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clairecrive · 3 years

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hiii! um i had a request if that’s alright? umm a darkling x tidemaker!reader where the reader slowly grows more and more jealous of alina until she finally snaps and tries to leave with another tidemaker to train with master tidemakers for the kings army but then darkling stops her. with a happy ending please 🥺🥺

Where your heart is

A/n; this took a life of its own but I'm still not too sure about it even though I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you'll like it, 🌻x

Word count: 2.4K +

Warnings: angst, darklina, jelousy

Tags: @blackst0nes7077 , @thefictionalgemini , @louweasleymalfoy , @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx , @kaqua , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @deardiarystuff, @emmaev , @aleksanderwh0r3 , @hazelrose14, @crowssixof , @qhbr2013 , @odetostep , @strawb3rrydr3ss , @lizzie-he4rts , @korol-lantsov , @shadow4ndbone, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @mriddlemethis , @secretsthathauntus , @carnationworld (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

He was her mentor. He was the only one who could help her through the discovery and understanding of her powers. That's why he was spending so much time with her. No other reason.

At least that's what you've been telling yourself over and over in hope that you'd start believing it. So far, you had no success. And this had been going on since the day Alina had arrived at the Little Palace a month ago so you didn't harbour any hopes that it'll start working.

But what could you do?

He was spending every waking moment between his War room and the training grounds with Alina. You could see the allure that she had to have in his eyes.

He had been waiting for her for a long time, after all. You couldn't even be mad at him for investing his energies to help her harness her powers since she was the key to Ravka freedom. And, to be fair, Alina wasn't that bad.

Sure, you had to get through many layers of snarky remarks and dry humour that most of the times felt a lot like rudeness rather than humour. But she wasn't that bad. Not when there were people like Zoya walking around.

But the days without seeing him, with just a passing glance or a touch of his hand on your back were taking their toll on you. You missed him.

You had gone from seeing him every day to not seeing him at all.

You had tried to talk to him about it but he.was.always.busy. Or with Alina. You weren't proud to admit it, and you probably never will out loud, but a certain green monster had taken residence on your shoulders.

You were taking your usual stroll around the gardens when you spotted him outside the Palace's main entrance. Hurrying your steps, you called his name to catch his attention.

"Aleksander!"

Fortunately, he heard you and turned to see who was calling him. There were few people who knew his name and there was no chance in hell it would be Baghra. His lips morphed in a small smile as he watched you approaching with a sprint in your steps.

"Hey, I'm so glad I've caught you, it's been ages since I've-" you stopped when you saw Alina's approaching figure. Your eyes darted from her to Aleksander in front of you and you've finally noticed the two horses.

He wasn't wearing his cloak and of course, where Alina was Aleksander followed. Your lips thinned in a line as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew that Aleksander had noticed your expression change but you hadn't had centuries of practice to scholar your features into betraying nothing. But you forced yourself to at least keep up the appearances with Alina.

You gave her a smile when she stood before you complimenting her hair.

"Genya's handiwork," she simply said as it was enough to explain everything.

"Well, I'm going to leave you to your outing," you said hoping they couldn't notice the strain in your smile. Turning around, you retraced your steps to where you had been standing before and where you should have stayed all this time.

It was clear now- what other signs did he need to give you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to not let the tears fall. You could feel his eyes on you until the sounds of hooves hitting the gravel told you that they were gone.

However much it hurt you to see again and again the proof that you were losing him, there was still a part of you that told you that this was just a phase. A temporary arrangement, given Aleksander's plans for Ravka. You just had to bite the bullet until it was all over.

And so, with renowned hope, you decided that you were going to talk to him. Even if you had to wait for him for hours or meet him at the brink of dawn, you had to do it. You needed to know where his heart was and from that, you could decide where to go.

However, to your luck, today was the day of the Winter Fete. Everyone, including you, was going to be super busy with finalizing the last minute details and rehearsals. Every Grisha had a role in tonight demonstration even though the star of the whole night was, of course, the Sun Summoner.

Since you were a tidemaker, your manifestation was scheduled before Alina's grand entrance. You and the other tidemakers had prepared a light show, along with Alina, to use water to reflect and amplify Alina's light so as to create a beautiful play of light.

The whole ordeal ended in time for Alina to get back inside the Palace and get on stage and for everyone else to get inside too to witness her exhibition. You followed along with everyone else but alas, you really wished you hadn't.

Aleksander had eyes only for Alina, he never looked away from her even when the light got blinding for everyone else in the room. And you couldn't blame him- Alina was literally glowing. She looked amazing in that black kefta and the symbolism of the colour wasn't lost on you.

You had been a fool, that's what you were. It was painfully obvious how whipped Aleksander was for Alina. Each of those signs was a painful blow to your heart and faith in him. His outings with her, her black kefta, the smile she sent his way and how enthralled he was by her.

Shaking your head, you fought to keep your composure. You had lost him, you realized. You had to accept the fact that it was over. Whatever you had, it had come to an end. The moment it did, was lost on you but you knew it had to coincide with the moment he had met Alina.

As if to confirm your inward musings, Alina and Aleksander walked out of the room, her under his arm.

Well, it was settled then. You couldn't stay here anymore. It was one thing to break up and grow apart but it was a whole other thing to watch him being in love with someone else.

You had to go. That was certain.

Nodding to yourself, you took your final decision just as they walked past you. Aleksander's eyes met yours briefly, just long enough for you to send him a teary glare.

This was the last time you were going to see him and as much as you could feel your heart breaking, you knew that it was something you had to do. They walked out of the room and you wasted no time in leaving as well.

However, before going to your room to pack the few belongings you had, there was somewhere else you needed to go first.

The wind blew harshly on your face, the salt of the sea breeze mixing with that of your tears. Alone on the dock, you allowed yourself to cry. To finally let out everything you had been keeping under lock and key for so very long.

You tried to comfort yourself by reassuring yourself that this was the right choice. The best choice. To stay in a place where you had never truly felt at home, where every nook and cranny reminded you of what you had and what you had lost- of the fact that you hadn't been enough. That your love hadn't been enough for him to stick around, to choose you over a girl he had known for about a day. Everything you had shared, the months spent together in intimacy under his sheets or under the comfort of your favourite tree.

Vanished. Erased. Worthless.

You allowed yourself to feel every ounce of pain his dismissing behaviour had caused you because as soon as you boarded, you were going to leave all of this behind. You were sailing towards your future, towards a new land full of opportunities and new people. Somewhere where you could start fresh.

You heard someone shout the name of the ship you had to be on and knew that the moment had come. Here you were about to step into your new life.

Heaving a sigh, you threw a last look in the Little Palace direction, at what-or rather- who you were leaving behind. Turning around, you gathered your kefta closer to your body to shield you from the harsh weather. As you were about to move, a hand clamping on your back, stopped you.

You winced, not expecting the contact since you thought you were the only one on the dock. Turning around, you were met with a familiar pair of onyx eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, an edge on his voice that you couldn't figure out if it was surprise, betrayal or boredom.

"I could ask you the same thing, General." Taking a step back, his hand fell from your shoulder as you put some distance between you. Standing so close to him just as you were about to bid him goodbye forever felt like a cruel joke on destiny's part.

"So this is what you do? Leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone?"

"Those who needed to be, have been rightly notified of my departure. I don't see how this concerns you, though."

"You don't see-" he huffed out, a humourless laugh leaving him," how, in the name of all saints, don't you see how this concerns me?"

"This is the first time you've spoken to me in months, Aleksander so please spare me this bullshit. I've got it, alright?" Raising your hands you took yet another step away from him. "There's no need for you to be here and pretend anymore. Go back to your party and your Grisha and your girl."

"You're my girl," he stated somehow still calmly.

"No, I'm not," you scoffed, "and you've done a fine job proving that these past few months."

"I know I've been neglecting you, but what's a few months when we have a lifetime together in front of us?" he conceded taking a step towards you as his arms widened as if to show you the length of time you'd be spending together.

"It's everything, Aleks," you snapped as your emotions got the best of you, "seeing you getting cosy with Alina every day realising that the more time passed the less you were mine was excruciating and I'm done. I'm going away and I'm leaving all of this behind."

"You can't go."

"Watch me," you quipped as you turned around. Challenging you was not the best way for him to go about this. He knew better than anyone who proudful you could be.

"You cannot go," he... begged? the tone of his voice was so weird coming from him that had you pivot immediately. "You cannot leave. You cannot leave me."

You stood there, hair blowing everywhere for the harsh wind, just staring at him. You'd never seen him so emotional. Yes, you'd shared some intimate moments but he'd never been quite this open about his feelings. The sight of his teary eyes was so unfamiliar that made your brain short-circuiting.

Taking a shaky breath, Aleksander took a step in your direction, getting closer to you but still not close yet.

"Everything that I've ever done has been for a sole purpose, y/n, you know it. And you have to believe me, Alina plays a role in this as well."

"I know she does, it's obvious to everyone. It just has become painfully obvious to me tonight just how important she's come to mean to you." You shrugged as you looked away. Admitting this while also looking him in the eyes was an impossible feat.

"She may as well be the Sun Summoner, but you're my solnishko, y/n." He murmured softly as he took another step, this time getting close enough to you to reach for your hands.

"Sweet talking isn't going to change anything, Aleksander. I saw how you looked at her, I saw her wearing your colours. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently, "but it's as I've told you, my dear, please believe me. Every action had its purpose which was not hurting you or expressing my love for Alina." He insisted, his hands squeezing yours. His eyes flickered between you and you spotted hopefulness as well as sincerity in them. Which made you hesitate.

Could it be...?

"But why didn't you tell me so, then? Why cutting me out dry without a word?" you uttered, afraid to believe him, afraid to let your heart hope again.

"It has been a play, solnishko. Ever since Alina has stepped foot inside the Little Palace, all eyes have been on us. I had a part to play and so did she. Unfortunately, I couldn't risk it." He explained, his eyes taking in your features, noting how hesitant you still were.

"I swear, my love, you should hear her. The only thing she can talk about it's her childhood best friend who seems so boring, I can't see what she sees in him." He added smiling hoping to lighten the mood. And as a matter of fact, he was rewarded with your giggles.

"Really?"

"I'd never lie to you," he murmured solemnly, his head tilting down toward yours. You met him halfway, your nose bumping softly with his.

"You better never start, Sasha," you warned lightly as he gave you an Eskimo kiss, his hands reaching up to hold your cheeks.

"Never," he promised on your lips. His trailed over yours softly before tilting his head to the side and letting them finally touch.

It has been so long since you've last shared a kiss that you'd almost forgotten how it felt like. How soft his lips were, how voracious he could be, how he always tasted of something sweet.

You gasped as his tongue trailed over your lower lip giving him the desired opportunity to sneak in and meet your tongue. Moaning, you moved your lips with his, hands sneaking through his hair to hold him close. The kiss came to a stop when you both were out of breath. He didn't get far away though as he rested his forehead on yours.

"The captain is going to be really mad at me." You murmured as you heard another shout coming from the end of the dock.

"Let me deal with him," he reassured you before giving you another small kiss. With that, he stepped away and headed over to where your ship was anchored.

You stood there, your fingers touching your lips, still in trance after what happened. So, you had never lost him. He had always been yours.

The realisation made you smile and as you watched his cape blowing in the wind you felt reassured. You knew he had plans but those were never the problem. You could bear seeing him with Alina if you knew that you were the only one in his heart and bed. And it seemed that you weren't the only one who wanted to keep it this way.

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diosmio76 · 3 years

Text

What I Deserve (2) | soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Reader

WARNINGS: +18, dub-con, needle use, stalking, fingering, kidnapping, kind of non-con (more dub-con but just incase)

Word Count: 3,076

A/N: my timeline on which version of Barnes is fucked up and a mix of everything honestly // my first ever time writing smut, and honestly I'm open to constructive criticism b/c I have no experience in this area LOLZ

You squeezed your eyes as you stretched your body. Feeling your comforter rise and fall against your skin from your movements. You hung your feet off your bed and stretched them before standing up. You did your usual set of morning stretches, were they done correctly? Probably not, but it was the thought that counts and the only form of self-care you gave yourself. You let out a sigh as you got ready for another day similar to all the rest. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be excited about waking up, but who were you to complain. You used the toilet as you went back and forth in your mind about nothing in particular, your eyes staring at your bed that was quickly losing the warmth it collected from your body. Once done in the bathroom you dragged yourself to your vanity, hearing the faint noise of cars on the street, you began getting ready for work. After changing and grabbing your tattered work bag, you began your journey with all the other commuters.

The day dragged on like any other, talking to coworkers only when they needed something from you. Hearing the usual remarks of “Oh, I didn’t notice you” or “I didn’t even see you there”, you got used to it but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. Before you had time to dwell on it, it was time to go home. You packed your bag then began your walk home, following the same route you always take during the week. Taking a little solstice in the fact that you were just another face in the crowd, that fact made you feel as if everyone else was alone too. Once home you locked the door and dropped your bag, heading to the bedroom you changed into an oversized shirt and put on your slippers before heading towards the living room. You turned on the tv and lowered the volume for some background noise, making the short trip towards the kitchen to make dinner. You rarely got messages on your phone unless it was from your mom or your phone provider wanting you to update your old phone, so you scrolled mindlessly through various social media newsfeeds. You munched on a vegetable as you waited for your pan to heat up. You tried to not feel bad for yourself, you were the one to blame for the lack of social life but you were in too deep. Too set in your ways. You stared at the steaming pan as you imagined moving across the country.

“Yeah right” you said aloud to yourself as you finished cooking your dinner, eating the food but not really tasting it.

~~~

You repeated the same routine the next day, unbeknownst to you today was the day that Bucky decided you were ready. It didn’t take him long to find a house isolated by miles of forest. Despite its unassuming traditional exterior, the inside was modern as he enjoyed the impersonal nature that the style provided. He spent the majority of his time there making sure the house was locked and secure in case you tried anything. The thought made him laugh a little, knowing you didn’t have it in you but he didn’t want to take any chances. Things had been going his way lately, and finding you was like the universe was rewarding him even more. At first, he considered getting to know you, and doing the whole flowers and dates thing but decided he didn’t have the patience for all that waiting, he’s been waiting long enough and he deserved something good. He settled on a much easier method. Breaking in was easy, old apartments like this barely gave him any trouble. He even had someone hold the building door open for him, just his luck.

The lock felt weird when you opened your door but you didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as another sign of the building’s old age. He watched from afar as you went about your usual routine. He was beginning to become skeptical at how oblivious you were. He was practically behind you and you hadn’t even looked over your shoulder once. He even made some accidental noises by stepping on squeaky floorboards and didn’t get a reaction from you, he took this as another lucky break. You were tired today and fell asleep relatively easily, considering how long it typically took you to fall asleep. Bucky walked around your apartment as he waited for you to enter a deeper sleep, familiar with everything since he had been in here a few times since first spotting you all those weeks ago. He looked at your book collection, a mix of genres, and looked closer at the few photos you had on display. A majority of the old photos seemed to be of your family from decades ago. He picked up one that seemed more recent, the only one you had up that included you. He recognized the other two people in it, your mom and sister, both busy with their own lives. He already sized up your family and it would be easy to handle them if he needed to.

He walked into your bathroom and went through your medicine cabinet, finding nothing out of the ordinary besides a few nail polish bottles and various allergy medicines. Finally, he noticed the soft snores coming out of your room. He shut the cabinet, staring at his reflection for a second. He knew this was the right thing to do and had no bad intention. He softly grunted at his pathetic moment of self-reflection and took out a needle filled with a small dose of anesthesia. He observed you for a moment as you slept, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows relaxed, he considered for a moment how easy it would be to take you, but reminded himself of the bigger picture. He easily found a vein and waited a few minutes before taking you to your new home.

~~~

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled to yourself as you thought about how well you slept last night. You hummed as you kept your eyes closed briefly noticing the absence of warmth that the morning sun provided you in the mornings. You thought nothing of it, too distracted by the fact that this was probably the best night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Despite that you still felt a little groggy, you began to move but quickly felt something rough holding you down. Your eyes shot open as your breathing began to quicken. You became conscious of the rough restraints around your arms and legs. You awkwardly lifted your head up as you tried to look around, it looked like a basement based on the unfinished walls surrounding you, a single lightbulb hanging above you on the unfinished ceiling. You attempted to calm yourself down by deeply inhaling but knew it was a lost cause once you heard the shaky exhale leave your mouth. You knew you couldn’t break free from the knotted rope holding you down. You had weak arms and tried to use your leg strength in an attempt to kick yourself free but felt it begin to sting as it irritated your ankles from the pressure. You sat in a deafening silence and felt completely petrified.

You let out a whimper as you heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened as you saw a tall, broad man approach you. You were too scared to notice anything about him and began to feel yourself shake, causing you to miss the way he hungrily reacted to your frightened state. A shadow was cast on you as he stood over the bed. From the corner of your eye, you watched as his right hand lowered the comforter to your torso and expose your shirt as you twitched at the action. He smirked in response, your eyes following his hand as it hovered over the comforter as though he was going to do something. It exited your line of sight but your eyes were fixed in place. You heard movement as he straightened himself before speaking to you for the first time.

“Did you sleep well? You’ve been out for most of the day” His deep voice filled the room as you kept shaking, too scared to answer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered if he could too, but he was too busy trailing his eyes over your torso. He noticed the way your nipples created peaks on your oversized shirt. He licked his lips before he moved his hand up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You did your best at avoiding his gaze keeping your gaze low, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control your shaking but felt it intensify instead.

Still gripping your chin, a little tighter than necessary, and trying to control your shaking body got him hard. You looked so weak like this, it made him excited, a wicked smile painted his face as he looked down at your wide eyes and lips clamped together in terror.

“Look at me when I talk to you, doll”

You had a difficult time looking people in the eyes in general, so you lifted your eyes and stopped at his chin. You didn’t dare go any higher. He squeezed on your chin and heard him let out an amused chuckle. If you weren’t so terrified you would have noticed how out of place it sounded given the situation.

“That’ll have to do, for now, I can tell you’re terrified but you really have no reason to be. I only want to do what’s best for you- for us, I’m only doing what needs to be done.” He didn’t expect a response and stared at you as he let you sit with his words.

He took a moment and let his hand trail down from your chin. He felt the nervous swallow as his pointer finger trailed lower and lower. His finger deviated from its straight path as he placed his palm against your chest, pausing to feel your heartbeat racing. He almost felt sorry as he felt its frantic rhythm. He couldn’t help himself as he cupped your left breast. His thumb gently circling around the hard bud. You scrunched your eyebrows and scolded yourself for getting pleasure from his action. His gentle touch was a strong contrast to the situation he had put you in.

His finger continued its journey down and stopped just above your mound. You swallowed as you felt his eyes staring at you intently, not daring to see if you were right. He lifted his hand momentarily as he moves to sit next to you, hearing the springs groan under him, pushing the comforter towards the bottom of the bed. You get chills as warmth escapes, feeling the crisp air conditioning surround your body instead. Jerking at his touch, he returns his right hand to your body just below your navel this time. His fingers trace down until it feathered above your mound. You held your breath as if any noise from you would assure that he would continue his actions as if he would forget you were there. You felt his pause when his fingers hit the material of your cotton underwear. He slowly traces a short line along your clit, you ball your hands into fists wanting to make him stop. Why was your body enjoying this?

You hold your breath as he gently pulls them down till they were at your knees and returns his hand to its previous place. The empty room is quiet, amplifying the sound of both of your breaths. You feel his middle and ring finger move lower gently stroking your folds. You hear him let out a surprised huff as he continued stroking.

“I was gonna bring lube, but it looks like we won’t be needing it, huh sweetheart?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, he was right. You felt heat building ever since he grabbed your chin, but he didn’t need to know that. All you wanted to do was at the very least was cover your face, but felt the irritation of the rope on your wrists instead. He began back and forth on your heat for a few moments. The room now having the added noise of his fingers slowly speeding up as he stroked you. You shut your eyes as he circled around your entrance, you could already tell his fingers would be significantly bigger than yours. He slowly inserted a finger as you sucked in a quick breath. You could hear him let out a quiet groan as he watched his finger disappear into your hole.

After finding a rhythm he added another finger. You let out a whimper at the fullness of both of his thick fingers filling your hole. It stung at first, hurting slightly you wanted to try and stop his intrusion. Besides your finger, you had never had anything else inside of you. You felt slightly embarrassed by this when you were younger but as you got older you accepted the fact that your lack of social life was a major reason as to why you never had anything close to a romantic partner. Never being social enough to meet someone that you would want to be friends with, let alone sleep with. You felt as though you should tell this man, did you even know his name, that this was the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone before. Before you think any more about it you open your mouth, nothing coming out at first but it was enough for his eyes to go to your face. He slowed down his pace and had his eyes trained on your face waiting for you to speak as if his fingers weren’t leisurely stroking your soft walls in the meantime.

“I- I think I need to tell you something” The words left you slowly and your voice was shakey as you tried to speak and ignore your oncoming orgasm at his rough fingers stroking you gently. Why did you feel like you owed him this? You briefly thought to yourself. But it was too late to stop now.

He smirked at you as he waited for you to continue on. So far, you’ve shown him nothing but submissiveness. Cementing the fact that he made the right choice when he chose you. He didn’t plan on being this gentle with you originally but he couldn’t help it, feeling as though any other treatment would scare you away. His fingers never stopping their gentle strokes, he watched your lips as your quiet voice trembled on.

“I’ve never really, I haven’t done any of this before. I’m a virgin” the words leave you slowly, you gulp and still refuse to meet his gaze, scared for a moment that you would lose the gentleness he has given you thus far. You knew that wouldn’t stop him, but a small part of you hoped it would be enough for him to stop just for now. For the first time you decided to look at his face, still too scared to meet his eyes you opted to watch his mouth as you waited for a response.

To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. You had chosen to tell him this on your own, he didn’t even get a chance to ask you. He didn’t want to assume but based on his observations of you he had an inkling that this was the case. He felt proud of you, his perfect girl. He smiled gently at you in response. You shivered as his fingers paused their gentle strokes in you as he moved to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me, my good girl” it sounded patronizing but your body thought otherwise. Feeling heat shoot straight to your core at his response. He felt you squeeze around his fingers at his response.

Once he felt that you adjusted to his fingers he began to alternate inserting them. Thrusting one and then the other inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, you never felt this close to cumming so quickly. Your eyes swelled with tears as you quietly sobbed, reaching your climax. Both of you watched as he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive heat. Covered in slick from your climax. You watched as he moved his fingers close to his face, smirking at you.

“Just a little taste for now,” he said he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on his two fingers that were just inside you seconds ago. The empty room amplified the sound, your face felt hot as you watched the lewd act feeling your core still throbbing.

He reveled in your obvious embarrassment, humming at your reaction. He wiped his damp fingers on his pants as he got up. You blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. You had enjoyed what had just happened but felt angry at yourself for that. He shouldn’t have done that, and you had let yourself succumb to his fingers so easily. He watched you, deep in thought with your eyes spaced out. His cock throbbed as if reminding him he needed a release too but he didn’t want to scare you. He had a plan, but you had just showed him that he didn’t have to be as rough as he initially thought with you. And he wouldn’t ever admit it but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, as soon as he interacted with you it was almost as if he needed to handle you with care. Something that he thought wasn’t in his nature, but for you, maybe he’d try.

He felt his confident demeanor waver for a second, an odd feeling. He needed to get away from her and have a moment alone, so with a quick glance, he turned towards the door and practically ran out of the room without speaking to her.

Too busy thinking, you didn’t notice the foreign feelings your captor had just experienced. Only noticing this broad figure leaving the room as if he was late for something. If you weren’t so busy scolding yourself you would have wondered if you had done something wrong to elicit that action from him.

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chubbology · 3 years

Text

Overindulged

prompt: feeder boyfriend quits his job and balloons as fat as his feedee/feeder girlfriend

He drove his sleek BMW up his driveway and into the middle garage just as dusk settled into night. He’d stayed overtime at work again, and to make it up to his girlfriend, three dozen fresh assorted donuts sat in the passenger seat.

Sure enough, immediately upon opening the back door with his stack of boxes, he heard her voice: “Late.”

“It’s the end of the month,” he said. “What do you expect? Brought you something though, so don’t be mad. Come in here.”

He set the boxes down on the granite island, then waited, sucking in a breath. His pupils dilated as his favorite person in the world waddled through the wide archway leading into the kitchen. After giving him a pout, she pulled the boxes toward her with arms that hung, at their heaviest, over half a foot with fat.

She was a beautiful, enormous woman. He had met her on a plane three years ago on a business trip to Paris. She’d pulled him into conversation like a warm whirlpool, and he’d listened in awe to her life story: miserable wife of a banker to a happily divorced entrepreneur, flying first class on her own dime.

With a smug, knowing smile, she talked about how she used to be skinny for her ex’s sake and now was free. He couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over her blatantly overweight body. Thighs pressing firm on either armrest of the wide seat, bust prominent and heavy, belly button deep and visible through her dress.

Bad news is, she’d concluded, I just settled a messy lawsuit that lost me my career and nearly bankrupted me. But she shrugged, as if such was life. I’m taking my last-hurrah vacation until I have no choice but to eat tiny, unsatisfying meals again.

He decided that couldn’t come to pass, so he spent as much time with her outside his business obligations as he could, taking her to meal after meal, falling in love as she ate to her heart’s content and shamelessly talked about how she’d rather fallen in love with gaining weight. It titillated and empowered her. By the end of their two week stay in Paris, she was twelve pounds bigger and he had invited her to live with him for a while as she looked for a new career path. She accepted.

Three years later, she’d found her calling without having to leave his luxurious, spacious home. Doing what she loved.

She was almost four hundred and fifty pounds now, last he was updated. She always wore leggings that clung to every lump and bulge of cellulite, and she liked to tease him by wearing crop tops, letting her massive belly and side rolls hang out and wobble as they pleased.

He watched with soft eyes as she stuffed herself with four jelly-filled doughnuts. Between bites she said, “These long hours at your soulless job are no good. My fans want to see more of you.” More eating. “The last time you fed me on camera was weeks ago!”

She gave him an imploring look as she ate a fifth doughnut. Boston creme. Her face, once conventionally pretty, now had a sexy overindulged look. She’d lost her jawline to additional chins and neck fat, and her round, fatty cheeks quivered as she chewed. Even before she finished the fifth doughnut, she picked up a sixth. “And don’t think they haven’t noticed that little tummy you have now.”

“What?” He looked down at himself, blushing at how his tie sat out a bit on slightly stretched white buttons.

Before he could say anything, she pushed a chocolate doughnut in his hand. “I know people willing to pay a pretty petty to see you chunk out.” She smirked. “Pop a couple of those buttons.”

He laughed dismissively, but as he ate the doughnut, he contemplated the press of his new chub against his shirt. His pants felt a little tight in the ass, too, now that he thought about it. What if? he thought.

Suddenly, he found himself admitting: “I’ve been thinking of quitting.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he explained. He hadn’t meant to talk about it now, but here he was. Out of nervousness, he pulled one of the boxes toward himself and picked another doughnut, this one caving in under its sprinkles. He took a heavenly bite. “I have plenty of money saved and invested to take care of both of us for a long time. I just don’t see why I…”

She waddled over to his side of the island and took his free hand. “You know I’d support you.” Then she pulled him closer, into a smiling kiss. “I’ll support you real good.”

Before his two week notice even ended, he was eight pounds heavier, and he relished how his coworkers’ eyes lingered on his burgeoning waistline. Soon, his tummy was pushing over his pants. His chest felt thicker. He felt his ass spread wider when he sat down. He ate desserts all the time, and his girlfriend lavished him with attention (food) at every opportunity when he was home, encouraging him to eat in amounts he’d never let himself eat before. She started filming - with his consent, as always - the development of his chubbing up. Her fans loved him even more than they already did, compliments coming in faster than he could read them.

One month into being an unemployed man, she stuffed him on camera until one of his shirt buttons popped off. The experience was more of a revelation for him than even becoming officially overweight; that night, after she went to sleep, he got out of bed, squeezed into an old pair of slacks that barely fit him, then gorged himself in the kitchen until he gasped at the relief of his ass seam tearing open, unable to accommodate his butt, which everyone online said was growing gorgeously fat. His heart fluttered just thinking about it, and he hoped his ass kept growing.

It did.

“I admit, I never thought you’d be this much of a pear,” his girlfriend told him, six months into his steady ballooning. They were admiring his progress in the large bathroom mirror. He may have looked small relative to his partner’s morbid obesity, but somehow, they were both more fascinated with his growth at the moment. She outlined his bottom heavy figure with her hands. Fat had indeed stored most eagerly in his ass, thighs, and hips. His belly drooped soft and wide.

“I love it,” she said. “Love everything about you.” But then something else came into her expression. “Except how you’ve stopped picking up after yourself.”

He swallowed, and said honestly, “Sorry. I know I’m getting lazier.”

“We’ll have to hire a maid.” She grinned wickedly. “Or do two pigs deserve to roll in their sty?”

A year into living on his passive income and her subscribers, the couple had not yet hired any cleaning services, and his country club house was...well. Not trashed, but messy and disorganized. She blamed the five pounds she’d lost over the past month on having to constantly throw his trash away. She punished him by making him stand while drinking a whole liter of full-sugar soda. Since he’d developed a strong distaste for any physical effort as he sunk deeper into obesity, he grumbled the whole time. When he finally fell back on the couch, she sat too. Together, they took up most of it. But while she looked perfectly composed, he was panting raggedly, slightly sweaty, a food stain on his pants.

“Look.” She reached out and held his chubby wrist. “I can tell that the fatter you get, the more your natural inclination is to be a pig.” She spoke with total matter-of-factness. As if the emergence of his inner pig was unsurprising and inevitable. “It’s not uncommon in men - that urge to oink and eat as a way of life. But we share this space. I help pay off this house. Please throw away your take out containers.”

Then she added, at his long-suffering sigh, “I’ll reward you.”

He met her gaze. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

This time, there were no cameras. There was just her, sitting on one side of their king bed and him on the other, breathing heavy, taking her reward one bite at a time.

Everywhere in their bed were containers and packages and napkins and soda bottles. He had eaten mexican and noodles and burgers and fries. He’d eaten candy bars and sundaes and milkshakes and chunky cookies. He was so full he could feel the skin of his belly stretching. He could practically feel the skin of his thighs stretching, as if they were filling up heavier with fat right then, as he was determinedly overfed. He swallowed another bite of greasy cheeseburger.

“Keep going. I can tell you're slowing down, but I’ll have none of that yet. I want to see progress from you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want to feel the ecstasy of squeezing through a doorframe or are you going to plateau at being just fat?”

He let out a breathy moan as he ate another bite of the cheeseburger. His girlfriend knew him too well. She knew he liked the new challenges being big was causing him. She knew it turned him on that he sat so much fatter in his own car, belly pressing against everything, ass barely fitting at all. She knew his hands had begun cupping his hips as a half-unconscious habit, admiring his own width.

He liked how his thighs had to push past each other, jiggling every time. He even liked when he accidentally bumped into things, because it was a hot reminder that he wasn’t the same. He was like her now. He was fat. He was a pig. He wanted to eat and get so big he could barely even waddle. He wanted to squeeze through doorways. He wanted to get stuck.

“I want everything,” he said. And she smiled, temporarily pleased.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #female feeder #male gainer

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rendevousz · 3 years

Text

reunited

req: i was wondering if i could request a natasha x teen daughter reader where the reader has really bad social anxiety please? maybe where the reader was in the red room with natasha but given to hydra once the red room was taken down and natasha has been looking for her ever since she left the red room. on a mission to take down a hydra base natasha finally finds reader, and it's super emotional for the both of them and they're just happy to have each other back. natasha knows about readers social anxiety from when she was younger and sees that it's only gotten worse now, so she's super sweet and understanding. she saves the reader from the base and comforts her the whole way home because she's scared of all of the new people also on the jet (the other avengers). the reader lives with natasha at the compound with everyone else and natasha is just great about her social anxiety and never pushes her out of her comfort zone and comforts her when she has panic attacks. sorry if that's a lot, but thank you so much! i love your fics sooo much, you're such an amazing writer!!! 💖💖💖

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

summary: nat finally finds you after years of looking.

word count: 4083

notes: i didn't make them peers in the red room because then they'd have to be around the same ages but i made them meet at the red room. also i didn't know how to write about her having social anxiety so i hope you don't mind that i didn't 😓 hope you like this <33

"stop," madame b's authoritative voice commanded and all of you stopped dancing. all of your peers seemed to be struggling to stand still on their battered feet, some breathing heavily but who could blame them? you had all been instructed to dance for hours now. you had to dance until you couldn't anymore.

your head faced madame b but your eyes landed on your best friend, veronika, for a split second. she seemed in pain and you vowed to check on her after whatever announcement your supervisor had for you. you stood tall, clenching your jaw in order to not show that you were in pain or out of breath.

madame b's gaze flickered to you for a second, her lip lifting up on one side for a brief moment before her face hardened once again.

"i have someone special here today. she's here to observe your training and if necessary, teach what you girls lack. she has long graduated this academy, please welcome miss natasha romanova."

you jolted awake, panting hard at the memory that just played in your dreams. you looked around you, seeing the same cell wall you had been put in for the past three years. after the fall of the red room academy where you were from, another organisation came and swooped you in, not wanting to waste your skills. you were the only one they took, having heard much about your abilities and reputation in the red room.

the girls stood all around you and veronika, watching the two of you spar tirelessly after hours of endless ballet. natasha and madame b watched the match closely, eyes trained on your techniques and movements.

after natasha had introduced herself to all of you, madame b had instructed her supposedly two best students—you and veronika— to demonstrate a true spar between skilled assassins.

while you were reluctant to attack your best friend, she had other plans, one that included impressing her idol who stood mere metres away from her. you were shocked when she started attacking you. never had she obeyed a command against you so quick.

you had to put away your initial shock to start attacking back in order to not get hurt by the hands of your own best friend. the look in her eyes was different, almost animalistic. it wasn't like the one she had when you two were laid in your beds side to side at night, handcuffed to it while you talked about your deepest struggles being in the academy. it wasn't the same one she had when you reassured her that she was doing okay whenever she said she would never be as good as you were at this whole assassin thing. it wasn't the same innocently surprised one she had just moments ago when she was addressed as one of madame b's best students.

this wasn't your best friend. this was a girl blinded by her desire to impress. she wanted to show natasha that she was the better one out of you two. your heart broke when you saw her desperation. it was obvious in the way she fought you.

it wasn't long before you had her in a chokehold, the girl struggling to get your grip off of her. your face visibly faltered, eyes tearing up slightly when you heard her whimpers. natasha took notice of this.

your lips were quivering when you turned to madame b. a simple nod from your trainer had you whispering a strained 'i'm sorry, i love you' in her ear before you broke her neck. the girl fell limp in your arms, dropping down to the mat, dead. you panted heavily as you stepped away from her body.

"good. this is what i expect of all of you," madame b turns to your peers, the stone cold look back on her face. "one thing you need to perfect though, y/n, is your emotions. don't get emotional over things that don't matter. i saw your inner conflict. veronika would have no reluctancy to end you if you were the one in the chokehold. she was more mentally prepared to be a ruthless assassin. you're lucky you're more skilful than she is. she would have no hesitation to kill you, close companion or not."

you swallowed that lump in your throat, biting the insides of your cheeks to prevent crying right then and there. "you have a lot of potential, y/n. don't let your emotions ruin it. i have high hopes for you." she spoke once again, before dismissing everyone.

you left the room with a heavy heart, turning to look at veronika's body one last time before leaving quickly so you could break down where no one else could witness.

you rushed to the staircase where you and veronika would sneak away all the time when you were supposed to be having lunch. you two would always sit under those stairs, talk about anything and everything you could. your tears were now freely rolling down your face.

"hey," you heard a voice say and you quickly wiped your tears away. you looked up and saw that it was none other than natasha. "miss romanova," you breathed out, scrambling to get up before she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, the woman seating herself next to you on the floor, under the staircase.

"that must've been hard for you," she spoke after a few seconds of silence. "i remember my first time killing an actual person in training. they had me shoot targets and i consistently got the bullseye every time. then they switched out the targets to an actual person and i had a hard time doing that. i can't imagine how it must've been for you. i heard you and veronika were quite the inseparable duo."

you didn't move to show that you were shattered over the current events but the millions of tears silently streaming down your face said otherwise. natasha turned to you, reaching to wipe your tears away before gently caressing your cheek.

"you're a strong one, y/n. you remind me of myself when i was still in training. i can see myself in you." she told you truthfully. she had no idea why but she felt a strong connection towards you. she felt that you and her had so much in common. she had a strange inclination to protect you even though she knew damn well you were capable of doing so yourself.

since then, she always dropped by to help train all of you but you and her developed a relationship so strong that she even told you of her plans to get you out of that hellhole. at that point, it had been a few months since she'd turned good but she kept coming to the academy for your sake. she felt a sense of responsibility over you, like a mother would over her daughter.

she would with the other girls too if they had shown at least a bit of humanity but it seemed that the red room had ruined them beyond fixing. despite being the best student of the academy, you still weren't inhumane like the rest. you would hesitate to hurt others, only doing so when threatened and even that, you still weren't as heartless or cruel.

madame b would always berate you over this but natasha would pick up the pieces every single time. you loved her. she was the best thing in your life after veronika and your heart broke when the red room fell and you were taken away. away from the mother you never had.

you awoke with a jolt again. it was the second night in a row you were reliving your past memories. you touched your face and you felt the tears on it, wiping them with your sleeve as you sat up in your cold, uncomfortable bed in your cell. you sighed, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.

you couldn't help but think of nat again. what could've happened if she managed to get you out before you were taken away? could you have a nice life with her? would you never have to hide under the stairs to have emotional exchanges with the woman? would you finally have been able to be who you were, not influenced by the evil around you?

you never knew what it was like having a mother but you imagined it was what nat had been towards you during the times you spent together at the academy. you two were more mother and daughter rather than trainer and student.

all of a sudden, alarms blared through the building and red warning lights flickered in your cell. you stood up, peeking through the small glass of your cell door to see guards rushing through the hallways in a frenzy.

you assumed that the facility was under attack and no one was coming to save you. you didn't even try, walking back to your bed to return to your position of hugging your knees tightly to your chest.

you could hear the chaos outside but opted not to pay attention to it. it didn't involve you and if no one was coming to save you from whatever was attacking the place—not that anyone in that place would, you were merely an asset to them—you wouldn't bother worrying about whether you were going to live by the end of the night.

a loud bang interrupted your thoughts and you looked up to see your cell door had been forcefully thrown open by a large man in stripes, holding a circular shield. you immediately stood up, getting ready to attack him when he spoke.

"i'm not here to hurt you." he said, holding out a hand as if to tell you to stop whatever you were about to do. "we're here to save you. you can finally leave this place now." he says gently. you frown at him, still in a stance ready to attack him.

"cap, is there someone in this room?" a familiar voice spoke and your head immediately turned to the door, where the owner of the voice stood, mouth dropping open at the sight of you. your face softened and a tiny gasp left your lips at the sight of her.

"y/n...is that you?" she breathed out, walking towards you and not stopping when she saw that you weren't alarmed or anything. "nat.." you choked out, tears starting to form. how crazy was it that you had been having flashbacks of her for the past two nights and suddenly she was here to come save you?

"y/n!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. you knees buckled but she held onto you tightly, sniffling as she caressed your head gently. you buried your face in her shoulder as you took in the familiar feeling of being in her arms once again.

more tears started to form in your eyes now. never had you thought you were actually going to see her again. you lost the hope of seeing her again two years ago. but here she was, standing in your cell and hugging you like there would be no tomorrow.

your hugging session was cut short when steve sheepishly spoke up. "sorry to uh, interrupt this reunion but more guards are coming, i think it's best if we leave now." he picked up his shield, leading the three of you out of the facility safely and back to their quinjet. the whole time, nat held onto your hand tightly, as if letting go would lead to another few years of being apart once again.

once you reached the quinjet, nat led you to the seats in the back where you two would have more privacy. the team watched the two of you in confusion before turning back to steve for an explanation as he was the one who was partnered with nat for this mission. all the captain could tell them was that you two knew each other way before this and that all of them would have to wait for an explanation from nat herself if they wanted to know what was going on.

when you reached the compound, nat led you to her room where she lent you her clothes and let you shower before tucking you into her bed. when she was sure you were comfortably asleep, she left the room quietly to go grab a glass of water only to find the whole team sat in the common room instead of back in their own rooms.

she looked at them, confused. "guys, it's like almost the crack ass of dawn and we just got back from a mission, why aren't you asleep? or were you debriefing? in the common room? did i miss it?"

"no, you know debriefings for late night missions are the next morning. we were waiting for you actually," steve spoke on behalf of the whole team. "me? for what?"

"nat, c'mon, don't act stupid. you know what we're talking about," clint makes an unimpressed face at his best friend. nat sighs, taking a seat next to him and the team look at her expectantly. she cleared her throat, preparing for a whole story time.

"you know how i was from the red room?" she asked them and they all nodded, urging her to continue her story. "well, after i graduated, i was asked to come help train the younger ones in the programme. during that time, i met this girl. she reminded me a lot of my younger self and she didn't seem completely brainwashed to the point where she lacked emotions. i grew close to her and after i met clint and joined SHIELD, i vowed to get her out of there because she went through a lot in that hellhole and i could tell she didn't want to do any of the things that the other girls were fine doing.

"she had a good heart and i didn't want it to be wasted. she was the best in the academy and i knew they had big plans for her. but i didn't want her to be programmed to kill. she was much more than that. so i made this whole plan for her escape. i kept going back to the academy to come see her and share my plan with her. clint, you always asked me where i kept disappearing to when we first started becoming friends. it was her. the people there didn't know i was already under SHIELD at that time—nobody did—so it was safe for me to keep visiting and keep planning an escape for her.

"but three years ago, the red room fell. i rushed over because i thought i could finally leave with her without anyone knowing. but apparently she'd been taken away. she was the only one of the girls who was taken. by who, i didn't know at that time. but i knew it was because of her skills and abilities. if the red room had big plans for her, i knew other organisations must've already heard of her too.

"i never stopped looking for her. i don't know why i never thought of HYDRA. but it doesn't matter anymore. i finally found her and i'm never letting her go. i hope you guys don't mind that she lives here now. if not, i'll move out and find somewhere for us."

the team seemed surprised that nat told them her story. they were very much expecting her to, well, not tell them because this seemed like a very personal story.

"no, no, of course she can stay. i'll even set up another room for her." tony says and nat nods gratefully. "what's her name?" wanda asks.

"y/n," nat tells her, smiling at the thought of you as she stands up. "alright, i have to go back to her. see you guys in the morning. maybe you'll get to see her then."

she bids them goodnight, leaving after grabbing a glass of water for you in case you woke up in the middle of the night, in need of it. she wasn't wrong because when she got back to her room, you were up, hugging your knees as you cried.

"hey, hey, hey, what's wrong, sugar?" she quickly puts the glass of water on the bedside table, sitting on the bed and pulling you close to her. you look up at her all teary-eyed and she feels her heart break.

"i–i thought i lost you again," you croaked out, burying your face in her shoulder. "oh, sugar, you'll never lose me ever again. i'll never let that happen. you're safe here with me. now sleep, i'll be here when you wake up." she stroked your hair gently, laying down next to you on the bed before you two fell into a blissful slumber in each other's arms.

true to her words, she was right next to you when you woke up the next time. she seemed wide awake and you felt bad because she probably had been up hours before but didn't leave you because you were scared.

"how'd you sleep, sugar?" she asked as you sat up, stretching. "the best i have in years. thanks to you, nat." you smiled at her, still not believing all of this is real. that you're finally reunited with the woman you thought of as your mother.

"do you want to meet my friends? they're dying to meet you," she tells you and you bite your lips nervously. "do you think they'll like me?"

"are you crazy? of course they will. and if they don't, i'll make them." she threatens playfully and you laugh, missing how protective of you she is. you smile, agreeing to her suggestions to meet her friends after you got ready for the day.

"hi, sweetie, you're y/n?" a man with fancy silk pyjamas greeted as you entered the common room with natasha. you nodded timidly, scooting closer to natasha. it was weird for natasha to see you this nervous. after all, you were the best student of your batch in the red room. but she understood that years with no actual social interaction does that to people.

"i hope you'll like staying here, i already have your room setting up as of right now. when you move in, you can tell me if you don't like anything and i'll change it for you. oh, i forgot, i'm tony," he extends a hand towards you and with an encouraging nod from nat, you hesitantly shake his hand. he smiles at you before telling you both he has projects to finish down in his lab and to tell him if you needed anything.

"hey, nat, not gonna introduce your friend to us?" you heard a voice from behind you and you two turned around to see two men and a woman. you recognised both men—one of them was the one who broke into your cell last night and the other one you had seen him a lot from pictures nat would show you during your secret meetings in your red room days. he was her best friend. you didn't know the woman but the kind smile on her face was enough to reassure you that these people weren't bad.

"y/n, meet clint, the idiot who i call best friend," she points to the shorter man. the name nat called him must've offended him because the face he made was hilarious that you let out a little giggle. nat smiles at this before proceeding to introduce the other two.

"this one's steve, he's an old man stuck in a young body—literally— so if he says things you don't understand, just smile and nod." you nod at nat and steve gives her an incredulous look, as if not believing the audacity she had to introduce him like that.

"this one's wanda, she's the least annoying person in this whole place and she can cook whatever you want so i think you two will get along really well." wanda smiles at you and you return it shyly. you smile at the other two before nat drags you away, telling them she still had others to introduce you to.

when you entered the kitchen, you saw a man reading a newspaper on the kitchen island while another man, whose skin was red, stood beside him. they seemed to be discussing something very intelligent because you didn't understand a single word they spoke.

"bruce, vision, i want you to meet someone." they turned their attentions towards you and nat and you immediately felt like hiding once again. "oh hello, steve told us you brought back someone from the mission. is this her? hello, i'm bruce," the man sitting down introduced himself.

"wait, is this the bruce?" you asked nat, smirking teasingly at her and she smacks you gently on the shoulder. the man seemed flustered at what you're insinuating, scratching his neck awkwardly.

"bruce, vision, this is y/n, i've known her for a long time and i finally found her after years so i hope you two won't mind that she'll be staying here from now on," nat tells them. the two of them didn't come on the mission last night so they were the only two who didn't actually see you until today.

"it's nice to meet you, y/n. i'm vision, i hope you'll enjoy your stay here." the man with the red skin greets formally and you turn to nat with a confused expression. "he's an android, he does things a bit weird here so don't mind him." she whispers to you and you nod understandingly.

"it's nice to meet you two, i hope we'll be good friends." you say awkwardly, hoping to get this whole introduction thing over with. how many people do you have left to meet?

speaking of the devil—or should you say, devils—, two annoying voices rang through the kitchen, interrupting the peacefulness that it was before they came in.

"i'm just saying that if you hadn't eaten my last bag of chips last week, i wouldn't have taken your cookies last night. it's all about fair play, man."

"and i keep telling you that it wasn't me! i don't even like those stupid salty ass chips from that brand,"

"stop lying, i saw you eating that brand the other day! just admit you stole my chips and go,"

"guys, are you really having another one of your stupid arguments now?" nat cuts them off and they immediately turned to you, finally noticing all of you.

"oh hey! y/n, right? it's nice to meet you, i'm sam. if you wanna survive in this place, you better hide your snacks because if you don't, this winter warrior here will snatch 'em all before you can even stash them in the cupboards. don't ever trust this guy here when it comes to your snacks. you heard what happened to mine," the man fakes a cry and you held back a laugh at his long introduction. you only wanted a name to match the face but he gave you much more. you didn't mind though, he seemed like a fun person.

"hi, doll, i'm bucky. don't listen to eagle right here, i do not steal snacks. i simply let people have a taste of their own medicine. you steal my snacks, wilson, i steal 'em back. you think i don't know you stole my oreos too last month? that's why i stole your damn chips last week,"

"so you did steal them!"

"so what if i did?! you stole my oreos first!"

"oh my god, guys, you're really embarrassing me in front of y/n. these are really the people i was excited to introduce her to," nat face-palmed and you couldn't help but laugh. "don't worry nat, these people seem amazing. i can't wait to get to know them better." you assured her and she smiles, pulling you close to her. "buckle up, sugar, because living with the avengers is gonna be a wild ride."

you were excited for what was about to come. it seemed like everything was finally falling into place. you finally got nat back and you didn't have to worry about losing her again because you had a feeling these people weren't going to let that happen.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky @marauvdersfate @bestillmystuckyheart

#marvel x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #bucky barnes x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #mcu x teen!reader #mcu x reader #avenger!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader

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sciderman · 3 years

Photo

Was going through some old writing files (of which there are hundreds!!) and stumbled across a high school AU I was writing a while ago! (an actual one! not a tantalising dream-sequence involving cheerleaders, though we all know I love those...)

I don’t know if I’ll resurrect it, but there’s a bit of fun to be had - Peter’s anger issues are something that I’d like to see explored more in spideypool fic, and I just... I love high school AUs okay...

Read some of it under the cut!

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

“What’re you in for?”

“Something stupid.” Peter grumbled.

“Love it.” The boy said, grinning. Peter noticed a missing tooth. “I hid a frog in the student counsellor’s desk. You should’ve seen him scream.”

Peter was quiet, but his lips quirked.

“Immature”, he eventually said.

“The guy’s a dickhole. And,” the blond rocked on his chair, buzzing, “technically, I saved a life.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Saved the frog from one of the labs. They were gonna slice him open. Imagine you’re just sitting on your lily pad one day. Chilling. And then some jackass scientist scoops you up and cuts you open. Starts prodding inside you. Gross.”

“Okay, yeah, gross.”

“My name is Wade, bee-tee-dubs.”

Wade. Peter remembered. He’d only joined the class at the beginning of last semester, and sat near the back of the class. He hadn’t recognised him by his face because he’d always had his hood up. Not that Peter had ever paid enough attention to his peers to remember them by face anyway.

“Uh.” Peter said, eyeing the hand he was being offered as a greeting. He didn’t return the handshake, but he responded with a simple “I’m Peter.”

“Cool.” Wade nodded, looking at his feet, heels bouncing off the linoleum floor. His shoes were scuffed and worn.

A moment of silence passed. Both boys turned their attention to the floor, as though it were suddenly the most interesting feature of the room.

Peter side eyed his company, in the moment of quiet. There were shallow craters on the boy’s face, Peter noticed, like chickenpox scars that hadn’t fully healed. Wade definitely seemed conscious about it, with his hood being nearly always drawn, and his shaggy hair that often covered his face.

“Peter Parker.” The principal called, peering through the door at the boys. The principal glared at Wade, who put up his hands in response. Clearly Wade was a regular.

A wave of smugness came over Peter, who leant in close to Wade.

“I broke Flash Thompson’s arm.” Peter whispered, before standing up to enter the principal’s office. For a second Peter saw Wade’s face light up, like that was the coolest thing he had ever heard.

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

“Mr Parker, I recognise you’re going through a tough time – And I’m sorry.”

Peter sank in his chair, eyes fixed on a hole puncher sat on the desk.

“I understand you must be going through a lot of emotions at the moment, but you,” the principal wrung his hands, “you hospitalised one of your classmates. Eugene Thompson –”

The principal’s voice faded in and out of Peter’s attention. As usual, he stood alone on Planet Peter Parker.

He thought about Aunt May. Her eyes, pink and puffy. Thin hands trembling as she held them by her mouth, recounting all she remembered about that night to the police. The police, who with empty looks, mechanically took down notes. Jaded. Like a family hadn’t been just destroyed. Like a good man hadn’t just been murdered in cold blood.

Peter's uncle was a humble man. Simple, but good. He wasn't ambitious, or gifted, or clever. But he was wise.

Clever. Wise. Peter hadn't understood there was a difference between the two.

He took him for granted, Peter admitted to himself, as he cried that night, and the days following. He cried for the first time in months. Months of distancing himself from the world, before the world decided to stage a head-on-head collision with him.

“Peter? Peter, are you listening?”

Peter at last looked up, and with the movement, a tear managed to escape his eye. He brought the heel of his palm up quickly to wipe it away.

“Look, son, I want you to see the student counsellor tomorrow.” The principal said, taking down a note. Peter scowled at the pen, as it scribbled. “It will help, Peter. I want you to see the counsellor every Tuesday and Friday, last period. We’ll keep track of your healing process.”

Peter took the note when it was offered to him, and pocketed it without a word. He turned to leave.

“Peter. I didn’t dismiss you.”

Peter sighed, turning back, red-eyed and tired.

“I’m sorry about your uncle. But when Eugene returns, you will apologise.”

Peter swallowed, voice quiet when at last he spoke. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Whether that was true or not, Peter was still undecided on.

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

The school day dragged at an excruciatingly slow pace. Peter couldn’t hear the teacher. All he could hear, all day, were the whispers amongst his peers. Right now, Peter wished the walls he built to keep the world out were soundproofed.

“Did you hear? He put Flash in the ER.”

“Puny Parker? No way.”

“He’s an absolute freak.”

“He’s probably really screwed up right now, guys. I think his like, Uncle died or something.”

Peter snapped his pencil.

“Can I be excused, miss?”

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

Peter ran as fast as he could out of the school doors, gasping in air as deeply as he could. He was at his breaking point. If everyone in class saw him crying, he’d really never hear the end of it. He’d be seeing the school councillor until he graduated.

The air was cool but his face was scalding hot, tears streaming down his cheeks. He buried his face in both hands and screamed. With all the effort he could afford he tried to steady his breathing. In and out, in and out, until he started to feel lightheaded.

He could’ve broken the school doors off its hinges. He could have slammed his fists so hard on the walls, until they crumbled, or he did.

He threw a kick so hard on a nearby trash can that it flew across the courtyard.

He hated this school. He could’ve tore it down right where he stood.

“Dude.”

Peter turned so fast his head nearly knocked off his shoulders. Wade stood, back against the wall, casual as anything. He had a cigarette in hand.

“You’re an animal, dude.” Wade said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Peter’s mouth hung open, finding it difficult to find words. He brought up a sleeve to wipe up his face.

“I, just. I –”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I hate this place.”

Wade nodded, a calm demeanour about him that almost served to calm Peter by osmosis.

Peter Parker was always a very rational boy. Quiet. Reserved. He never lost it like this. He’s never –

“I heard – about your uncle.”

Peter’s eyes were exhausted from crying, he couldn’t afford anymore tears. Peter’s entire body felt it was going to sink through the earth. And Wade could see it. Wade could see it on Peter’s face. He looked to Wade for mercy. To let him fall off the planet’s surface.

“Listen, if it were me I’d – I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.”

Peter was quiet. Wade’s words felt like an electric jolt, sobering him up.

All the hollow words of consolation had left him numb, but this rang through Peter’s ears.

Eventually Peter found his voice again.

“You’d kill him, but you’d save a frog?”

“Yeah.” Wade said, as if it were obvious. “The frog didn’t do anything wrong.”

Silence followed. Peter couldn’t look up from the ground. His hands formed fists at his sides.

All the way home, Wade’s words replayed in Peter’s head. I’d kill him. I’d kill whoever did it.

The police were apathetic. Crimes go unsolved. And that made Peter’s blood boil hotter than it ever had. The thought that someone – out there – would be getting away with it.

That Aunt May might always carry that hollow, broken look in her eyes.

Later that night, Peter threw on a red hoodie, pulling the drawstrings tight. He snuck out his bedroom window, like he did every night.

News reports tell of an escaped robber cornered in a building downtown.

#spideypool #fanfic #high school au

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thefallennightmare · 2 years

Text

Rule Breaker-Eleven

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: very, very slow burn, swearing, angst, fluff, and maybe some smut down the road.

Summary: Agent 16 or also known to her close family and friends, Y/N, has been one of SHEILD’s top and most trusted agent for the last 5 years. Her number one rule that she lived by since she started; don’t date your coworkers. When reader starts working side by side with one of the men of the Avengers, she starts to realize how hard it is to keep that rule with Captain America himself, Steve Rogers.

A/N: It's short but hey, at least it's something. I'm hoping to get a better update out soon. Thanks for sticking by with the lack of updates lately. You are all da best.

Tags: @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @vi0letblu3s @lharrietg @dontbescaredtosingalong

The sharp point of my heels smacked against the marble floor of the main floor of Shield Headquarters. There was a hustle and bustle in the lobby of workers and civilians hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the Avengers. Keeping my sunglasses over my eyes, I snaked through some bodies and came to a halt in front of a lone elevator on the other end of the lobby. The only way you could get to the top floor was with a specific card, one which I had.

With the smooth ride up to the top floor, I tried to keep my mind on the meeting that was about to happen. Nick Fury had called me early this morning stating that he needed to discuss some private matters. My heart hammered hard against the cage in my chest, wondering what exactly he wanted to discuss. He had kept me busy with countless missions the last few months, not that I was complaining, so I really had no idea what he wanted to talk about.

Nodding to a few familiar faces, I briefly stopped in front of Nick's office, waiting for a gruff voice to grant me entry.

“Come in!”

“You better have a great reason for making me come in on a Sunday,” I joked but my voice seized when I noticed the other body in the room.

His broad shoulders faced me but I knew with the sound of my voice that they had tensed immediately. He turned in the chair, leaning his chin into his hand, eyes watching me intently. There was an unreadable expression in those blue eyes.

“Captain,” I nodded.

“Agent 16, please have a seat,” Nick motioned towards the chair next to Steve.

A large lump formed in my throat, worrying that Nick had found out about Steve and I. Well, to be honest, there was nothing between us so there was absolutely no reason to be worried.

Steve and I hadn’t spoken much since Tony’s party a few months ago. With me being on missions, I barely had any time to socialize with any of the Avengers.

“Is there a reason why Captain Rogers is here?” I questioned.

“There’s a last minute mission that came to my desk that I need two of my best working,” Nick answered.

I raised a brow. “Where’s Natasha?”

“She’s working on something for me,” Steve said for the first time.

My attention turned towards him. “I didn’t know she worked for you.”

“Agent,” Nick warned when he heard the change of attitude in my voice. “There’s a S.H.I.E.L.D vessel in the middle of the ocean that has been hijacked, you two along with the Strike Team are getting sent out to get the hostages out.”

“With all due respect, Fury, you’ve sent me on more dangerous missions by myself. I don’t think I need Captain Rogers or the Strike team to help,” I defended myself.

Fury pinched his eyes closed in slight anger. “Agent 16 this is not up for debate or discussion.”

I bit my lip and reluctantly nodded.

“When do we leave?” Steve asked, feeling the tension in the room rise.

“The jet leaves in one hour.”

When we both were dismissed, I jumped to my feet and did my best to get some distance between Steve and I.

“Y/N,” his soft but firm voice stopped me in my tracks. “This mission sounds like it could be dangerous so I think we need to talk about whatever is going on between us.”

I gave him a confused look. “There’s nothing going on between us?”

He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Ever since that night at Tony’s, you’ve been avoiding me. If I made you uncomfortable at all-.”

I held up a hand to stop him. “Steve, you did nothing to make me uncomfortable. Believe me, if you did, you would feel it the next morning.”

Steve smiled at that comment but let me continue to speak. “But as I said before, this relationship needs to be strictly professional.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I just wanted to make sure that we both are sound for this mission.”

My eyes slowly left his gaze, taking in the sight of his pink, plump lips. My body warmed when I noticed his tongue roll over his bottom lip. His hard chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took in and let out. His hands, now resting on his hips, were strong in my mind thinking of them ravishing my body.

“Agent?”

Snapping out of the thoughts of us together, I looked back into his eyes and nodded. “We’re good, Steve. I’ll meet you at the jet in an hour.”

Turning my back on him, I made my way towards my own office in headquarters to physically and mentally get ready for this mission with Steve. I silently thanked the Gods that we weren’t going to be alone, knowing that the sexual tension between us was growing with every second we were around one another.

My mind was heavy with thoughts of Steve that I hadn't noticed the new text message come in from Fury, letting me know that I had a different mission than Steve and Strike Team.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers and reader #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america and reader #marvel #avengers #chris evans #steve rogers angst

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todoscript · 3 years

Text

lilies & lilacs pt. i

SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.

pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader

genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.

word count: 5.6k+

warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.

author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included

The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.

During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.

Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.

“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.

“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.

“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.

Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.

Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.

His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.

His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.

And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.

Two. Weeks.

How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.

As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.

Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.

“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.

“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”

“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”

While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.

Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.

“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

The task was easier said than done.

Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.

Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.

Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.

All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.

“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”

Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.

Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.

Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.

Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.

That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure

“You alright, sir?”

His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.

“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”

Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.

“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”

Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.

“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.

Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.

Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.

“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.

Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.

“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”

“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.

With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.

The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.

During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.

Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.

Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.

Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.

Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.

N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.

He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.

He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.

It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.

“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.

With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.

You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.

“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.

“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.

Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.

You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.

Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.

You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.

Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.

“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.

“How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.

Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”

Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.

He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.

That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.

You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.

Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.

Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.

“Those are very pretty.”

Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.

The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.

“You do excellent work here in your shop.”

Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”

After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.

The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.

You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.

“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”

“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”

“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”

“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.

“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.

What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.

You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”

“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.

Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?

As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.

“Sir, I’m not su—”

“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.

Desperation.

This man seemed desperate for some reason.

“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.

“Two weeks,” he answered.

Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.

While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.

You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?

Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.

“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.

“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.

“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”

There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.

“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”

It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.

“Please be the florist for our gala.”

The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.

Todoroki Shouto — CEO

“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.

“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.

Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.

“I’ll see you then.”

After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.

You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!

A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.

Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.

“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.

“We have our florist.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha fic #todoroki fic #todoroki imagine

615 notes · View notes

mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

iida 😍😍😍 that’s it that’s the request

LMAO WELL HAVE I GOT THE 3 PART 7K FIC FOR YOU-

Stay tuned y’all, I’m posting all parts + true ending all at once HAHA

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (pt.1)

⚠️Warnings - um...idk but, a teeny weeny bit of ooc Iida bc haha

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part two can be found here!

The true ending can be found here! (Pt.3)

——————

Tapping your fingers on a surface repeatedly is a past time that Iida found rather irritable. Along with chewing or clicking on pens, bobbling your knee, fumbling with your hands, things like that.

Though, Iida couldn’t help himself from tugging and tapping on the light red watch strapped firmly to his wrist, checking it habitually.

Uraraka eyed Iida as he tiredly rubbed at the bridge of his nose, staring down the black clock hands as they moved too slowly for his liking. “8 more hours till I can see (L/n)-kun again...” he mumbled ever so quietly, pulling his grey sleeve back down.

He drummed his fingers on the side of his desk once more. Uraraka pursed her lips.

————

“Ne, Iida-kun, you look sort of...restless, these days. Did something happen?”

Iida looked up from his lunch. He hadn’t realized he was picking at his rice until Midoryia set a hand on his shoulder. He untensed and grasped his chopsticks correctly. “I assure you everything’s..alrig-“

“Who is ‘(L/n)-kun’, Iida?”

Uraraka butt in, both hands clenched and resting on the table. Iida stood silent for a tad too long.

“W-well I heard you mumble something about ‘8 more hours till I can see ‘(L/n)-kun’ again’ in class today a-and I was just wondering-“

“It’s no one you know.” Iidas voice was uncharacteristically dismissive and unstable. Two words that never would be used to describe Iida Tenya.

Iida abruptly rose from his seat. “I apologize. I need to do something.”

He briskly walked towards the exit of the cafeteria. Midoryia watched as he discreetly fumbled with the straps of a light red watch barely hidden by his blazer sleeve. He turned back to the table, to Uraraka and Todoroki.

“What do you think happened to Iida-kun? He barely seems like himself...”

“It’s been like that for about a month now, has it not?” Todoroki tapped on his chin with the butt of his chopsticks. Uraraka sighed.

“think it has something to do with this ‘(L/n)’ person?”

Todoroki shrugged. Midoryia sighed, bringing a forkful of rice into his mouth before stopping. “Actually, I think I remember Iida asking me about someone like, a month ago.”

“Was it ‘(L/n)-kun’?” Todoroki and Uraraka questioned, almost in unison. Midoryia let his fork drop back into his bowl. “I...I’m not sure. I think he was asking me about a name like...Ryota? No...Tadashi? No no, that wasn’t it...”

Midoryia rubbed at his chin, before a name popped into his mouth. “Oh! I remember! He asked me...”

———

“...Midoryia-kun, have you seen (L/n)-kun this morning? I haven’t seen him and he has my Quirk-Law textbook.”

Midoryia looked at Iida like he grew a second head. “...gomen, who?

It was Iida’s turn to look confused. He stopped eating his breakfast and faced Midoryia fully. “...(L/n)-kun. (L/n) (Y/n)?”

“Theres no one here named that, Iida-kun...” Midoryia awkwardly gulped down his water, filling his mouth to prevent him from accidentally saying something harsh. He wasn’t sure if he was in the wrong, or Iida was just plain on delusional.

Iida pursed his lips and turned to Uraraka, Tsuyu, and Todoroki. Perhaps Midoryia was just feeling a bit amnesic. Plus, (Y/n) was real close with Uraraka, even if it was slightly to close for his liking. So, she was bound to be able to answer Iidas inklings, right?

“Uraraka-kun, surely you’ve seen (L/n)-kun this morning, am I wrong? A-and what about you, Tsuy-I mean Tsu-chan. Todoroki-kun.”

All three of them gave him the same look of disarray Midoryia had gave him. Tsuyu shook her head while Todoroki grunted out a “no.” Uraraka pitifully set a hand on Iidas shoulder.

“Iida, are you feeling alright? There’s no one here named ‘(L/n)’...”

“Sure there is!” Iida was starting to get a little frazzled. Is this some kind of sick joke? If it was, he’d be willing to laugh it off right now. Surely any second, (L/n) would come running down, claiming he overslept and scarf down his breakfast. Where was he? He was waiting.

One by one, everyone surrounding Iida started to oogle at him, watching as their level headed class rep unraveled at the seams. “W-why must you all look at me like I’m crazy! Have you all forgotten about your own classmate?!”

Iida cursed himself for raising his voice. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding while Yaoyorozu silently counted all the people eating breakfast.

“...19...20. Yeah, no, everyone’s here. All 20. We have not forgotten anyone, Iida-san.”

Iida grit his teeth, a wave of worry piercing down his spine. “20? You can��t have counted 20 in this class if you have not counted (L/n)-kun!”

Everyone copied the look of confusion Iidas friends made. He broke into a cold sweat, grasping at the corners of the table. “(L/n)! (H/c) hair? (E/c) eyes? Accidentally stepped on Bakugou-kuns toe and had to be sent to the nurses office last week?”

People murmured and shook their heads amongst themselves. Some with genuine confusion and others with plain worry. Iida’s lost it, is what their probably thinking.

Iida stammered. “H-how can-“

“Iida-chan, don’t you think we would’ve known if we forgot someone? And don’t you think it’s weird we all collectively forgot this person you’re talking about? Sorry to say, Iida-chan, but this (L/n) person most likely isn’t real. Or we just don’t know him, kero.”

Iida opened his mouth to say something. Tsuyu looked at him with her blank stare, before subtly gesturing to everyone else with her head. He looked around the table.

Everyone either nodded tentatively or downcast their eyes as to mask their pitiful agreement. Everyone seemed to silently agree with her. Iida was stunned into submission.

He scrambled out of his seat. His voice cracked in disbelief. This was a joke. It had to be. “I-I’m going to go wake him up. He’s...he’s probably still sleeping. That’s all. You all are just being delusional.”

He walked as calmly as he could away from the common room, but once he turned the corner, he started sprinting. He hiked up the fabric of his pants over his calves as he ran, running up the stairs next to the elevator. The elevator would’ve took too long.

Running up to the fourth floor, he skidded to a halt in-front of (Y/n’s) dorm. Iida’s hand went up to grasp the doorknob, before hesitating and letting it rest flaccidly on the handle.

“(L/n)-kun?” Nothing was heard or called from inside the room. He really is a heavy sleeper. Iida swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Why was he so nervous?

Outside (Y/n’s) room, he knocked gently on the frame of the door. His voice wavered. “(L/n)!”

There’s no response.

“(Y/n)-kun!”

Nothing.

He really didn’t want to enter his room like this. It was a breach of privacy. What if he was just changing? No, if he were changing he could’ve surely heard him knock and call out his name. He has to be asleep.

He really left him no choice. Iida gently opened the door.

“...(y/-“

White.

He was face to face with an white, blank, empty room. The supplementary provided curtains were drawn closed and there was dust gathering around the bare floorboards. There was no trace of the dimly lit room, with papers strewn across the wooden desk and a bed that was never folded or made. There was no trace of the oddly sweet smell that came from his room, that never really bothered anyone, but no one ever knew was caused it.

There was no trace of (L/n) (Y/n).

Iida felt his knees buckle from underneath him. His legs promptly folded together, his engines digging into the skin of thighs. His jaw went slack. He heard footsteps echoing closer, eventually dying out with the assumption that that someone was behind him. He felt uneasy. He felt like throwing up.

“Iida...?” Uraraka’s voice was soft, like treading on thin ice. He heard Yaoyorozu hum softly, worry lacing her vocal cords. He panned his head slowly towards them, not wanting to look at the blank room once filled with life anymore.

“He’s...gone.”

“‘He’ was never here, Iida-San” Yaoyorozu crouched down, tucking her elbows in. “Do you need to talk to a professional...?”

“No! I need to speak with (L/...” Iida’s voice trailed off. There was no point in fighting a losing battle. He knew Uraraka and Yaoyorozu wouldn’t believe him. No one seemed to.

“...most likely...”

———

Uraraka’s eyes widened. “I...I remember that!”

Midoryia shoveled some food into his mouth. “Yeah, he seemed really out of it since then. He didn’t even notice when Kaminari-kun cheated on last weeks quiz.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd he still hasn’t gotten over this person even after a month? Iida isn’t the type to dwell on things. Whoever this (L/n) person is, he’s obviously important to him in some way.” Todoroki slurped up more of his soba. Midoryia and Uraraka silently agreed.

“Well-Deku said it himself-this person isn’t real!” Uraraka knitted her eyebrows together, slumping back in her chair. “And even if we tried asking Iida, he’ll probably blow us off again...”

“Still...he got me curious...I wonder what ‘(L/n)-kun’ looks like...”

Midoryia’s ears perked up. He shuffled around in his pockets, fishing out his phone and booting up a search engine. Typing vigorously, Todoroki and Uraraka leaned over the table and across his shoulder to see what he was typing. His screen turned pink, displaying a website.

“M-My mom was talking about this place a few days ago...I-we could get some information out of Iida-if he lets us take him-and know what (L/n)-kun looks like-!”

The bell rang, cutting Midoryia off promptly. He saved the address down in his notes, sending the web address to his two friends and pocketing his phone once more. Todoroki set his tray on top of the trash can, dusting off his blazer.

“It’s decided. We’ll go after afternoon classes. I’ll go get a permission slip from Mr Aizawa to leave campus. I trust you two can convince Iida to come along?”

Midoryia and Uraraka nodded. It was a plan.

———

The four stood in front of a small corner shop, it’s sign looking like it was made of cheap plastic, with the words “Art through words” written in dark pink cursive.

It was very off putting, but it had been gaining popularity through social media and other networking apps. Apparently it’s very popular with people who lost a loved one or police looking for a sketch of a villain.

“I...still don’t see why you two requested my presence he-“

“We just wanna know something.” Was all Uraraka said. Midoryia and Todoroki had a firm grip on each of Iidas shoulder blades, shoving him in through the narrow door while Uraraka strut in happily.

The doorbell gave a small jingle. A pale, soft-eyed woman looked up from her desk, her reddish-pink lips quirking up into a soft smile. Her wavy blond hair flowed as she stood up from her chair, leaning over the receptionist desk and resting her elbows on the surface.

“I take it you must be ‘Izuku’. Thank you for calling earlier.”

Midoryia hummed. The lady smiled warmly, leaving her desk to lead them to a door. “Well, follow me, kids. Sorry, my receptionist is on break-I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of scam arti-“

“No no, we’ve seen you around on videotube...and your quirk is amazing...”

“I’m sorry, may I ask who and what we are doing here?”

Everyone turned to Iida. The woman smiled gently, taking a seat behind a sketchbook propped up by an easel. The 4 took a seat across from her, sinking down into a pink couch. “I apologize. Let me give you my formal greeting.”

“My name is Kaitekina Byouga. I can illustrate anything someone describes with complete accuracy, as long as you aren’t lying about your description.” Iida pursed his lips.

“My business usually caters towards people who lose loved ones, so it’s strange to see such...young teenagers in my studio,”

Iida stiffened. He finally caught on. ‘Lost loved one’. It was obvious. He supressed a pointed glare at his friends, choosing to adjust his glasses instead.

“Alright,” Kaitekina flipped open her sketchbook, setting it back down on the easel. “Who’s going to describe something to me?”

Everyone gestured at Iida.

——————

Hahaha suffer

354 notes · View notes

paradoxolotl · 3 years

Note

Are there any quotes or moments from any of your fics that you've had to leave out of the final product? Like, deleted scenes. If so, do you feel like sharing?...(Particularly Inked Truths because I'm obsessed with it. I fell in love with BoM, read it multiple times. When I found out you were doing a prequel I was very excited and have not been disappointed since.) (I also love TftR but it makes sad.)...Absolutely no pressure. If you don't want to answer please just ignore this, I'll understand.

Truths for the Roof didn’t lose anything but Inked lost a bit. Really, it was just redone to flow better and fit the characterization better, or moved somewhere later on in the series. I’m more likely to add then take away. It’s pretty rare I scrap something completely, and usually find somewhere else to put it, even if it’s a different fic. But originally BOM was very different. Andrew was medicated and Aaron knew Neil Josten from class.

Here’s a scene that was reworked in Ink Blotted Memories ~

Aaron did his best to avoid Andrew after that. He made himself busy at work, hauling dishes back and forth and hanging out with the bouncers on his breaks. When they were home Andrew was usually shut up in his room or outside smoking which made avoiding him all the easier, giving Aaron space to dick around on the TV or be in his room. Nicky still tried to involve both of them in stupid bonding activities like family dinners and movie nights. When they did happen, it was tense and uncomfortable, mostly filled with Nicky’s inane chatter. Aaron purposely did not look at his brother on these nights. He was torn between wanting Andrew’s acknowledgment and wishing he had never found out about him.

He marked his days with video games and his nights with alcohol and cracker dust, counting the days until he could once again use school as a distraction.

And the entire original Brother of Mine, which I rewrote most of when I got partway through ~

Aaron could still remember lying in his bed in his mother’s house, body bruised and hurting, wishing to have someone who could help him. Someone to make things better. To stand with him and hold him up when he was so close to crumbling. Learning about a long-lost twin felt like something out of a movie. An answered prayer. Finally, Aaron would have someone, a brother, who he could talk to. He imagined late night talks and secrets shared between them. They would have a bond so strong that nothing could come between them.

Andrew’s response of ‘fuck off’ had felt like a back-hand across his face.

Still, he held out hope. He was told to try again in the Spring, and that was what he planned on doing. Even when Andrew was sent to juvie, Aaron held onto his hope of a brother who would care about him. They were twins after all, how hard could it be?

The first time he had met Andrew face to face, Uncle Luther beside him and a metal table separating them, Aaron’s idea of what their relationship would be went up in smoke. His face was looking back at him, but there was no expression, no emotion at all. A blankness that revealed nothing of what he was thinking. It was hard to make eye contact with Andrew, his eyes sharp enough to be cut on. Andrew didn’t speak to Aaron at all that first visit; he just stared at him with a flat glare the entire time.

And yet he still came to South Carolina to live with Aaron. Aaron desperately wanted for Andrew to open up to him when they lived together. He thought he had to, now that they shared a room. He also hoped that home would get better, now that Andrew was home. Maybe mom would get better, would stop being so stressed. So angry.

It only took one incident for Aaron to believe Andrew was untouchable. They were in the backyard so Andrew could smoke, both sipping from a bottle of vodka Andrew had acquired. He had only moved in a week ago, and so far, things had been quiet. Aaron had no new bruises, but Andrew’s blank stare made him warry. The slam of the front door had made Aaron flinch, Andrew’s cold eyes tracking the movement. Aaron could hear their mother calling for him, her words tight with anger. Remembering the pills he had swiped earlier in the day, he swallowed back the lump in his throat and went inside.

He remembers her screaming. He remembers the pain of a hand across his cheek. Then there was Andrew, her wrist gripped in his hand, twisted far enough to make her bend at an awkward angle. It was then that Aaron saw the first expression on his twin’s face, and it terrified him. His lips had curled back in a snarl, his eyes bright with an anger Aaron had never seen before.

It was that night that Andrew had offered Aaron a deal. They would stick together, just the two of them, and Andrew would protect him. Aaron believed this was the answer to what he had been asking for. Finally, he wouldn’t be alone. He made his promise to Andrew.

Months passed, and Aaron was still collecting bruises. It was almost worse now, to have a witness to his suffering. Someone who had promised him protection but couldn’t stop everything.

Then, the accident where Aaron was left with only Andrew. Just the two of them.

The funeral where Andrew’s arm was in a sling, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a strange gleam in his eye as the dirt was poured on their mother’s grave.

Nicky coming back from Germany, taking them in.

Moving into a new house and Andrew installing a lock on his door.

The agony of being locked in that bathroom, withdrawal clawing his body to shreds.

The slow isolation at school, Andrew refusing to let anyone close.

Nicky’s assault and the mandated therapy.

That awful laughter and empty smile.

And Aaron had to wonder if instead of his prayers being answered, he had been cursed.

~~~

Things began changing the spring of their freshman year of college.

When they first joined the Foxes, there was a clear divide between Aaron’s family and the others immediately. Any interactions ended in spitting insults at best and violence more than not. The others feared Andrew and his knives, circling their group like alley cats. Not that the three of them were much better. Nicky constantly antagonized the others, and the twins’ general lack of effort to get along definitely rubbed a few people the wrong way. The Columbia trips solidified their isolation from the others. Honestly, Aaron couldn’t care less about getting along with his teammates. He would leave them alone as long as they did the same. He was here for a degree, not friends.

Now, they had officially been knocked out of the championships. Not that Aaron could bring himself to care, but games days usually also meant Columbia, and Aaron desperately wanted to get off campus. Between the upperclassmen, Day’s bitching over the season and Nicky’s whining, Aaron was looking forward to drinks, crackers, and music loud enough to lose yourself in.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t go without Andrew. His twin was currently perched on his desk by the window, smoking and staring out at the campus, fingers rapidly tapping. Normally they would already be packed up and gone by now, but they hadn’t gone once in over a month. At first Aaron thought it was because of exy, but then Andrew would disappear from the dorms for hours at a time, much to Day’s frustration. The only reason Aaron even noticed this as odd was because his brother rarely left Day alone. He never told them why they stopped going, or where he disappeared to, and any complaints fell on deaf ears.

“Come on Andrew!” Nicky whined, “We never go to Columbia anymore!”

Andrew’s laughter made Aaron’s jaw tick. “Oh, poor Nicky, don’t you know that no means no?”

“But why not?” Nicky was still going.

Aaron didn’t know why Nicky thought he could reason with Andrew. Unless you were Renee the best result from interacting with him would be victim to a cutting insult or dismissal. Worst case you’d need stitches.

His phone buzzing in his hand distracted him from the conversation happening. Looking at the screen, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, soothing the tension in his shoulders.

Katelyn

You played great today! It’s too bad the season is over

Katelyn was an instant balm to Aaron’s anger. It was still new, this thing between them. They had met in their intro biology class and had spent many late hours at the library studying. She had been the first person at Palmetto who had bothered to get to know Aaron for him, not just as ‘Andrew’s twin’. At first, he was a sullen asshole, but her endless patience and positivity snuck past his defenses and made a place for her in Aaron’s very bones. The only issue was they had to sneak around; Aaron couldn’t risk Andrew finding out about her.

Glancing up to make sure Andrew was still distracted with Nicky, Aaron settled further into his beanbag.

Aaron

Whatever it’s just stickball

Katelyn

Still, I’ll miss watching you ;)

Aaron had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.

Katelyn

How’s Columbia?

Aaron

Wouldn’t know we’re still in the Tower

Katelyn

Think you could sneak out for a bit?

We’re in that bar with the turtle

Nicky’s yelp brought Aaron’s attention back to the room in front of him. Andrew was still on the desk, but Aaron caught the glint of metal as a knife was put back in one of his armbands. His eyes followed Nicky as he retreated to the bedroom, face split in his usual grin. When the door closed behind Nicky, Andrew’s eyes snapped to Aaron, pinning him to his spot. Aaron glared back, daring Andrew to say something to him. To say anything.

Instead, Andrew flicked his cigarette out the window, slammed in shut, and left the dorm completely. Aaron wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

He sat there for a moment, fingers tapping on his phone. If this was going to be following his typical pattern over the past few weeks, Andrew would be gone for hours, and wouldn’t notice if Aaron left. He would just need to be back before Andrew. Really, it wasn’t that hard of a decision.

Aaron

Be there in twenty.

Katelyn

Grabbing his jacket, Aaron hurried out of the dorm, eager to get away. Even if it wasn’t Columbia, even if it was with the Vixens, any time with Katelyn was worth it.

Aaron didn’t look up as he left the Tower. If he did, he might have seen a heavy stare and two lit cigarettes.

~~~

Summer came, and somehow Betsy had convinced the courts to change Andrew’s medication. Something about an incorrect diagnosis or dosage. Aaron wasn’t sure how they thought an Andrew off the pills would be any better, but no one asked him for his opinion.

The upside was that Aaron had weeks free of his oppressive twin, and he could spend as much time with Katelyn as he wanted. It was the first time in years Aaron felt like there was no weight pulling him down, like he could finally breathe.

It was in those few perfect weeks that Aaron came to a decision.

He couldn’t lose this.

~~~

Andrew had come back from Easthaven reverted back to the emptiness of when Aaron had first met him. He had barely said a word to anyone since he came back, simply leveling that bored glare at them whenever someone tried to speak to him. Whenever Aaron saw him, he was fiddling on that damn flip phone, barely acknowledging his surroundings. Even the upperclassmen had noticed his attachment to the device.

It was during a meeting before the first game of the new season that someone finally snapped.

“Damn it, Andrew, what are you doing?” When Kevin got really angry, his face flushed. Right now, he was approaching tomato.

Andrew snapped his phone shut, “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, you need to focus. Our first game is tomorrow, and we are nowhere near ready.”

“Maybe,” Andrew drawled, “instead of worrying about me, you should focus on what you’ll do when you see Riko again.”

It was a low blow, but effective. Kevin immediately fell silent, his skin changing from red to white so quickly Aaron was surprised he didn’t faint. Edgar Allen had joined their district after Kevin announced that he would be joining the Fox line-up. Last year Kevin had showed up, hand bloody and broken, looking for sanctuary. Apparently, Riko had broken his hand in a fit of rage. Kevin had tried to sue, but with the connections and money behind the Moriyama name, it was ruled as an accident. The public backlash of that along with Kevin’s transfer to the Foxes had caused several headaches last year.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Nicky whispered.

Andrew opened his phone again. No one else tried to speak to him for the rest of the meeting.

~~~

It was a new bet among the Foxes: what Andrew was doing on his phone. Everyone agreed that it was pretty clear he was texting someone, but the question was who. Some believed it was a secret girlfriend, while others were still convinced Renee and Andrew were together. Others thought it had to be something illegal.

Aaron knew what he thought, and he silently watched and cataloged information away.

~~~

The season was going terribly. They were winning games by the skin of their teeth and they were more divided than ever. Seth and Kevin couldn’t stop fighting, their newest striker was a nervous wreck, and Andrew didn’t give a shit.

Their last game was against the Ravens, and they had been destroyed. Now, Wymack and Dan were looking for a win.

They were in the locker room getting ready for the game when Andrew’s phone began to ring. Aaron didn’t recognize the song Andrew used, but he knew he normally used the default setting for his ringtone. Andrew picked up before Aaron could think too much on it.

“What?”

At this point everyone was staring at him, not even trying to act like they weren’t eavesdropping.

Andrew scoffed, “Junkie,” he said before snapping his phone shut, tossing it into his locker, and slamming it door closed. A moment later he was stalking out of the locker room.

Silence was left behind in his wake until Nicky broke it, “So it isn’t a girlfriend?”

When the team was gathered again (...missing...)

~~~

(...missing...)Today though, Aaron needed to talk to him.

The chances of Andrew brushing off any attempt Aaron made to speak to him were high, so Aaron waited until Andrew would have to acknowledge him. On Wednesday, when Andrew walked into Reddin, Aaron was waiting for him.

~~~

“Fuck off,” Aaron growled.

Josten had that stupid smirk on his face, his finger tapping on his test score. It wasn’t even that Aaron did bad. It was that Josten did better. He always did better in this stupid class. Aaron hated statistics, but apparently Josten was a math major and took every opportunity to show him up.

From day one Aaron had disliked him. He had plopped down beside Aaron, ratty clothes and shaggy hair, and called him ‘the second Minyard’. Not only was he a complete ass, but he was completely unnerving. His eyes were a blue so pale they were almost glacial, and his face and arms were covered in slashes and burn scars.

Once, Aaron had overheard someone call him ‘Scarface’, and Josten had just asked, with a terrifying grin, if they were looking for some to match.

And Aaron was stuck in a room with him twice a week.

Josten tsked at him, still tapping at his score. “What? Still second?”

“Fuck off,” Aaron really wasn’t in the mood.

He just hummed, pulling his phone out, a god damn flip phone, and spent the next few minutes ignoring the review happening. Aaron could barely focus as Josten texted away; each click grating on Aaron’s already frayed nerves.

Aaron wasn’t even sure how Josten did so well; he spent most of the class doodling in his notebook.

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #aftg fanfiction #para's fics #ask para

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peaceofflights · 3 years

Text

Wonder Boy

Rated: T just to be safe. Yes it is based on “We Can Be Heroes” but it’s definitely not intended for kids (no surprise).

Pairings: Miracle Guy x Reader

Warnings: Language, a lot of cursing. Use of the word god as a curse if you aren’t into that. References to sex.

Word Count: 3,200

A/N: I wrote this because I realized I could only find one Miracle Guy x Reader fic and I kind of find that unacceptable. This is set before We Can Be Heroes which is why their kids aren’t mentioned. This isn’t beta read because I have no friends, you've been warned.

If someone had told you three months ago that you’d be strutting around town in a pair of cowboy boots and Daisy Dukes with the fucking Miracle “Wonder Boy” Guy himself you’d have laughed in their face. But this wasn’t two months ago. And here you were ludicrous attire and all sitting in some shity ass diner with the unofficial Heroics man whore.

The job sounded great. Well… not great great, but when you’re in your twenties with no hospitality experience and a new apartment with rent more expensive than your car you’ll take anything. It’s not like you were clueless, you had a plan, well originally. No one is stupid enough to move across the country without some type of plan to make money. Living with your sister seemed like the obvious choice. She was responsible, reliable, and If she was able to get married and buy a house in California she must know what she’s doing. It all seemed to be working out until she told you her very exciting news, she’s pregnant. It’s not like she told you to leave, but you got the hint that maybe it was time to start looking elsewhere for somewhere to live. That’s how you ended up here. Barely six months into living in a new state, working at a country bar. God, do people in California even eat barbecue?

It was your second week on the job, first week working alone. Of course being the new kid meant that you got the worst shifts. Afternoons. Who the hell was coming to a bar at twelve in the afternoon? Losers and sad sacks, that's who. Depressed unemployed bastards that were hoping for any sort of human interaction, and creepy douchebags coming in on their lunch breaks hoping to see a little more than denim when you bent down to pick the old straw wrappers left on the floor. You’d put him in that category.

He walked in like he owned the place, tall, blonde, handsome, all the things you weren't looking for. Too much like your ex. The last thing you needed was another blonde with a god complex looking to “fix” your admittedly fucked up life. He was followed in by a shorter man, if only by a few inches. With skin a warm honey color and coiffed hair falling in front of his glasses he could have stopped a room if he came in on his own, however he hadn’t and was now following behind the other admittedly cocky looking individual.

The room buzzed with a quiet murmur of whispers between employees and guests alike. The previously dead atmosphere was now filled with electricity. Damn, were you missing something? You knew you were new, but was there some type of spectacle you just didn’t get? No matter, if a man walks into a room with that kind of confidence he was either a big tipper or a pompous asshole, and you were about to find out.

“Hey darlin’”

And you got your answer.

Just smile, be nice. Flirt a little. Bat your eyes and hope for that great big tip.

“Wonder Boy.”

Fuck.

He scoffed, laughing a little and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually it’s-”

“I don’t really care.” You smirked sarcastically. “Wonder Boy suits you fine.”

His friend laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Damn he was handsome. The kind of person who doesn’t realize just how beautiful they are no matter how many times someone tells them. Wonder Boy on the other hand, he knew. Fuck he knew. He probably has never been turned down once in his life. He could probably spit on most girls and they’d say “thank you very much let’s do it again some time.”. It’s not like you couldn’t play that part. Giggle a little, laugh at his jokes and be handed that crisp fifty that’s probably worth more than the actual bill. He probably kept it just waiting there in his wallet for a moment just like this, or maybe his underwear because man, was this guy into himself. But who were you kidding, you weren't gonna play that game. Brutal honesty ran too strongly in your DNA, and you had already spent one too many nights in the two weeks you’ve worked here flirting with sixty year old men who were too occupied staring at your tits than to look at your face. Really you were just helping him in the long run. If you didn’t teach him that women were people, who would?

“And what can I get for you dear?” You smiled warmly directly at his friend.

That did it. His face dropped for a moment, before replastering on his cocky grin.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you working here for?”

“Money.”

“Hilarious.”

He smiled before putting his hand lightly over left arm that was leaning on the table. You put on your best seductive grin, batty your eyes before answering. “Oh I know, practically a comedian.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you give me your number so I can put that statement to test.”

This was your moment to lose. You leaned your body in close to the table before whispering in his ear, “No.”.

His smile immediately dropped, instantly replaced by a face of confusion. He leaned back in his chair laughing awkwardly shaking his head at you as if you were kidding. However, before he could ask you any questions you responded to what you imagined was running through his head.

“Because women don’t want to be hit on at their place of employment. Which you would have known if you didn’t have the ego of a prized stallion and took the hint when you sat down. “

Well so much for that tip.

You were right. He tipped you two dollars, on a fifty-three dollar meal! Fucking asshole. When he walked away his friend sweetly slipped a ten into your hand claiming his friend had just never been turned down before. No surprise there. So a week later when the pair turned up at the bar, to say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were fucking flabbergasted.

You hadn’t noticed the two walk in right away until your coworker Kelly loudly whispered that Miracle Guy was at their bar. Who? She attempted to sigh at you but her excitement made it come out as a breathy giggle. You petted the mousy blonde’s head attempting to calm her down, about to tell her she could wait on the guy when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey darlin’, I was hoping you were working today.”

My god that man was exhausting. You swore he was going to be the death of you, and after your previous encounter you figured it would be the last. You felt like you were going to go insane, however regardless you put on a brave face and turned around to address him.

“Wonder Boy, oh good you’re back.” You emphasised sarcastically, waving in unenthused jazz hands for good measure. “My section is that front left corner, so if you choose to sit anywhere else you won’t have to deal with my snarking comments.”

“You know Miracle Guy?” She whispered in a voice you assumed she thought was a subtitle tone. You weren’t about to explain to her it wasn’t and he and his friend could very clearly hear her. She was nice, if not a little ditzy. Honestly, it just gave you more questions than answers anyway. Who was Miracle Guy and why was he a big fucking deal? Ignoring her excitement you decided playing it nonchalant was the best move here. And by nonchalant, really more annoyed and dismissive.

“Yeah, he was here last week. He ordered the spare ribs. He’s kind of an a-” You turned as you talked to her, only to him sitting in your section a smirk on his face and his hand waving oh so dramatically at you. Game on buddy.

“Aren’t you concerned that your red meat intake is going to lead to heart disease?”

“Aren’t you concerned that you haven’t had a day off in two weeks?”

You two had been playing this game every day for weeks now, man this guy even came in on his days off. Marcus, whom you had learned his name, stopped coming after the first week of everyday constant bickering. Leaving you and Miracle Guy (something you refused to call him) to duke it out on your own. It was almost fun, something you would of course never tell him. Now that he learned to give a decent tip you looked forward to seeing the hotshot blonde every day. It was almost like having a friend, something you relied on.

“If you must know I picked up a few extra shifts. Not everyone is a millionaire superhero who can afford to eat at this fine dining establishment everyday.”

Your comment through him off guard forcing the laughter came out of his mouth in one strong blow. Taking not only the oxygen from his lunges with it, but also a wapping mouthful of silvia that got shot across the table like a model rocket. His laughter refused to subside as his intake of air was canceled by a generous amount of coughing.

You looked around the room for something to give him, but ultimately ended patting him on the back in a motion you knew was in fact not helping.

“You need to stop making me laugh when I’m trying to breathe, that’s just common courtesy.”

“Damn you’re right, I won’t speak anymore.”

He flopped onto the table dramatically, letting his arms reach the end purposely avoiding his drink. “Thank god! Finally some peace and quiet.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, settling into the light atmosphere. This had become your new normal, and you were okay with that. It was easy, lighthearted, and made working at a dive bar just a bit more bearable.

“Go out with me.”

The whole room went black, and for the first time you didn’t know what to say. In fact you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth felt drying and unusable. You stood there staring at him for a minute, maybe ten you weren't sure. Finally as the swirls behind your eyes began to fade you swallowed the lump in your throat. You paused after you began to speak realising that nothing was coming out. It was now or never. You closed your eyes counting to ten in your head before you answered.

“No”

“Okay, wait what?”

For the first time since he had walked into your bar you saw his facade crack. No longer confident Wonder Boy with a fake puppy dog pout. Or even the hotshot Miracle Guy with smugness written across his face just waiting to unleash his next comeback. It was like the first day relived, but ultimately worse. What did you do? You knew you were known for putting your foot in your mouth, but never have you told a flat out lie. To who? Miracle? Yourself? You had to fix this, you had to say something to fix this situation. Any was better than this. You just had to tell him the truth, after all it was your distinct quality. For better or for worse you were brutally honest.

“You’re a great guy Miracle, honestly you are. I know there are a ton of girls that want to go out with you.” The room went black. “they just aren’t me.”

Looks like there’s a first time for everything.

The weeks seemed to pass by slowing. Everyday in the same skimpy uniform waiting for your shift to end. You’d love to say that the job had just gotten more dull, but that was a lie. You knew exactly what was missing, and it just so happened to be a cocky blonde with a shit eating grin.

Working with Jack was nice. He was funny, approachable, and everyone seemed to like him. Unlike Kelly, he had a good head on his shoulders. However, if there was one thing to know about him, and was that Jack spoke his mind. All. The. Time. It didn’t matter who he was speaking to or who he was around, he would be telling it like it is.

“Hey, your hot regular is back.”

Your head whipped around so fast only too see fucking Marcus Moreno walking in the front door. Of course you liked Marcus, really you did, but he wasn't who you were hoping to see.

“That man is so fine.”

“Jack!”

“You should shoot your shot before some else does.”

You ran over to slap him in the arm. However, despite wincing he couldn’t stop laughing at you.

“All i’m saying is that you couldn’t stop talking about how cute he was after the first time he came here. And clearly he’s not back for the food, I mean if you play your cards right he might be eating something later.” He stopped to grab a notebook from your hands that you were about to hit him with before continuing. “You know what we say around here, save a horse, ride a cowboy. If you aren’t going to let me take a turn, it’s a crime to waste that fine ass.”

Before you could probably scold him, he gave you a wink and shoved in Marcus’ direction.

“Hey Marcus, what can I get for you?”

“He misses you.”

It would be so simple to pretend didn’t know who he was talking about. You could play dumb and end this conversation just as quickly as it began. It would be easy and guarantee you being home in an hour watching endless reality reruns with your dog, eating slightly freezer burnt ice cream.

“Marcus-”

“I don’t know what you said to him, but it really broke him. He’s been quiet, and you and I both know that’s not normal for him. I asked him to lay low on a mission the other day, and he did it. Miracle, “Mr. My Face is On Toothpaste”-”

“Yeah I can’t believe I missed that.”

Despite the serious situation he let out a snort, running his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met in months that didn’t already know exactly who I was.” He gulped. “And I think that’s the point. Miracle has never had a woman not falling at his feet when he’s shown the slightest interest.”

“So what? You want me to apologize?”

Your fight or flight response seemed to be kicking in. Because you couldn’t exactly walk away right now you instead relied on your second instinct, defensiveness.

“No, I’m not asking you to apologize. Let’s face it you could do a lot better than Miracle.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, seriously. You’re smart, funny, you could do a lot better than him. But I’ve never seen him like this about anyone. By just coming to see you everyday he’s become a lot less of an asshole, and for a while I was genuinely concerned that would never be possible.”

It seemed like he was gearing up for an uplifting speech. It was no surprise that he was the Team Leader of the Heroics; he seemed like the type that gave them a lot, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.

“Look Marcus I’m really not-”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. But whatever you said to him I was hoping maybe you might want to reconsider.”

Man this guy was smart.

“You already know what happened don’t you?”

“I’ve pieced some of it together.” But the look on his face said it all. He knew everything.

“He’s been hanging out at that diner a couple blocks down in case you were interested.”

Team leader was good.

And that’s how you found yourself at a sketchy diner at half past eleven dressed like a cowgirl from a 1970’s PlayBoy. He was sitting in a booth in the furthest corner of the restaurant, dressed in a black t-shirt. He had a chocolate milkshake in front of him that seemed water down like it had been sitting for a long time, but was still completely filled. His normally clean shaven face was replaced by the beginnings of a mustache.

“So is shitty dining establishments just your thing then?”

“You look good like that. Nice to see this uniform in fluorescent lighting.”

His tone was light and carefree, but you couldn’t help but notice how his smile didn’t meet his eyes. He looked fine, good even. You didn’t know what you were expecting, him to be a crying mess? It almost hurt that he wasn’t. If you didn’t look too hard he was the exact same Miracle Guy dreamily smiling on all the billboards and magazines… not that you had been looking at them. But he wasn’t. Marcus said that he was different because of you, and the way his eyes no longer sparkled made you hope that was true. Maybe you hadn’t missed your chance.

“Marcus came into my bar today.”

You figured that the best choice was to just be honest. Tell him how you felt. You tried to plan out what you were going to say to him during the three block walk over, but in this moment you didn’t seem to remember any of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s not into dudes right? Because I think my coworker is totally into him- you know what it’s unimportant. He said something and I wanted to know if it was true.”

You waited for him to answer, say something, but he didn’t. So you decided to just ask. “He said that you’ve been different since you met me, is that true?”

He nervously fixed his hair. You’ve noticed over the past couple months that he doesn’t run his fingers through it like Marcus does when he’s anxious, he fixes it. Afraid to be seen with anything out of place, afraid to let his guard down or his facade drop.

“I don’t know what answer you’re looking for. Am I supposed to say yes? Is this some type of test where I answer correctly and then you slap me anyway?”

“Will you go out with me?”

You did it. You were on cloud fucking nine. It’s like the world was shitting rainbows and unicorns just for you. All he had to do was say the word and the moment you’ve been replaying trying to fix in your head for weeks would be complete.

“No.”

Wait.

What?

What the actually fuck?

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m just kidding. Not so nice when someone does it to you now is it?”

You hated him. You actually fucking hated him. But as you scooted in next to him in the booth you knew everything was going to be okay. He gently started to pet your hair as you put your head on his shoulder. This is the moment you had been waiting for.

“You are the worst, I hope you know that.” The words may be harsh, but you both knew there was no real venom behind them. As he softly pulled your chin up to look at him you smiled. “I missed you Wonder Boy.”

“So how does this work, do I lean in first? Do you lean in first?”

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this?”

“I mean I am, but if this is my only chance with you I don’t want to screw it up. I can take my pants off now if you think it’ll be easier.”

Oh god. What had you gotten yourself into?

#miracle guy #miracle guy x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #marcus moreno fanfic #no y/n #weird country theme for some reason #wonder boy

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welkynars · 4 years

Text

All of Morrowind seemed to be silent the day Vivec emerged from the Clockword City with the bodies of his fellow Tribunes.

The Living God walked in a dignified stride in front of the few Buoyant Armigers who had accompanied hir. Lady Almalexia and Lord Sotha Sil draped lifeless over the arms of the two uncomfortable mer stationed behind Vivec. Holding the corpse of your deity was not ideal to the soldiers, but they had little choice but obey when Vivec told them to carry them. Crowds of nobles and peasants alike parted to allow the procession to pass through on their way to pyre where the Tribunes would be honorably cremated. Young children hid behind legs, while their mothers stared wide-eyed. Men looked to the ground with lumps in their throat as older, thoroughly religious women quietly wailed into the arms of their sons.

The Dunmer were terrified. The Blight, though over, still weighed heavy on their souls. When the news that not one, but two of their gods had perished, chaos ensued. The Great Houses, Indoril especially, panicked. What did this mean? House Dunmer culture was rooted in their faith, how would this affect politics? Day to day life? Would the citizens turn their back on the Temple? Morrowind would surely perish without the Tribunes protection and wisdom.

Their Lord Vivec’s expression was unreadable as ze took his god-siblings and placed them on the pyre. Deep inside hir, ze felt hir supposedly lost mortality flare in anger at the sight of the Nerevarine solemnly standing with her head bowed. But hir composure was kept as ze turned to face the fearful crowd. Hir speech was swift and short, unlike the usual beguiling words his people expected from hir. An uncomfortable grief had made itself home in hir, now was not the time to use metaphors and a magical tongue to confuse and reassure hir subjects. Ze allowed the Nerevarine to tell the story of the Tribunes' demise- how a powerful sorceress had murdered the Clockwork God and released his mechanisms into Almalexia’s beloved city to lure her in and drive a sword through her heart. Ignoring the people’s bewildered expressions(how had one woman defeated two gods?), Vivec sent a subtle nod of thanks to the Nerevarine for her deception, for ze knew her words were fabricated without having been told. “Lady Almalexia and Lord Sotha Sil were once heroes, let them be remembered as such,” the Hortator would later tell hir. The irony of those words being spoken by Nerevar-reborn was not lost on hir.

Vivec saw how hir subjects looked towards hir for guidance. The Nerevarine was their hero of legend, and her presence was of great significance, but Vivec was their God. Ze was meant to be their guidance in trying times, to lead them to the next great chapter of Morrowind’s story. Ze had been there through terrible wars and occupations. Hir sharp tongue blessed them with laughter and hope and hir riddles gave them motivation to love and care for their homeland more than any race on Tamriel (even at the expense of others). Today, ze offered them nothing.

The Living God was weary, and hir weariness was continuing to grow into exhaustion. Divine power being drained out of you like a cosmic vacuum was not a pleasant nor an easy experience. Hir empire, once greater than the warriors of Yokuda, was dying. Hir Divine Brother and Sister (who he once called his friends, long ago) had fallen. Everything they’d built from the ashes of a troubled land had perished.

And ze’d known the day would come. Ze was a god, after all. Ze knew everything and nothing all at once. What ze didn’t know was the grief that would follow. The aching sensation of a long forgotten feeling, deep in hir body, squeezing hir lungs and pounding on hir stomach. What was ze meant to do now? How could ze console an entire province, keep an entire race stable when ze can’t even predict hir own reaction to an event ze’d already foreseen?

The Nerevarine followed hir with a watchful eye as ze retreated from the ceremony prematurely, dismissing the Armigers who attempted to follow hir. The crowd of Dunmer now hardly noticed hir absence in their mourning. She felt what ze was feeling, to an extent. Someone inside of her, someone she didn’t know but was a part of her, felt the same sadness; the same longing for a different time. A happier time.

The Great Temple meant to house the remains of Mother Morrowind and Clockwork God took four months to build, from Rain’s Hand to Last Seed. Located in the heart of Necrom, it was a great temple of lava rock and stone, crafted by the finest materials Morrowind had to offer, guarded by the fiercest Dunmeri warriors. The magister’s of House Telvanni assisted in the construction, as the magic used to build this holy place could only be done by those adept in ancient Dunmeri practices, of course. House Indoril nobles bickered over schematics and design, and even House Hlaalu offered their finest craftsmen for the construction. All the while, Vivec stayed holed in hir chambers for most of this time, only accepting the occasional pilgrim. Ze never dared visit the temporary temple the Tribune’s ashes were being held during the construction. Did ze even dare visit the Great Temple after it’s construction?

Ze did. After a long while, of laying in piles of crumpled up parchment with failed poetry, ze made the trek to Necrom to visit hir friends. The temple was grandeur, far from hir own humble beginnings. The inside was littered with candles and offerings of all sorts; flowers and fruit and clockwork gears and unlit incense. Large, intricate statues of the ALMSIVI reached the ceiling. In the center sat the ash pit of Almalexia, Mother Morrowind, the heart of the Dunmer. To the left, Sotha Sil, and to the right, at Vivec’s request, an empty ashpit, meant for hir.

“How sad of a sight this is, old friend,” Vivec spoke to Sotha Sil as if he were there, pouring a part of hir bottle of flin in the ash and settling hirself on the stone floor. “We’d spoken of this moment. What the other would have wanted of the temple. You, Ayem,” A memory of a smile ghosted across hir face and ze turned to Almalexia’s statue. “What a handful you are. You sent the Houses in circles trying their best to fulfill your wishes. But you deserve nothing less, my queen.”

Silence, again. Such a quiet and cold room for them to rest in. Their souls were too bright for this.

“We spoke of it often,” Ze continued. “However, we never considered that one, but not three, that two, but not all of us would go. What else am I to do now? How am I to look over our people without the other halves of me? I am unwhole.”

Vivec sighed. A sound that carried through the whole temple. A mouse in the corner scurried into its hide.

“They still love us, they still follow our teachings, but how long will that last? Time changes culture and tradition quickly and you are not here to help me guide it,” Ze whispered the next part quietly. “How long will I last?”

Somewhere, in a land unknown by anyone but herself, the Nerevarine woke with a start. An unbearable sadness settled through her and tears welled in her eyes.

“There is nothing left for me in Morrowind, my dearest friends. I must leave.”

Vivec was standing now, slowly making hir way to the temple door. Hir legs ached and hir eyes were sunken. Ze was sickly.

“Don’t be mistaken, this is not the end of us. We will not die out to history.”

The Nerevarine held her head in her hands, breathing harsh and fast.

“The ending of the words is still ALMSIVI.”

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softsillytwsted · 4 years

Text

The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship.

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.”

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave.

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #twst fic #angst #character death #implied abuse #set in the future

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kaepop-trash · 3 years

Note

the miscellaneous are back! please ever since you made doyoung an absolute no in of snakes and lions i've been a mess. i need more of him anything but maybe doyoung and oc getting together or breaking up? i know i shouldn't but i feel so sad for him.

The Miscellaneous never left! My inbox is always open for them. Send any whenever you want, if you’re curious about something about the character. I can’t promise to always be as quick to reply as I was with this, I just happened to have some time and and the moment I read your ask the idea came to me. But irrespective, I will reply to all asks.

I did both getting together and breaking up. I was hoping this both justifies you feeling bad for him but also explains why it was one of the doomed ones. Kim Doyoung truly my king of doomed romances (haha) In case you want a genuinely well-written story that has a lot of similar elements but has Doyoung as the main lead, you should go read @notnctu‘s hogwarts au Push&Pull. It was incredible and I’m still not over it. For now, here’s what you wanted.

"No." (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

"No?" Doyoung raised his.

"No." She repeated herself.

Doyoung frowned, caught off-guard by her response. He chewed on the flesh inside his mouth till it was swollen.

He took a struggling breath, trying to keep his voice patient. "I'm asking you out on a date, (Y/N). After we've been sleeping together for three months. And you're saying no?"

"Precisely." She didn't seem phased.

"Why?" His brows furrowed further, a look only Kim Doyoung could pull off.

"Because." She blinked twice, fluttering her gaze away from his intense stare, "You're clearly infatuated with that Gryffindor girl. You have been since 7th year. Sex is fine. But I'm not going to be anybody's emotional substitute." She stared at the grains of the wooden table before looking out the window, the library overlooking the grounds.

"You aren't a substitute. I used to like Jisoo." He sat down on the chair beside her.

She scoffed, turning to him. "And now, what? You like me? Why because I let you fuck me when she won't?" She scoffed again, a lump forming in her throat despite herself.

"No." He put his hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. "Because we're the same, you and I. Because I thought that you understood that I was falling for you despite me having to say it. Because despite myself, I found myself coming back to you over and over." He blinked.

A bitter smile formed on her lips, "I don't want to be someone a person likes despite their better judgement."

Doyoung groaned, "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be." He frowned again.

"Good." She interjected. "I didn't ask for this." She groaned herself when her vision blurred from tears she tried to blink away.

She hated him.

She hated him for kissing her that one night three months ago in the library. She hated him for leaving without a word and then coming back the next day for more. She hated him for saying all the right things in her ears while he was deep inside her. But most of all she hated herself for allowing herself to grow feelings for him while knowing better.

"Please." His voice was a soft plea, it made her heart flutter. "Just try it. Go out with me once." He took her cold hands in his clammy ones, the heat spreading through her, "If at any point I do anything to hurt you then put some dreadful potion in a glass and give it to me. Or hex me. But don't just push this away without giving it a try."

She knew this would be wrong. She knew she should say no. But against her better judgement, she kissed him instead.

Doyoung knew that out of all the way to deal with fights, walking away wasn't the best. But he also knew himself, he knew it was better than saying things he did not mean in a moment's anger.

He drew in an irritated breath, frustrated with everything. Everything was impossibly hard with (Y/N). They both felt with equal ferocity but stayed silent about most things. It was one of the similarities they had that had turned into a vice over the years; a long relationship of bitter things left unsaid till it was spat in a fit of rage.

He looked over the viaduct at the gaping precipice it stood over. Caught off-guard by the sound of shuffling footsteps as they came and stood beside him. He wasn't sure how he missed it.

"Oh hey it is you! I was wondering if I was seeing correctly." A voice he knew too well made him look away from the edge to upturned eyes.

He hadn't seen her in a while, the castle was large enough for that to happen sometimes, but age only made Jisoo more beautiful. He blushed when he realised he was staring at her.

"I haven't seen you ever since I dropped potions for divination. I used to think the castle wasn't that big, but I guess not huh?" She bumped her shoulder with his as she placed her elbows on the balustrade, looking down at where he was looking before. "What are we looking at?" She questioned, eyes focusing on searching whatever he was looking at.

"Nothing." He spoke too soon, his voice too gruff.

She looked up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Then something seemed to click inside, "Oh. I interrupted some deep thought, didn't I?" She winced.

"No!" He defended, again too quick. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to level his voice, "Nothing too deep." He dismissed.

She scoffed, “You’re always thinking something deep. You’re the smart one.” Her words stirred something inside Doyoung.

He cursed himself.

"You look good, Doyoung." Her words made his neck snap to face her. She bit her lip, fluttering her gaze away from his. He noted the pink tint of her cheeks, eyes furrowing in confusion.

What was going on?

Jisoo took a step back from the edge, her form lingering as she turned to him, "It was nice to see you again Doyoung. Really nice. You've really grown into yourself." Her eyes brushed against his shoulders and it was his turn to blush.

"Thank you." The words were spat out, distracted. She gave him one last breathtaking smile before turning and walking into the fog that had settled on the grounds.

Doyoung was sure he had forgotten to breathe when he heard his door open. (Y/N) stood at the door, first with a look of devastation in her eyes and then nothing. Her hand gripped the handle so tight that it creaked under the assault.

"(Y/N), baby." He pushed Jisoo off his lap with a swift motion. Getting out of his bed and following her while she walked out of his rooms and to the stairs. Not caring that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"(Y/N)!" He cried out, grabbing her arm desperately. A pain shot through the arm he used to grab her, noticing her wand in the other hand.

“Touch me again and I will honour your promise and hex you. Go back to your room, Doyoung. You are shirtless and have an erection. Don’t embarrass yourself and more importantly, do not embarrass me.” Her eyes welled up but her voice was hollow.

Panic clawed up Doyoung’s throat till it burned worse than his arm, “Darling, please.” He begged, grabbing her shoulder. He flew back from another unspoken spell, hitting the wall beside his door with a loud thud and a vicious crack in his arm. He sat helplessly and heard the echoes of her rushing down the stairs of the tower.

When he walked back into the room, Jisoo was sitting at the edge of his bed. Her shirt still had the buttons of the top half open, her chest exposed.

“You’re hurt.” She looked at her arm, twisted at an excruciating angle.

“Leave.” His voice was frigid.

She ignored his words, “Let me look at your arm.” She got up.

“Get out, Jisoo.” He repeated with more anger. Her steps faltered.

She looked up at him, her eyes fighting between guilt from what happened and the hurt his voice made her feel, “She’s gone, Doyoung.” She felt small as the words left her, “I’m still here.” She took a few steps closer.

“Exactly.” He spat the word at her, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now she’s gone.” There was a passing pain in his eyes, one that turned to bitter ice when they met hers, “And you’re still here.” While he felt utterly ashamed at the moment, it was easier to lash out on the person in front of him.

“Doyoung.” Her voice quivered as tears fell from her eyes, “Please.” She looked to the floor.

“You aren’t her, Jisoo. You’re just a beautiful face I was infatuated with my entire childhood. (Y/N) is my other half, you can’t be that.” He turned away from her, searching for his shirt on the floor.

“Then why?” She whispered, “Why did you sleep with me? Why did you do it thrice?” Her voice gained in volume and hatred. Doyoung was glad he wasn’t in front of her when the words made him wince.

He looked up at her and shrugged, “I told you. I wanted to know how it would feel to have what I wanted for so many years. It wasn’t that great.” He tried to keep his eyes bored.

She stared at him in disbelief before biting down her jaw. She looked away and buttoned her shirt back up, “Then I guess you just saved two people from wasting their time on a vile person like you.” She looked up when she was done. He suppressed the effect of the sting her words caused again, giving her nothing in his eyes. She huffed one last time, picking up what she had left of her dignity and left with the head held high.

Doyoung slowly sat down on his bed, putting his head on the palm of one hand, while his broken arm stayed limp beside him. Taking a shaky breath, he let the pain that seared from the fractured bone feel like a well-deserved punishment..

#of snakes and lions #jaehyun #doyoung #nct #miscellaneous #hogwarts!au

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creepy-spooghetti · 3 years

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 1- Over the River and Through the Woods

Yesss, I started a fanfic. I know. Go me, right?

I'm sure you all know the drill by now but, for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y\n = Your name

L\n = Last name

H\c = Hair color

E\c = Eye color

F\c = Favorite color

B\m = Birth month

S\t = Skin tone

B\s = Body shape

L\c = Lip color

H\l = Hair length

Aaaand I think that's it for now. Enjoy the 1st chapter~

_____________________________________________________

She lets out an inaudible sigh, her head propped in her hand as she gazes out of the blue-tinted window. Trees and small houses whiz by, blurring together and creating an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun is high in the turquoise sky, its heated summer rays shining down through the puffy clouds and shooting beams of light throughout the atmosphere.

She attempts to make fun shapes out of the fluffy, levitating white lumps, though she can't seem to concentrate long enough to truly get anywhere with it. The car would be completely silent if not for the constant humming of the wheels beneath scraping the asphalt and bringing them closer to their destination. Beside Y\n lays her luggage; a simple duffle bag colored a periwinkle purple and a black backpack, each stuffed with various clothes and necessities she deemed imperative to bring along.

Her headphones are placed diligently over her ears, muffling any noise that may come from outside and blocking it out with music of her choice. Her finger fiddles with the wire, twirling it around absentmindedly as she stares through the thin glass, her mind on nothing in particular and instead wandering aimlessly amidst the endless fog of thoughts and memories. She glances to her side- or rather, ahead of her- landing her gaze on her father as he sits in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel, and concentrating on the stretch of road in front of him.

He has a rather torpid expression painted across his face, she can see as she looks up at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Not too happy about coming back here, she thinks, narrowing her eyes slightly, but why would he be? It's only his parents. Who cares about them? Certainly not him.

She notices her mother sitting in the passenger's side, brown hair tied back into a neat bun and head craned forward, eyes squinted as she focuses on the glowing screen of her phone; her thumb scrolling the small device listlessly, seemingly in search of something interesting, or perhaps she's reading something that has gained her interest.

Then something always seems to have gained her interest. Her e\c eyes move back to their previous position, a faint feeling of indignancy rising within her chest and beginning to bubble to the surface. I doubt she even sleeps, always up all night texting her boyfriend.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and makes her want to spit the foul taste out, though she only swallows and bites the inside of her cheek as if attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something lighthearted, a memory that contains laughter and joy and fondness, however, she finds nothing. She's unable to remember the last time within the last couple of years that she and her family shared a delightful moment together, when her father smiled or her mother was veridical.

She comes to the demoralizing realization that her family hasn't acted as a family since she was twelve years old, only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn't sure the exact minute that it happened, or have a specific reason as to why it happened, all she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until she felt completely alone; abandoned. Forgotten.

She tried to talk to them, get them to open back up, allow their only child back in, and each time, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. She knew that she was never getting anywhere with her parents, so after many failed attempts, she just stopped her fruitless efforts.

As a result, it was only natural for Y\n to do the same. She wasn't getting the attention she desperately yearned for out of them, and the only thing she knew to do was to follow their lead. She cut off connections with most of her friends, refused to socialize unless it was necessary, kept her emotions locked away in a box, and threw away the key. Stepping out of the light that was society and making herself invisible among most people, even herself at times.

At this point, now sixteen years of age, she still cares deeply about what was to become of their lives, though she always drives the feelings of uncertainty to the back of her dimmed mind. If they don't give a crap, why should I?

She blinks, emerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the vehicle she sits in turn sharply, riding onto a dirt road and deeper into the forest that houses the two people she still holds in high regard. A blue and white sign passes by, and she quickly reads the words written in bold across its metal surface. Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Despite the displeasing situation, she feels a splang of excitement erupt through her chest. Yes, she's nearly there. It will be nice to be loved again, treated fairly, and with affection. Unless they've forgotten about her. Impossible. I'm one of two grandchildren, they would never forget about me. Almost eagerly, she raises her head up, e\c irises gleaming in the slightly obscured sunlight shining in through the trees, and she gives herself a mental pep talk as if to encourage further what she knows should remain true.

It might be awkward... but I'll be fine. I can do it. What if they don't like me? I'm not exactly their 'little hummingbird', anymore... She tries to dismiss the thoughts as she observes her surroundings, trying to find an ounce of familiarity anywhere, though she fails to. Why don't I remember what the scenery looked like? Was that house there, before? Is that tree new? Ugh! I blame Dad for this. If he would've gotten rid of that stick up his butt then I could've been back here long ago! But no. He's so dang spiteful he can't just get over a simple argument like a civilized human being, no. He has to be a jerk about it! Leaving poor Nana and Pops in the dust like that... much like he's doing to me, right now. Oh, the irony. Is it possible to ramble in your head? Cause if so, I think I'm doing it, right now.

With a barely noticeable shake of her head, she pauses her music and gingerly removes her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f\c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

I have so many things to show them! Maybe Nana will let me do a paint job on her wall... I have gotten quite good. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sound similar to a huff. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y\n. A simple canvas will do just nicely. Besides, she probably has wallpaper... or does she? I don't even remember. There were bright colors, though. Hopefully not too bright... That would be a bit too cheery for my tastes. But whatever. It's their house, I'm only the guest.

A ghost of a smile sweeps across her face when she sees the somewhat familiar, victorian-style cottage come into view, and she feels her heart speed up with elation as they draw nearer. Around the house lies a white picket fence, lined with beautifully planted flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and wrapped themselves around each individual post, leaving a wild, peaceful appearance to it.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door sits an intricate white arch made of thick twine and enlaced with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a gentle shade of cornflower blue, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the sun's bright yellow beams. The window frames are a snow-white, their shutters open and allowing one to see the inside of the home, if only slightly, and the transparent pane is rimmed with stained glass roses.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales leaked out of its pages and sprung to life, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It nearly takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for the vehicle to pull over so she can jump out and greet the people that are probably dearest to her heart, despite the long years it's been since she's laid eyes on them.

I forgot how amazing this place was... She unbuckles her seatbelt, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation. I can just about smell her pineapple casserole, already! Finally, the car comes to a slow, almost hesitant stop a few feet from the gate, under a willow tree. She reaches down hastily toward the door handle, though when she pulls it, she finds that the door doesn't budge.

Only then does she realize it hasn't been unlocked and looks up at the man she calls her father expectably, impatiently. She waits a moment, but he makes no move to signify that he's unlocking the car. "Dad," she starts, her voice low and irritated, "open the door, please."

She watches as his hands clench up for a mere second before he releases a small sigh of vexation and presses the 'unlock' button, making the four doors to the vehicle click. Satisfied and vaguely relieved, she pulls on the handle, and the metal portal swings open, the warm summer air immediately greeting her as she steps out onto the vivid green grass. She takes a big whiff of the fresh air, natural scents swirling her nostrils and overwhelming them as she pulls her bags out from the car and slings them over her shoulder.

A sudden swirl of nervousness forms in the pit of her stomach as she steps toward the unfamiliar but yet all too recognizable cottage, questions floating around inside of her brain and making her stop her footsteps. I haven't seen them in years... What if they've changed? What if... they don't like how I've changed?

But her inquiries of doubt soon vanish when she hears a screen door swinging open before an elderly lady steps out, landing her gaze on the h\c girl instantly. Her face contorts into one of pure bliss and exhilaration as a wide smile takes over her aged features, and before Y\n even knows it, she's nearly running toward the arched gateway to meet and reunite with her. All worries she had before either disappear or shove themselves to the back of her mind, leaving her raw excitement to show itself in full form for the first time since she started on this trip.

"Phil, Phil!" the lady all but screams, diving for the gate and waving her hand around frantically. "She's here! Y\n's here!" The girl stands there silently, a smile tugging at her lips when she meets her grandmother's gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Memories rush back like a large wave, rolling over her consciousness and causing her to remember every detail. As if all she needed was a physical, real-time picture of her to jolt her memory and remind her of how much she adored this woman, this whole place.

As she hurries toward her, she gets a clear view of her appearance. She's wearing a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes all the way down to her shins, a white and rose-pink apron that ties around her waist as if she's been cooking. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, brittle hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only remind Y\n of how old she has to be getting, now.

A sparkle of joy shines in her e\c orbs as she watches her approach at a surprisingly fast rate, no doubt caused by a rush of adrenaline. "Hi, Nana," she says, her tone warmer than it's been in a long time. She can see her slightly yellowed teeth past her wide grin right before she's enveloped in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around Y\n's frame and pulling her into her as much as she possibly can.

A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; it's a peaceful aroma, a mixture between strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm almost instantly, squeezing her grandmother's scrawny torso as much as she deems appropriate so she doesn't somehow injure her. She registers the screen door once again flying open, the creaking of its likely very old and unoiled hinges making a sound similar to a screech before footsteps are heard running across the polished stone.

She mentally prepares herself for another bear hug, this time a lot more crushing and powerful, as she remembers how strong and stout of a man her grandfather is. "Oh! My girl is home!" He yells, right before she feels another pair of limbs wrap around her, nearly making her stumble and fall back just from force alone. A small, blissful chuckle leaves her l\c lips, feeling happiness flood inside of her chest, and though it's a different feeling, she certainly doesn't make it unwelcome.

"We've missed you so much!" Nana chirps, finally pulling away after what had to be two solid minutes. Her wrinkled hands lightly grasp her shoulders before moving up to cup her face, gently lifting it to get a better look. A surprised expression forms across her features before it's replaced by a wider- if it's even possible- smile. "Oh, look how much you've grown!" She turns her head toward her husband. "Phil, do you see her?"

"Aye. I sure do," he says with a proud nod of his head. "She's just as beautiful as she was the last time she visited." A small blush dusts itself across her cheeks and she looks to the side, embarrassed. He chuckles. "Just as bashful, too."

"Leave her alone." She turns back to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetie. It's been too long." Y\n only nods shyly, not used to being fawned over as she is at the moment. Behind her, she hears the wheels of the car grinding against the dirt as it pulls out, and she twists her head back just in time to see her parents driving away, leaving her there for what's bound to be at least a couple of weeks.

All without a goodbye. A disgruntled huff leaves her nose and she purses her lips together, her heart starting to feel heavy as she stares in the direction of the dirt road they drove off in. The elderly couple is silent also before Phil clicks his tongue, though, in disappointment or anger, she isn't sure. "Well, how about that. No 'hello' or anything."

"They're not big on hellos," Y\n mutters, feeling her fists clench. "Or goodbyes." Her grandma places a reassuring hand on her arm before grabbing her hand and talking in a sympathetic voice.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm not sure what thorn got stuck in their shoe, but they need to get it out." She tightens her grip before letting out a sigh. "Anyway, we have to catch up! I haven't seen you since you were a little girl." She looks back at the old woman and allows a more peaceful expression to grace her features. "How old are you, now? Fifteen?"

"She looks more grown-up than that," Phil comments and Y\n shrugs lightly, biting her lip.

"Uhm... I'm sixteen. Gonna be seventeen in B\m."

"My word!" Her Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. "You're practically an adult, already!"

"Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah," he says, and Y\n's eyes light up momentarily as she remembers one of the main reasons she's always adored this place so much.

"Marshmallow?" She questions, unsure excitement beginning to course through her, once again. "He's still alive?"

"Why, yes, he is," Farrah laughs cheerily, as if surprised by her inquiry. "Getting on up there, though. I'm a little shocked to know you remember him."

"Of course I remember him," she says, her voice growing louder from exhilaration. "He's my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me..."

"I'm sure he does," Phil says. "He was always followin' you around. Probably cause you spoiled him so much with milk and meat from the pantry." She grins sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck.

"He needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled."

"Very good point." Farrah smiles.

"And yet I can't even have a dog in the house," he grumbles playfully. "You cat lovers don't make any sense."

"We don't have to make sense," Farrah says. "Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such. That's as much sense as you need."

"Sure, sure." He waves her off. "You treat that cat better than you do me."

"Well, you're not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?" She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

"I can lay in your lap if that's what you want."

"No, thank you."

"Well, c'mon woman, make up your mind!"

"My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear." She pulls Y\n toward her and begins walking toward the cottage that the teenager hasn't stepped foot in for five years, and she follows behind, although somewhat reluctantly. "You must be starving."

"You want me to carry those for you?" Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widened slightly, clearly taken off-guard by the sudden offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

"N-no thanks, Pops. I got it."

"Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy." Her grip automatically tightens on the straps hanging from her shoulder before shrugging, trying to get used to being asked frequent questions and being around people who actually care about her.

"Um... clothes and stuff." She replies quietly as they step through the arched gateway. They walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble, steadily getting closer to the painted oak door. She glances around, beside her feet, only to see a trail of tulips, consisting of pink, white, red, and violet, planted on either side of the carefully placed rock pathway. It continues to amaze her how her grandparents can manage to keep the garden beautiful, while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape.

Good genes, I guess.

"You got any o' those modern technology things that kids use nowadays?"

"I mean... I have a phone. And an MP3 player... and a laptop."

"Oi," he laughs, "I thought you were comin' here to get away from that stuff and spend a few weeks, old-person style." A hint of pink spreads across her cheeks, and suddenly, she feels a little guilty.

"I-I mean, I just brought them to do art and stuff, I wasn't meaning to intrude-"

"Oh, hush, Phil." Farrah scolds her husband, turning to face Y\n with a kind smile. "Calm down, sweetie. You can bring anything and do anything you want here, okay? Don't feel ashamed or unwelcome." Her eyes radiate a kind of warmth and friendliness that Y\n hasn't been shown in a long time, and she slowly nods, allowing a small smile to stretch across her face. "Good. Now, welcome home."

She stands aside and allows the teen to enter the household, e\c eyes widening when she sees the interior. Along the floor lays a hand-made rug, in the shape of a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. To her left is an open entrance to what appears to be a cozy living room, with a pink floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the direction of the front door is an armchair of the same material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and underneath it is an oak plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a white table and four chairs slid neatly on each side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are see-through and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight in front of her is a dark oak staircase, which she remembers to lead up and to the bedrooms and the other bathroom in the comfy home. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that twists around the length of the area, excluding the refrigerator, the oven, and the sink.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs that she assumes lead to pots, pans, and other dishes to use with cooking and eating. In the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses and three plates stacked onto one another.

A scent of honeysuckle wafts up into her nose, as well as the familiar pineapple casserole that she only recently realized she missed, mixing together and creating a sense of nostalgia. She almost cries from pure joy right then and there. I really did miss this place...

"Make yourself comfortable, dear," Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new, but familiar, surroundings. "I made pineapple casserole, in case you're hungry. That is still your favorite, right?" Y\n only nods and gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that hit her simply by walking through the door.

Her gaze sweeps over everything in awe as she stops in front of the staircase, glancing back at her grandmother almost timidly and speaking up. "Um... where can I stay at?" A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah's eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

"Ah, yes. You remember your aunt Darcy's old room?" She nods, quickly catching onto what she's referring to. "That is where you can sleep, store your things, anything. I mean, your dad's room is available, too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly concert posters and figurines."

"Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy's room will be fine," she replies, turning and beginning her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The idea of staying in her father's childhood bedroom doesn't sit right in her stomach. "Thank you, Nana."

"Are you sure you don't need any help with your bags?" She questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y\n's ears. "They look awfully heavy."

"No, it's okay, I got 'em," she responds, reaching the top stair and taking a moment to navigate the somewhat narrow space before her. Beneath her shoes is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway, to her immediate right is a small polished, wooden table used to place a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left slightly ajar, revealing a little bit of the interior to her and reminding her that this is indeed where she's going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, e\c eyes lighting up when she steps inside of the nostalgic bedroom. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, the floor is crafted out of ash wood planks and complements the design and hues nicely. In the center side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubby hole into the wall and at a straight angle next to a window. Surrounding the bed, built into the wall, are two bookshelves, both on either side and filled with colorful books of varying sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer, one of which she remembers to be a trundle bed, as it pulls out and creates another area for a second person to sleep in. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with a thin pair of string. In one of the corners, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside in order to cushion it. To her right is what she recalls to be a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer gripping onto the top edge of it. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernable.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A painted oak desk sits pressed against the wall across from her, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp sits atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools, a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a robin paperweight, and a small mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, allowing the corners of her lips to twitch upward in a content smile as she walks further inside, dropping her bags onto the bed and giving herself a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation forms within her chest; one she hasn't experienced in a number of years, and she quickly realizes that she enjoys it. She turns her head and gazes out the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun's golden rays shine down through the towering trees.

Her stomach suddenly rumbles and only then does she realize that she hasn't had anything to eat since the beginning of the six-hour trip to her grandparents' house, so she understandably feels hungry. Eager to stuff something down her throat and ease her mild sense of famine, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, heading down the stairs and, once again being greeted by the pleasant scent of the sweet food dish.

Farrah, who is currently standing in the kitchen, sends Y\n an affectionate smile and motions for her to come in with a wave of her hand. "Hi, dear. Settled in already?" The teenager shakes her head slightly, following the smell and stepping inside.

"Not quite, Nana. I'm hungry, and the thought of eating something this delicious couldn't wait." The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates and handing it to Y\n. She takes it in her hands and sends her a grateful look.

"Well, eat all you want. There are mashed potatoes, rolls, and a turkey on the oven." She points to the stove behind her, and Y\n follows her gaze, seeing the white meat sticking out of an old crockpot, the homemade rolls neatly placed on a cooking sheet, and the mashed potatoes scooped into a metal, floral-patterned container. "Just be careful and don't burn yourself. It's still hot." She nearly drools at the sight and nods, hastily making her way over to the food items as her stomach continues speaking to her.

Gripping a large spoon, she dips it into the potatoes and scoops some out and onto her empty plate before leaving the utensil there and moving on to the chicken. She equips a fork and cautiously picks off three or four fair-sized pieces, then grabs a tasty roll of bread, leaving just enough room for her favorite dish. "Geez, Nana," she says, making her way over to the pineapple casserole on the island, "this is a lot of food. If you would've waited, I could have helped you and you wouldn't have had to do it all on your own."

"Honey, don't worry about that. This is something I wanted to do, something special. After all, we haven't seen you in almost six years." As she places a rather large helping of the treat onto her platter, she can't stop the small notion of guilt forming within her chest, though above that lies utter delight.

I can't believe this woman is Dad's mom. "But..." She begins to butter her roll, glancing at Farrah with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "...you didn't have to do all of this for me. I would've been happy with anythi-"

"Hush, now." She cuts her off, kindness sparkling in her deep brown orbs as she places a gentle hand upon her granddaughter's shoulder. "Thank you for being humble about it. But I promise I wanted to do this. There isn't a need to fret over it. Just enjoy the meal, please." She feels compelled to hug her, again, though ultimately refrains because she doesn't want to accidentally spill her food that Farrah likely spent hours hard at work in the kitchen to make.

Tears threatening to form in her eyes, she only smiles fondly, her grip on the plate tightening ever so slightly. "O-okay... Thank you."

"Now go and eat." She gently pushes her in the direction of the living room, an empathetic expression on her aged face. "What do you want to drink?"

"O-oh, no thanks, Nana, I can get it." Farrah's lips part as if she's about to argue, but Y\n shakes her head and walks over toward the fridge, ultimately silencing her. She opens the door and pulls out a water bottle before lightly shutting it back with her foot and grabbing her plate from off of the counter. "Is Pops eating, already?"

"He is." She nods in confirmation. "And he's waiting for both of us to sit with him."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna disappoint him by not showing up." She allows a small, cheeky grin to form across her face before turning around, walking through the living room, and soon arriving at the dining table, where she sees her grandpa silently eating his own share of the food. She takes a seat across from him and lays her plate and bottle of water in front of her, drawing the attention of the man and causing his gaze to shift up to her.

"Hello, young lady," he greets affectionately, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. "Getting settled in okay?"

"Yes, sir," she replies with a slight dip of her head.

"Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you're used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations." Her eyes widen- almost a comical amount- and she looks at him as if he just attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes in her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

"No, Pops. It does. The country's amazing." She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear and swallows the tasty vegetable. "City life isn't that good. Honestly, I'd rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse." A large, satisfied smile reaches his wrinkled features, and his eyes crinkle up before he lets out a jolly laugh.

"You hear this, Farrah?" He glances back at the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her husband of many years. "This girl's too pure to be tainted. We should keep her here."

A kind grin stretches her lips though she shakes her head nonetheless. "I don't think her parents would approve of that, Phil."

"My parents wouldn't care," Y\n mumbles in response, noticing the sad looks being thrown her way, and she eats a fork-full of pineapple casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that's fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the plate in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

"I'm sure that's not true, sweetie." Farrah's voice is gentle and reassuring. Y\n only shrugs.

"I mean, they never cared, before. Why would they now?" Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b\c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just stares at her with sympathy.

"That's shameful," he starts, his voice filled with disdain. "They're your parents, Y\n."

"I know that, you know that. They know that. But they ignore it all the same."

"When did this start, sweetheart?" the old woman questions, taking a sip of her drink.

"A few years ago. I don't know, really." It's silent for several moments, and Y\n starts wishing she wouldn't have even said anything. Way to ruin the mood, Y\n. Good going, really.

"Hun, they're not... abusing you, or anything, right?" The teenager can sense the hesitancy in her words as if she's afraid to hear the answer, and Y\n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

"N-no, Nana, don't worry. Nothing like that." She releases an audible huff of air, likely relieved to hear her answer.

"Do they do anything?" Phil asks, leaning forward slightly and facing his granddaughter with concern. She wracks her brain for a coherent reply.

"Uh... no, not-not really." She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to mask the hurt in her own but failing. "They hardly even talk to me, anymore. They don't even talk to each other anymore. Dad's always too busy and Mom is..." She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously starts tapping her foot against the floor lightly; a nervous habit of hers when she feels her anxiety level rising.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother's phone going off out of nowhere, then her mother's face lighting up whenever she reads whatever message had just been sent. She knows it hasn't ever been her father; he was always there with them when it happened. Her mom hasn't smiled that wide for her husband in a long time. Not to even mention those couple of nights she's caught her sneaking out. When she would ask about it, her mother would snap at her and tell her it's for "business" and then leave without a trace, sometimes not even coming back until the next night.

Her foot makes a soft thump thump thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. "Um... keeping secrets." Phil and Farah share a brief glance.

"What kind of secrets, darlin'?" her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand.

"I think that, uhm... I think that she's cheating on Dad." She doesn't look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they'll judge her and her parents. "I mean, she's been acting really weird, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I've caught her before but she just got mad and said it was 'business-related'." She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Plus, Mom and Dad haven't gone out on a date in years. And I-I don't know, it's just... concerning."

"Sweetie," Farah starts, and Y\n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adapted, "that isn't good." She only shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food, though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. "We need to talk to them about this."

"No," she interjects, finally meeting Farrah's eyes with frightened e\c ones. "They can't know I told you all of this. They-they'll be mad at me and give me all kinds of crap."

"Are you sure, Y\n?" Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed distaste. "You don't need to be in a house with two people that unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us." Although the thought of staying in a house with her loving grandparents sounds nice, she ultimately refuses by shaking her head, once again and speaking in a quiet voice.

"No, it's okay. Thanks." Despite the fact that her parents don't seem to care about her, anymore, she would most definitely ruin what little of a relationship remains between the three of them if they were to find out about what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want her parents to hate her; that would be a terrible feeling. And she doesn't want to experience it.

The rest of the dinner goes by slowly for the h\c girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more light-hearted things in an effort to cheer her up, and it seems to work. They ask her about school, her friends, if she has a boyfriend, yet, which she responds to with valid answers. "It's good", "I don't have friends", and "No". It was making itself more apparent to them within each question she replies to that she isn't living a normal, healthy life. But they figure it'd be best not to pry too much. After all, she's here for a break, not to be bombarded with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after finishing the tasty food, pushes the chair back into the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling filled-up and tired. Her gaze averts to one of the windows, able to see the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is beginning to set below the horizon and darkness would soon replace its blaze of light.

"Marshmallow is probably waiting outside, if you want to let him in for the night," the elderly woman calls from the dining room as Y\n puts her dishes in the sink and proceeds to rinse them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won't be able to see it.

"Okay, Nana." She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and places them in the plastic drainer resting on the countertop, right beside the sink, before walking perhaps a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and gently swinging it open, being greeted by the warm summer air and the flowers swaying in the soft breeze.

She glances around the small porch, and can't help but quirk her lips up in a smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face in order to clean himself. He looks up at her curiously, and she approaches slowly to avoid scaring him.

"Marshmallow? You remember me?" She sticks her hand out and allows him to sniff her fingers before affectionately rubbing his head. "It's Y\n. I haven't been here in a while."

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he's recieving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him up to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her shoulder and she can hear the distinct sound of purring, a sound she hasn't heard in years.

"Aww," she coos, unable to stop herself from fawning over the furry creature. "I missed you, too, little buddy." She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door carefully behind her, nearly walking right into Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass of what holds just a few droplets of her drink.

She takes notice of Y\n and grins slightly at the sight. "Ah, see? We told you he'd remember you." The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and lightly hits her in the arm, making her chuckle.

"Yeah. He's just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly." As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles fondly as she places the plates into the sink. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No, thank you, hun." She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. "You just spend some time with the fur baby. Maybe unpack, I know you didn't have time to, before." Y\n feels Marshmallow begin to struggle against her hold, so she bends down and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump to the floor and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

"Are you sure? You've already done so much work already-"

"I can't believe you're the spawn of my son," she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. "It'll be fine, sweetie. I've got it covered. You go and relax." Y\n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won't do her any good to argue with her. Letting out a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles in front of the staircase.

"Okay... but, tell me if you need help?"

"Stop worrying. You're the guest here." Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unknowingly being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her duffle bag, unzipping it, and taking out clothing piece by clothing piece. As she twists to walk to the closet, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who was in the process of rubbing against her leg and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the sudden adrenaline rush that floods her system, but once she does, she scoffs but smirks nonetheless. "Trying to trip me, already?" She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his back feet as a response. "Silly cat."

She makes as few trips as possible hanging up her clothes in the small walk-in closet and putting things like undergarments and pants inside of the shelf of drawers that stands at the opposite end of the door, realizing that the space doesn't have a lot of her aunt's old clothes inside, anymore.

Nana probably put them in storage or something.

When she's done unpacking, sorting through, and putting everything away, she lifts her now-empty duffle bag and sets it down beside the desk. She decides against taking out the supplies from her backpack, partly because she's getting consistently sleepier, and partly because she feels a little odd getting comfortable here that quickly.

Marshmallow found a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag during the early stages of unpacking and is now sleeping rather soundly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall within each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring his ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she had pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many things have happened since then, causing her to force nice memories into the back of her mind and focus on the grim things in her life.

Sitting on the bed, her gaze trails out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can't help but admire the scenery and feel a trace of disappointment that she hasn't seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and stares up, mixed emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

I sure hope so...

#Creepypasta #Creepypasta x Reader #Creepypasta fanfic #Fanfiction #x Reader #Y\n L\n #x Reader fanfic #Hope y'all enjoy it!#This is my first Creepypasta fic so sorry if it sucks lol #Mom #Dad #Nana #Pops #Cottage #Forest #Idk #Other things

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monikafilefan · 4 years

Text

seven years

This is an answer to a couple different anon prompts from a long time ago mixed together. One with Maggie finding Scully’s journal and seeing what she’d written to Mulder. The other prompt was for Mulder to spend a lot of time at Scully’s place after “all things.”

tagging @today-in-fic

Margaret Scully considers herself to be a great many things in life. She’s a conservative woman of God who has quietly voted democrat since the day she said “I do.” A loyal navy wife who has worked her slender fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mother of four; a stickler for rules who occupies her time spent alone with a well-kept home; a grandmother who loves to spoil her grandbabies with cookies before dinner and always reads “just one last story, Grandma” at bedtime.

She also considers herself an excellent judge of character and has learned over the years when not to pry in the private lives of others without invitation. Though she cannot say she has never let curiosity take over and wishes her children would invite her in to visit those hidden recesses of their minds once in a while.

But blind is one thing she is not.

Arriving at Dana’s for a quiet Mother’s Day brunch after church today has only confirmed her long-lasting suspicions of the current relationship status between her daughter and Fox Mulder. One look at Dana’s flushed cheeks and swooning smile as she utters her partner’s name across the kitchen table would have been enough to satisfy Maggie’s curiosity about whether or not her daughter has finally embraced what lay within her heart.

Yet, there is much more to be seen here than a meaningful smile and pink cheeks.

And Maggie sees plenty.

A pair of men’s running shoes - size twelve - sit snugly by her daughter’s size sevens. A large leather jacket that smells of familiar cologne is slung over the coat rack by the door, only partially hidden by the sweater she’d gifted Dana four months ago on her first birthday of the new Millenium. There are two mismatched mugs resting next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes inside a cup in the bathroom - bristles touching in comfortable ease - and two towels hanging dry over the shower door. The entire bathroom smells of men’s body wash.

A new development seven years in the making.

Maggie dries her hands at the sink and shuts the bathroom door, smiling warmly as she goes.

“You need help cleaning up, Dana?”

“No.” She shakes her head and turns the water off in the kitchen sink, soap bubbles rising above the dirty plates as she wiggles her rubber-gloved fingers. “I’ve got it, Mom, today’s your day. Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

It’s her day, too, Maggie thinks, but will never say. There will always be an ache in her heart at the thought of her child unable to raise one of her own, yet her pain is one she soothes regiously on her knees come Sunday morning.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine.”

Maggie eyes the paired coffee mugs once again and taps each one with her manicured nail, giving her daughter a chance to open up if she so chooses.

“Do these need to be washed, too?” she asks, knowing good and well that they do not.

Dana’s blue eyes widen as they flick to Maggie’s but replies with a casually dismissive, “No. I cleaned them this morning,” before resuming her scrubbing. This time, Dana does so with a renewed flush and a bitten lip.

“That’s good, honey,” Maggie says with a reassuring squeeze to her daughter’s shoulder, but cannot resist adding, “It’s good to spend mornings with those you care about,” as she turns to leave her with her thoughts.

As Dana finishes with the dishes, Maggie allows herself to admire the intimate details of her daughter’s home - now that she knows for certain with whom she’s been sharing so much of it lately. Her slender fingers trail along the bookshelf, scanning the titles of anatomy books, several science journals in which Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD has been published, and some classic novels she recalls her freckled nose being buried in over the years. All are in alphabetical order. So very Dana.

She chuckles and her eyes catch on a leather book that is not neatly tucked in line with the rest. It’s black with golden letters etched on the cover that simply says “Journal.”

Curious, Maggie holds the journal close and contemplates on whether she should peek, selfishly hoping that more than just the surface-level emotion her daughter allows her to see might reveal itself.

Yet, the thought of betraying Dana’s trust unnerves her. Her daughter trusts so few these days.

As she firmly decides to return such private thoughts to where she found them, she notices a piece of yellow paper slipping out of its back pages. Maggie quickly tries to nab the square bookmark so Dana wouldn’t lose her page due to her mother’s intrusion when the spine flips wide open, fanning out words of heartache her eyes simply cannot unsee.

And every word is intended for someone else.

To whom it may concern,

To my family,

Dear Mulder,

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you’ll read it and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other…

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie exhales through her fingertips, hesitantly scanning the pages scrawled in intimacy with watery eyes.

...Mulder, if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we’ve traveled far together this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone...

Months spent watching helplessly as the bright light of life burning within her daughter slowly faded more and more each day was the hardest thing she as a mother had borne. Watching and waiting for what many thought was the inevitable is something she would never wish upon anyone. And here she is, sneakingly seeking some sort of deeper understanding of what her baby girl has endured.

...Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you’re out there if I am ever to see through this...

Maggie sighs and swipes at a tear hovering along her lashes, hands shaking as she adjusts the book to replace it, when the piece of paper floats to the floor.

Bending down to retrieve it, the journal pages flutter open across her lap to another time in Dana’s life. Maggie’s chin quivers at the words displayed before her.

Dear Mulder,

There was a time in the not so distant past when I told you I was throwing this journal out. That I chose to leave my moments of weakness in the past. But the time has come to admit to myself that losing my only child, my daughter that was never meant to be with you by my side, only confirms that the ache of what lies within my heart is meant for you to bear along with me. That this time, the distance must necessarily be traveled together…

Maggie gasps at the strength and conviction laced within her daughter’s words. The raw heartache Dana must still feel after burying a piece of herself is a familiar one Maggie does not have the strength to re-expose.

But her baby has not experienced it alone; she’s had her partner, and that has been enough.

Her eyes burn and a hot tear rolls down the swell of her cheek, splashing onto the next page before she can stop it. Pinching the tear-stained paper between her thumb and index finger, she waves it through air in hopes of drying the smeared ink before she shuts the book. As she does, Maggie turns the page fully and sees a single sentence hastily written over and over with what she recognizes as fierce emotion pouring from her child’s fingertips.

Dear Mulder,

Personal interest is all that I have. Personal interest is all that I have... Personal interest: it’s something I’ll always have, even if I should not.

“Oh, goodness.” She should not be reading any of this. If Dana wants her to know what secrets lie in her heart, she will tell her.

Maggie picks up the yellow paper next to her feet and immediately realizes it’s more than merely just a bookmark. It’s a note addressed to “Scully” that’s written in fresh ink and time stamped for today’s date.

I never imagined you’d invite me to see your private thoughts you’ve kept so well guarded over the years. I’m truly grateful; for your loyalty, your trust… for you, Scully. More than words can ever express.

Sniffling and riddled with guilt, Maggie slips the note meant for her daughter to read in private back behind the journal’s last written entry. This time, Dana’s greeting to the man she’s clearly been loving from afar for years is a very different one.

To my constant, my touchstone...

Maggie quickly shuts the book and stands, heart racing at her lack of self-control as she places the leather bound memento back on the shelf.

She has known for years that her daughter loves her partner a great deal, and that he loves her just as fiercely in return. She’s not an oblivious woman and never has been.

No, she thinks, as her eyes scan the room once again to land on a lone photo of Dana and Fox standing close together at a crime scene, staring into one another’s eyes, blind she is certainly not.

“Mom, I have tea brewing if…” Dana enters the room and stops a foot away as she takes in the likely overwhelming expression on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie swallows a lump in her throat and smiles softly at her daughter across the room. Suddenly she sees the tomboy with wild red hair and dirty knees; then the teenage girl with freckles and braces kissing a boy on their front porch. She sees a proud Dana graduating with honors and jumping head first into med school, only to be eagerly recruited by the FBI. She then sees that pride and determination focus on a quest that Maggie will never truly understand, but she doesn’t need to.

No, Fox Mulder is the reason Maggie now sees a real and fulfilled happiness on her daughter’s face for the very first time.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” Maggie assures, and she means it.

Dana cocks a brow - just like her father used to - and points to the kitchen. “Okay, well I’ve a kettle on the stove if you want some tea.”

The house phone rings before Maggie can respond and Dana stares at it carefully, as if considering whether or not she should pick up. At the fourth ring, she gives in and answers with a breathy, “Yes, Mulder?”

Maggie smirks, silently moving about the living room to gather her things.

“The audit has been moved up? To tomorrow?” Dana huffs with her back turned, tapping her nails along her desk. “Isn’t this a little short notice coming from Skinner?”

Walking into the kitchen with her purse and sweater slung over her arm, Maggie removes the teapot from the burner before it screams for attention. She pours her daughter a cup the way Dana likes it and sets it on the dining room table as she finishes her call.

“Yeah... yes, I can do that,” Dana murmurs, failing to fight off a smile before swiftly hanging up. “I’m sorry, Mom I-”

“Have to go?”

“Mm,” she confirms and darts her gaze out the window. Maggie knows the summer sun is only partially to blame for the glow on her Irish child’s porcelain cheeks. “Something like that.”

“Fox needs you.” A question isn’t needed this time and both Scully women know why.

“Yes,” Dana draws a deep breath and nods. “It looks that way.”

Maggie has seen more than enough today to know that it’s always been that way. And when her daughter finally looks at her again, Maggie is staring at her gleefully.

“What, Mom?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dana runs her tongue across her upper lip, expectant. “You may as well.”

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, openly grinning now with a motherly confession perched at the tip of her tongue.

“I may be near-sighted, Dana, but I’m not blind yet,” she teases, reaching up to cup her daughter’s reddening cheek. “Not blind at all.”

side note: Mulder leaving evidence of his weekend sleepovers at Scully’s is a little slice of head canon happiness I like to cling to pre Requiem. I do however believe the evidence shows he moved in with her after he came back in “deadalive,” just not beforehand.

#angst #romance #msr fanfic #maggie scully #cancer arc #pre requiem #journal entries #mulder spends weekends at scully's

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