your feelings. ignore the way your stomach seems to twist and turn whenever he gets a little too close to you, ignore the way your heart sped up when you two happened to touch for a few moments. ignore the way you longed to kiss his lips every time he spoke.

you assumed it was just for the best.

but mikasa on the other hand, seemed to notice the way eren would be staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. she noticed the way he always seemed to end up next to you, trying to get as close to you as he could. the way his head always seemed to shoot up when your name was mentioned in a conversation, and the way he had a light blush on his face whenever you gave him one of your bright smiles.

she noticed the way he always seemed to be happier around you, even if it was just the subtle hints. the brighter smile on his face when you were around him, the chirpier moods when he knew he was going to see you soon.

she also saw you, the way you endlessly pined after him, subtle but not. mikasa saw it all.

and when she saw this, she was happy.

you weren’t wrong, she does love eren. but not in the particular way you think, she loved him like family. and as his family, and yours as well, mikasa wanted nothing more for you guys to be happy, together.

and so a plan was formed.

“hey armin, could i talk to you for a moment?” mikasa asks, motioning her head behind her while placing her hands against the ground to push herself up.

armin looks up from the bug he was admiring on the ground, nodding his head. “oh, uh, sure.” he pulls himself up, following after her.

you furrow your eyebrows. that seemed a little secretive, calling only him out like that.

“we’ll be right back.” mikasa says, walking away to the distance, armin trailing close behind her.

you wonder what they’re doing, but you're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear shuffling beside you, and then a body plops down on the grass next to you, taking armin’s previous spot.

“hey.”

“oh, hi eren.”

he smiles softly at you, scooting a little closer to your body. gently, he rests his head on your shoulder, leaning into your neck. “how was your day?”

you stiffen at the sudden contact. the touches, the considerate words, it hurts to be so close to him, yet he so far.

sighing, you relax again, looking down at eren and reaching to brush’s a strand of hair out of his face. “it was okay, how was yours?”

“good, now that you’re here.”

you smile. always the charmer.

he continues, “what do you think they’re talking about?”

you shrug your shoulders, eyes landing on their standing figures in the distance. “don’t know.”

“armin, we have to get them together already.” mikasa says, fidgeting with the red scarf laced around her neck.

“that’s what you wanted to talk about?” armin asks, tilting his head to the side with a quizzical look on his face. “i don’t really think we should get involved with that…” he trails off, blue eyes looking to the side.

“we have to”, she asserts. “this has been dragging on for too long. i’m tired of seeing eren mope around when they're not around.”

armin rubs the back of his neck, looking at mikasa with a hesitant gaze. “but, if we did, how would we even get them together?”

“tonight.” she takes a step closer, placing one of her hands on his shoulder. “i have a plan.”

armin raises an eyebrow. “a plan?”

mikasa nods. “all i need is for you to tell them to go to the beach a little after sunset, when the moon’s out.” she gives him a pointed look, stepping to the side. “can you do that?”

he sighs. “what exactly are you planning?”

“i’m going to get eren to confess.”

“how?”

“easy. i’m going to convince him until he complies.”

she’s being awfully brief, and armin doesn't know if he should ask more information on this so-called ‘plan’, or just do what she says.

he thinks. he wants the both of you to get together, to be happy. it’s about damn time in fact. so, if mikasa has a plan, it’s probably a good one.

he takes a breath.

“i’ll do it.”

“you’re going to confess. tonight.”

“what do you mean i’m going to confess? what are you even talking about?” eren takes a step back, a light blush dusted across his cheeks.

it’s almost dark out, the sun just about setting. eren and mikasa are by the same tree the four of you were at earlier.

“you’re going to tell them your true feelings. you have to.” she sighs, closing the distance between her and eren once again.

eren knows what she’s talking about.

he shakes his head, a frown on his face. “i don’t think now is the time to confess. i should wait until-“

“no. if you don’t tell them now, i’m going to tell them for you.”

eren panics, eyes widening in fear. “wha- mikasa, you can't do that!”

“watch me.” her voice is strong, not faltering, not a single trace of a joke within. she’s being serious.

he sighs, “but… what if they don’t feel the same way? we’ve been best friends for years, and this might ruin everythi-“

“eren.” mikasa places her arms on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “you shouldn’t be worrying about that. here… we never know when our last breath is going to be. don’t waste your time on the what if’s. just do it.”

he looks back at her, registering her words in his brain. she’s right. he can’t waste more time. he shouldn’t. he loves you now.

“how should i do it?”

“just say what you're truly feeling. as long as you can do that, you’re fine.”

eren takes a breath, softly placing his hands on her wrists, removing her hands from his shoulders. “when?”

“when it’s dark out, at the beach. they’ll be there.” she gives him a small smile. that was easier than she thought. “good luck.”

you’re walking through the beach, feet touching the fine-grained sand. you gaze around, admiring the cerulean waves splashing quietly in the distance, the moon glowing from above in the sky. your mind wanders, and you wonder why armin had told you to come here tonight. he was being vague, and you don’t know what’s going on.

stopping right in front of the water, you admire its beauty. the way the moon lights up the area, providing a dim source of light. how the stars are spread across the dark dome, white specs shining from above. you think back to the butterfly that armin was talking about. “palos verdes blue…”

eren approaches the beach, and there you are, right in front of him. your back is turned to him, your front side facing the water. you seem to be heavily focused on the water, lost deep inside your own head.

he takes a deep breath, his nerves beginning to rack over him. he thinks back to the years you both have spent together.

he doesn't recall any memories of you hinting that you might love him as more than just family. and if you did, he didn’t catch it.

he sure does hope like hell though, that you might love him back. even if it’s just in the slightest.

mustering up his remaining courage, he begins to walk over to you.

you fail to hear the footsteps approaching you, still stuck in your thoughts. you don’t notice anything until eren is right next to you, standing tall as the wind blows his hair.

“hey.”

you turn to look at him, his gaze already set on you.

you’re confused. why did armin tell you to come here tonight? and why is eren here?

“hi eren.” you greet, a little skeptical. you turn so that you’re now facing him.

silently, you stare at his features, secretly admiring him. you look into his bright and bold turquoise eyes, still intense as ever. maybe even more this particular night. the dim moonlight is highlighting his skin, his soft brown hair shining.

you desperately fought the urge to reach out your hand and put them in his hair, to tangle your fingers in his locks, as you’ve always wanted to do.

eren stared back at you through thick eyelashes, heart hammering in his chest, he’s almost sure you could hear it.

he’s scared. scared that you might not feel the same way. scared to see your reaction to what is about to be his confession. but mikasa was right, he has to do it now.

at this point, he’s certain his heart is going to beat out of his chest, but he has to take the chance.

you smile, tilting your head in confusion. “eren? what are you doing he-”

“i’m in love with you.”

eren interrupts you in the middle of your sentence, greatly surprising you. you did a double-take.

did you hear that correctly? did he say that he’s in love with you? your brain is on fire, trying to decide if you heard those last words right.

“... what?”

he takes a step closer to you, closing most of the space between your bodies. he studies your facial expressions carefully, trying to decipher your reaction.

“i’m in love with you. i have been for a while.” he pauses, taking another breath, emerald orbs never leaving your face. “since we were children, i’ve always admired you. how you’re always there for everyone, how you never hesitate to help someone, even if you need help yourself.”

you aren’t even aware that you left your mouth wide open, and eren takes your silence as a cue to continue on.

‘just say what you’re truly feeling’ mikasa’s words ring around in his head. here goes nothing.

“your beautiful. so damn beautiful. amazing, kind. funny, smart. you have always been there for me, since i could remember. you never left my side. and you don’t know how happy i am to have you stand by me. you make me so happy. everyday. you make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me feel good about myself. you’re all i ever think about.”

wow. you don’t know what to feel.

all this time, you’ve been thinking that eren didn’t love you in the way you loved him. but he did.

“but, what about mikasa? is there really nothing going on between you two?” you look down, staring at your feet.

“look at me.” eren steps closer to you, placing his hand underneath your chin, gently bringing your face up to look at his. “remember the butterfly armin was talking about?”

you nod your head.

“well, it reminds me of you. unique...”, he lowers his head.

“special…” his voice is down to a quiet whisper now, only to be heard by your ears. he brings his head down, the tip of his nose coming in contact with yours while his gaze moves down to your lips for a brief moment, before returning to your eyes. he’s so close to you now, his body heat radiating off of him, surrounding you in warmth. he continues. “beautiful…”

his hot breath fans over your lips, as you look up at him with wide eyes, lips parted in anticipation. eren places one large hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek. “can i?” he asks quietly.

still unable to form any coherent words, you give a small nod, and eren takes notice of the action.

without wasting a second, his plush lips connect to yours. his lips are sweet against yours, tasting and savoring every touch. after the initial shock wears off, you melt into the kiss, fluttering your eyes closed. he tilts his head to the side, deepening it.

after years of just imagining what your lips taste like, eren finally got to feel them against his form himself.

happy, he smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

this is nice.

after a few moments, you pull away to catch your breath, chest slightly rising up and down.

eren’s thankful that it’s dark out, or else you would have been able to see the intense blush on his cheeks.

he rests his forehead against yours, a lazy smile plasters on his face. “nothing is going on between mikasa and i.” he places a soft kiss on your lips once more. “i love you. always have, always will.”

beaming, you tackle eren in an eager hug, resting your head against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, beating erratically against your face.

the only thing you can hear is the faint splashes in the background, water bumping against the shore.

“i’m in love with you too, eren.”

and in that moment, it’s only the two of you against the world.

“do you think it worked?” armin asks mikasa, bright blue eyes looking at her with wonder.

mikasa nods, a small smile planted on her face.

“i know it did.”

#eren jaeger #eren #eren x reader #eren jeager #eren yaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren aot #eren attack on titan #attack on titan #aot #aot eren #attack on titan eren #aot x reader #eren fluff

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