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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 1

Old habits die hard— and so do feelings, apparently. Relive moments high and low from your life with the Marauders and co. as you tell your godson, Harry, about all the mischief you got up to back in your school days. Takes place mainly in the Marauders era but also has content congruent with the Order of the Phoenix timeline, with some cannon divergence, of course~

- Main pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Severus Snape x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Remus Lupin x Reader, slight Regulus Black x Reader, and a bunch of friendships! Gender neutral pronouns :)

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 1 .:Memories And First Meetings:.

12 Grimmauld Place was cold.

Not in the temperature sense of the word, especially in the heat of London summer, but something about it felt distant. Perhaps it was the cookie cutter exterior, dreadfully drab, although you knew its true nature was anything but. Despite its grandeur, the interior was as ornate as it was dull and unsaturated, like a black and white photograph in all its monochromatic glory. Maybe it was the fact that you knew what had happened here in the past, or the fact that you knew who was waiting here for you in the present.

You felt the strange sensation of stepping through the thick blanket of protection charms surrounding the house, as if your body were moving through molasses for a fraction of a second. The moment you were fully inside, you began to hear the hushed bits of a conversation echoing through the entrance hall from the dining room whose door was slightly ajar. The words became clearer as you neared the door.

“Harry's not ready! Have you gone completely mad?”

You found yourself grinning at the first voice, Molly Weasley's stern tone unmistakable.

“He's not a child, Molly.”

You froze as you heard the second one; you'd know it anywhere.

A heavy wave of emotion surged through you as you got near enough to the entrance to see the face of Sirius Black through the gap in the door. His time in Azkaban had taken a toll on him, you could tell. Heavy bags hung from his face, his cheeks hollow; although his gray eyes still held that spark in them. His hair was longer, somehow even more wild and unruly than before, but it suited him.

“Well he's not an adult either! He's not James.”

You caught a flash of ginger as Molly crossed the room, using her wand to aggressively clear away the plates on the table as she made her point.

“I know he isn't, but he can handle himself,” Sirius said, “and I'll be there to protect him.”

“How touching, Black. Perhaps the boy will grow up to be a felon just like his godfather.”

Your stomach dropped at the third voice. Shit.

Your presence remained unannounced, but as you peaked your head around the corner of the door frame you were met with Severus' stoic face, an imperceptible crease of distaste in his brow as he regarded Sirius. As your view widened you saw that Lupin sat to his left, a human wall between the two former foes.

You stilled at the door, taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle your irrationally rioting nerves. It's not as if you didn't know they would be there, but it had been so long since you'd seen any of them. So much has changed. . .

“You stay out of this, Snivelus. I don't care what Dumbledore has to say about your supposed reformation, but I know better.”

“Don't you have to go play fetch elsewhere?”

“Oh come on, you two,” Remus sighed.

Well, maybe not much has changed after all.

“Still resorting to playground bickering, are we?”

Several heads snapped in your direction at your words, and you were met with various reactions. Molly's face immediately split into a smile and she rushed around to table to greet you.

“(Y/n), dear! So nice to see you again,” she pulled you into a surprisingly strong hug and you couldn't help but join in her laughter.

“It's good to be back,” you admitted, “Charlie says hello, by the way.”

“Oh, I'm going to give give that boy a talking to,” Molly huffed, “you aren't his owl, dear. The least he could do is write home and say so himself.”

“Romanian mountain ranges keep a wizard busy,” you grinned, “He says he tries to keep in touch.”

“Sending home a bag of petrified dragon scales with a note that says 'look at this!!' is hardly keeping in touch,” she retorted, fussing about with your jacket's collar that had become wrinkled from her embrace.

Even from across the table you could feel Sirius' eyes on you, grateful that you had Molly's whirlwind greeting as a scapegoat for your flushed face.

“(Y/n). . .” he said softly, getting up from his seat.

“Hey,” you smiled, fighting the lump in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you. He was so warm, still wearing that damn leather jacket he'd somehow been reunited with after his imprisonment.

“What are you doing here? They told me you were out working in America,” Sirius said, eyes twinkling as he held you at arm's length.

“Well, I suppose I'm sort of working everywhere these days,” you said. As his words registered in your brain you turned to Molly with narrowed eyes. “You didn't tell him I was coming?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she said coyly.

You shook your head, turning back to Sirius.

“I'm so sorry, Molly said I could stay here so I thought she already ran it by you—”

“No, no, of course you can stay!” he said enthusiastically, “I'm glad you're here.”

He seemed gentler than he was before, certainly more mellow than in his youth, but that energy that was so quintessentially him remained buzzing beneath his skin, and Merlin, you'd missed it.

After realizing how long the two of you had spent practically holding each other you coughed awkwardly, slowly drifting apart. As you looked around the table your eyes caught Severus' and you thought your heart stopped for a moment. To the untrained eye he probably seemed just as uninterested as ever, but the look of shock in his eyes was so blatantly apparent to you that it threw you off guard. You managed to cast a small smile in his direction, but his expression remained unchanged while yours dropped. You felt your stomach twist up in knots as you thought about what had happened the last time you saw each other.

Lupin looked between the pair of you before getting up from his own seat and coming to your rescue. He extended his arms with a kind smile, and you happily shifted your attention to him.

“It's about time London had its best auror back in town,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Moony,” you said playfully, hugging him tight, “It's good to see you too.”

“Are you hungry?” Molly asked, pulling a chair out for you.

“Oh no, I had something on the way here,” you said, taking a seat, “thank you, though.”

It felt surreal to be back here, where it all started. The faces were different—some new, some missing—but the same determined feeling remained.

“Now, where were we,” Sirius said, his confidence returning to his shoulders as he addressed the table.

“We were just talking about how Harry isn't ready to be tangled up in all this,” Molly said sternly.

“I think he should decide that for himself,” Sirius said adamantly.

“Well of course the boy would say he wants to fight, he's—”

“Listening in right now,” you pointed out, jutting your head in the direction of the open door where Harry stood, half obscured by the shadow of the stairway.

The boy flushed, backing away slightly as he was caught. But his eyes lit up as they landed on you, and you felt a tug at your heart as you saw your best friend in their bright green hues.

“(Y/n), you're back,” he said in disbelief.

“And here to stay for a bit, apparently,” you said with a smile.

Molly looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh.

“You know what, we should stop for the night anyways,” she said with a wave of her hand, “We've kept the children up long enough with our chatter, and (Y/n) ought to get some rest as well. Off to bed, the lot of you.”

Some of the other adults exchanged some knowing smiles as she shooed them out of the room. People slowly trickled out through the doorway, goodbyes exchanged, and before long it was just you and your godson left.

You had been lucky enough to meet Harry at the end of his third year, and he'd broken the news about Sirius' innocence to you. You so badly wanted to be there for Harry sooner, but between your strained relationship with the Ministry and cleaning up the mess with MACUSA in the States, you always seemed to be called away from the boy. You wanted nothing more than to take him away from that horrid house—you knew how nasty Petunia could be firsthand. Nonetheless, he seemed to be doing well, and you were happy that you'd grown closer over the last few years even if you couldn't be there in person all the time.

“I've got another little souvenir for you, by the way,” you said, having migrated to the living room.

Harry seemed to perk up at that. Since your visits had been so sparse, you began to make it a tradition to bring him back something magical from whatever part of the world you'd been working in.

“You mentioned you were struggling in Potions the last time we spoke,” you said, rummaging through your bag, eventually producing a small, gold-rimmed vial full of a deep maroon liquid. Small black clouds seemed to tumble in a miniature cyclone inside the glass.

“Dragon's breath essence,” you grinned, “nicked it off of Charlie before I left Romania. Put a few drops of this in your salamander blood the next time you brew a Wiggenweld potion and you're set to pass with flying colors.”

“Brilliant!” Harry said, eyes wide, “that's on our O.W.L.S. this year.”

“I know,” you said cheekily, “you didn't hear it from me. Personally, I think an Outstanding in Potions as a requirement to become an auror is utter rubbish. Don't get me wrong, it's important to know your way around a cauldron, but to hold someone back who excels at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms just because they can't cook up a sleeping draught? I don't know, it doesn't sit right with me. And I've heard Severus is hard enough on you guys as it is.”

Harry seemed surprised at your casual address of his professor but shook it off quickly.

“But you're ace at Potions, and it seems like you really like it,” he said.

“Yeah, well I—” you faltered a bit, “I learned from the best. . .”

“Professor Slughorn, you mean?” Harry questioned.

Your eyes widened at that.

“Yeah,” you lied, recovering fast, “Well, Slughorn was a great teacher but terrible at throwing parties. He had this thing called the Slug Club and the dinners were just awful. Your mother was the first of us to join and she ended up roping me into it, and before we knew it we were all standing around in these ridiculous outfits taking swigs of the firewhiskey your dad snuck in just to get through the night.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, and you could see Harry living vicariously through the emotions on your face. You were grateful for this moment; this was the longest you'd actually gotten to sit down and talk together in a long time.

“Were you always friends?” Harry asked, “with my parents, I mean.”

You had to laugh at that question.

“With your mum, yes. Your father, well, not exactly. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1971 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your body swayed gently with the movement of the Hogwarts Express as you walked up and down the isles, looking for someplace to sit. Most of the carriages were packed tight with large groups made up of upperclassmen not exactly looking to expand their circle.

As you approached the back of the train a mostly empty car caught your eye, occupied only by two children your age, or at least that's what you guessed from their black ties and basic robes that marked them as unsorted first-years like yourself.

One of them was a brooding looking boy with messy, shoulder length black hair and shockingly pale skin, leaning against the wall of the train and halfway through a book that seemed well beyond his years. Sitting across from him was a pretty red-headed girl who was admiring the rapidly passing scenery through the window.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?” you asked, sliding the screen door open.

The boy's brow furrowed, clearly about refuse when the young girl beat him to it.

“Of course not!” she beamed, her smile infectious. You didn't miss the sharp look she shot over to the boy who simply rolled his eyes in response. After you muttered a small 'thanks' she scooted over closer to the window so you could sit next to her.

“My name is Lily,” she said, extending a hand, “Lily Evans.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) (L/n).”

The boy quirked a brow at your last name, his expression shifting to something unreadable as he blatantly studied you over the spine of his book. After letting this go on for some time, you glanced over at Lily.

“Does he speak?”

“Perfectly well, thank you,” the boy said coldly.

Lily sent a disappointed look his way and his heart fell slightly, but he didn't need to be friends with anyone else, and he certainly didn't want other people becoming friends with Lily either. An irrational thought, he knew, but it was how his stubborn little brain worked at the time. They didn't need anyone but each other. Wasn't that enough?

In any case, he expected his behavior would be enough to scare you off (it usually worked on other people), but to his complete and utter surprise, you began to laugh. It started off as a light giggle, soon growing into full on laughter. He stared at you in open confusion as you were nearly brought to tears from your fit.

“You're funny,” you stated honestly, managing to speak through your chortles.

The boy was taken completely aback by your candor, actually at a loss for words. Lily joined in the laughter at your simple remark.

“So you do talk, I guess you must have a name too, then,” you said teasingly.

He blinked once. Twice.

“. . . Severus Snape.”

“That's a cool name.”

The heat that crept onto the boy's face surprised no one more than himself, and he buried himself in his book quickly to hide it. Another surprisingly frank statement from you, and not one he'd ever heard before.

If he thought you were full of surprises then, he had no idea what was coming to him.

_____________________________________________________________

The minute the Sorting Hat was placed on your head, it was immediately intrigued.

“Now here's an odd one,” it chuckled, “loyal, compassionate, empathetic, and yet a razor wit. A calculating, ambitious mind, and yet a relentless sense of adventure. All this, and with your bloodline to take into account as well. Your family has quite the history here, (L/n).”

Hushed whispers fell across the Great Hall among the older students and even some of the faculty at the hat's words, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Though, I sense a different sort of mentality in you,” the hat continued, “you desire to challenge the old ways,” it paused for some time before going on, “do you truly have no preference, child?”

You were surprised at the question. You knew your family's reputation— it had been ingrained in you from a young age— but that didn't sway you, nor did it scare you. When you really thought about what house you wanted to be in, you truly couldn't think of an answer. It wouldn't change who you were, after all. Whether you donned red, yellow, blue, or green, you stood firmly in the knowledge that you would always be (Y/n) (L/n). Having made up your mind, you shook your head at the hat's question, and although its face was obscured from your view, you could almost sense its grin as it knew you were telling the truth.

“Well then,” it chuckled, “It is truly rare that I get an opportunity such as this. Let's make it interesting, then, shall we? Better be. . . Slytherin!”

Snape sat, slack-jawed, as you bounded over to the applauding Slytherin table and plopped down next to him. You rested your chin atop your folded hands, looking largely unbothered, a glint in your (e/c) eyes. He chuckled under his breath despite himself.

Full of surprises indeed.

___________________________________________________________

Your first encounter with James Potter was of a different sort.

It was the very beginning of your third year when you'd first met him properly. You had a few classes together, and Lily would rant about him constantly pestering her; occasionally you'd see the Gryffindor, along with another unfamiliar boy in his house, sprinting through the corridors, Professor McGonagall not far behind and demanding them to stop. But other than that, you'd never really interacted with him.

Ever since you'd met on the train you and Lily started to hang out more and more, with Snape “begrudgingly” tagging along. The Slytherin had been slow to warm up to you, but you were relentlessly kind and infuriatingly persistent, and eventually he found himself enjoying your little quips and comparatively sunny disposition. By the end of your first year, the three of you were nearly inseparable, and your bond only strengthened throughout your second. But third year is when things started changing.

Snape sat in the shade among the thick, overgrown roots of the old oak tree by the Black Lake, nose deep in an advanced Potions textbook he'd swiped from a fifth year as he waited for you and Lily to return from Transfiguration, the only class you didn't have together. This became your usual spot, with Lily sitting in the grass beside him and you on the branch above him, legs swinging as you absentmindedly sketched in your notebook. A comfortable silence would settle between you, something you'd all grown to enjoy; there was no need for constant conversation, it was enough sometimes to just enjoy each others' presence.

The silence he was reveling in alone, however, was promptly interrupted as rowdy laughter reached Snape's ears. Sure enough, a few figures emerged from the curve of the hill, revealing none other than James Potter, flanked by the curly haired boy he'd been seen running around with earlier along with two other Gryffindors: a short-statured boy with dirty blonde hair and another, taller and leaner, with long scars that ran along his face.

Snape didn't pay them much mind until he realized that they were heading straight for the tree— straight for him. Snape had noticed right away how the Potter boy had tried to befriend Lily as soon as she was sorted into Gryffindor, and it was safe to say he was less than fond of him despite having never really spoken to him before.

“You've got to be joking,” James snickered as he walked up to the tree, looking Snape up and down, “This is the guy Evans has been ditching us to see?”

Severus' eyes narrowed. So now he had a reason not to like him.

“Get lost,” he said, turning back to his book.

“What, you think you're too good to talk to us, huh?” James scoffed at him, clearly miffed.

As if on cue, the curly haired boy snatched the book out of Snape's hands, holding it out of his reach as he fumbled to get it back.

“Toss it, Sirius!” James called out. The boy, who he now knew as Sirius, threw the textbook like a frisbee, and Potter caught it easily.

As Snape angrily rose from his seat to get it back, the two boys continued to throw it between themselves so he couldn't grab it. Fed up, the Slytherin drew his wand but was quickly outmatched.

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape's wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sirius', who held it above his head. Just as the black haired boy jumped up for it, another spell flew towards him, this time from James.

“Winguardium Leviosa!”

Snape grit his teeth, staring helplessly at his wand as it hovered higher and higher out of his reach.

“James, come on, I think that's enough,” the taller boy near the back said.

“Don't be a bore, Remus, we're just having some fun.”

“I-I think he's right, guys.”

“Shut up, Peter.”

While his gaze was trained on his wand a harsh shove threw Snape to the ground, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

“No way, is he really crying?” James taunted.

“He is,” Sirius goaded on, “just look at him snivel.”

“You're right, maybe we should call him Snivelus, it suits him better.”

“Nice one, James.”

Snape winced as he was harshly pulled to his feet by James who sneered at him.

“Come on then, Snivelous. What are you gonna do?”

“Relashio!”

James' eyes widened as he suddenly felt himself repulsed back by some invisible force, his grip on Snape's robes forced to loosen as he was flung backwards. You stared the shocked Gryffindors down, wand at the ready for another spell as you ran to stand between Severus and them.

“Accio!” another voice called out, Snape's book and wand whizzing past their faces and into Lily's hands.

James staggered to his feet, trying to look unbothered by the fact that he'd just been knocked down, and by a spell that he hadn't even heard of yet.

“Look at that, boys,” he said, feigning confidence, “guess Snivelus needs a couple of girls to come to his rescue. You should ditch this loser, Evans.”

Before Lily could lash back, you stepped between them.

“What's that supposed to mean?” you scoffed.

“I'm sorry, who are you?”

You felt your forehead twitch, itching to smack that smug grin off his face.

It was Sirius who spoke next, recognition filling his gaze.

“Wait, you're the (L/n) kid, aren't you? Well that's just perfect, you two freaks can go study the Unforgivable Curses together.”

That struck a nerve in you.

“You don't know anything,” you said, not lowering your wand, “now get out of here before I knock you down too.”

“Aw, I don't know, Sirius, they're kind of cute all flustered like this,” James smirked.

You felt anger flare up in your chest, and it was Lily's turn to step in for you.

“Leave us alone, James,” she ordered.

When none of them moved you exhaled sharply, taking another step forward.

“Or I can just turn you into a flobberworm instead,” you said, “might be more fitting.”

Sirius laughed off your threat, but you could have sworn you saw a twinge of concern in his eyes as he looked over to the rest of his friends for backup.

“Let's just go, James. Come on,” the one named Remus said, trying to be the voice of reason.

The bespectacled boy frowned, shoving his wand back in his robes.

“Fine,” he said, “they aren't worth it anyways.”

He turned promptly on his heels, Sirius right behind him and Peter scampering after. Remus stayed behind for a moment, regarding you three.

“I'm sorry about them,” he said, “really.”

Your brow creased in suspicion, but you nodded, not quite smiling but offering up a neutral expression at least before he turned to catch up with the rest of his group.

“You were kidding about (L/n) being cute, right?” Sirius said as they headed back to the common room. When he was met with silence instead of a clear 'of course I was' he nearly had a stroke.

“Are you kidding, James?” Sirius said incredulously, “They're a Slytherin! They're just another dark arts dabbler who doesn't care about anything but their blood status.”

James only shrugged.

“Normally I'd agree, but they seem different,” he said. When he turned to see Sirius' unwavering expression he sighed, “I was just saying that to get a rise out of 'em. Don't worry, this won't be the last time we mess with them and Snivelus.”

Meanwhile, you were still out sitting by the tree, brushing the grass out of Severus' hair.

“That was amazing, (Y/n),” Lily said, wide-eyed, “How did you manage to learn that spell? And you already learned the worm-morphing jinx too?”

“Sev isn't the only one who's been learning ahead,” you said, “but that worm thing was a total bluff.”

“I didn't need your help,” Snape muttered.

You blinked down at him, shaking your head and unable to fight the smirk that crept onto your face.

“Sure you didn't,” you huffed, helping him up to his feet despite his protests, “don't be so dramatic, we won't tell anyone if that's what you're so worried about. Now come on, we're gonna be late for dinner. If Wilkes hogs all the Yorkshire puddings I'm blaming you entirely.”

Severus said nothing, only taking his book and wand back from Lily before you three walked back to the castle arm in arm, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It seems like so long ago,” you said, reminiscing, “Although I suppose it was, but I don't want to think about that too hard— I'll start to feel old, Merlin forbid.”

Harry's eyes were full of disbelief at your story.

“So you, my mum, and. . . Snape were friends?”

“Believe it or not,” you grinned, “unlikely trio as we were, it just sort of worked somehow.”

Until it didn't, you thought grimly, but forced the thought aside. You could tell by how quiet Harry had gotten that something was bothering him.

“My dad really did that?” he asked quietly.

Your gaze softened and you turned to fully face him.

“He was dumb and immature at the time,” you said, “we all were. There's not much else to be when you're thirteen. Each of us made plenty of mistakes, too many to count. And your mum. . . she was good for him. He always told me that she made him want to be a better person. People can change. In my opinion, there are few things someone can do that makes them truly irredeemable, and your father never came close to doing any of those things.”

You thought it better to mention that Snape probably didn't feel the same way.

“In any case, we should be getting to bed,” you said, getting up from the couch, “if you ever want to hear any other stories about your parents, I've got plenty of them.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smile brightening his whole face, “yeah, definitely. Thank you.”

As Harry walked off to his room you sighed, making your way as quietly as you could up the creaky stairs. Just as you were about to retreat into your own guest room, your eyes snagged on the slightly ajar door at the top of the stairwell.

You stalled in front of it for a moment, wondering if you were out of your mind or not. When you had unapologetically settled on 'yes', you moved to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. You practically leaped back at the proximity as you were met with Sirius standing in the doorway, stormy eyes wide. He'd shed his leather jacket for the night, leaving him in a dark maroon button up with the top few undone. Your senses were draped with the heady scent of his cologne, and you found yourself grasping at words to say.

When Sirius got over his initial shock he laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his curls out of habit.

“I was about to see if you were awake,” he admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

Read chapter 2 here !

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #regulus black #harry potter x reader #marauders era #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #multi chapter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction

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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

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Haikyuu boys and wearing their clothes

Characters: Asahi Azumane, Kageyama Tobio, Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kotaro, Ushijima Wakatoshi, all with a gender-neutral reader :) (let me know if I missed a pronoun change or made something too femme! I very much so did not proof read this lol)

Warnings: Probably some swearing

A/N: This might be an overdone topic but I love it so much soooooo no regrets :) Let me know if you’d like more!

Asahi literally carries a picture of you in his phone case because he loves you in his clothes so much. He also has a pic of you wearing his hoodie as his wallpaper, and another printed pic of you framed in his room. I don’t care what size you are, his sweaters still manage to feel gigantic on you. It is like a hug FOREVER.

He literally could not care less that his closet is slowly growing smaller because it means that he gets to see you in his clothes. Eventually, you’ll carry them all back to him in a bag so that he can make them smell like him again. But this is his favourite part, because now his favourite items smell like you.

Daydreaming in class? Thinking of you wearing the sweater he has on.

Gets smacked by a volleyball during practice? It’s cause the smell of you is still on his jersey.

This man trips over his own two feet cause he’s trying to find you in the halls and you wave at him wearing his volleyball jacket ”So that’s where that went. I thought I forgot it somewhere...”

The two of you would trade sweaters before he went on any overnight trips and you’d send him snapchats of you cuddling with the sweater over a pillow or just you snuggled in bed with it on. He’d screenshot all of them, regardless of if you thought you looked good.

He has an album of you. He will never delete them because they’re all precious.

His teammates have accidentally caught him looking through it before a game because it really de-stressed him if you weren’t able to attend the game in person (though you made it to most of them). Tanaka would burst into tears over not being able to have a significant other with cute photos of and would make Asahi promise to always treat you right. And Asahi would just stare at your photos with his cute little smile and obviously promise because his least favourite thing in the world is seeing you sad.

(Look at how cute he is omg)

Kageyama is confused when you ask to wear his sweater. You probably did it at a time that made some sort of sense. Like it was late at night and you were studying in the gym while Hinata and him were practicing.

The cool breeze into the gym made you shiver a little and you noticed that his sweater was just sitting there on the ground so when he came over to grab some water you just looked up at him with your signature puppy eyes. “Can I wear it?”

“Why?”

“Oi, stupid head. They’re probably cold!”

It would probably annoy him so much that Hinata figured it out before him. He’d kneel down and help you put it on, pulling it over your head and giving you a little smile cause you looked so damn cute in his sweater.

But now that you’ve started wearing his things, he’s still very confused as to why you ask for them. “Should we go shopping?” He’d ask you randomly on a weekend when there was no volleyball practice. And you’d just stare at him because why would Kageyama want to stand somewhere that wasn’t a gym. “Aren’t you running out of clothes to wear or something?”

It would take a while and some conversations before you realized he was asking cause you had like 3 hoodies, a t-shirt, and some track pants in your room that were very much so his. “I just like having a piece of you with me,” you’d explain. He would have to think it over but he was very happy with this idea.

There’s only one shirt you’re not allowed to take and it’s this cute little graphic tee you got him for his birthday that has a nice drawing of a milk carton on it. He loves it. He will kill anyone that laughs at it. And no, you cannot wear it because if you’re wearing, what is he supposed to wear.

Sugawara and you regularly switch clothes because this man gives no fucks for your gender roles thank you very much. He shows up to practice one day wearing a dark pinkish basic, or some floral print shirt that you had in your closet and the boys are like “um Suga what are you wearing?”

And he’s probably just like “it’s call fashion, look it up.” (Like Suga sweetie, it’s just a shirt lol)

If you own any tighter pants like yoga pants or leggings? Suga has worn them because his legs and ass look great in them and he will strut around fully confident with that knowledge.

Honestly, he probably steals your sweaters more than you realize. You guys are baking at his house one day and you’ve made a mESS of your clothes and he’s just like oh it’s okay I’ll get you some new clothes.

And you’re expecting this cute little pj set that he has that might fit you or some comfy clothes that he’s lending you. No. He legitimately has some of your clothes and gives them to you and you’re just like.... “Suga I’ve been looking for this shirt for weeks. I even asked you about it.”

And he is suddenly deaf, little shithead.

He likes you in any clothes but they have to be his comfy clothes or he will set that shit on fire. Ennoshita once offered you his gloves because it was fricken cold out and you forgot yours at home and Suga literally threw him across the road and was like “hello angel I have gloves for you”.

You’re just like “um... Ennoshita are you okay?” Boy probably has a concussion and Suga’s just like “who’s Ennoshita?”

Tsukishima will kill you if he finds you raiding his closet. Like if he walks into his room when you two are supposed to be studying and you’re just casually picking out a sweater, he will throw you on the bed and tickle you until you call for mercy.

Will he offer his clothes to you if you’re in need of something? Most of the time, yes. But you have to ask. No stealing allowed in this household.

Except one night you stayed over and totally forgot a night shirt. Tsukishima is already like half asleep because he woke up way too early for practice that morning, so you just sneak into his drawers and pull out the first shirt you can. You can’t even see what it has on it cause it’s fucking dark. Then you crawl into bed with him, figuring you’ll accept your punishment for stealing tomorrow.

And when he wakes up, you best believe he was annoyed. First off, who plans to stay over and doesn’t bring a shirt? Stupid, can’t you remember anything? But then he realizes, you grabbed this cute little dino graphic shirt and his face is RED. Pasty boi so bright, he might as well be Hinata’s hair. And he’s desperately trying to get out of the bed and run to the bathroom before you wake up because holy fuck you’re PRECIOUS?

But all of his squirming just wakes you up and you see him all flustered, and just assume he’s mad and you’re like I’m so sorry I just didn’t have anything else and was stupid and forgot. And he just hits you (lovingly) on the head, mutters some sort of insult, and moves on.

From then on, that is your designated shirt. It’s a comfort item almost. He’ll only really wear it when he has to be away from town overnight, in which case he’ll wear it as a reminder of you (he won’t admit to it but you tried to take the shirt as a keepsake for while he was gone and he only had a heart attack. Tsukishima Kei does not believe in lucky charms. But he has yet to lose a game when he wears that shirt the night before).

Bokuto has been WAITING for you to wear something of his, but you haven’t yet. And it’s been stressful. He keeps trying to find a good excuse to see you in his clothes but you’re always too well-prepared.

“It’s kinda chilly out, Y/N, want my sweater??”

“I brought one, don’t worry!”

-.- *cue owl boi pouts*

And he doesn’t want you to wear something of his just because he asked. He wants to you want to wear his things. So he just waits. And pouts. And waits some more.

The day finally came when he was least expecting it. The gym that his game was in was freezing and you couldn’t imagine why. Most of the gyms they had played before in were pretty standard temperature but you were going to die if you stayed in the clothes you came in.

You had snuck onto the court while the boys were stretching, Akaashi smacking Bokuto in the head and interrupting his hype session to help him notice you.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a sweater with you, would you? It’s freezing!”

His eyes would widen. The day has finally arrived. He would finally get to see you in his clothes!!!!

But of course he has no sweater because he had not planned on needing one. Cue more sulking. Of course Akaashi comes over and offers his sweater and Bokuto almost bites his hand off.

“Well offer her your jacket then, idiot.” Akaashi just needs this man to hold off pouting till later.

Bokuto’s jacket just looked so perfect on you and it was a nice way to keep warm. You cheered him on during the games and after some jaw-dropping move of his, he would turn to your direction and send you a kiss. Embarrassing? A little. But he was such a cutie, how could you deny his air kiss?

Wearing his clothes became more common after that and he will literally bring you his whole closet so you can pick your favourites.

Ushijima didn’t even wait for you to ask to give you his clothes. He probably folded up his hoodie or jacket for you before a game and placed it awkwardly on your lap or in your arms and you’re just like um... do you want me to put this away for you or?

“Would you wear it for me?” How can you say no??? His cheeks are just slightly going red and he’s avoiding your eyes a bit so of course you have to wear it.

Ushijima thinks you look so nice in his clothes and he really likes how happy you look when he asks you to wear something, so he keeps doing it. That and he knows that sometimes people ask you out during his matches and he likes knowing that they’ll recognize his school colours or his jersey number and at that moment, he will send a calculated glare in their direction. And they will run for the hills, never to bother you again :)

I feel like he’s accidentally shrunk his clothes in the wash before and he just keeps them in a small pile in his room so that you can wear them when you come over. He also buys you proper house slippers that you can wear around his home because he wants you to be as comfy as possible.

Sometimes when you guys are just standing around waiting for a game to start, or if you’re all done eating lunch, he’ll unzip his track jacket and open it up so you can stand there and hug him, and he’ll hug you back with his hands in the pockets so it’s like you’re in the jacket with him (Tendo has definitely zipped it up before and trapped you guys in an awkward hug like stance and he will continue to do this because he thinks it’s hilarious. Has definitely snapped pictures of it and sent it to Ushijima. Ushijima saved it because it was kinda cute).

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 years

Text

Chaconne: Part 2 (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After auditioning for who is often considered to be the world’s scariest conductor, you begin working for Agatha Harkness and the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra.

Word Count: 4.9K

Link: Dvorak’s New World Symphony: Movement 4 (Performed by the Vienna Philharmonic)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGdtkUiKaA8

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m back with part two of Chaconne. I’ve included another link to the fourth movement of Dvorak in case anyone would like to listen, (it’s one of my favorite recordings and I definitely recommend it) but if classical music isn’t your jam I understand. Also, I would like to warn this is going to be major slow burn, but I promise there is a light at the end of the tunnel...eventually. Part 3 should be uploaded in a few days! I hope all of you enjoy it, and as always please feel free to leave a comment :) Oh! Also I think I’m going to make a taglist for this story, so if you would like to be added just comment or send me a message.

A week later marked the first symphony rehearsal of the season. You had barely seen Agatha all day. The woman was running from meeting to meeting with investors and the board so she had given you small tasks to complete in her absence. You were busy rearranging the small personal music library she kept in her office when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” You called out as you began sorting through the Baroque Era.

The door opened a moment later and you were glancing at a few different scores when you heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, you saw Wanda Maximoff standing in the doorway.

“Well hello there,” Wanda drawled out, clearly looking surprised. It took you a second to wonder why until you realized you were in Agatha’s office. “You’re not Agatha.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “No...um, no I’m not. I’m Agatha’s new assistant, Y/N.”

Wanda gave you a curious glance. “Her assistant,” she mused, taking a step further into the office. “Does she treat you well?”

You shrugged. “She feeds me a few times a day, buys me coffee. It could be a lot worse.”

Wanda chuckled. “Well it is very nice to meet you. I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

“I know who you are,” You blurted out before realizing how creepy that may have sounded. Glancing at Wanda, you were relieved that she seemed more amused than anything else. “I mean, it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maximoff. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Call me Wanda,” The pianist insisted. “You’re sweet. I’m surprised Agatha hasn’t had you running for the hills.”

You felt strangely defensive over the criticism regarding Agatha. “She really isn’t bad. I’m learning so much from her.”

Wanda looked surprised but smiled nonetheless. “You’re a very sweet girl, aren’t you? Do you know when Agatha will be back?”

“Um...” You trailed off and tried to remember when Agatha said she would be done. “It might be a while.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Wanda said confidently, taking a seat in a leather chair. “I can keep you company.”

So you spent the next half hour sorting through music. At some point Wanda had offered to assist you, and although you assured her you were fine, she insisted. Which is how you found yourself discussing your favorite eras of music with one of your favorite musicians.

“Well isn’t this cozy,” Agatha’s voice rang out from the doorway causing you to jump.

The conductor had a scowl on her face and you could practically see the anger seething out of her. Wanda, on the other hand, smiled brightly at Agatha. “Agatha, so lovely to see you again. I was just getting to know your assistant. She’s a delight.”

Agatha glared at the woman, before giving you a quick once over. “Of course she is. What are you doing in my office, Maximoff? We aren’t rehearsing with you until next week.”

Wanda shrugged, not phased by the other woman’s attitude. “I thought I would stop by to catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve worked together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. When did Agatha and Wanda work together? Agatha certainly had a lot of negative thoughts regarding the younger woman, so it would make sense that they had worked together at some point. You were just surprised Agatha never brought it up during one of her many long ‘Maximoff Rants.’

“I’m very busy,” Agatha replied, appearing to grow angrier with every word that came out of the red head’s mouth. “Right, dear?”

At first you wondered who she was talking to, until you noticed the pointed look she was giving you. You offered Wanda a polite smile before slowly heading over towards your boss. “Of course, Miss Harkness. You have to leave for your meeting with potential new investors and then we have to discuss new programs and publicity posters before rehearsal this evening.”

“I see,” Wanda was giving both of you a look that suggested she knew you were lying. “Well I should be on my way then. Lovely seeing you again Agatha, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” she said sweetly as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze on her way out of the office.

Once she was gone, Agatha all but slammed the door shut and your eyes widened at how angry she appeared.

“What did she say to you?” Agatha asked curiously eyeing you.

You shrugged, because Wanda didn’t really say anything to you. At least not anything important. “Nothing really. She asked who I was, insisted she wanted to wait for you to come back, and then she offered to help me sort through the music.”

“I didn’t realize the work I gave you was so complex it required a second set of hands,” Agatha spat out as she slowly moved closer to you, and you wondered what you said to get that reaction.

“It wasn’t,” you argued, feeling your temper grow and getting more flustered as Agatha moved even closer to you. “She was just being nice.”

Agatha huffed and stalked back to her desk. “Fine. She was just being nice. Now no more talk of Maximoff. I’m starting to get a migraine.”

“I’ll go get you some tea,” You offered, as you had become more familiar with the conductor’s frequent stress migraines.

Agatha merely nodded and began sorting through her scores for rehearsal and you set off to brew some tea in the kitchen. You brushed off her strange behavior as the anger that came with seeing Wanda Maximoff.

The rest of the afternoon passed by smoothly. Agatha eventually told you to go home for a few hours despite your protests to stay. She was still a tad bit grumpy from her run in with Wanda, so she all but shoved you out the door and said if she saw you back here before 6:00 that she would make sure it would be your last time attending rehearsal.

Finding yourself back at the concert hall an hour before rehearsal started, you made your way to Agatha’s office and used the key she had given you to let yourself in. You had to grab the boxes filled with folders of music, as well as Agatha’s scores and her favorite baton. Your eyes scanned the dozens of identical batons that the older woman had before you found the one she requested you grab.

There weren’t many personal items in Agatha’s office. Granted she had only been here for around a month, but still. It was basically bare, save for a few photos of her pet bunny, Señor Scratchy. You had often wondered what the conductor did when she wasn’t here, but you had never felt comfortable enough to ask. Agatha was...private, and while you respected her privacy a part of you wondered what she was like when she wasn’t in scary conductor mode.

A quick glance at the clock alerted you to head to the hall before the players started to arrive. You quickly locked up the office before hurrying through the building, arms filled with boxes.

“I should’ve brought these in before I left,” You mumbled out loud as you balanced the boxes in one hand to unlock the stage door with your other hand.

“Well yes dear, but that would’ve required thought,” Agatha said with a smirk as she came up from behind you.

You cursed and jumped, glaring at the woman who scared you half to death. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Agatha held the door open for you and shrugged in response as you passed her. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to scare.”

“You’re evil,” You told her, but your tone was teasing. “And you’re early.”

“It’s my first rehearsal, I want to be prepared,” Agatha explained but you knew her well enough to know what that meant.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know,” You said reassuringly as she grabbed one of the boxes from you to set on the stage.

Agatha scowled and gave you a dirty look. “I am not nervous. I’m Agatha Harkness. I don’t get nervous.”

“Right and you’re also nothing like Wanda Maximoff, right?” You fired back, enjoying the glower she gave you.

Agatha huffed. “I liked it better when you were afraid of me.”

You laughed as you began placing the folders on their respective stands. “I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of disappointing you.” And you were still afraid of disappointing her, but you would never vocalize that.

Agatha gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before she helped you with the folders. “Where’s your violin?”

“In your office,” You reminded her. “Remember, I told you I was leaving it there until after rehearsal?”

“Well how are you going to play in,” She checked her watch, “Fourty-five minutes without an instrument?”

You stared at her in shock. “But...but I thought I didn’t get the first violin spot?”

“You didn’t,” Agatha admitted. “But I haven’t hired anyone else and I still need to update our sub list. So there will be an empty chair for rehearsal.”

“Which means?” You pressed, needing to hear the words from her.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Needy as ever for the praise I see. Grab your instrument and get your ass on stage in ten minutes before I change my mind.”

You practically skipped off stage, not believing what you were hearing. You were going to perform with the Manhattan Symphony! Sure it was just a rehearsal, and the first rehearsal at that, but you didn’t care. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down.

By the time you returned with your instrument, some of the players had started to arrive. You recognized a few of the violinists from different gigs you had played over the past couple of years. Scanning the stage, you spotted Agatha in one of the first rows in the audience, drinking a bottle of water. She noticed you staring and motioned for you to come join her.

You set your case down next to her bag. “Thank you for letting me play in rehearsal today.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Agatha questioned, looking at you with curiosity. “I need a violinist for today’s rehearsal. You’re my assistant who will do whatever you can to please me. It’s common sense.”

You rolled your eyes at her but smiled nonetheless. “You really can’t let me be nice, can you?”

Agatha laughed and patted you on the arm. “You’re finally catching on, dear. Now get on stage and warm up. I can’t have my assistant embarrassing me in front of the entire ensemble.”

You did as you were told and sat in the last chair of the first violin section. The other members of the ensemble gradually made their way to their respective seats to begin warming up, and Agatha stayed at her spot still drinking her water. Your stand partner eventually made their way over to you and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Monica,” the woman said politely as she sat in the chair next to yours.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you replied with a small smile. “Have you been with the symphony for a while?”

“This is my fifth season,” Monica replied with a shrug. “Should be a little more interesting with Harkness in charge at least.”

You vaguely remembered the rumors that the last music director had been voted off by the board due to his age, but you couldn’t remember his name.

“Yeah, she’s really great,” You said happily. Monica gave you a curious glance. “I’m actually her assistant.”

Monica raised her eyebrows at that revelation. “Oh, wow. What’s that like?”

You shrugged, and noted that was the second time someone had that reaction. “Pretty standard I guess.”

“I was wondering who she hired for the section after cancelling the blind auditions,” Monica admitted. “She gave those violinists quite a scare.”

“Well I’m not hired for this,” You quickly backtracked. “She just hadn’t filled the seat and she needed a sub for today so-“

Monica laughed. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. It’s nice to have you here. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

A few minutes later, the chatter and warming up abruptly stopped when Agatha took the podium. The ensemble stared at their new conductor, curious as to how she would start their first rehearsal. Instead, Agatha raised her baton and the ensemble lifted their instruments in preparation.

“Movement four of Dvorak,” Agatha said and allowed everyone a moment to flip to the respective movement.

She raised her baton again and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you waited in anticipation for her to begin. Over the past few weeks you had studied Agatha’s conducting technique. Watching her move her hands in formation was so beautiful, she was easily the most skilled conductor you had ever observed. Her eyes raked over the ensemble and landed on yours, and with a smirk she gave the upbeat to begin.

Dvorak’s New World Symphony was one of the first full symphonies you remembered playing back in your high school youth symphony. It was breathtaking, full of colorful phrases and swirling melodies in every movement that left both the player and listener eager for more. The fourth movement seemed to tie it all together.

Despite it being the first rehearsal, the ensemble played relatively well. Agatha was mindlessly conducting, her gaze fixated on different ensemble members, and you knew she probably had so many quick witted insults stewing in her brain. You meanwhile couldn’t keep your eyes from watching her conduct. Sure, watching old videos of her conducting different orchestras was great, your personal favorite was of her performance conducting Tchaikovsky’s 4th Symphony with The Chicago Symphony. You also loved sitting in her office and watching her get lost in her scores, seemingly oblivious to your gaze locked on her baton and the way her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

But this...this was pure beauty. It was like she was painting a canvas using her baton as a paint brush. Even with her gaze focused elsewhere, she knew the score backwards and forwards and you saw her give every cue without even taking a second to glance down at the music. It was magical; she was magical.

The movement progressed and you had reached one of you favorite spots. There was a phrase transition that featured a slow and melodic theme that was passed throughout the orchestra. It started in the winds and you smiled at the serene sounds of the oboe that featured accompaniment from the strings before the melody was eventually passed to the violin section. While most violinists enjoyed playing fast and thrilling passages that left their fingers aching and bow arm sore, you had always secretly preferred the sweeter themes, the soaring melodies that kept growing and filled your heart with so much warmth.

Closing your eyes to play a passage you had long ago memorized, Dvorak had always been a favorite, you took a second to enjoy the unique feeling that every musician shared. Making music was an intimate experience. The ability to bring together dozens of people from different walks of life. To put aside any problems from everyday life and just take those brief moments to focus on nothing but their craft. Your happiest memories were of the time you spent in orchestra rehearsals. All of the hard, and sometimes grueling, work that went into perfecting each measure and making sure each section played as one giant instrument. All of it was worth it once you made it to the performance, and you swore there was nothing that could bring you more bliss than a live performance.

The movement progressed and Agatha was fully in her element. The woman was the most confident conductor you had ever encountered. Sure, she was a bit...cocky...but she had every right to be. This was the only first rehearsal you had ever attended where the conductor had effortlessly led the ensemble through tempo changes and cues without any faults.

With a whirlwind of fast passages and high notes that had you breathless, you reached the grand finale. You would occasionally glance up to check you were following Agatha’s tempo, and it took everything in you to not keep your gaze entirely fixated on her.

Agatha left her baton raised for a moment before finally lowering it, and you could tell by the passive look on her face that she was not pleased. “Well that was disappointing. Have any of you played in an ensemble before today?”

Directing her gaze to the principal flutist, she waved her hand. “And don’t even get me started on the mess over here. Are you trying to make my ears bleed? I’ve heard first graders who have a better tone than you.”

The principal flutist frowned. “With all due respect Maestra, it’s our first rehearsal and we’re a little rusty.”

“Did I ask for excuses?” Agatha questioned, and you knew the rest of rehearsal would only be downhill from there. If there was one thing Agatha Harkness hated it was excuses. “What’s your name?”

“Dottie Jones.”

“Well, Dottie,” Agatha sneered. “Since you apparently know more than I do, why don’t you come up here and conduct?”

Well shit. You didn’t see that coming. You glanced over to Monica and found she had the same shocked expression on her face as you did.

“Maestra I don’t-“ Dottie tried to argue, and you couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pity for the woman because you knew Agatha always got what she wanted.

“Now!” Agatha yelled and threw her baton on the stand. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Is she always like this?” Monica whispered to you and you shrugged.

That was a good question. In the few weeks you worked for Agatha, you had grown used to her intense presence and ever changing mood swings. You would never admit it to her face, but you actually found it kind of charming in a weird and twisted sort of way, because you knew Agatha only acted this way to assert her dominance. The music world had predominantly been led by men. The vast majority of the most famous and beloved composers were men. For the majority of your playing career the conductors you encountered were men. Hell, even the majority of symphony orchestras had male concert masters.

“She likes to keep things interesting,” You whispered back while keeping your gaze locked on the scene occurring on the podium.

Dottie had reluctantly made her way through the ensemble to stand on the podium where Agatha stood to the side with her arms folded across her chest.

“Any day now, Dottie,” Agatha mocked and you grimaced. Not even a half hour in and she had already lost her temper.

To Dottie’s credit she appeared relatively calm as she picked up the baton Agatha threw on the stand. The orchestra readied themselves to begin, but you kept your gaze locked on Agatha. What was she playing at?

Dottie gave the upbeat and the opening notes of Dvorak rang out. The flutist was a decent conductor, but you knew it was a losing battle. Her technique was nowhere as refined as Agatha’s and you could tell she was trying her best to keep the ensemble from falling apart. You made it through ten bars before Agatha made her way to the podium and raised one hand, and everyone immediately stopped.

“Well Dottie what do you think?”

“I think I should go back to my seat and leave the conducting to you,” Dottie offered weakly.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “Ah. I see.” She waited for Dottie to sit back down before continuing. “Some of you may find my methods crazy. Some of you may say that I’m too mean, that I’m pushing you too hard. However, there is a reason for all of this.”

She pointed her baton at the principal oboe. “You? What’s your name?”

“Oh, um...” The man stammered and Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Name!”

“Jimmy Woo.”

“Jimmy Woo,” Agatha repeated with a frown on her face. “How long have you been with the symphony?”

“This is my third season, Maestra,” Jimmy said with a smile.

Agatha nodded. “I need to hear more of you. We need to work on your projection to come over the strings without making it too nasally. Not bad for the first rehearsal, Woo.”

“Thank you, Maestra.”

“Now Woo, how would you say the past three seasons have gone?” Agatha prompted.

“Maestra?” Jimmy asked, appearing confused by the question.

Agatha let out a huff. “How have you felt the orchestra has performed for the past three seasons, Woo?”

“You want my honest opinion, Maestra?”

You watched Agatha tense up and you internally sighed. Another thing Agatha hated was pointless questions.

“No, Woo, I want you to change into a tutu and do pliés,” Agatha dryly commented.

Jimmy let out a bit of nervous laughter which quickly ended when Agatha glared at him. “Right. Well, I guess I feel like we’re losing our touch.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Thank you, Woo,” Agatha said before turning her attention to the rest of the ensemble. “The Manhattan Symphony was once the world’s finest orchestra. But all of you have gotten too comfortable. You’ve stopped making music and now are simply playing notes on a page. You’ve gotten lazy.”

There we go. The third thing Agatha hated. Laziness. You swore the woman was constantly on the move. There was one Friday afternoon where you had suggested taking a half day to enjoy the sunshine, which led Agatha to go on a twenty minute long rant (you timed it) that you could enjoy the sunshine when you were dead in a grave. Needless to say, you never asked to leave work early again.

You watched the conductor place her baton on the stand and wave her arms around. “I want this orchestra to regain its rightful place on top of the musical community. But this is going to require work from every single individual in this room. So, this is your first and only warning. If you are not going to put your entire soul into this orchestra, consider this your last rehearsal. Everyone is replaceable and I promise you will not be missed.”

You raised your bow to signal you had a question. Agatha’s head whipped around to look at you, and you could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Something you wish to add?”

“And if we stay?” You asked, thinking back to the very same question you asked her the day of the audition.

That earned you a smile so small it was almost impossible to see, and it went away as quickly as it appeared. “If you choose to stay, I am going to work you hard. I don’t want to hear any whining or complaints, only promises to do better. Are we clear?”

Silence from the room was taken as a yes. Agatha raised her baton. “Good. Flip to measure 21. Woo I want to work on your entrance. First violins, I know you love being the center of attention but you need to follow the dynamics on the page, circle them if you must. Flutes please try to not to fuck up your eighth notes otherwise I will make sure the only orchestra you play for is in the middle of Antartica.”

The rest of rehearsal went better than it started. Agatha was her usual slightly snarky self, and the rest of the ensemble was learning not to question her. You went to pack up your instrument when Monica motioned for you to come join her.

“I’m not sure if you have any plans but a few of us are going to get drinks if you want to join,” Monica offered and you were touched by her kindness.

“That’s so sweet but I’m actually pretty tired,” You said apologetically. Which was partially true, but you also wanted to make sure Agatha went home and didn’t stay cooped up in her office all night.

“Well if you change your mind, shoot me a text,” Monica insisted as she handed you her phone to put in your contact information. She took the phone back and sent you a message. “There’s my number.”

You thanked her again before heading over to where Agatha was silently stewing. A quick glance at her confirmed that she was still in a bad mood and you chose to silently pack up your instrument while shooting her quick and cautious glances.

“I can feel you staring,” Agatha finally looked up at you. “I want to redo the string parts for Maximoff’s piece. We need to fix a few of the bowings. I want everything to be set for our first rehearsal with her.” She noticed your hesitation. “Unless you have other plans.”

“Oh no, my dream Friday night is being holed up in your office marking Rachmaninoff,” You joked and grinned when she rolled her eyes.

“Funny, dear. Very funny,” Agatha deadpanned, motioning for you to follow her. “But I don’t pay you to make jokes.”

An hour later you were done with the bowings while Agatha had spent the time reading a book. She had a pair of glasses on and her feet were up on her desk, it was the most relaxed you had ever seen her.

“You’re finished?” Agatha asked, not looking up from her book. “Good,” she said and slammed the book closed. “Now, we didn’t get a chance to do this earlier due to my Maximoff induced migraine, so grab that violin and come with me. I want to see how relaxed your bow hold is after rehearsing.”

“Actually, I was going to suggest that we call it a night?” You asked tentatively, gauging her reaction. “You’ve had a long day and-“

“And what? I’m so old I need to be in bed before ten?” Agatha inquired, slowly taking off her glasses.

“You’re not old,” You blurted out and Agatha smirked at you. Blushing, you looked at the floor. “But maybe it would do you good to get some rest?”

“Trying to give me orders again, darling?” Agatha teased and even though you weren’t looking at her, you knew she was still smirking. “I’m not so sure I like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” You mumbled whilst Agatha laughed.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Agatha said. “If it will get you to shut up, I’ll call it a night and go home. But I expect you back here tomorrow morning so we can make up our session. We’re finally starting to crack the surface of your true potential and I won’t have you wasting it because you need to sleep.”

You had waited for Agatha to pack up her bag and followed her out of the building. This was the first time you had left at the same time as the older woman. She usually sent you on your way long before she was ready to head out for the evening. She had her town car waiting for her out front, and she frowned as she watched you prepare to walk home.

“You’re not planning on walking alone at this hour are you?” Agatha questioned and looked at you like you were an idiot.

You shrugged. “I only live a few blocks away.” Which was a bit of a lie, but she didn’t have to know that. “And if anyone gives me a hard time I can just whack them with this.” You motioned to your hard case violin.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’ll allow you to wander the streets like a lost little puppy,” Agatha reprimanded you. “Get in the car.”

“I’m not getting in your car,” You argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“Darling I’m not going to tell you again. Get in the car,” Agatha repeated and then smirked. “Unless you’d rather I drag you kicking and screaming.”

You glared at her. Damn her for making everything sound so...suggestive. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” Agatha said as you followed her in the car, and she patted the seat next to hers. “Now where do you live?”

You gave her driver the instructions to your apartment and then made yourself comfortable in the car. There was a few minutes of awkward silence which you spent staring out the window, and Agatha spent staring at you.

“Ya know, you usually call me out for staring at you,” You finally spoke up, the silence starting to eat away at you.

“I am not staring at you,” Agatha lightly argued before changing the subject. “I never asked how you thought I did tonight.”

“What?”

Agatha frowned at you. “How do you think I led the rehearsal?”

That was new. Over the past few weeks Agatha had never asked you for your opinion on anything regarding her conducting, because why would she? Agatha was the most confident person you had ever met, and a part of you was envious at how she presented herself to the world.

You took a moment to glance over at her and found yourself staring into bright blue eyes. “I...I thought you were brilliant. But, you were a little too nice. I don’t think I saw anyone cry.”

Agatha’s expression lightened and you felt your heartbeat grow rapid at the sight of her smile. “Still making jokes, darling? Perhaps I’m going too easy on you.”

The rest of the car ride fell back into a more comfortable silence, and before long Agatha’s driver pulled up to your modest but nice apartment building.

You grabbed your violin case and offered Agatha a small smile. “Thank you for giving me a ride home.”

“Thank Hank, he did the driving.”

“Right,” You frowned. “Well, goodnight.”

Agatha briefly touched your arm as you went to exit the car, and you felt goosebumps at the sensation. “Goodnight, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision #marvel au #agnes x reader #agatha harkness x you

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

Text

A Series of Firsts

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst

@kuripon

I wrote you a thing 😘

The biggest of thanks to the most darling @jaskiersvalley for tearing this apart and telling me how to put it back together correctly <3

This was written for The Witcher Bog Mini Exchange! A little exchange we did within our Witcher Discord! (I also forgot the meaning of the word mini and now this is 4k - after I cut out 2 plot points 😬)

So here is some fluffy and soft Geraskier goodness, rated T

Geralt sighed as he watched Jaskier trip over another rock in the road. In the daylight. On a clear day. The man really was a disaster, tripping over nothing simply because he just wasn’t paying attention.

Winter was approaching and they had been planning on splitting up at the crossroads ahead, Jaskier to head for Oxenfurt and Geralt to head for Kaer Morhen. Normally, when the two split for winter, they were close enough to Oxenfurt for Geralt to be able to leave the man there, but this year they had been nearly on the other side of the continent.

Geralt wouldn’t be able to get him to Oxenfurt safely and then make it to Kaer Morhen before the pass froze over, though, so they had agreed to split up.

Geralt wasn’t convinced that Jaskier would be able to make it to Oxenfurt by himself.

Sure, the pair had split up over the two or so years that they had been travelling together but typically Geralt left Jaskier in a city where he was relatively protected and could find safe travels with troupes or caravans should he leave for elsewhere. But here, in the middle of the road, Geralt wasn’t feeling overly confident about leaving the bard to his own devices.

He supposed he could escort Jaskier to Oxenfurt, then make his way to Novigrad and winter there, he had friends in the city. The biggest problem was how expensive it was and how few and far between contracts were in the winter months.

Geralt watched as Jaskier wagged a finger at the rock that had tripped him with amusement, still wracking his brain for a good solution to getting the man to Oxenfurt safely. Although, Geralt did suppose there was a chance Jaskier would be willing to travel with him for the winter, to Kaer Morhen. It certainly would be an adventure for the man, and he loved those. And Geralt wouldn’t truly mind the man’s company over the winter. There were a lot of tomes and poetry books which were thought lost to time that were still in the library at Kaer Morhen and Jaskier, always boasting about how much of a learned man he was, would surely love to see them.

Yes, it would be a good solution. Geralt would be able to keep an eye on the man and know he was safe, he would get his company over winter, which was truly no hardship, and Jaskier might find the idea fun. He supposed he could at least suggest it.

Clearing his throat, Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s rant about how rude it was to trip people, “Jaskier, would you like to accompany me this winter?”

Jaskier turned around to face Geralt, his mouth wide and a confused look on his face, “Accompany you?”

“Yes. To Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking rather like a fish, Geralt thought.

“You want… me, to go with you? To your secret witcher keep? For the winter?”

“If you would like to join me, yes.”

Jaskier was staring at Geralt, his blue eyes shining brilliant and bright in the sunlight. He looked confused, not an expression Geralt often associated with Jaskier, the man was rather quick witted, his mind seemed to race on even faster than his mouth sometimes.

But it seemed Geralt had stumped him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t like. I just thought you might like to see the keep. And there are some books in the library that I think you would find interesting.”

“Some books you think I would find interesting?” Jaskier asked, sounding faint.

“Yes.”

Jaskier blinked a few times rapidly, looking around as if trying to find a solution for his obvious confusion before settling his gaze back on Geralt and shrugging, “If you’re offering then, yes. I would love to accompany you.”

Geralt nodded, “Alright then.”

And it was settled.

Jaskier still looked confused.

Jaskier felt his mouth open as he stared in awe at the massive keep in front of him. He had been astounded as they reached the gate and then again when they reached another entry way and now, actually facing the keep, he was amazed.

It was absolutely stunning. Crumbling in places, sure. Maybe a bit worse for wear in other places as well, but truly just gorgeous.

“I thought you were cold?”

Fuck. He was, he really was, and he had wanted nothing more than to run inside the keep at the first opportunity and plant himself firmly in the middle of a fire, directly on the coals, but when the stone keep had appeared in front of him, stealing his breath from his lungs, he had forgotten all about the ache of his ears and the fact that his nose had long since gone numb.

But Geralt was right, he needed warmth and soon. He could come back out and stare at the glory of Kaer Morhen later, when he wasn’t about to die from hypothermia and lose a couple toes to frostbite.

When Geralt pushed open the doors of the keep, Jaskier felt the warmth wash over him in a comforting wave and he hurried behind Geralt to hopefully find the source of said heat.

Looking around in amazement, Jaskier’s eyes danced over the beautiful, if dilapidated, tapestries and murals decorating the giant walls of the main hall of the keep. It was glorious. Everywhere Jaskier looked, there was something new to feast his eyes upon, and every time he looked back at somewhere he had already studied, he found new details.

As much hesitance and confusion as he had felt taking Geralt’s offer to join him for winter, Jaskier didn’t regret his decision for a moment. If he hadn’t gotten to see this then… well, he supposed he wouldn’t know what he was missing, but now that he did know, he would never be able to go back. The history of the keep, literally written on the walls, be it in intricate murals or damages from the attacks, were screaming at Jaskier, begging to be immortalized in song. He could see the music dancing through the air as he looked around.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier jumped, looking to where Geralt was staring at him, “Sorry… it’s just… amazing in here! Geralt, why didn’t you tell me how amazing it is?”

Geralt looked around quickly, a frown on his face, “It’s just… home?”

Jaskier felt himself soften at Geralt’s words, “Yes, it is, darling. And I’m very happy to be here. Now, if you could kindly escort me to the fire, I would like to lay down in it.”

Geralt huffed out a small laugh and Jaskier could see the corners of his mouth twitch up, “Come on, it’ll be warmest in the kitchen and you can sit as close to the fire as you dare.”

“Right in the center, then!”

“I don’t know if I’m feeling roast bard for dinner tonight.”

Jaskier laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking as he followed Geralt to the keep. His laughter bounced off the walls, echoing around them.

Geralt had been right, the kitchen, a smaller room right off of the main hall, was certainly warmer, and Jaskier was able to pull a bench right up to the fire where he held his hands and feet dangerously close to the blissful heat.

“You’ll get blisters,” Geralt commented wryly as he shuffled around the kitchen, getting bowls out as he messed with a large pot. It smelled delicious, whatever it was. Jaskier couldn’t quite place it, though it smelled herbal.

Geralt filled the bowls and walked over to sit next to Jaskier on the bench, holding out one for him, “Here, eat this to help warm you.”

Taking the bowl with a grateful smile, Jaskier wasted no time digging in. He had never tasted anything quite like it before. It seemed to be a stew, certainly the heartiest one Jaskier had ever had, filled with venison, potatoes, carrots, and a number of herbs he was certain he had never seen before. It was delicious.

“Mmm, who made this?” He asked between bites.

“Vesemir.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Jaskier kept eating. Geralt didn’t talk much of the other witchers of Kaer Morhen, though he had mentioned them all a few times here and there. Jaskier had always gotten the impression that Vesemir had become something of a caretaker to Geralt, though he wasn’t sure exactly how they related to each other. But Geralt spoke of the other man as if he were a mentor, so Jaskier had always suspected Geralt had learned a lot from him.

If only Geralt would learn to cook a stew like this, Jaskier would never feel the need to spend coin in another tavern for dinner again.

The sound of the kitchen door closing startled Jaskier, and he spun around on his bench to see another witcher, grey haired and kind faced, standing just inside the kitchen, staring at Geralt meaningfully. Geralt shrugged.

Golden eyes fixed on Jaskier.

“Hello,” Jaskier said, suddenly feeling hesitant, “I’m Jaskier.”

“The bard.” It wasn’t a question. An acknowledgement, more like. Maybe even an accusation, Jaskier couldn’t really tell.

“Ahh, yes. That would be me.”

The man nodded, “I’m Vesemir. Welcome to Kaer Morhen.”

“Oh! You made the stew!”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“It’s delicious!” Jaskier declared, gesturing to his third bowl, “Truly the best stew I’ve ever had. You’ll have to teach me how you do it, Geralt certainly can’t accomplish anything that tastes so good.”

Vesemir approached the table and sat across from Jaskier, both ignoring Geralt’s indignant grunt as the pair began to discuss why Vesemir’s stew was so delicious and why Geralt’s never seemed to measure up.

Jaskier laughed loudly, his head thrown back in glee, as Vesemir told another story about the havoc a young Geralt would cause and his subsequent punishments. Jaskier had been nervous to meet the older witcher, worried he wouldn’t be welcomed into the keep despite Geralt’s insistence he would be.

He needn’t have been worried.

Vesemir proved not only to be incredibly inviting but also happy to have a guest, particularly one gifted in music.

“I’ve dallied,” he admitted finally, after a long conversation with Jaskier about the best qualities in lute strings.

Jaskier couldn’t help but grin as he held his lute out to Vesemir, “Go on then, show me what you’ve got!”

“I couldn’t.”

“You can and you will!” Jaskier gestured to the lute again.

Steady hands gripped the lute, holding it with care, making Jaskier smile, “Alright, play us something!”

In only a few moments, Vesemir seemed to have fallen back into an old skill as he picked at the lute strings expertly. Jaskier wouldn’t say that the older witcher’s skills were comparable to his own but they were rather better than many other professionals Jaskier could think of.

Like the troubadour of Cidaris, for instance.

The sound of the lute resonated through the kitchen and Jaskier took a moment to appreciate it, appreciate sitting back and enjoying the music instead of being the one to provide it.

An idea popping into his head, Jaskier spun around to look at Geralt where he sat by the fire, watching the other two.

Jaskier held out his hand, beckoning the witcher, “Dance with me?”

“I don’t dance,”

Jaskier scoffed, “Don’t give me that, Geralt. Come on, dance with me!”

Geralt shook his head, “No.”

Whining, Jaskier strode over to Geralt with a pleading expression on his face, “Please, Geralt! I never get to dance, I’m always the one playing. Please, please, please.”

“Will it shut you up?”

“Never!” Jaskier smiled brilliantly as he threaded his fingers through Geralt’s and tugged, urging the witcher to join him.

And Geralt, much to Jaskier’s utter delight, did so.

“Now I’m sure you aren’t overly practiced in the art of dance, but you can’t be too terribly bad at it.”

“I wouldn’t know, never done it.”

“Never… wait you’ve never danced? Any dance? Ever?”

“No. Who would want to dance with me?”

“Well I certainly do.” Jaskier felt an indignant anger swell up inside of him, angry at the world all of a sudden, bitter that it would treat such an amazing man so poorly.

“You’re strange and have no self preservation. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Spluttering, Jaskier floundered for a moment, shocked at the accusation, but just before he could start ranting, Vesemir switched tunes, playing something lively and good for dancing.

Choosing to ignore Geralt’s slight at him, for now, he grabbed Geralt firmly by the waist and maneuvered him into position, “Just do what I do, my dearest witcher, and you’ll be a dancer in no time.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but still went along with it, his fondness for Jaskier showing in his eyes, his every movement. It warmed Jaskier through far better than the fire and stew had. It was a simmering warmth Jaskier felt every time the witcher proved his affections. Proved they truly were friends.

Geralt never did so with words but actions, as they say, speak much louder than words and Geralt was certainly a man of action.

Unable to believe his luck, Jaskier sent off silent prayer to Melitele. He felt a thrill run through him as he gripped Geralt by the waist. Geralt in his arms was truly a dream he had never thought would come true. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that this was more that it was, that Geralt felt the same as he did, but he would still enjoy the friendly embrace, he would give himself that.

Jaskier had, of course, been right. As he led Geralt through the steps, the witcher picked them up quickly, his training in footwork for fighting translating perfectly to dancing.

And, if you were to ask Jaskier, he would say Geralt’s first dance went rather well.

As the song came to a close, Jaskier took a chance, swinging Geralt around and dipping him. The only sign of surprise Jaskier could see was a slight widening of Geralt’s eyes, but he still allowed him to do as he pleased, pulling him up out of the dip, cradled close in Jaskier’s arms.

And then they were kissing.

Jaskier wasn’t sure who moved first, though it must have been him, surely. All he knew for certain was that their mouths were pressed together, open in a filthy kiss, and then the warmth of the witcher was gone.

Jaskier watched, a forlorn feeling settling over him, as Geralt strode swiftly from the kitchen, the door slamming behind him.

Turning slowly, Jaskier looked to Vesemir, who merely quirked an amused eyebrow.

Jaskier groaned, “Bollocks.”

Jaskier should sit, really. With the way he was pacing, he would wear a hole into the bearskin rug thrown on the floor of Geralt’s room. He should sit in a chair by the fire that Vesemir had politely started for him after showing him the way to Geralt’s room. He should curl up and do some writing or reading or anything to keep his mind occupied, distracted.

All he could think about was the kiss.

Jaskier still wasn’t sure what happened, how it started, but it was truly everything he had hoped for, for… far too long. And the more he thought about it, focused on the moment, the less confident he was that he had attacked Geralt with his mouth and the more he wondered if it hadn’t been mutual. Geralt had certainly pressed them together even tighter as if it had been.

But was he overthinking it? Was he putting emotions where there should be none. Creating something that didn’t exist. Was he simply projecting his desires where they were unwanted?

Maybe he would know the answer if Geralt hadn’t run off. Like he did every time something serious happened.

Jaskier knew, had known from very early on, that Geralt struggled with processing his emotions. He wasn't sure if it was an issue of how Geralt was raised or perhaps hearing a life time of hateful people saying he had no emotions or if the mutagens he was subjected to really did affect his emotions in some way, or maybe some combination therein, but he did know that Geralt struggled. And that was okay, truly. Jaskier didn’t mind. He saw the way Geralt put in the effort to communicate with him, though it wasn’t ever really with his words. But he did put in the effort and that’s what Jaskier had always focused on.

Now, though, he was rather frustrated. If Geralt would just stay when things got tense, take a moment to calm down and then use his words, then maybe things would be easier on the both of them.

Maybe-

Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t trip on the edge of a bearskin rug and knock his head against a table.

Groaning, Jaskier sat up slowly and cradled his head in his hands. He could already feel a bump forming, the spot throbbing dully. Of course he would manage to hurt himself when he was getting all fired up, ready to confront Geralt.

And of course that would be the moment Geralt decided to walk in the room.

“Jaskier?” Geralt rushed over to Jaskier’s seated position, kneeling on the ground beside him.

A gentle hand pulled Jaskier’s away from his head and Jaskier whimpered as it was exposed to the air of the room.

“Jaskier are you okay? How do you feel?”

Jaskier winced, taking stock of his injuries. His knee felt rather bruised and his arm certainly ached some but it seemed that his head had taken the brunt of the damage. “I think I’m alright.”

Geralt made a tutting noise, one Jaskier had only heard him use when something was wrong with Roach. Any anger that he might still have held left him with that single small noise. He knew Geralt cared about him, he knew that without a singular doubt, so really there was no point in getting angry. He just needed Geralt to talk to him.

Jaskier looked into Geralt’s eyes, the concern reflected in the brilliant amber nearly overwhelming. “I’m okay,” he said, taking hold of Geralt’s hand, “thank you for being concerned. Can we talk?”

Furrowing his brow, Geralt disregarded the question, “Are you sure you’re okay? I should get something to put on your forehead.”

Shaking his head slowly, trying not to make it ache worse, Jaskier broached the subject again “It can wait. But we should talk.”

Geralt nodded, a resolute look on his face.

Geralt should have known that this would be a bad idea, inviting the bard to winter with him. Sure, it was an excellent way to keep an eye on him, make sure he was safe and sound, but it put Geralt at risk of revealing feelings, both to himself and Jaskier, that he would rather keep locked away.

He thought his heart would burst from his chest when he saw the amazement shining in Jaskier’s eyes as he took in Geralt’s home. He had pleased him, given Jaskier that coveted thrill of wonderment he always spoke so highly of. And then Jaskier had laughed, bright and loud, the sound echoing through the main hall of the keep. Geralt would never be able to get that sound out of his head. It warmed him, made his stomach flip and flop in strange ways.

It was terrifying.

Throughout supper, watching Jaskier get comfortable in his home, watching him and Vesemir bond, Geralt couldn’t help but let his thoughts stray. It wasn’t something meant to be, Geralt knew that, knew he wasn’t destined to spend his life alongside someone, to have a family outside of his fellow witchers. It was a miracle he had managed to travel with Jaskier and enjoy his company for as long as he had.

No one really wanted to spend their time with a witcher. No one except one really strange, clingy, chatty, loud mouthed bard. Whom Geralt loved.

Fuck.

He knew better than to admit this, admitting it made it real, gave him thoughts best left alone. Geralt did his best to lock down the feelings as Jaskier offered Vesemir his lute. Steeling his will, Geralt did he best to be resolute in his decision, determined to stay strong and never admit this weakness. And then Jaskier turned to him, eyes wide and pleading, and asked him to dance. That one look, that simple request, was all it took to break him.

Next thing he knew he was spinning around, held in Jaskier’s arms, in his home, and he felt content. Safe.

It was too much and not enough and then they were kissing. Geralt wasn’t sure who started it, but he did know he leaned in greedily, clutching at Jaskier tightly, unwilling to let him go. But he wasn’t allowed this. His life, his destiny, would never allow this happiness. This moment would turn sour with time. Even if Jaskier did want it now, he wouldn’t forever. He would grow tired of the witcher’s life, grow tired of the Path, grow old and weary of Geralt’s wandering ways.

He couldn’t have this.

So, he ran.

It maybe wasn’t the most responsible decision, and maybe it would do more damage, but it could be no worse than staying. Staying and looking into Jaskier’s eyes again and crumbling even more, falling hopelessly headfirst into the love he knew he felt.

That he knew he shouldn’t feel.

He left the keep and the courtyard behind, climbing up to the old bastion, jumping up on its now crumbling walls, ignoring the wail of the ghosts below. And there he sat, staring into the distance, slowly growing colder and colder, and the whole time all he could think of was Jaskier.

Geralt had never needed. He never wanted for anything. He never yearned.

And yet…

Jaskier’s eyes and his smile and the way he strummed his lute thoughtfully when composing and the way he danced around carefree and happy whenever given the opportunity and the way he worried endlessly over every injury Geralt may face, from mundane scratches to gaping wounds.

Geralt loved him. Had loved him for some time. And now, in his home, where he felt safest, he couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from Jaskier and not from himself.

Fuck.

He knew Jaskier was waiting for him, he could smell his scent, chamomile and honey, coming from his room. He could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat. Faster than it should be.

Speeding his strides, Geralt threw open the door to his room to see Jaskier slumped over on the ground, his hands clutching at his head, his face screwed up in pain. Geralt could feel a lump in his throat, the worry he felt for Jaskier instant and overwhelming. He rushed to the bard’s side, taking Jaskier’s hand in his as he inspected the knot forming on his head.

And Jaskier insisted he was fine, deflecting the injury and instead asking Geralt if they could talk.

Geralt knew they needed to. They probably should have had this discussion, and many others, a long, long time ago. But Geralt didn’t like talking and Jaskier had always humored him.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have. Not like that. I should have made sure you were interested first.”

“Jask-”

“No, let me say this, Geralt. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time now, I’m sure you know that. I’ve not kept my attraction to you a secret for some time now.”

Geralt… hadn’t known. Jaskier flirted with him, of course, he flirted with everyone. Geralt had never thought much of it.

“But I think there’s more to this than me being… over excited and kissing you when I shouldn’t have. I think we need to discuss our feelings for each other.”

“I agree.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he winced slightly. “Well… in that case, shall I start?”

Geralt nodded.

“Alright then, Geralt, I love you. I love you dearly. With every bit of me. And I want to spend the rest of my life travelling with you.”

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. “I love you, too, Jaskier.”

“You do?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt smiled, cupping Jaskier’s cheek, “I’ve never said that to someone before. I’ve never wanted to until now.”

“I’ve never meant it, not until now.”

#bog exchange #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

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theeslytherinslut · 3 years

Text

12 Grimmauld Place (2/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Remus Lupin x reader’s brother

Word Count: 2,272

Warnings: injury, implied smut, cursing

Part 1 | Part 3 |

“I suppose I should clean up,” you gestured to your wrecked state. Trying to get up on your own, however, was laughable, and you fell back against the chair quite quickly.

“Would you like some help?” Sirius asked, knocking over his chair in his angst to help you.

“That might be nice. If you could just, maybe...” you trailed off, trying to think of a good way to get up. But every time you tried to straighten your back, the pain made your vision fuzz around the edges.

“Perhaps I’ll just...lie here,” you resigned to spending the night in your own filth after several attempts.

“Hang on,” Sirius said, and then he was gone.

With an enormous creak and shuddering sensation, as the water protested greatly after years of no use, you heard water being run somewhere in the house. A couple seconds later, Sirius returned to the doorway, sleeves rolled up. You tried not to linger too long on his hands as they glistened with water. No matter how long the two of you had known each other, you’d never get over his hands—something about them made it near impossible to look away.

“I’m going to carry you,” he declared, striding into the room.

“What? No! Sirius...no, I’m much too heavy. I’ll be alright until tomorrow, it’s fine,” you shrugged off, cheeks burning fiery hot at the thought of Sirius carrying you and placing you in the bath.

“Y/N, you are covered in dirt, sweat, dust, and your own blood. I know you well enough to know it is most certainly not alright. Also, your lack of faith in my strength is rather insulting; you’re tiny. Azkaban didn’t do that much damage.” Sirius waved off, an annoyed look painting his features.

“Oh, alright. But if I can’t even stand, how the ruddy hell am I supposed to bathe myself?” you asked, stating the obvious.

“Oh, hmm. Excellent point.” Sirius said, hand coming thoughtfully to his chin. “Well, there’s no one here but me and good old Kreacher. The kids, Molly, and Arthur won’t be here for weeks.”

It was at that moment Kreacher had chosen to poke his bulbous head into the room, no doubt curious as to all the noise in his otherwise quite empty house.

“Ooh, Master has brought home a lady friend....a bloody, filthy lady friend...oh, but could it be...yes, it is so...Kreacher knows her blood runs pure...Mistress would be most pleased,” Kreacher began monologuing. You looked to Sirius, who wore a most tired look on his face.

“Yes, you wretched thing, she’s a pureblood. You and Mother can get positively tingly with excitement about having another one in the house later. For now, go fetch a towel--a clean towel Kreacher.” Sirius commanded him.

“Of course, Master...nothing but the best for the pureblood...” Kreacher bowed, disappearing from the room.

“My mother has positively ruined that poor creature,” Sirius pondered before turning back to you. “So, what’ll it be?”

You weighed your options, but it seemed there was only one. Feeling vaguely as if you were in some cheesy movie, you acquiesced.

“Oh, alright.” you lifted your arms, signaling for Sirius to come pick you up. “But no funny business, Mister. And when I say close your eyes, I better not see them peaking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss.” Sirius bantered back, snaking an arm under your knees and behind your back.

Looking at him now, he looked much better than you’d seen him recently. That light that always lit his face back at school was just beginning to reach his eyes now.

You’d attended Hogwarts with James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily—though you weren’t quite as close as the group of them. Just a little sibling on the outskirts. You were several years younger, and what’s more, is you’d been placed in Slytherin. Despite this--and much to the dismay of both of your housemates--Remus always came over to chat in the halls, but people years apart in separate houses rarely saw each other. Especially in Gryffindor and Slytherin, no less.

You were fine with things, however, contenting yourself with your housemates--though finding those worthy of friendship was hard. Many of them seemed to make it their mission to further Slytherin’s bad reputation and were assholes just for the sake of being assholes.

Naturally, every time Remus was in the hallways, he was flanked by his friends, James, Sirius, and Peter. James was always friendly, but you saw the way his eyes followed Lily Evans around and knew he was smitten. Sirius, however, well Sirius was different.

Though you weren’t exactly friends, your eyes often trailed after him as he swaggered through the halls with James by his side. Remus seemed to be a touch embarrassed on how the crowds would split for them, but James and Sirius ate it up like candy.

James looked above the crowds, happy to be on top, only coming down to find the redhead he so loved, grinning at her boyishly. Sirius’ eyes raked through the crowds just as much as their eyes raked over him. Always finding one set in particular to smirk or wink at, likely loving the way the blush rose to their cheeks, and they turned to giggle with their friends. Sirius seemed to exude sex appeal, and you weren’t impervious to it.

Your brother’s best friend. You were such a cliche.

When you were younger, he always gave you a boyish smile and even a wave sometimes, the other girls in your grade giggling madly and asking you how you knew him--that always felt good--but as you got older, he began to look at you less. Or at least he wanted you to think so. You could swear you could feel him looking at you, but turn to find his eyes quickly flitting away. Then, when Remus would come up to say hello, his eyes would be on anyone but you. Glaring at passing Slytherins, sneering at others, or looking contemptuous but slightly interested at some of the older girls. And so eventually, you stop letting him catch you looking too. You began dating around just before they left, but it never turned out well as the group of them were suddenly all your older brothers and who wanted to snog a girl with four older brothers--the Marauders, no less.

So instead, you just resigned to watching that last year, drinking in every moment before you’d never see Sirius’ smug smile lighting up the corridors, James never a step too far behind. Their faces were always lit with excitement, some mischievous plan developing behind one of their eyes. Even after Hogwarts, that life never left their eyes. Not as the two entered the Order, not as James settled down with Lily, not even when Harry came along...but you saw it almost go out entirely when James was taken from Sirius, and then you saw it truly die the day he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Upon his return, some life was breathed back into him but whatever was there was quickly being snuffed out during his house arrest to a place he detested so much, no one but Kreacher and Buckbeak for company.

Suddenly, interrupting your thoughts, Sirius changed direction and stopped in the doorway of what you saw to be the bathroom.

Sirius’ POV

“How do you want to do this?” I asked, pausing as her brows furrowed in thought. My heart raced with fury as I looked down at her broken frame.

Fenrir Greyback. I’d had a bone to pick with him since Moony told me he was the one responsible for his furry little problem, but now, looking at her grimy face, the wild look in her eyes...I had half a mind to call Remus anyway and run out right along with him.

“Hmm, well, let’s see. Set me down on the edge of the tub; as long as I don’t straighten my back too much, I should be able to undress,” she thought out loud. Following her command, I set her gingerly on the edge, wincing with her as I did so.

Why the hell were they after her anyway? She was merely a mole—each side had plenty, and we certainly didn’t sicc our nuttiest killers on each we suspected...but then again, I guess we were the good side. Perhaps it had something to do with Remus? But I couldn’t think of anything he was doing that would result in this.

“I’m just going to try slipping in. If I yell out or something...just keep your eyes shut for a moment,” she said, hissing as her cut up skin hit the hot water.

“Is it too hot?” I asked nervously. Like a bloody teenager, my heart beat wildly in my chest at the thought of her naked body in the tub just behind me.

‘Stop, it’s Moony’s sister,’ I thought to myself--just as I’d done all those years at school.

“Fuck...It’s fine, Sirius, thanks,” she breathed out. “Alright, you can open.”

She sat in a ball, her knees brought up tight to her chest, her Y/H/C hair slicked back against her scalp, sopping wet. Kicking myself before I could let my thoughts wander, I took my shoes off and padded over to her.

Gingerly I worked through her hair until it was free of glass, clean, and soft. Dragging a soft rag across her cut up skin, I cleaned off every bit of grime from her. Enraged once more, I saw the beginnings of dozens of nasty bruises peppered all across her body. I’d kill that bloody wolf if it was the very last thing I did.

As my eyes danced along her wet figure, I had to tear my eyes away several times from how her knees pushed on her breasts, cursing myself for my inappropriate timing. However, it wasn’t every day I got to bathe the potty-mouthed, absolutely breathtaking Slytherin I’d been watching for years...even if she was Remus’ sister.

She kept to herself in school, only really talking to her friend group, but I swore I caught her eyes on me quite a few times, but she’d always turn scarlet and look away before I could be sure.

“Hang on,” she said, and I held my breath as she straightened out a leg and placed it down. Not wanting to look like a pervert, I averted my eyes away from her now exposed chest.

“It’s alright, I’ve covered them with my arm,” she said, her cheeks bright red as her hand dove into the water to cover the spot I fantasized about most.

Closing my eyes and willing myself to stop, I picked up the rag again and brushed the rag gingerly against her thighs, this time being unable to tear my thoughts away from her creamy skin. Just a stroke or two farther...and I could make her forget all about the events of the night.

I cut myself off once again as I felt a stirring in my stomach, but it was too late. I could already feel the blood rushing quickly as the image of her splayed out, cheeks red this time from pleasure, gasping my name as she clenched around fingers.

“Sirius?” She asked, snatching me from my thoughts. Cursing quietly, I looked down to find a definite tent in my pants.

Y/N’s POV

“Sorry, what?” he asked, his cheeks a more red shade than normal, his pupils all blown.

“I said I think that’s as good as I’m gonna get. Close your eyes and give me your hand so I can stand,” you said, gingerly reaching for the white, fluffy towel Kreacher had placed on the toilet. Though this bathroom was a right sight better than the rest of the house, the towel practically gleamed comparatively.

“Alright,” you said after a moment, wrapping the towel around you. “I feel a bit better after my bath. Perhaps I could try walking again.”

“Alright, but I’ll be right here,” Sirius said, standing steadfastly at your side. It seemed he was taking Madam Pomfrey’s words to heart.

Gingerly straightening, you made it a fair bit higher before your back protested, and you started walking slowly towards the door.

“Where should I go?” I asked. I’d only been in the kitchen of the old house a handful of times.

“I’m afraid I only have the one room cleaned up thus far. Molly said she was going to give me a hand on that...” Sirius trailed off, looking embarrassed. “It’s just down the hall here.”

He led you down the quiet hallway, various paintings muttering mutinously underneath their sheet drapings.

“Not too friendly, then?” you asked, gesturing to one who was hissing faintly.

“Meet my family,” Sirius grimaced.

“These are...this is your house?” you asked him. Thinking back to your childhood years, you’d often pondered where Remus’ friends lived, but never did you dream of a place like this for Sirius.

“The Noble House of Black,” he muttered in a funny voice.

“Was that a Kreacher impression?” you asked, a smile coming to your face for the first time that night.

“It was good, then?” Sirius said, smiling at you playfully. The sight took your breath away; it took you a second to reply.

“Dead awful, love,” you laughed. Not two hours after having been almost killed and Sirius had you laughing.

“Ah, just as well. Don’t want to be anything like the cretin.” he shuddered as the two of you came to a doorway opening up to a spacious, light room.

284 notes · View notes

robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

It’s A Love Story - Part 3

Part 2

"What the hell Frank," (YN) heard Ray shout from where she was sitting on the steps in front of the school, digging through her backpack. Her head snapped up as she looked between them, trying to figure out what was happening.

"What did I do?" He asked defensively.

"Tucker just told me he delivered a pizza to you on Friday night, and he saw girls shoes and a purse by the door. You lied about being sick to go on a date?!"

(YN)'s eyes wide as panic ran through her. She hadn't seen Tucker, she was in the living room, so there couldn't have been any way he would have seen her. Ray would have said if he knew it was her, right? Tucker would have surely told her brothers.

"You got a girlfriend?!" Mikey asked, clearly surprised.

"Umm, yea, I do," Frank answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Gerard asked.

"Who is she?" Ray asked, not even giving him time to answer the last question.

"She doesn't go here," Frank lied.

"Is she cute?" (YN) finally piped up, a wicked smile on her face.

"She's gorgeous," Frank replied emphatically and (YN) grinned even wider.

"Are we gonna meet her sometime?" Gerard asked.

"I dunno, maybe, if she wants."

"What's her name?" Mikey asked.

Frank opened his mouth to answer and (YN) was genuinely curious to see how he was going to respond when the bell rang, signaling that they had five minutes to get to their homerooms.

"I'll tell ya later," Frank replied as they all made their way into the school.

(YN) hung back and Frank slowed down so he could walk with her. "Saved by the bell," she smirked.

"Who knew Tucker was fuckin Sherlock Holmes," he muttered and (YN) laughed.

“What name were you gonna give them?”

“Yours,” he smirked.

“Stop it,” she said, smacking his arm and he laughed.

“I’ll see ya in algebra,” he said before heading down the hall. (YN) watched him go and sighed. One day they’d all know she was the girl at Frank’s house. One day she’d be able to kiss him before they parted ways. One day couldn’t come soon enough.

A few weeks passed, and (YN) was still living for the thrill of being with Frank. There were small moments like (YN) coming out to the garage to watch the band, or rather Frank, practice, to them spending more time doing homework together, to Frank taking her hand as they sat next to each other during the weekly movie night, even though her brothers were right there. Then there were the more exciting moments, like when she found Frank between the shelves, deep in the library.

“Hey,” she whispered, making him jump.

“Shit, oh hey (YN)," he grinned. "What are you doing here?”

“I'm in study hall, but I came to get some books for my research project for history. I saw Mikey up front and he said your English class was in here so," she shrugged, leaning against the shelf.

"You thought you'd come find me in the stacks?" He smirked.

"I thought I'd come find my books for my research project. Come on Frank, what did you think was gonna happen?" She replied with a smirk of her own.

Frank glanced over his shoulder, before grabbing her waist and kissing her hard. (YN)'s mind began to spin, partially because of how amazing the kiss was, but also because her brother was also in the library. Hell, anyone could wander over and find them making out. It'd take all of a minute for the entire school to find out. And (YN) loved it.

She ran her hands through his hair, as they made out against the historical fiction books until they heard footsteps and they pulled apart and both turned their attention to the books. Whoever it was, kept walking, not even slowing down to do more than glance their way.

“Close one,” Frank whispered.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, stealing a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Kinda awesome.”

“Oh yea,” she giggled.

That afternoon at lunch, (YN) was at her usual spot with the guys, minus Mikey. Ray and Gerard had been practically bouncing out of their seats, clearly having news to share.

“Where is Mikey?” Ray asked, looking around anxiously.

“I dunno, but I’ll fill him in later,” Gerard said. “Let’s just tell ‘em!”

“There’s a battle of the bands coming up and we’re signed up!” Ray announced.

Frank, Bob, and (YN) all exchanged a look of surprise.

“Wait, when is it?” Frank asked.

“Next month!” Gerard grinned.

Bob put his head in his hands. “We have so much more practicing to do.”

“I think we got a real shot!” Ray explained. “And when we win, we get prize money and real studio time to record an album!”

“We’ll be taking off in no time!” Gerard nodded.

“Can I help?” (YN) asked.

Before anyone could answer, Mikey walked into the cafeteria with a cute blonde girl.

"See ya there Mikey," the blonde waved before going off to join her friends and Mikey had a smug smile on his face.

"About time!" Ray said.

“What was all that about?” Gerard asked.

"Me and Kristin are going to the fall formal together."

“Oh nice,” Gerard replied.

(YN) almost choked on her sandwich. "Wait, what?! That's not fair! I wanted to go to fall formal!"

"Who's stopping you?" Mikey replied.

"You and Gee! When you two, the least intimidating nerds at this school, somehow convinced the entire male population to stay away from me!"

She could feel people were starting to look at her as her voice raised with every word but she didn't care. She was angry and sick of how she'd been treated.

"Just go with Christine and Marie," she heard Gerard say, and she began to see red.

"I don’t want to because they have dates and I don't want to be a third wheel!" She snapped. "The double standards in this family are such BULLSHIT!"

"Miss Way!" Mrs. Simon barked. “The office, now!”

(YN) felt her cheeks burning red and her shoulders slumped in defeat as almost everyone in the cafeteria started laughing at her while she was marched down to the office by the teacher. She sighed in frustration at yet another way her brothers were ruining everything for her.

A few hours later the school day was over and (YN) reported to detention.

"Is this your first time in detention?" The teacher, Mr. Rodriguez, asked as she slid into the desk and she nodded. "Ok. The rules are there is no talking, you may do your homework, read, or sit silently."

(YN) wondered who she would even talk to since the room was empty. She pulled a folder out of her backpack and was about to get started on her homework when someone else walked into the room.

"Mr. Iero, please take a seat, you know the rules," she heard the teacher say. She looked up to see Frank coming to sit down at the desk next to hers.

"Hey," he whispered.

She grinned and then turned her attention back to her homework. They both worked silently until the teacher announced he would be right back.

"He's gonna be gone at least 10 minutes," Frank said once the door was closed.

"How do you know?"

"He's taking a smoke break."

"Oh, right. Well what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't let my girl go through her first detention alone," he smiled.

(YN) covered her face, partially because she was blushing, and partially because she was embarrassed to be in detention in the first place. "What did you do to be here anyway?"

"I threw a ball at Mikey's head during gym."

(YN) could hardly stifle her laughter. "Oh my god, were you playing dodgeball?"

"No, soccer."

(YN) burst out laughing, thankful Mr. Rodriguez was not in the room. "Thanks for that."

"He deserved it," Frank nodded.

"I agree,” she grinned.

When they walked out of the school almost an hour later, (YN)'s mom was sitting in her car waiting to pick her up. "Ugh, I can't wait to get grounded."

"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Frank said sympathetically as they walked down the steps.

"Hello Frankie, did you wait for (YN)?" Her mom called out the open car window.

"No, I had detention too," he shrugged.

"Oh," her mom seemed taken aback. "Well would you like a ride home?"

"Please," (YN) whispered, hoping to delay the trouble she was certain to get into.

"Sure, thanks!" He nodded, getting in the backseat.

"That Mrs. Simon said this wasn't your first outburst this year, (YN)," her mom said as they started to head home.

"Yea, I know."

"That's not like you," her mom replied, more concerned than angry.

"I know," she muttered, head against the window.

"No one asked me, but I think Gerard and Mikey should back off," Frank piped up from the backseat.

"What do you mean Frankie?"

"Don't worry about it," (YN) mumbled.

"They're too protective of her. I know she's a girl, and the youngest, even if it's just by a few minutes, but they don't need to treat her like every single guy is a predator," he explained.

"Did something happen?" Her mom asked, now very concerned.

"No, some guy in Gee’s class was talking to me at that pool party this summer and Gee freaked out. It doesn't matter, the social damage is done. I don't even care anymore."

"Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No, I don't wanna make it worse. Just let me handle it," (YN) answered.

The rest of the drive was silent until they arrived at Frank's house. "See you tomorrow," he said, reaching forward to rub (YN)'s arm sympathetically before getting out.

"He's a good boy," her mom said as they started back toward their house and (YN) hummed in quiet agreement. "And that necklace he bought you for your birthday is lovely."

(YN) didn't even realize she was playing with it until her mom drew her attention to it. "Yea," she agreed.

"If you ask me, I think he likes you, I've always thought that."

(YN) blushed. "Don't tell anyone, but I know he does."

"Because you like him too?" Her mom asked. (YN) nodded as they pulled into the driveway. "I'll keep it our little secret."

"So am I in trouble for getting detention?"

Her mom laughed lightly. "No, but don't let it happen again. If you want to yell at your brothers, wait until you're home."

"Will do," she nodded, a relieved smile crossing her face.

(YN) didn’t say anything to either of her brothers that night at dinner, eating quickly before running back up to her room. It still wasn’t fair that she got in trouble, or that Mikey could date whoever he wanted to and she couldn’t. She curled up in bed with her sketch book, and tried to let her frustrations come out through her pencil.

"Hey," she heard Mikey say from her doorway after a while.

"Go away," she muttered, not even looking up until something landed at the foot of the bed. It was her favorite candy bar.

"Sorry for being an ass," he said.

"Whatever," she said, grabbing the candy, but still not even looking his way.

"Did you hear what Frank did?"

"Gave you what you deserve," she replied.

"I guess you could say that, but we’re just looking out for you."

She glared at him. "I'm not that fragile Mikey! I can handle myself, now go away!"

“Sorry,” he muttered as he retreated back to his room next door.

(YN) got up and slammed her door and settled back onto her bed when there was another knock.

“Oh my god, leave me alone!” (YN) shouted, but the door opened anyway.

“Can we talk?” Gerard asked, peaking in.

“No! Go away!” She said getting up to push the door shut, but Gerard was stronger than her.

“I’m sorry! I was thinking about how you said you wanna help with the band, and I was wondering if you’d design our logo for us, and maybe like some shirts or something?”

(YN) stopped pushing on the door. “Wait, really?”

“Yea, like when we win this thing, we’re gonna need some merch to sell to help get our name out there, and posters for gigs, stuff like that,” Gerard shrugged.

“Yea, I guess I could try,” she nodded.

“And I know Mikey tried to apologize, but didn’t do a good job of it. We just didn’t want a guy like Adam to get a chance to do anything, because then people would start talking and-”

“Hang on,” (YN) cut him off. “This isn’t the Regency era, I don’t need my older brothers telling me who I can and cannot spend time with, out of fear that I’ll disgrace the family!”

“That’s not it! I just… I just feel like it’s my duty to protect you. You and Mikey both, but it’s different with you because you’re a girl and I’ve seen the way the guys look at you and I can imagine what they’re thinking and it’s gross and it makes me mad.”

(YN) sighed. "I just wish that if you felt like making a decision in my best interest, you’d actually ask me what I want first."

"Sorry," Gerard mumbled.

"Doesn't do much good now, but whatever," she shrugged.

Gerard stepped back from the door, and she shut it behind him. It didn't really matter, she had Frank, but it was the principle of the matter that still left her steaming.

Part 4

#frank iero x reader #frank iero fan fic #frank iero fan fiction #frank iero imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

37 notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 21/?

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name

Hello! I'm back! Time for drama!

Idk if this is coming out at the right time, I deadass forgot what day it is and ughughughyh

Warnings: Swearing, Discussion of Mental Illness (undiagnosed), Injury Description, Taunting, Attempted Gaslighting, Attempted Manipulation, Kidnapping, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd (I've missed saying that<3)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21)

Jason was stumbling over his words after telling Y/N that days were blurring together. When a decently loud crash was heard from the lower level of the Wayne Manor. Jason perked up, getting up and trying to stop Y/N from following him down the stairs.

Which was too late. When they turned to go down the hallway, they were both whacked off the back of their heads. Knocking the two of them out almost instantly. Y/N took a few seconds to catch up to Jason in being out, catching a glimpse of the fight going on down the hall. She thought it was Stephanie trying her best to fight off her attacker. But soon enough her vision blurred and blacked.

She fumbled herself awake in the room. She couldn't even take away anything from the room, it was just sawing and turning colours in front of her. She didn't notice anything in the room, the lights were blinding, she didn't even know if it was lighting.

"You're awake," she said.

And then it clicked. That was Aria's voice.

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

Days before the kidnapping of the Waynes.

Aria sat in her office. Clutching the book her twin gave her for Christmas. It was a journal, with details talking about the schedules of the Waynes. If only Y/N had known that the journal she lovingly gave her sister would end up the way it would.

She had doodles, floor plans, schedules. Everything. She wrote it all down from extensive stalking of the Waynes. She was not going to fail at kidnapping the Waynes. She was going to do it, get the ransom from Bruce, and possibly meet heroes. She was going to fight everyone to death who tried to rescue them.

She knew the morning after a Wayne Gala that the entire family would be off-guard. She knew they owned weapons from the fact of the attacks from September. So she had to catch them fully off-guard to pull off their plan.

She looked at her mask. She knew her sister had seen the mask, the cloak. She was still considering off-handedly that she should revamp it all, make it so her sister couldn't call her out. Maybe add a voice changer? She really didn't know.

If it came down to it, if she had the time, she would do it. If not, she would just hope that her sister didn't recognise anything. Crazy? Yes, she was. The brightest lightbulb in the box? Not a chance.

She went over her plans again, adding them to the massive board she already had of the Waynes. The red lines linking all of them, the paparazzi photos. She didn't realise she was that crazy. She didn't realise that she was that much of a cliche.

She thought this was normal. She thought this obsession was okay. She looked at the photos on the wall and the red lines thinking that this was perfect.

She didn't think her sister would even be bad at her for this. She thought her sister would understand, she would get it. She would forgive her and move on. She would understand her need to get close and with the vigilantes and the heroes. She would understand the need to befriend the villains and crooks.

She would. Aria swore she would.

She heard of the Wayne Gala occurring in a few days. She would prepare her weapons when she found out. Shine her scythe. Polish her guns. Polish her daggers. Clean her cloak. Only touch her mask with gloves on. Hour barely appeared in the sight of the vigilantes. They knew she was planning something.

She hoped that fact would make them come for her further.

"Ma'am?" one of her goblins asked.

"Yes. What do you want."

"Lexcorp is hiring," they shook.

"And? Relevance."

"Alter ego, ma'am."

"Noted."

"Ma'am?"

"Get... out!" she screeched.

"Yes ma'am," they said as they hurriedly closed her door.

Yelling was normal for the army she led. She would yell at them at any moment. For no reason.

She thought this was normal, too. She didn't realise people didn't yell at each other for no reason. She was raised to be yelled at. Y/N and Aria were always yelled at.

Y/N used the yelling to turn herself for the better. She thought of it as good parenting that she wouldn't replicate, ever, but she understood it.

Aria had a god complex. She only felt like she was worth it for 30 minutes of the day. And those 30 minutes were thrown into her work as Hour. She refused to work unless she was feeling her best, but if she was planning on kidnapping the Waynes, she'd have to learn to fake it.

Fake it all, fake nothing, fake everything. She was going to do what she wanted, maybe she'd extend those few and fatal 30 minutes of power into hours, into days. She didn't want to feel like this anymore.

She thought about how she was going to kidnap her own sister, her own flesh and blood, and possibly hurt her.

She pushed those thoughts away.

She refused to acknowledge the pain she was going to cause. She hoped there was none.

Y/N would understand, right?

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

Aria groaned, getting up in her childhood room, the one she shared with Y/N. She blinked and tried to cling to her sleep, but to no avail. She was visiting their parents.

She looked over to Y/N's side. Her favourite colour painted the walls she had, all the woods matched. It looked far less messy than Aria's side. She figured it was because she was mentally ill, but not Y/N. But then she thought she wasn't mentally ill, and that Y/N was. Aria couldn't be mentally ill, she was doing the right thing.

The thought still pained her. In a few days, she'd be putting out a ransom for her sister in the news. She'd be threatening her life. She'd be putting her under stress and their parents under stress. If she was caught-

No, she thought. No chance.

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

Present-day.

"Aria?" Y/N questioned, basically in disbelief.

"Shut up!" Aria boomed back at her, "You," she said, lifting up Y/N's head with her long claws. "You are my prized possession."

"Prized," she echoed back.

"Don't worry, love," she said. Y/N winced, she knew her sister called her that. She didn't want to think this was her sister. "You will be just fine. If your parents pay up, that is."

"My parents don't-"

"Did I say you could speak?!"

She shut up. Fuck, she thought. Fuck this. Fuck you. I know that's you, Aria. If you can hear me, I hope you rot.

She didn't even know if that was how she felt. Her brain was spinning, like someone put her on a merry-go-round and left her there, to pick up the pieces. She didn't know how to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. She didn't want this to be her sister, her flesh and blood, the person she shared a womb, a room, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles- she didn't want it to be true!

"Maybe you want to know why I'm doing this," Aria asked the air while pulling Y/N's head up again. "Well, love.

"This is what happens when you date a rich man.

"This is what happens when you flip off the press.

"This is what happens when you find yourself wrapped up in the mess known as the Justice League Association, do you know who they are?

"Of course you don't. They're Batman, The Flash, Green Arrow, Superman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, Black Canary, Aquaman and more.

"And their proteges, oh my God! Their proteges! You have Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, Batgirl, Spoiler, Orphan.

"And then Kid Flash and Impulse.

"Arrowette and Speedy.

"Superboy, Supergirl.

"Miss Martian.

"Wondergirl and Artemis.

"Aqualad.

"These people, my dear. These people are my nemeses. And I want them gone!" she maniacally laughed, "Dead! All of them!"

"You're... You're Insane!"

"So be it!" she yelled back, striking Y/N's face with her claws. The blood running down her cheek along with her tears. "If I'm insane, then at least I get paid!"

She laughed and left the room.

And there Y/N was, alone in a room where she couldn't even make out details, with blood running down her face. While she was aware that her attacker may even be her little sister. She was terrified. Petrified. Scared.

She wondered where the Waynes were, maybe they were all together? So that she could use them for ransom, maybe she couldn't use Y/N for ransom, so she was left alone in the room.

She wanted to know if they were all safe. Jason and she had only been dating for 6 months, but she did care- love- every member of the Wayne family so much. And she knew that most of the kids struggled with mental illnesses.

She knew them being alone would be detrimental to their mental health.

She also knew that she had no way, no way, of getting to any of them.

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nose-bandaid · 3 years

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DK (Seokmin) x (gender neutral) Reader | college AU fluff | 4.2k words

synopsis: seokmin first captured your attention with his smile, and you were more than enthralled. then you captured HIS attention by utterly destroying his favourite scarf and then fleeing the scene (oops). but surely you can fix this before things get awkward, right?

a/n: it ended up more platonic than it did romantic but oh well,,, this is a very specific plot i apologize LOL

taglist: @elcie-chxn @woozisnoots (hi alex this is the seokmin fic you asked me to tag you in like MONTHS ago sksfhdjkjdsf) [send and ask or dm if you ever wanna be tagged in my works!]

=====

You've always called him the scarf boy. On alternating days, it was the sunshine(y) boy.

The first day you met him was actually about a week into the semester, when you glanced over to your left and saw him sitting on the other side of the lecture hall. Nothing out of the ordinary. Normally, you would’ve just looked away and carried on with your life. It’s not unusual for your eyes to wander around as you zoned in and out of the professor’s speech. That's what you get for always staying up late the night before.

But on that day, you found your eyes fixated on the boy for the next few minutes, and you watched as he whispered something to his friend. It must’ve been something funny because soon they were both giggling like fools and he smiled from ear to ear.

And it was that smile that captivated you because you don't think you've ever seen such a bright smile before.

His face was familiar. Surely you've seen him many, many times before today, you thought. And yet you couldn't place a name on the classmate.

You brought your attention back to the lecture for a brief second and then looked at your friend, Seungkwan, who sat to your left. You gently nudged him with your elbow and he spared a glance your way before going back to his notes. You nudged him again, this time a little harder.

“Hm?” He still didn’t look up from his notebook, but you knew you had his attention now.

“Do you know who that guy is?” You gestured with your head in the smiley boy’s direction, and Seungkwan finally looked up to follow your gaze.

“Oh, you mean the literal ball of sunshine that doesn't know how to shut up?” He replied in one breath.

“Huh?”

"I said that as a good thing, by the way. Or, for the most part. His name is Lee Seokmin, everyone on campus calls him a happy virus 'cause he keeps on smiling." He paused to scribble something down.

It was probably something important and you should've written it as well, but you could tell he had more to say. You patiently waited.

"I've heard that he's in the theatre club, but I'm not too sure. He's Soonyoung's friend, but not really mine."

"So he's a theatre kid, huh." You echoed quietly and Seungkwan quirked an eyebrow.

"Why are you asking? Also, I'm not lending my notes, it's your problem for not paying attention."

"I was just wondering." You answered a little too quickly but tried to divert the attention elsewhere by busying yourself with re-organizing your own notes. "And if you lend me notes, I'll bring snacks for you tomorrow." You added quietly when the professor glanced your way after shushing Seokmin and his friend.

"Deal." You heard him whisper back after a minute and his notebook slid into your vision.

=====

A few days later, you went to class early so that you could finish up a small assignment to prepare for the lesson. Once again, nothing out of the ordinary.

You sat in your usual spot — not too far in the back, but also not too close to the front. Just enough for you to see the board and sneakily hold conversations without really being noticed.

There weren’t any assigned seats, but by now, it was a convention that everyone sat in the same spot every day. The spot beside yours was always saved for Seungkwan, and the spot beside his was saved for that one kid who only showed up once a month.

You were finishing up the last few pages when a loud “HELLO” echoed in the hall and you whipped your head towards the doorway.

It was that boy — Seokmin — dressed in a soft yellow hoodie, hair slightly ruffled as if he hadn’t bothered to fix it after waking up. Around his neck was the red knitted scarf he always wore the moment the weather grew cold. (Though you swore you've seen him wear it in the middle of the sweltering summer). He smiled widely, waving to the half-empty hall and then to the professor who simply chuckled at his entrance. That smile stayed on his face the entire time he made his way to his seat.

From then on, you began to understand why people called him a happy virus.

The next day, you found yourself going to class early again, this time, because you honestly didn’t have anything better to do. Besides, arriving at a good time always made you comfortable. The moment the clock struck 8:46, the same boy appeared.

"HELLO!~"

This time, it was sung out in a (very beautiful) falsetto, and you wondered how it was even possible for him to be this exuberant so early in the morning. Waking up was always a struggle on your part.

Just as quickly as the show started, the boy shut himself up after receiving a few tired "hellos" from his classmates and took a seat.

The day went by accordingly.

Since you were little, you've always been told that something needs to be repeated at least three times for it to be considered a pattern. So you decided to go to class early just one more time. You told yourself it's so that you could see you were missing out on things. In case coming to class just in time was a bad habit. A lousy excuse, really.

You knew that you just wanted to see Seokmin again.

Sure enough — it was a Thursday that day — he came in, this time in a navy blue cardigan, but still with the same red scarf. The "hello" today was a little more subdued and based on the package he had in his hands, you guessed he had stayed up all night practicing his lines. When his greeting was met with unusual silence you looked around to see that everyone was far more focused on the upcoming test than the boy at the door. So you mustered up the courage to be the one greeting him that day and he immediately perked up, sending you an appreciative smile. His eyes remained brighter as he walked over to his seat.

You decided to come to class early every day after that.

=====

As the seasons changed, so did your classes, and you were more than happy to realize that you and Seokmin shared not just one, but two classes this semester.

Bouncing on your toes a little bit, you silently willed for the people in front of you to hurry the heck up. The narrow stairwell did no good for the congestion of students trying to get by.

You glanced at your phone again to see that class was starting in just 3 minutes and grimaced at your predicament. You knew your professor loved starting lectures right on the clock, so you were already cutting it pretty close when you agreed to help someone with their spilled drinks before you got here. But now... did these students really have to carry their gigantic project up the stairs?

You had hoped that maybe they would step aside and let you scurry your way up to the second floor — that was literally all you needed for them. However, they seemed to be far too engrossed with the fact that one of the components was coming apart in the stuffy stairwell and you let out a sigh, backing out the door.

If they won't take the elevator then you supposed you will instead.

Thankfully, the usually crowded elevator was fairly empty, and you managed to score one all to yourself. That was a win for you if only everything else had gone as smoothly as that. Your day had only started and circumstances have suggested that it wasn't going to be the best ones out there.

Perhaps, it was also partly your fault for blasting music through your headphones in the morning. That caused you to get a little lost in your thoughts on the way here, it also caused you to bump into a few unsuspecting people. Or perhaps, it was because you decided that it was a good idea to check your phone after receiving a text to hurry to class when the elevator door was closing.

But you like to think that it was maybe also his fault for stuffing his face with a bagel at 8 am in the morning, rendering him unable to clearly shout out at you to keep the elevator door open.

You looked up at the strangled noise and saw Seokmin barrelling towards you, his one free hand wildly waving at you to do something about the situation. You, just as frantic as the boy was, rushed to smash the "open" button to no avail as the door continued to close with every step he took.

He made it, much to your relief, tumbling into the lift and almost spilling his coffee onto you (another drink disaster would've ruined your day completely). You didn't have much time to congratulate him for his feat, however, because you both watched in horror as his iconic knitted red scarf — caught in between the doors of the elevator — began to tear and unravel itself.

Seokmin frantically lifted the scarf over his head and tried to pull it out of the elevator's grip while you reached down and grabbed it in an attempt to help. But all efforts were futile when the last stitch came apart, and he was left with only a fraction of what used to be his favourite red scarf. Your stomach twisted itself when you looked up and saw the distress in his eyes, his teeth biting down on his lip as if he was contemplating the best way to curse you out.

He was an actor though, and you could tell he was putting up a facade to hide how upset he actually was. His eyes wavered as he stared at the scarf, now reduced to a mess of yarn and his lips tugged into a weary smile.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to close the door on you it was an accident." You blurted out.

Seokmin didn't answer, but the elevator door dinged open as your phone buzzed with its second alarm of the day. Class was starting.

Your hand slipped into your pocket to turn off the alarm and you looked back at Seokmin, eyes begging for forgiveness. "Look, let's meet up again sometime later so I can make it up to you, okay? I promise that I'll fix this."

And with that, you sprinted away from the scene, leaving the poor boy alone with his destroyed scarf.

=====

"Let me get this straight — the elevator door closed too soon and Seokmin's scarf got caught and tore apart and now you're worried that he hates you 'cause you think the scarf is really important to him?"

You nodded.

Seungkwan sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to return to his notes. "This reads like a fanfic someone wrote at 5 am."

"It what." You blinked and he dismissed the question.

"Nothing, nothing. Did you get his number? Any way to contact him?"

You gave him a sheepish look. "I forgot to ask, I kinda ran away."

"You ran away?"

"It was an accident okay! I was nervous. But we have a lecture with him tomorrow morning, right? I could just talk to him then."

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. "And you'll be able to muster up the courage by tomorrow? It took you 10 minutes to even tell me what happened, what do you plan to do?"

You bit your lip and stared at the forgotten work on your laptop. "Good question, I have no idea how to make up for it. Scrap talking to him tomorrow."

You both settled into silence as Seungkwan continued on with his notes and you leaned back in your chair. All sorts of ideas ran through your mind, but not of them seemed like the right one.

Then it hit you.

"That's it!" You gasp and sat straight up again, accidentally startling Seungkwan who whined about his smudged diagram. "I'll buy him another scarf, the exact same one."

"That's a good idea." He hummed. "But how will you know which one to buy?"

"I was hoping you'd have his socials? We could do some classic investigating." You suggested.

Seungkwan's eyes lit up at that and he reached over to grab his phone. "If Soonyoung's friends with him, then they're probably following each other so... Ah! There he is. A childish username, as expected."

He gave his phone to you and you scrolled through Seokmin's profile, many were pictures of food or his friends, but you stopped at one photo that caught your eye. It was of him at a park, trying to act casual for a photo (as anyone would), but wrapped around his neck was the famous red scarf.

"Perfect." You muttered to yourself. Now all you had to do was buy that scarf and hope that it comes quickly.

Or else things would become terribly awkward.

=====

Buying that scarf turned out to be much more difficult than you thought it would be.

No matter how deep you searched on the internet or how many times you looked at the photo of his precious scarf, there was no trace of the exact same copy.

"Don't tell me it was handmade." You groaned and got up from your seat to flop onto your bed instead. You stared at the ceiling for a while, long enough for your laptop to fall asleep.

"Maybe it's a high-end brand?" You speculated quietly to yourself and rolled onto your side to stare at the wall instead.

"No... This guy eats ramen every other day in the caf, there's no way he can afford that."

You rolled onto your back once more and pouted at absolutely no one.

Why did you have to get into this situation with someone you hardly knew?

=====

The next day you went to class at the normal time to avoid having to see Seokmin when he inevitably greets the class. However, when you took your seat and discreetly glanced at his spot, it was empty. Minus Soonyoung's bag that sat there instead.

You chewed on your lip for a while, wondering if his unusual absence had anything to do with yesterday.

"Good morning!"

Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar voice and you almost let yourself send him a smile when you remembered that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You immediately stiffened and stared at your table. Seokmin didn't look your way for the entirety of the lecture, which you were almost grateful for, but it also left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

On the way out, he did end up glancing at you and you immediately turned to Seungkwan to strike up a meaningless conversation.

"Make it seem like we're busy with something, he's looking my way."

Seungkwan rolled his eyes. "I talked to Soonyoung yesterday and he brought up what happened 'cause apparently he thought it was really funny. He said Seokmin wasn't mad but didn't really know what he's supposed to be doing either."

You nodded, pretending like you were listening to him and he continued on.

"Seokmin's a kind soul, you know. I doubt he's ever been angry at anyone before."

"That just makes me feel even worse though," You whined and watched Seokmin leave the room with another classmate by his side. "And I told him that we'd meet up again but I'm not ready at all. What's he gonna think about that?"

"Then you could go up to him and say that you're still sticking to your promise, but you still need time to think about what to do. Maybe he'll tell you what he wants then." Your friend suggested, poking at your work to tell you to start cleaning up.

"I think I'm going to avoid him until I'm fully prepared. So I don't mess this up." You decided, completely ignoring Seungkwan's words and the boy sighed.

"What did I do to have such dense friends?"

=====

The week before exams was spent cramming some last-minute studying with your friends in the community library.

It's been a while since you last spoke to Seokmin.

Which translates to "you haven't spoken to Seokmin since the incident."

You ignored those worries and buried yourself in work instead. Using yet another excuse to get out of the very problem you should probably be prioritizing.

Besides, focusing on Minghao and Jun, who were bickering over who left the empty juice carton in the mini-fridge seemed far more interesting. You giggled when Minghao practically brought out photo evidence to defend his point and Jun spluttered out a shocked response after being called out. As their conversation grew louder and louder, you quickly scanned the library, searching for the librarian to make sure you weren't going to be chewed out for being noisy.

You stopped when you spotted Seokmin sitting next to Chan, who ran the dance club you've always admired. His nose was buried in a book. It was only for a brief moment — perhaps a second or two — but you stared at him from afar, taking in his sharp features and gentle smile.

When he felt your gaze on him and locked eyes with you, you immediately looked away, trying to not let him know that you saw him.

"I gotta go." You muttered and packed up your stuff, leaving behind a bewildered Minghao and even more bewildered Jun (who was still trying to recover from the previous attack).

All those days preparing yourself crumbled right in front of you. This wasn't supposed to be happening, this wasn't moving according to the plan you promised you'd stick to.

He wasn't supposed to beat you to it.

"Y/n!"

You carried on, pretending to have not heard him and prayed that he would just give up. He was Lee Seokmin though, so of course, he didn't stop.

"Y/N!" He shouted a little louder this time and you could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer, just like on that fateful day at the elevator. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the confrontation.

"Hey, Seokmin."

To your surprise, he gave you a big smile. "Hey! 'Was worried I wouldn't be able to catch you just now. You were walking so quickly, where are you headed?"

"Oh..." Away from you. You thought to yourself, but said something else, trying to play it cool. "Nowhere in particular, just on a walk. Needed some fresh air after spending so much time in the library. It’s always stuffy when everyone’s cramming for exams." You rambled on.

"Can I join you?"

"Sure." You lied with a small smile.

You walked in silence for a while, with you leading the way, cheeks heating up with every second that passed.

"You've been avoiding me haven't you?" He finally spoke up.

The tips of your ears burned. "I wasn't trying to."

"If it's about what happened in the elevator, you don't have to worry about it." He prompted lightly and you stopped walking.

"Well, I am worrying about it." You admitted. "Because not only was that your first impression of me, but I know that scarf meant a lot to you and it was such a stupid way for it to get destroyed."

You took a deep breath and continued before he could think of an answer. "I'm trying to buy you another scarf, but I've been having some trouble finding it anywhere..." You admitted.

"Ah," Seokmin chuckled. "My grandmother made that scarf so I doubt you'd be able to find it online."

"It was from your grandmother?" You rubbed your face, thinking about all the hours spent examining the photo and struggling to find the perfect match. "I'm so sorry, that's even worse than it just being your favourite."

He shrugged. "Nah, it's fine, I got over it after that day."

You couldn't hide the look of surprise when he said that.

"To be honest, she's been trying to get me to ditch that scarf because I wore it too much. It's a good excuse to get a new one now!" He finished happily and you suddenly felt less tense.

"Your grandmother makes nice scarves, though. I never knew that there was a little design on it until, well, until it ripped. But it was beautiful! Please give her my compliments."

Seokmin let out a shy laugh. "Ah, you're talking about the little bunnies and sunflowers stitched onto it, right? I've always worn the scarf inside out because I don't know what people will think when they see it."

"What?!" You blurted out, incredulous. "They're really cute! If anyone were to hate on the cute bunnies then they're going to have a word with me." You joked, pretending to get into a fighting stance. "I would definitely wear that scarf proudly, but what makes you comfortable, of course."

"Interesting. Hearing that does make me a little for confident." He hummed. The conversation stilled for a brief second before he spoke up again. "What are your plans for the break?"

You blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Uhm, nothing much, probably just heading back to spend time with family."

"Cool! My plans are the same. How about you meet me..." He walked over to a nearby bench and planted his feet firmly on the ground. "Exactly here on the day, we get back. Does that sound okay?"

"Why?" You asked, but he was already backing away. You stepped forward, insisting on an answer but he refused to give you one and you could only nod your head in agreement.

"I'll see you then... I guess..." You called out weakly, speaking to practically no one because the boy was already on his way elsewhere.

And just like that, your conversation with Lee Seokmin ended.

====

Winter break soon arrived and left as quickly as it came.

You arrived exactly 5 minutes before the meeting time and Seokmin arrived exactly 5 minutes after the meeting time.

"Y/n!"

You waved when you heard the familiar voice and the two of you shared a warm smile despite the cold weather.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," He continued. "How have you been!"

"I've been alright, how about you?"

He replied with his own "same old, same old" and you sent him a curious look when the small talk died down. "So why did you ask to meet up today?"

"Yes! About that." His hand drifted towards his neck and he didn't even have to speak for you to piece two and two together.

Wrapped around his neck was a new scarf, the same style as the old one, but this time, it was a soft shade of pink. Embroidered along the front was a small line of bunnies and flowers, perfect for the spring that was soon to come.

You brightened at the sight and let out a small gasp. "You got a new one! Nice!"

"Yep! And," Seokmin placed something warm in your hands and you realized he's been carrying it with him this entire time. "This is for you."

You stared at the scarf in your hands. It was a lovely shade of blue. "Wh— why do I get a scarf too?"

He laughed and fidgeted with his sleeves. "You spoke so fondly of my old one, I thought you'd appreciate having one for yourself so I asked my grandmother to make an extra one."

"That makes me feel even worse!" You cried out, guilty for not only ruining his old scarf but also inadvertently making him do more work to gift you something you didn't think you deserved.

"No, please don't feel bad!" He immediately replied, eyes wide to get his message across. "She was happy to make another and honestly, I just wanted to clear things up so that we don't start off on the wrong foot, you know?"

"Thank you." You pouted, still feeling a little bad, but you wrapped the scarf around your neck nevertheless. Seokmin smiled as he watched you and you grabbed the end of the scarf to admire the handiwork.

"They have the same pattern. We're matching with each other now." You quietly noted and suddenly the atmosphere between you two grew warmer.

"I guess we are! This makes us scarf buddies now, I guess." Seokmin smiled sheepishly. "We are bound by an unfortunate incident, but I hope to turn it into something positive. We can be friends, right?"

"I should be the one asking you that, idiot." You replied with a grin. The grip you had on the scarf got a little bit tighter. "Of course we can be friends, I would love to be your friend."

The smile on his face reminded you of when you first saw him.

Suddenly, your phone went off in your pocket, signalling that it was a good time to start heading to class. So much for an easy transition back into the school year.

"I should probably get going now," You started at the same time Seokmin spoke up.

"I promised I would meet up with—"

You both paused mid-sentence before bursting out in laughter at the coincidence.

"We have a lecture together tomorrow, right?" He asked excitedly and you nodded. "We can continue our conversation later then."

You laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, scarf buddy."

=====

The next day went by accordingly, starting with a familiar “HELLO!~” from the boy who loved to eat bagels at 8 in the morning and wear scarves in any kind of weather.

The only difference is that this time, he took the seat to your right instead of one at the opposite end of the hall. He greeted you with a smile and you happily started up a lively conversation before class started. Decorating both your outfits were your matching scarves, flowers and rabbits on the outside for the world to see.

This way, everyone could know that you guys were scarf buddies.

#newskynet #kdiner #caratwritersclub #seventeen #lee seokmin #dk #dokyeom #seventeen dk #seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #dk fluff #seokmin fluff #nose-bandaid

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themetaphorgirl · 3 years

Note

alright but can i request a patron saint hotch loopy on day quill one shot?? bc i would love to read that even if it takes like 3 years to get around to it 🥺🥺🥺

did I get in the mood to write something cuddly and kind of silly with lots of Alex and Aaron: The Wonder Twins vibes???

yes I did. also I wrote over half of this on my phone during my break at work.

----------

“...so when you think about it colloquially, it’s perfectly acceptable to refer to the monster as Frankenstein, so-“

Alex moved Spencer’s glass of orange juice out of the way before he could knock it over with an overenthusiastic wave of his hand. “JJ, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.

JJ reached into her cereal bowl, picked up a couple of pieces, and tossed it into an empty mug. “There’s too much cereal in my lucky charms, I only wanted the marshmallows,” she said.

“You can’t eat just marshmallows, Jennifer.”

“I’m not. I got donuts too.”

“Hotch wasn’t here to stop her,” Emily snickered.

Alex sighed. “Where is Hotchner?” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“He said he slept through his alarm and he’d meet us here,” Derek said, stabbing his fork into a hashbrown.

“That’s also not like Hotch,” Alex said. She caught Spencer before he could topple out of his chair onto the floor. “Darling, I’m so glad you’re this enthusiastic at seven in the morning, but please sit down.”

Spencer obeyed, sliding down from his knees to sit on his bottom. “I got the wrong juice, I don’t like this kind,” he said. “I got the kind with pulp.”

“Why didn’t you get the kind you like?” Alex asked.

“Hotch gets it for me because I’m too short to see the labels. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

Alex pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. “He hasn’t texted me or the group chat,” she said. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“Should we be worried? I feel like we should be worried,” Penelope said.

“We don’t need to worry,” Alex said. “Spencer, what are you doing?”

“Getting the pulp out of my juice. I shouldn’t have to chew juice.”

“Please put the spoon down.”

“I’ll get you juice,” Penelope promised.

“Thank you,” Alex said. “And can you please get something for JJ that isn’t dehydrated marshmallows?”

“I like them.”

“Eat a fruit, Jennifer!”

Derek paused as Penelope left the table. “Uh...we might need to worry about Hotch,” he said.

Alex twisted around in her seat to look behind her. “Oh, fuck,” she sighed.

Hotch’s tie was knotted wrong, leaving one end of the tie dangling by his belt buckle, and his blazer was misbuttoned. His dark hair flopped over his eyes, still sleep-mussed, and his backpack was unzipped. “Hey, guys,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.” He tried to hang his backpack on the empty chair next to Alex but missed completely, sending it crashing to the floor. “Well, shit.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Emily said.

Hotch blinked. “I overslept,” he said, rubbing his ear. “What time is it?”

“Almost time to go to homeroom,” Alex said. “Are you okay?”

He kept rubbing his ear. “Huh?” he said. He sat down heavily next to Alex. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Do I have time to eat?”

JJ slid her mug of cereal over to him. “You can have the rest of my lucky charms,” she offered.

Hotch scooped a handful of dry cereal into his mouth and frowned. “What happened to all the marshmallows?” he asked.

“I ate them.”

“You can have my juice,” Spencer offered.

Hotch reached around Alex, picked up the glass, and took a swig. “Ugh, there’s stuff in it,” he complained. “I don’t want to chew my juice.”

“That’s what I said!” Spencer said.

Alex frowned. “I don’t think you’re okay,” she said. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “Yikes, Aaron. You’re burning up.”

“Hm?” he said. He coughed, a thick sound rattling deep in his chest. “I’m okay. I drank like...half a bottle of DayQuil.”

“I can tell,” she said, poking at the damp orange stain on his uniform shirt. He squinted down at it and frowned. “Also, drinking half a bottle of DayQuil doesn’t mean you’re okay. I think that’s the opposite of okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hotch said. “I have a test in second period I can’t miss.”

Emily caught his arm across the table. “Stop, stop, stop,” she said. “Do you know you’re about to pour your juice into your cereal?”

Hotch paused long enough for Alex to carefully take the glass out of his hand while he blinked in confusion. “Maybe you should make up the test later,” she suggested.

“No, I can handle a test,” he said. He blinked, then clapped a hand over his face. “Oh, shit. I think I only put one contact in this morning.” He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye. “Shit. Aw, yikes.”

“You need to go back to bed,” Alex said. “Or the nurse’s office.”

He swatted at her hand. “No, I don’t, Alexandra,” he said. “It’s just a chest cold. Stop treating me like Spencer.”

Spencer scowled. “I think I’m insulted by that,” he said.

Alex put Spencer’s fork back in his hand. “Eat your breakfast,” she said. “Listen, Hotch, I can’t stop you if you want to go to class. But nobody’s going to judge you if you stay in your room and rest.”

Hotch coughed into his elbow. “I’m gonna get a Red Bull,” he said, pushing himself out of his chair and nearly knocking it over in the process.

“Oh, he’s definitely sick,” Derek said. “You hear his Virginia accent coming out? He sounds like Colonel Sanders.”

“Don’t worry, Al, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Emily said.

“Thanks,” she said. “Spencer, you have to drink your juice. You and Hotch have no immune systems and if he gets sick, you’re going to get sick, and I can’t deal with both of you coughing up a lung.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer said. “Although vitamin C-“

“Drink your juice.”

By the time breakfast was over Alex was confident that Hotch wasn’t going to last the whole day. His cough was deep and persistent, and he kept absentmindedly rubbing his ears. She couldn’t exactly blame him- she’d pulled similar stunts herself when a big test or project was coming up- but this was more than a mild cold. Most likely he’d make it to lunch before he relented.

To her surprise, it was even sooner.

She got to chapel early and pulled out her book to read, but she nearly dropped it when Emily’s voice cut through the soft chatter of the hall.

“Hey, Alex, come get your twin!”

Alex picked up her book and set it back beside her. “For the last time, Emily, stop telling everybody that Hotch and I are twins,” she said. She stopped. “Oh, no.”

Hotch was leaning heavily on Emily’s shoulder, his eyes glazed over. “Hey, I think I need to sit down,” he said.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Emily huffed, struggling under his weight. “You shouldn’t have gone to class in the first place.”

“I had a test,” he said.

Alex crossed her arms. “Yeah?” she said. “How’d that go for you, bubba?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t remember taking the test,” he confessed. “I remember sitting down at my desk and then...everything got kind of blurry.”

Alex sighed. “Please tell me you’re going back to your room to rest,” she said.

“I mean...it’s not that bad.” Hotch said. “I’ve been sicker before.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Emily scanned the chapel doors. “Oh, wow, is that Haley Brooks over there?” she said. “You should go over and say hello. Haley! Hi, Haley!”

“No!” Hotch said. “Jesus, Emily, I don’t want to talk to her right now, I look like shit!”

“Then you should definitely go back to your room before she sees you,” Emily said. She gave him a gentle push towards the back exit doors. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Alex called, but he was out the door already, his still-unzipped backpack dangling off one shoulder.

Emily tilted her head. “I don’t think he heard you,” she said. “He looks like death warmed over through. I’m kind of worried. Which means your spidey-sense must have bypassed tingling and gone straight to exploding.”

“I should have gone with him,” Alex said. “Although I’m not sure I would be able to explain missing classes.”

“Just tell your teachers you have to take care of your brother,” Emily suggested.

Alex rolled her eyes. “Listen, I don’t know you and Dave keep telling everybody we’re related,” she said. “We’re in different grades. We have different last names.”

“C’mon, it’s fun, you’re the Wonder Twins,” Emily said. She squished Alex’s cheeks and laughed. “You look enough alike to pass for siblings.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Alex said flatly, batting her hand away. “We’d better go sit before chapel starts.”

She kept her phone close through chapel and her third period class. He didn’t text her, but that wasn’t reassuring either. No news wasn’t necessarily good news.

The bell rang at the end of third period, but she hesitated before she started the walk towards the dining hall. She tapped her fingertips against the back of her phone case, and after a moment she typed out a text. Her phone buzzed seconds later with an answer.

Jamie <3

11:26am

yeah I figured youd want to check on him. dont worry about the baby i’ll make sure he eats a vegetable. love you!!!!

Alex felt the back of her neck heat up as she smiled at the screen. The whole love thing was still shiny and new and made little sparks prickle at the nape of her neck.

She slung the strap of her satchel across her shoulder and made the trek across campus to Lincoln House. Hotch had given her a spare key fob- Derek was constantly losing and finding his, resulting in multiple replacements floating around- and she let herself into the quiet lobby. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many people around.

“Ah, Miss Miller. What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be in the dining hall?”

Alex jumped. She was not expecting to see Mr. Gideon standing in the lobby and staring at her. “Checking on my brother, he’s, uh, he’s sick,” she blurted out.

“Oh, the big one or the little one?” he asked.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he said. “Aaron or Spencer?”

“It’s, uh, it’s the big one this time,” she said.

Mr. Gideon nodded sagely. “Your twin,” he said. “Well, go on up. Hope he feels better soon.”

He walked out to his office and closed the door; she sighed heavily. Maybe Emily and Dave were on to something after all.

She made her way up the stairs to the seventh floor and knocked lightly on his closed door. “Hotch?” she called. “It’s Alex. I just wanted to check on you.” He didn’t answer. “Hotch?” She tried the handle. “Oh, of course you locked the door.” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and stuck it in the keyhole.

The lock popped easily after a bit of fiddling and she opened the door. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Hotchner,” she sighed.

His unzipped backpack had dumped half its contents in the middle of the floor when he’d dropped it, along with his uniform blazer and his right shoe. Hotch was sprawled out on his bed on top of the covers, his long gangly legs dragging on the floor and his left shoe still on. He was still wearing his uniform and his rarely-worn glasses perched at a crooked angle on his nose, threatening to fall off at any moment as he snored.

“You’re dead to the world, aren’t you, bubba?” she said aloud. She set her satchel and blazer down on Hotch’s desk and sat on the edge of his bed. His breathing was shallow and congested, and his face was flushed red. “Hotch. Hotchner. Wake up for a second.” She pinched him lightly and his eyes shot open. “Hey, good, you’re awake.”

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, knocking his glasses sideways. “How did you get in here?”

“Picked the lock with a bobby pin,” she said.

He scrunched up his nose. “Like Annie Drew?”

“It’s Nancy Drew, and maybe that’s where I learned it from, I read a lot of mystery novels when I was an impressionable middle schooler,” she said. She tucked her legs underneath her and touched the back of her hand to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hot garbage,” he said. “This cold is kicking my ass.”

“I don’t think you have a cold, bubba, I think you have bronchitis,” she said. “Did you take anything when you got back here or did you just crash?”

“Well, I’ve had most of a bottle of DayQuil today,” he said. He struggled to sit up. “You know what happens when you drink most of a bottle of DayQuil?”

“No, what happens?”

“Nothing good, I’ll tell you that for free,” he said.

Alex winced in sympathy. “You threw up?”

He ran his hands through his hair and dragged his palms over his face. “It was neon orange, Al,” he said, slightly muffled.

“That’s no good,” she said. “Did you-”

He broke into a cough, thick and heavy and rattling in his lungs, and Alex rubbed his back. “Hey, you’re okay,” she said gently. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay,”

It took a moment for him to settle down and breathe normally again; his glasses tilted drunkenly on his nose and his eyes were watering. “That sucked,” he rasped.

“Yeah, I bet,” she said. “You’ve got the sore throat, right? Feels like you swallowed broken glass?”

“I was going to say barbed wire, but yeah,” he said.

Alex squeezed his knee. “Get out of your uniform and lie down,” she said. “I’ll go get you something to drink. How much water have you had today?”

“If Red Bull counts, then I’ve had two waters.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go get you water and a gatorade,” she said. “You get changed.”

She started to leave the room. “Hey, Alex?” he asked. She paused in the doorway. “Can you get me a purple one?”

“Yes, I’ll get you a purple gatorade.”

“The light purple, not the dark purple,” he called after her.

“I remember, I remember,” she called back.

She went down to the vending machines and got him two bottled waters and a light purple gatorade. For all his mature-for-his-age, old soul vibe, Hotch was as hard to handle as Spencer when he wasn’t feeling well.

His door was cracked when she got back to his room, but she paused. He’d changed into flannel pajama pants and he was struggling into one of his wrestling tee shirts. Alex bit back a wince and ducked back into the hallway. She rarely saw the scars on his back, but he usually kept them well hidden and it never got easier to see it. He didn’t like to talk about it, and she didn’t blame him.

When she was sure the coast was clear she stepped back into the room. Hotch sat on his bed, his shoulders slumped and his head in his hands. “Headache?” she asked as she set the bottles down on his nightstand.

“It feels like there’s a rock concert playing directly in my brain,” he said.

She went into his bathroom and dug around in the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have much for himself; it was mostly medicine they kept on hand for Spencer. “Oh, I can give you the big boy ibuprofen instead of the chewable stuff,” she teased. She set the bottle of ibuprofen down with the drinks. “This first though. Hold still.”

She set the thermometer in his ear and he jumped. “Ow,” he complained. “You could have warned me.”

“If I warned you, you’d try to argue,” she said. It beeped and she held it out so he could see the readout. “A hundred point four. You’re not going to class today, or tomorrow either.”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I got my test done,” he said.

“How do you think you did?” she asked.

“I don’t think I failed.”

Alex took his hand so she could place the pills in his hand, then opened one of the bottles of water. “Take these. Drink all of this. And then go to sleep,” she said.

“I’m not tired, I had so much DayQuil,” he complained as he popped the pills in his mouth.

“Which you’ve already puked back up,” she pointed out. “You need to get some sleep.”

He chugged a third of the water and paused to cough. “I just need to rest,” he said. “Can you hand me my laptop.”

“No.”

Hotch scowled. “Alexandra. Give me my laptop,” he said. “I have an essay due on Friday.”

She grabbed his laptop and wrestled it into her school bag. “You can have it back when you’re not running a fever,” she said.

“Alex!” he whined. “I need to work on that.” She bit back a laugh. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Sorry, it’s hard to take you seriously with your nerd glasses on,” she said. He huffed, which turned into another cough. “Seriously, Aaron. You need to take it easy. And it’s school policy that you can’t attend classes until you’ve been fever-free for twenty-four hours.” He rubbed his ear. “Besides, you know Spencer’s going to try to spend quality time with you, and he’s not going to be able to handle it if he catches what you have. The more you rest and take care of yourself, the sooner you’ll get over it.”

Hotch sighed. “Fine,” he said. “You win.”

“I usually do.”

“You just had to play the Spencer card.”

“I was saving it just in case.”

Hotch set the empty water bottle back on the nightstand and shifted around until he was under the covers. “Are you going back to class?” he asked. “Lunch is almost over.”

He sounded nonchalant, but he was avoiding her eyes and tugging at a loose thread on his comforter. “I can stay a while longer,” she said. “Besides, if anybody asks where I was, Gideon can tell them I was with you. You know he thinks we’re twins too?”

“For such a brilliant man, he’s kind of clueless,” Hotch said. “I’m not going to sleep, but I’ll rest, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “Do you want to watch something?” She pulled at the laces of her ankle boots. “Do you want to watch wrestling?”

“I don’t watch wrestling.”

Alex looked him up and down. “We all know you’re a secret wrestling fan,” she said. “And even if you say you’re not, I can read your tee shirt.”

“No one ever wants to watch wrestling with me,” he said.

“Yes, well, you’re sick, you should get to watch what you want,” she said. She set her boots aside and handed him the remote. “Now scoot over.”

He paused, the remote balanced in his hand as the TV blinked on. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so,” she said. “I mean it! Scoot over.”

He obeyed, still clearly confused, and she pulled and tugged at him until they both fit on his narrow twin bed, his head resting on her stomach. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Wow, you really are mostly limbs, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had a couple of growth spurts,” he said. “You’re sure you want to watch wrestling with me?”

“Go for it,” she said.

Truthfully she had no desire to watch wrestling, but she knew it would make him happy, and when he was this sick he deserved things that would make him happy. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, and before long she heard him snoring again, the sound thick and rattling in his lungs. When she was sure he was asleep she tugged his glasses off and set them aside on the nightstand. Most likely he would wake up cranky and groggy and he’d try to argue that he could go to class, but for now she could keep him calm and quiet, and hopefully the sleep would help.

“Maybe you’ll be a little bit less of an absolute disaster when you wake up,” she said, and she kept stroking his hair while he slept.

#au: patron saint of lost causes #caitlin writes things #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: alex #patron saint: the wonder twins #alex is a mom #hotch is an ABSOLUTE DISASTER #spencer is a perfect cherub #wow james loves alex #emily is a queen #EAT A FRUIT JENNIFER #yes hotch is a secret wrestling fan #criminal minds fanfiction #brenna has helped me workshop a lot of ideas for my hotch arc and some of those ideas are popping up here #Anonymous #thank you for asking!!

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angerstagram · 4 years

Text

monster among men pt. 2 // calum (SMUT)

boxer!calum

Read part one here.

Pairing: Calum + Y/N

Words: 3.4k

Rating: X

Description: Calum is your long time boyfriend but he’s also a boxer. His trainer said no sex before the big match. After 3 weeks of waiting, you two finally get to be together.

Warning: Violence (for sport, brief), oral sex, sex without condoms.

Author’s Note: As usual, this was written quickly and without proofreading. Please forgive typos! And let me know what you think!

—————————————————————

When the first punch cracked against his cheek, Calum barely even felt it. His head threw backward against his will, spit and blood leaving his mouth as he rocked back on his heels. He ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth: no teeth missing.

Simon really shouldn't have been able to land that one on him. But Calum didn’t feel like he was as much in the match as he was floating just above it — watching himself jab and step and duck without feeling the connections himself.

This was all he had thought about for weeks — Sal had made sure of that. No sex, no distractions for 21 days.

Other than rewarding you for your, ahem, patience a week ago, he had dutifully kept his hands and other body parts to himself.

And it was for this, for this feeling. For this one night where his every fiber was primed and ready to react to anything that came his way.

They went on like that for a while, Calum and Simon, performing almost a brutal dance in the ring while the crowd cheered a low uproar around them.

You were there, too. You never liked watching him fight; it was just a long, torturous experience where you had to sit by idly as an enormous man basically tried to beat the living daylights out of the most important person in your life.

Thankfully you had gotten quite drunk before you came. Calum had been in the gym since midday, warming up with Sal and doing whatever his pre-fight routine was. So left to your own devices and sitting idly with a book and a giant bottle of wine, you stood up to leave and realized the floor under you was a little less steady than it was when you sat down.

So when the bell rang and the referee lifted a gloved hand in the air to declare a winner, there was a long moment when you weren’t completely sure whose hadn’t was in the air. From the back, both men were tan and built, their black hair glued to their neck with sweat.

The crowd rose to their feet and you rose too. They were screaming and you couldn’t make out what anyone was really saying. You rose on your tip toes, trying to see around the men in front of you and the haze of the arena.

Slowly, your eyes focused on the stitching of a New Zealand silver fern around the wrist held tightly inside the ref’s hand.

A shaky breath of relief left your mouth and you collapsed to the bleacher beneath you. It was finally over. Finally.

———————————————————————

Calum hobbled into the apartment slowly, wincing as his bag slid off his shoulder onto the floor. The living room was dark, which was surprising because you had arrived home at least an hour before him since he stayed to ice and shower before coming home.

After a moment of standing alone in the living room, Calum heard the faint sound of music drifting down the hallway. It wasn’t classical and it wasn’t hip hop, but it was low and sensual. It made his feet rumble with each beat.

As though in a trance, Calum followed the beat down the hall, almost blind to anything but the feeling in his gut pulling you to him like gravity.

When he found himself just a step from the bedroom door frame, he stopped to collective himself — breathing in slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, the breath coming out shakier than he would have thought.

Somehow, he was nervous.

It was the sound of you humming lowly to the music that drifted to his ears and pushed his feet forward, until he was standing in the doorway. He leaned against it, arms crossed, drinking you in for a moment without saying a word.

“Hello, champion,” you drawled.

All the lights in the room were out, and there were candles set on every surface around the room. A speaker in the corner kept a low beat that made the floor vibrate and rattled lowly in your chest.

As for you, you were laying on your side atop the bed, propped up on one elbow, wearing only a sheer negligee and a pair of high-heeled shoes. Your legs were crossed over one another, one foot running up and down the other leg slowly while Calum watched it in a trance.

You sipped from a glass of champagne, your hair thrown over your shoulder, watching him with hooded eyes as the alcohol bubbled in your mouth and ran down your throat.

Watching him closely, you realized he was no longer wearing the boxing shorts he had worn in the ring, nor was he wearing the t-shirt and joggers he normally wore to work out. He was wearing what appeared to be a rather expensive suit and loafers, a bright gold watch shining on his wrist. His champion suit, he called it. You hadn’t noticed him wear it out, so he must have put it on for photos after the match.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you murmured, your voice almost angelic but your meaning quite devilish.

Calum’s dark eyes never left you, but his eyelids looked heavy as he took in the sights and sounds around him. “Have you?”

You nodded your head slowly and hummed, setting the now-empty champagne flute on the bedside table and stretched out the arm that had been propping you up. Laying fully down now, you traced your hand up and down your side, dancing lightly over the fabric of the negligee and drawing his eyes up and down the curves of you.

Your finger ghosted over your nipple and around the curve of your breast, then back down to your hip and scratched lightly against your thigh.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Calum said evenly, pushing his hands in his pockets as a light smirk ghosted over his leg. “Was it hard?”

You knew he didn’t just mean tonight. He meant the last agonizing 21 days you had waited to have him, to feel him, to be with him the way only the two of you could be together.

Your hand skimmed around your thigh and between your legs, dancing around for a moment before lightly dragging up the hem of the negligee to give him just a glance and pulling it back down.

Calum took a step forward almost involuntarily, his mouth watering and his mind racing from thought to thought of what he wanted to do with you without ever landing on any given one.

“It was harder than I can say,” you murmured, rolling over onto your back and allowing both hands to wander freely as he watched. “I think about you every day. When your gone I think I’ll just get a taste…” You pushed a strap down your shoulder, allowing the top of the dress to pull down your breast without exposing your nipple, massaging the shape of your breast as your breath caught. “But then I stop myself.”

You abruptly stopped the movement of your hands and looked up at him. With an almost feline grace, he was walking slowly around the bed to stand right at the point of your heels. He didn’t touch you yet, only watched and waited to see what you would do next.

“Show me,” he breathed.

“Mmm,” your eyes drifted closed as you felt one of his large hands wrap around your ankle. He pulled your foot up his dress pants and to his chest, grasping firmly as he removed the heel.

“Show me what you want me to do to you. Where you want me to touch you.” His voice was almost a whisper, as if he didn’t want to pull either of you out of the dreamlike reverie you were in.

He removed your other heel and placed your foot back down on the bed. He grabbed your ankles and pull you closer to him harshly, then gently bent your legs at the knee and spread them apart, planting the soles of your feet on the bed.

He took his suit jacket off slowly, folding it and draping it over the back of a chair before turning the chair to face you and sat down. You looked at him for a long moment. He was only a foot away from your feet but it seemed like miles without him touching you.

“Show me,” he said again, an edge to his voice as though warning you that he wouldn’t ask a fourth time.

A part of you wanted to push him, challenge him as though to say who are you to order me around when you’re the reason I had to wait so long. But another part of you wanted to please him. Remind him that you belonged to him, just as he belonged to you.

You allowed a hand to drift between your thighs again, spreading yourself open to give him a long look at how wet you already were. You pulled your hand up to stick your finger in your mouth, wetting it almost obscenely, before dragging it slowly and firmly around your clit.

A loud moan escaped as soon as you felt the friction against your clit. It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was enough to stave off the ache burning inside you.

Calum shifted in his seat at the sound, a growing bulge already appearing under his slacks.

You arched one eyebrow, smirking at the sight of him fidgeting, and traced your finger around your entrance while your thumb stayed stationary at your clit. “Take your shirt off for me, baby.”

Calum smiled, knowing how much you loved his toned chest. “How could I deny such a sweet request? Stick a finger in for me and I will.”

Without leaving his eyes, you pushed a finger in slowly, your mouth dropping open at the feeling. “Fuck, baby,” the air left your mouth in a gasp. “It’s so tight.”

Calum growled low in his chest, making fast work of the buttons on his shirt and tossing it over his jacket. “Can you handle another one?”

You worked the finger faster now, using your other hand to rub your clit as your hips started to rock off the bed. “Fuck, I—” The thoughts were leaving your head faster than you could catch them. Your eyes had drifted closed and you opened them to look at him. “Mmm, stick one in me and find out.”

He pulled the chair harshly then, hooking his hands under your knees and jerking your ass to the edge of the bed. A smile lit up his face. “What happened to my sweet girl? She was here just a minute ago.”

“God, I can’t,” you tried to focus your thoughts but it was hard with his hands tracing up and down your thighs. “I can’t think when you’re this close to me.”

“That makes two of us, baby.” Suddenly his hand was pushing yours away as he stuck two fingers inside you. You cried out at the feeling of his long fingers giving you exactly what you needed, your hips bucking as his other arm wrapped around you to hold you down.

When his mouth wrapped around your clit you threw your head back at the feeling. The sound that left your mouth was almost a strangled cry, and you couldn’t keep quiet when he began flicking his tongue quickly against you but kept the rhythm of his fingers slow. In and out. In and out.

“God, Calum, that feels, mmh,” you babbled incoherently until he hooked his fingers to press firmly against that spot. “Fuck, baby I’m coming.”

He let you have this one. Keeping his hand still but flicking his fingers inside you to press the spot in a staccato motion. He laid his tongue flat and let you rut against it like an animal wild with desire.

When you finally came back to earth he was pulling you to sit up, ripping the negligee off you so you were completely naked.

He stood up and pulled you into his arms, your legs curling around his waist above the hem of his dress pants and your arms locking around his neck.

When he stared up at you, your heart almost hurt with the feeling that overcame you. His pupils were blown out with lust, but the look on his face was pure, unadulterated love for you. He kept one arm around you and used the other to stroke your cheek and you realized a tear had rolled down your face when you came.

“I want you so bad I can’t think,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss to your mouth for the first time in what seemed like years. You pressed your whole body as tightly to him as you could, your breasts pressing into his chest and your arms practically suffocating him.

“Then have me.”

Suddenly he was throwing you back on the bed, pulling his pants down and pushing them away. He crawled over you until your entire body was caged by his. You stared up into his eyes, thinking of nothing but the warmth of his chest against yours. You were hyper-aware of every area of skin that was touching his.

He dragged his hand up your side as you had done earlier, leaving goosebumps wherever he touched you. You could feel how hard he was against your stomach, and you reached down one hand to feel him.

He caught your hand with his before you could reach your target. “If you touch me, this is going to be over very quickly,” he laughed into your mouth and kissed you. He dragged his hips over you, letting the length of his cock run against your still-sensitive clit and you moaned into his mouth.

Without pulling away, he guided himself to your entrance and pushed into you slowly but forcefully. “Ohh my god,” your voice dragged out. “Fuuuck. I’ve missed that.” You smiled into his mouth and he kissed you again as he set a steady pace.

He angled your hips beneath him to catch that spot at each thrust without hitting it directly. Every time his hips pounded into yours, you felt the breath leave your lungs. You thought of nothing else in the world but the feeling of his body against yours and his cock inside you.

“You look so pretty baby,” he murmured, running his fingers over your temple and through your hair. “You look so fucking beautiful.” His eyes were glassy as though he was drunk, the words practically slurring out of him.

This was the most intense feeling you had ever experienced. Every nerve in your body felt only Calum. Every inch of your skin felt only Calum. Your mind, your heart, everything was Calum.

“God it feels so good, Cal,” you practically whined. His eyes stared into yours before he pulled away from you suddenly and flipped you onto your stomach, your cheek pressed to the bed. You gasped at the feeling and stared back at him, your face angry at the loss.

“Don’t pout, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” Calum smirked at you. He slapped both his hands against your ass, squeezing it forcefully. He pressed your legs together and straddled them with his knees on either side.

You felt his mouth against the spot where your neck met the spine in your back, pressing hot kisses down every ridge. He pulled of your knees suddenly to the side, keeping you flat on the bed and allowing him just enough room to press the tip of his cock against your entrance again.

“God, this is what I fucking waited for,” he growled out before sliding into the hilt.

A visceral scream left your mouth and you face turned bright red as he pressed his full weight against your g-spot. He pistoned his hips into you and your eyes rolled back into your head. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room. He couldn’t keep his hands from squeezing your ass, your sides, wanting to fucking consume you.

“Do you know how much I thought about fucking you just like this baby?” His voice was low and growling. “I can’t sleep without you in my dreams, under me just like this. My perfect pussy.”

You couldn’t handle him touching and fucking and talking to you like this. Words that sounded coarse and vulgar but you knew that he loved you more than he could put into words. That this moment, what you two were making in this room, let him tell you everything he wanted to say.

“Who owns your body, baby?” Calum growled. You couldn’t speak, burying your face into the pillow as incoherent sounds left your mouth.

He pulled off of you, grabbing your shoulders and lifting you up onto your hands and knees. “Hmm? I said who owns your body, baby?”

A hand slid over the curve of your ass to rub roughly against your clit and you screamed again. Calum just watched your face contort, never stopping or slowing down. “That’s not an answer.”

“You do, baby. You own all of me.”

Calum smiled, and pumped his hand slowly down his length. “And who owns this cock?”

Your eyes drifted up to meet his, out of your mind and feral. Your smile was wicked but your voice came out as sweetly as you could muster. “I do, baby. Now give me my fucking cock.”

Cal didn’t make you ask again. He got on his knees behind you and pulled you to stand on your knees as well before guiding you down onto his cock. He leaned back and let you ride him, using his hands on your hips to your thrusts.

“Fuck just like that, baby. You ride me so good.”

You could tell he was close by the tone in his voice. You threw your head over his shoulder, grasping the back of his head as he brought his mouth to your throat.

He bit at your pulse point and laved his tongue over the spot. When he ran his hand down to your clit and started rubbing at it in firm circles, it was over.

“Come with me, Calum,” you pleaded. “I need it, I need it, I need it,” you babbled.

“I will, fuck, I—” his voice strangled in his throat as your orgasm ripped through you. Your hips rolled over him in waves as your legs trembled and you cried out.

Something about how long you waited made everything so much more intense. Your orgasm rolled over every nerve through your arms and legs to your fingers and toes. A part of you felt him spill hot inside you but your brain couldn’t register it, too invested in your own pleasure.

He pressed you back down to the bed and fucked you through it, drawing out your orgasm until neither one of you could take it anymore and he pulled out.

Suddenly his mouth was on you again, his fingers inside you. “Come on baby, I know you’ve got another one in you.”

“What the fuck,” you cried, pushing your hips back to meet his hand and riding his face as you did. He stuck his tongue inside you as one more orgasm became two and he decided you were spent.

Finally he rolled over onto his back, throwing an arm over his face and rubbing his finger up and down your back. You stayed on your stomach, twitching in the after shocks and stretching with them.

“Goddamn it baby. That felt so good.” Your voice was hoarse.

“Mmm,” Calum was feeling how sore and tired he was all at once, unable to move but feeling the glow that being with you always left on him.

“Let’s take a bath,” you murmured, tracing your fingers over his cheek and smiling when one eye opened to peer over at you.

“Fine, but you have to carry me there,” Calum replied. “I don’t think my legs work.”

You laughed and wrapped your hand around his. “How about this time, we carry each other.”

#calum #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum fic #calum smut #calum hood smut #calum fanfiction #calum hood fanfiction #5sos #5sos fic #5sos fanfiction #5sos smut #smut #fanfiction

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

The Cowboy - Part 2

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 1708

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday starting 7th January.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3

You barely recovered before he walked off, rounding the outside of the building. Scrambling after him, you soon fell into step with the son of the household.

The incredibly attractive Jung son.

“So you’ll be able to put on the power?”

“Sure, I’ll just wind up the generator and in about three hours-”

“Generator?! Hours?!”

He laughed then, the sound making you halt in your tracks in a daze. Glancing back at you, he smirked. “You’re sure easy to fool, Miss City.”

“Well, I was expecting a teen with the way your mother spoke of you, Mr Cowboy.”

“We’re a loving bunch around here,” he answered, walking over to a box on the side of the house and patting it. “All I have to do is flick a switch, and you’ll have power.”

“Thank god.”

“Not willing to rough it even for a night?”

“Rough it?”

He smirked again. “You sure don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“So people keep telling me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will,” he replied, staring back at you for a moment. You raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled, pulling open the box and turning on the main switch. You saw the lights in the house you had flicked on come to life, and you clapped your hands together with glee.

“Yes!”

“Are you scared of the dark?”

“Are you always this full of yourself?” you shot back, and he grinned.

“Somewhat.”

“Anything else I need to know about so I can survive the night?”

After shutting the fuse box, he returned to your side, stuffing his hands deep into his jean pockets and leaned towards you. “You sound like high maintenance.”

“Perhaps I am.”

“You’re in for a rude awakening here then.”

“I’m adaptable,” you announced and he laughed. “What, I am!”

“This isn’t something you just get used to, Miss City. You’ll be gone before long.”

“And what will you do if I prove otherwise?” you challenged, and his eyes lit up, glinting with enjoyment.

You had to admit this banter was doing things for you too.

“There’s no point making plans for things that won’t come into fruition.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I know, but it seems that you’re enjoying it.”

“Fine,” you stated simply, throwing your hands up. “Thank you for turning on the power, Mr Cowboy.”

“Enjoy your night, Miss City.”

You both rounded back to the front of the house, where you went to the veranda, and he approached the truck. You eyed it warily. “Is that thing legal?”

“Don’t try and use too many appliances at once. Houses like these can get overloaded, and it’ll trip the fuse and turn the power off. I’ve got cattle to run tomorrow, so you’ll be without power for some time if you do that.”

You blinked, trying to decipher if he was being serious or not. He shrugged and opened the door to the truck. “R-Really?”

“Take it on as some friendly advice.”

“Ah, is that what it is.” You nodded with a laugh as he climbed into the cab of the vehicle. Dashing down to the driver’s side, you leaned on the open window, and he watched you curiously. “Can you give me some more friendly advice?”

“Don’t open the front door. There might be coyotes howling out in the distance that you’ll have to get used to and by the hay barn, there is an old owl that likes to hoot around three in the morning. You’re welcome.”

“Wait! I was meaning more like if there’s regular mobile data service out here. I’ve got some files to-”

“You’re in the wrong place if you want to be on the internet, Miss City. I’ll give you two days out here before you head on back to your four-gee or whatever the thing is called.”

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

He grinned. “And you’re on my door stopping me from getting home to dessert, ma’am.”

Lifting your arms off, he tipped his cowboy hat at you again and started up the truck. You shook your head as he reversed down the drive before turning the vehicle around.

“Wait! I didn’t even get your real name!” you called out into the night, pouting some.

It didn’t matter. Even if he was the most handsome guy you had seen in months, he was also not your type with how easily he assumed so little of you.

Fishing out your phone, you held it up in search for a stronger signal. Groaning when there was only one bar, you stomped into the house and shut the door behind you.

When your alarm went off the following morning, you were already wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in sheer frustration. The advice you had received last night had been helpful, but what you needed was earplugs instead. You never knew the wilderness to be so loud.

“How am I going to get enough sleep here until I can order some earplugs?” you questioned to no one in particular, sitting up in the bed. You had to admit, whilst the sounds of the outdoors had kept you up, the bed had been surprisingly comfy.

There had to be some perks for being this far detached from proper civilisation.

“Might as well get up,” you decided, flinging back the blankets and padding across the hall into the quaint bathroom. You hadn’t paid a lot of attention last night to the house, too exhausted from travelling for two days. As you did your morning skincare routine, you used the mirror to look around your space. It had a cozy cottage-core vibe that you had recently seen come up as a trend on Pinterest.

“Natty loves things like this,” you told the home, smiling softly before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

The house was decorated warmly. Although many modern conveniences were missing, you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a home that was cherished.

Someone must have loved this place like that at one point in time, you thought, jumping when the phone went off again.

“Hello?”

“Miss L/N, is that you?”

“Ah, yes it is, who am I speaking to?”

“Oh! June told me that someone was staying at the old Jung house so I figured I’d give you a bell and offer you some breakfast down at the diner. You won’t miss it. We’re the first building on Main Street.”

“That’s so kind of you to offer, but I have all the ingredients for a power green smoothie here-”

“Smoothie? Darling, a drink isn’t going to give you enough energy to get through your day.”

“Pardon?”

“Aren’t you starting your surveying job of Blayne today? There’s a lot to get through.”

Not really, you thought wickedly and bit your lip in case you said anything out loud. “Ah, right. Well, I’ll come down then.”

“Do come!” And then the line went dead.

“Who was I even speaking to?” you wondered when you placed down the phone, blinking slowly.

You got ready and headed down the bumpy drive and then another fifteen minutes until you reached what the inhabitants of this strange place called Main Street. You had to admit, it was the only area of Blayne were you saw more than two people at once, and it relaxed you to be back around people.

You hadn’t realised just how overcrowded the city was when you found yourself now missing the constant sight of people.

Once you parked your car, you got out and locked it, checking to make sure the door wouldn’t open. You heard a snigger from the sidewalk. “You’re new here.”

“Ah, yes.”

“You don’t need to lock your car here. No one is going to steal it,” the young girl said, eying you curiously. You nodded politely and walked inside the diner, instantly hit with the smell of fried food.

You were hungrier than you expected.

“Miss L/N!” a voice called, and everyone in the establishment turned to look at you.

Smiling politely and rushing over to the front counter, you sat down on a stool. The woman who greeted you smiled graciously. “I’m May.”

“May… June-”

May laughed. “Our parents weren’t all that creative with our names. I’m June’s older sister.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you. Please, feel free to call me Y/N.”

“Earl, can you serve up our guest the breakfast special?” May called out without taking her eyes off of you.

You smiled gently before darting your gaze to the menu distractedly. “You have a nice place here. Do you sell soy chai lattes?”

“Soy what?”

“Ah, nothing. Coffee. Coffee will do.”

“Black or white, darling? Any sugar?”

After sorting yourself with caffeine, you then glanced around again. There were about six others in total, and most of them were looking in your direction. Nodding politely at them, you turned back to May.

“I guess you don’t get many visitors.”

“They don’t stay long, no,” she replied, placing a large plate loaded with a fried assortment and pancakes. You eyed the meal. It would be triple the macros for your daily intake. Still, you were hungry.

You picked up your knife and fork. “They don’t?”

“I think the last person stayed a week. That was pretty long.”

“Only a week?” you cut into a hashbrown. “Why did they leave so soon?”

“Unless you’re a farmer or born into farming, you wouldn’t really enjoy being out here. We have only twelve stores. Nothing arrives here quickly, and you have to be pretty self-sufficient to survive. There’s not a lot calling people here.”

“There could be. I mean, you have a lot of land-”

“For farming,” May cut in, and you swallowed down a bit of hashbrown before nodding.

“Yes, but it’s beautiful and picturesque. People who want to escape the daily grind would flock to a place like this if there was an establishment to stay in.”

“Our inn hasn’t had a guest since nineteen-eighty-three. You want to know why?”

“It has a ghost story?” you asked innocently, and May merely smiled haughtily.

“The only people staying in Blayne were born and raised here, Y/N. You’ll soon realise the utopia you and your company are hoping to build out here is a pipe dream.”

_________________

Part 3

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fluffyfranny · 3 years

Text

So hey! Might as well start posting!

Starting off with an oldie in my past writing archives when I was at my peak in the Markiplier fandom. Still love his content dearly, but I don’t think I’ll write for his egos anytime soon.

Posting this with a lil motivation from @yaysof11037 who has become such a great mutual earlier on this week! (If ya haven’t checked out their works you totally should btw). In return for the lovely angst they provided for me, angst is what you shall receive in turn >:3

Hope y’all enjoy this piece I conjured WAY back in April :0

TW for descriptive gore, past and present character death and overall angst in general under the cut >:3

~Gone Too Soon~

Paranoia.

That was one of the primary emotions Eric felt all the time. The poor boy had been through a lot. He had lost a majority of his family, including his mother and the rest of his brothers, in a tragic accident, and he considered himself an “omen” of bad luck, of sorts, since things seemed to die around him.

Unfortunately, that was about to come true, once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started one brisk night, when Eric was having trouble sleeping for what seemed like the fifth time this week. He tossed and turned underneath the sheets, clutching his worn-down, yellow handkerchief with an iron grip in one of his fists. This lasted for about an hour.

The primary cause for this state of unrest, however, was not only his ever present state of anxiousness, but the fact that a nightmare unlike any he had ever dreamt was roiling through his mind.

He had dreamt that the rest of the Ipliers currently living in the manor, including his father, had mysteriously disappeared. Eric had been wandering the halls, calling out for them, his cries becoming squeaky as tears threatened to spill over...

Before he found his family and the states that they were in...

But then, he shot bolt upright in his bed. His breaths were rapid and his forehead was layered with a fine sheen of nervous sweat. He pinched his hand to make sure that it was all a dream, and fortunately, it was.

Eric tried to stabilize his breathing then and there, attempting to calm down. “It w-was all j-just a bad d-dream,” he kept repeating to himself. “None of t-that was r-real.”

With a sharp exhale of air, he dragged himself out of bed and left his room. He figured a walk around the vast, ever-expanding halls of the manor would calm his nerves, along with a glass of water.

The weight of his prosthetics made the stairs creak, but the other Ipliers knew better than to interrogate whoever was making such a ruckus. When they heard the familiar metallic clunk against the steps, they knew it was Eric, and they either left him be or awoke to provide him assistance, if needed.

As he made his way down the stairs and into one of the bigger hallways, he sensed that something was off. The air felt thicker, as if some invisible force was adding weight to the environment without anything actually being there.

In addition, he thought he caught a whiff of something along the lines of smoke. He shivered slightly at all of this, but shook his head in denial, brushing these factors off as remaining slivers of his nightmare that still plagued his mind.

Eric was just about to step foot into the living room when one of his prosthetic legs slipped in something wet, nearly sending him careening to the tile floor. Fortunately, he grabbed onto the railing on the side of the wall with a less than elusive yelp to stabilize himself.

He caught his breath and, with fear laced in his vision, glanced down slowly towards the ground. He nearly started having another panic attack when he saw a smear of red coat the tile and flow around the bend. The red coloration was so deep, it nearly appeared black as ink.

With even shakier steps, Eric clambered around the corner to locate the source of the stain…

Only to be met with the pale, lifeless stare of his father, lying in a pool of his own blood.

This time, Eric’s screech could be heard across the entirety of the mansion, had it been any louder. He immediately knelt down and began inspecting Derek’s clothes with quivering hands. His red, white and blue polo shirt was now dyed with an even darker crimson due to the blood seeping out of a massive hole in his chest.

“D-dad?” Eric whimpered, his handkerchief slightly speckled with Derek’s blood after placing it next to him. “W-what h-happened? Pl-please get up!”

He began shaking his parent’s shoulders rather forcefully, causing his head to loll to the side rather limply, then softly thumping back down onto the floor once Eric had ceased his actions.

Before he could let loose a scream of his own, several more heart-stopping yells proceeded to echo throughout the living room and the halls surrounding it, followed by the crashing of bodies. Eric’s head snapped up and glanced in all directions to locate who was screaming. However, despite the noises sounding like they were coming from right around him, there was nobody else with him. Aside from his father.

Then, that’s when he heard them.

“Why, hello there, Eric.”

His head whipped to his left to meet the gaze of a man talked about throughout the household, but none too kindly. Said man stood before him in a red tailcoat and black dress pants, both of which had gashes torn in them, and from these gashes seeped both red and black. Various other cuts also covered his bare hands and face. The red was definitely blood, Eric assumed, but why was this man bleeding black as well?

Either way, it didn’t matter as the man strode in Eric’s direction and placed the blunt end of the cane he clutched on the area where his heart would be before giving the area a gentle tap and stepping back again, smiling wickedly all the while.

“Wh-what have y-you done with m-my friends?” Eric stammered, trying to lace some confidence into his voice. “M-Mark?”

“Oh, poor, sweet Eric,” Mark tutted, shaking his head and scattering loose flecks of blood and pitch-black ichor. “I’ve been waiting a while now to exact my revenge against your...family here.”

“R-r-revenge?” Eric questioned with wide eyes and a more noticeable quiver in his voice. “B-but the others a-are so sweet t-to me. They’d n-never do-”

“Oh, but my friend,” Mark interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You’ve just missed out on all the horrendous things they have done to others. Even to me.”

“T-that’s a l-lie!” Eric tried to shout. “They’d never d-do anything b-bad to others! You’re just t-trying to c-convince me o-otherwise!”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Mark began to raise his voice, inky-black ichor seeping out of the corners of his mouth. “You’re just too naive to see it! The others are evil…”

“No, t-that’s y-you!” Eric finally found the courage to retort back semi-confidently. “Y-you’re the e-evil one!”

At this, Mark’s eyes widened, and he turned his head slowly towards him, a pissed look in his eyes and on his face. He snarled, his lips quirking up to bare his teeth back at the boy.

“You insufferable brat!” Mark said, ever angrier. “Just for all that you’ve said and done, I’ll show you what has been made of your “family” and be on my way.”

Before Mark disappeared in an explosion of smoky black mist, he gave Eric one final glare and remark:

“Don’t be surprised if you end up being next.”

And with that, he was gone.

However, once he vanished, the air around the room began to shimmer before the environment revealed a truly horrendous sight from behind Mark’s illusion.

Blood and gore everywhere.

Eric felt like he was going to be sick at the sight of his friends plastered around the house, laying in their own life essence. He hesitantly gazed around and, one by one, took note of what happened to each of them.

First, he spotted Wilford in the kitchen, draped over the countertop with the broken end of a wine bottle stuck in his head, the jagged ring of glass biting into his scalp and sticking there, all the while drawing blood that flowed off of Wil’s head like tiny rivers.

Then, he saw Bim hanging from a taxidermy deer skull in the living room, the antlers emerging from above his eye sockets to make it look like he had sprouted the appendages.

As Eric shook his head in both fear and denial, he practically bolted out of the conjoining rooms and down the hall he came from. There, he saw both Google and Bing’s dismembered parts scattered across the floor, with a few limbs laying on the stairwell and a head posted atop it. Whoever’s head it was was barely recognizable, for the artificial skin was peeled away to reveal the mechanical insides.

Eric, surprisingly, only started to cry harder now, tears rapidly streaming down his cheeks as he realized that this was not just a dream.

It was a nightmare come true.

He then came across Dr Iplier, whose corpse was laying halfway inside a closet and covered with crudely stitched gashes that still leaked blood, which, to Eric’s horror, was a mixture of the red and black that Mark was coated in.

As he rounded the corner, avoiding going upstairs again, he nearly tripped over Host, whose blindfold was ripped clean off to expose his empty, bloody eye sockets. In addition, he was also missing the skin on one side of his jaw, exposing the teeth and bone beneath to give him a zombified look.

This drew a gag from Eric at the sight of Host’s mangled face, and he quickly fled deeper down the hall.

At this point, he had exhausted himself, so he simply let his back hit the wall and slide down to the floor, where he held his head between his knees. He then began to let loose gut-wrenching sobs that would make anyone else cry, as well.

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and began to fidget with it, nearly tearing it in half with the force he was using on it.

Just as he was about to fling the cloth away, he felt the air around him drop in temperature, which caused him to look up. There stood Dark, his hair disheveled as if he were running his fingers through it all day. His jacket and shirt were both wrinkled, and his tie was missing.

At the sight of Eric curled up in a sobbing mess, Dark got on both knees in front of him and patted one of his own. He looked up to see the pale man smiling at him sadly.

“I’m terribly sorry, Eric,” Dark spoke at a low volume. “We couldn’t save them.”

Eric choked out another sob as he gazed up at Dark with watery eyes. “Th-they’re all dead! Even m-my d-dad is g-gone. My whole f-family is g-gone!”

He put his head between his legs again so Dark wouldn’t see him cry anymore. He felt a heavy hand rest atop his head and ruffle his hair, a seemingly kind gesture amidst these depressing times.

“Look here, Eric,” Dark said as he gently pressed a fingertip underneath Eric’s chin and raising his head to look back at him. “You still have me. We can be our own little family.”

“B-but what if M-Mark comes back f-for you?” Eric whined. “Th-then I’ll b-be all a-alone!”

“Trust me as you have in the past,” Dark drawled out, moving the hand away from his chin and dropping it back to his side. “He won’t be back.”

“P-promise?” Eric questioned, voice shaking harder than it ever had.

Dark merely responded with a nod and one word:

“Promise.”

Before he could get up and take Eric away with him, he let out a grunt and got back on his knees. Eric could only stare in horror as a spot on Dark’s dress shirt became soaked in black. The spot only grew bigger, as if he were hit with a bullet, and the blood was spreading further out.

Dark gently prodded at the fresh hoel in his gut before looking back up at Eric and uttering two words that would be the last he’d ever hear.

“I’m sorry.”

After uttering those final words, Dark collapsed right into Eric’s lap, his head landing in his cupped hands. He let out a shocked gasp and lifted Dark’s head up to look into his eyes and wave his hand in front of them.

“Oh...oh n-no, D-Dark, please d-don’t!” He began to babble uncontrollably, tears falling faster than ever, with a few landing onto Dark’s cheeks to make it seem as if he were crying. They ran down his face, which seemed to be getting paler by the second, even though it seemed impossible for him to pale any further.

“P-please don’t l-leave me,” Eric sobbed, cradling Dark’s head as he felt his blood soak into his own polo shirt, staining it black. “N-not alone in th-this place.”

Dark could only let out a faint wheeze that sounded like a chuckle before he took one final deep breath and let it out. His obsidian eyes seemed to dim as this last breath fled from between his lips.

Eric gasped as he heard this and, not wanting to lose the last friend he had left, clutched onto Dark’s body and held him close, his head lolling over and landing limply onto Eric’s shoulder.

He sat there, clinging to Dark’s body amidst the massacre of his family that had taken place just mere moments ago, and cried for hours on end.

This was truly a nightmare that Eric would never wake up from.

#markiplier fandom #markiplier egos #eric ericson #darkiplier #actor mark #wilford warfstache #bim trimmer #googleplier #bingiplier #dr iplier #markiplier the host

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ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Note

Hey lovely:) I wanted to ask if I please could get a continuation of the Adrian and Mickey roommate imagine? If not I totally understand. Have a lovely day 💗

Hello, love! I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to get to this. I have the worst attention span, and I didn't want to write something for you that was lacklustre. But I've had a pang of inspiration, and I missed these two boys a lot. With that said, I give you the continuation you requested <3 The previous imagine is here [x]

You looked around the apartment...If one could call it such. It was more of a hallway, with a sliver of a kitchen that certainly would never suit the type of meals you liked to cook. You imagined one of the guys barreling through, knocking over a pot of sauce or bumping you with their broad shoulders, sending a sheet of cookies flying to their crumbly death.

"Okay... I know I said I'd be happy in a broom closet, but how are we supposed to cook Thanksgiving dinner here? The stove might as well be an Easy Bake Oven; it's so small. And I've seen coolers bigger than that fridge."

"It's fine," said Mickey.

"I think she has a point," Adrian replied.

The cupboards were apartments for mice, and when you walked down the tiled hall toward the bedrooms, the checkered floor rose and fell, creating an optical illusion of a giant woman in a tiny passage. Mickey and Adrian tried to stifle their giggles.

"Mickey, you try walking through without smashing your head on the ceiling."

It was true—Mickey couldn't make it through the corridor without ducking. But it wasn't the most inconvenient feature of the place. When you reached the first bedroom on the left side, all three of you went in and had a thorough glance around, determining it wasn't so bad until Adrian opened the closet and let out a sigh.

"So... There's a door inside the closet."

"What do you mean 'a door'?"

"Like, there's a tiny door right there in the back of the closet. Right there!"

You and Mickey crowded in to see the small door Adrian spoke of. Mickey nudged Adrian with his elbow. "Open it, Adrian."

"No! What if there's a body in there?"

"Honestly, that'd be the least surprising thing," you muttered as Adrian ventured further into the bare board closet. He twisted the rusty knob and pulled open the door. You watched him hunch down and inch through the space, his shuffles growing distant. "Guys, you're never gonna believe this!"

"What! Is it treasure?" Mickey called out.

"Check it out!" Adrian's voice sounded from behind, startling shrieks from you and Mickey. The taller man clung to you like a frightened child.

"How did you get there?" You asked.

"The door leads to the other room!"

"That's...Deeply unsettling," Mickey said.

"Let's check out the other bedroom," you huffed, leaving the interconnected rooms.

The third bedroom was that broom closet you had assured would be acceptable living quarters. However, the more time you spent inside the narrow square bedroom, the more you convinced yourself tortured spirits of people long-dead whispered in the corners. The cobwebs hung down like Christmas garlands, and the light fixture was a bizarre handicraft of deer antlers with a pull-string hanging down in the center of the room.

Mickey came in behind you and patted you on the shoulder. "Seems like murders happened in here."

Adrian soon followed his friend in, and suddenly, the space was entirely too cramped. "Uh, yeah. This whole place definitely belonged to a serial killer."

Next came the bathroom, which all of you piled into at once just to get the inspection over with. You couldn't tell if the toilet was purchased that way or if years of neglect had stained it a troubling shade of brown. Hunks of porcelain were missing from the sink and counter as if somebody had gone on a baseball bat rampage. The shower was a pipe with a transparent curtain surrounding it. You pulled the stiff plastic back and saw a black spider spinning a web on the faucet—a faucet located near the bottom that had no business being there, for there was no tub of which to speak.

"So, do we have any other options, or are we all set on Buffalo Bill's first apartment?" You asked.

"I dunno," said Mickey. "The rent is cheap, and it's close to downtown."

"It's also close to one of the circles of Hell," you said as you backed out of the room. "Not exactly a selling feature, if you ask me."

"She's right, Mick. This place is shit."

"Oh, come on... We can fix it up!"

"Says the guy who's never fixed a thing in his life," Adrian grumbled. "Said you'd fix the bike you broke, and that was five years ago."

"Aw, you guys have been married for five years?" You cooed before they chased you back down the hall to the living room.

Peculiar stains blotted every corner of the carpets, and the windows had seen better days. One of them had been nailed shut, the posts rusty and screaming with Tetanus. The layer of dust alone set Adrian off on a sneezing fit as Mickey flounced onto a couch seemingly made of animal dander and cigarette smoke-laced tweed.

"Think they'd throw in this couch? It's pretty comfy even with the spring stickin' in my ass."

"I'd pay them to take the thing," you waved the dust motes from your face.

Once Adrian recovered from his theatrical chain of sneezes, he marched into the center of the room, eyes dark and drawn to the floor. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and kicked at a spot of dirt embedded in the rug, or it could have been a patch of singed fibres.

"No," he said.

Mickey perked. "No, what?"

"No... Just no. We deserve better than this! This place is a dump. I'd rather make a fort in a dumpster than live here."

Mickey went contemplative. "We should make a fort."

"Mick... Come on. Look at this piece of shit. You think she wants to live here? It's awful!"

"I know," Mickey sighed. "It's the worst... What do you think, roomie?"

You stood next to Adrian and squeezed his arm. "I think Adrian's right. We should definitely check out some other options. We're better than this."

"Are we, though?" Mickey's voice squeaked.

"YES!" You and Adrian yelled. Mickey sealed his lips and clasped his hands between his knees.

"Well, okay. Let's look for something else. But you're never gonna beat seven hundred dollars a month."

"And a lifelong curse."

"And a disease from that nasty-ass toilet."

"And probably ghosts!"

"All right, all right, picky-nickies! Let's get out of here then."

You left as a dejected unit of sour faces. When Mickey reached the sidewalk just outside of the dilapidated apartment building, he turned around and jangled the change in his pocket. "I'm hungry! Let's get Taco Bell."

"We have to save our pennies, Mick," Adrian said.

Mickey looked down at the ground and booted a pebble, frowning. You chuckled at them both. Their moods were dampened, but you knew you could rekindle their spirits just as quickly.

"Come on, guys. Let's go get some shitty burritos. It's on me."

Mickey gasped, and Adrian grimaced. "You know...if you want to ditch us and forget this whole deal... We'd totally understand."

"I'm not going anywhere, Adrian. We just hit a bad patch. We'll find something better. Let's get a paper and go look over some ads with some Baja Blast, yeah?"

"I like yooou!" Mickey sang. "Let's keep her, Adrian."

#mickey x adrian #mickey stuff #adrian stuff #bill skarsgard imagine #alex hogh andersen imagine

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hops-hunny · 3 years

Text

Felix Felicis

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Request: “Can you do Draco x Hufflepuff reader fluff where they’re cuddling together and all he wants to do is make her laugh because she failed an exam earlier that day so he’s trying to do everything he can to cheer her up and overall it’s just super fluffy? Thank you have a great day❤️❤️”

Summary: After (Y/N) has a rather unfortunate week, Draco does everything in his power to change that. In a way, he was (Y/n)’s own little Felix Felicis.

A/N: This was my first request so I was a bit nervous writing it! I enjoyed every bit though, this was a very cute request. I hope it was everything you wanted and more anon <3

If (Y/n) didn't know any better, she would've claimed that the world had it out for her. And after the week she had, who would have blamed her? On Monday in potions, she had stirred the wrong way causing a reaction that made her eyebrows disappear(thank god for makeup). On Tuesday, she had slipped and fallen in the great hall which caused a chorus of laughter from every house, including her fellow Hufflepuffs. Wednesday, well, nothing happened. She felt relieved. She had answered a question correctly in DADA, had a free period that overlapped with her friends, and had taken an exam in potions which in her opinion was very easy! Her stroke of bad luck was no more! She was ecstatic...until Thursday came around. If she had thought the rest of the week was bad, then Thursday was absolutely fucking dreadful. Her day started off fine, she woke up, got dressed, and put on her favorite perfume. She didn’t use it often, only when she expected the day to be amazing

That hopeful feeling of luck was short lived and ended by the time she got to the great hall. The Weasley twins had rigged a prank on the wrong person which resulted in her face being stained blue, when she got to her first class her seat was taken by someone else which she didn’t have a problem with. That was until she noticed the only seat left was near Fletcher Digby, who was known for his noticeable...odor that was...to put it nicely, absolutely putrid. By the end of her day, she had gathered up a broken shoe, a run in her stockings, a rip in her blouse, and the blue tint to her face had somehow gotten worse - which she later found out was sweat activated. (Y/n) was usually very optimistic. Even during the cloudiest of days or saddest of times she was always there to offer encouraging words and a smile. If a fellow Hufflepuff was sick, she’d often bake them something with the house elves or give them the last of her sweets from Honeydukes. She even did this for people in other houses as well, a ‘Get Well Soon!’ card attached along with it. That’s what her boyfriend, Draco, loved about her.

She was his light in all the darkness, the candle to his flame. When she came into his life, she taught him many things. His love for her was deep and pure and anyone would be a fool not to notice. That’s why Draco was concerned when he started to see her throughout the week less and less. During the school day, they didn’t have any classes together but even then he’d always wave or smile to her during hallpassing. He’d leave a kiss on her forehead in the great hall before heading to his own table and waited for her after her last class of the day on Friday. So when Draco found himself waiting a lot longer than usual outside of the potion’s room he grew concerned. He pushed past a few students entering the room. His smile dropped when there was no one left in the room but Fletcher Digby. Come to think of it, had he seen her at all today? He assumed she came to the great hall late but now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her leave with her friends. There were no quick pecks during hallpassing, winks when they saw each other. He quickly strode the halls, looking for her. He was worried, it wasn’t like (y/n) to just miss a day of class with no warning or explanation prior.

“Hannah, have you seen (Y/n)? I haven’t seen her all day and I'm growing quite worried.” He said pulling the Hufflepuff off to the side. If anyone were to know where she was, surely her roommate would. The girl took a moment to think.

“Hm, no. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Before I left the dorm, she was still sleeping. She was really distraught last night so I’m not surprised she decided to stay in. However, I do admit that is completely unlike her.” She offered him a sympathetic smile as he thanked her before heading in the direction of the girls dormitory.

He knocked on the door, finding it to not be locked as it popped open. He walked in only to find that her bed was empty. The only person to be found was Luna, who was holding (Y/n)’s favorite stuffed giraffe (one he had given to her as a present once). She hadn’t noticed him yet but wasn’t phased when he let out a sharp, “What are you doing with that?” she simply turned around and offered him a soft grin.

“Hello Draco, (Y/n) asked me to bring this to her. She was having a terribly bad case of wrackspurts today. One of the worst cases I’ve seen really. So she went where she usually does when she has a bad day although, I think you should bring it to her now that you’re here. Also give her this, it’s a good luck charm I made for her. It should get rid of the wrackspurts and bring luck along with it.” She spoke, handing him the stuffed giraffe and a necklace with a peculiar charm made of tiger’s eye. He looked at it for a sec before taking it, offering her a nod before heading off where he knew you’d be.

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You sat cross legged on the old, comfy couch, drinking the cup of chamomile and lavender tea Hagrid had brought to you. You had grown quite close to the gentle giant throughout your years at Hogwarts. During your first year, you were having an awful day, not as bad as the week you were currently going through but still quite a bad one. You were homesick and missed your family dearly. Your housemates tried to cheer you up with treats and kind words and although you appreciated them dearly, nothing could stop the tears from flowing. That’s when Luna came in, she brought you straight to Hagrid’s hut and explained your dilemma. He welcomed you both in, brewing you tea and offering whatever treats he had. Soon enough, your tears stopped. Hagrid’s hut slowly started to become your home away from home as he offered it to you whenever you liked without asking any questions if you weren’t willing to talk.

Usually, you’d slowly start to tell him what was wrong but today was one of those silent days. Many would expect Hagrid to be absolutely horrid with emotions but, he had like a 6th sense when it came to them. He decided to leave you alone for a few hours, tending to his duties. When he came back, he had gotten you your favorite dessert from the house elves. They were always more than willing to send and make you things because of how kind and helpful you were to them. You sipped at your tea as you softly pet Fang’s head which was resting in your lap. You and Fang’s heads both perked up as you heard a knock at the door. Hagrid walked to the door to see who it was.

“Ah, I figured I would see ya sometime soon.” he said, stepping to the side to let whoever it was in. Draco stepped into the small hut, closing the door as he came to sit near you on the couch. You instantly threw yourself into his arms which in turn, caused him to wrap his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he stroked your back. Hagrid took that as his sign to leave, taking the large dog with him. Draco let you cry a bit, his heart breaking at the noises.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, love. Are you alright? Luna told me to give you these.” He said as he handed the girl her giraffe. She hugged it tightly as he put the charm around her neck. She sat between her lover’s legs sighing. He held her close as she described her day, his heart aching from all that she had to deal with and his mind cursing him for not realizing sooner.

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

“And on top of all of that, I failed my potions exam! That wouldn’t have been bad if I hadn’t gone on blabbing to all my friends how well I thought I did on the bloody thing. I just feel like the world has it out for me.” She said looking up at him. He nodded in understanding. He had stayed quiet as she had vent to him, just providing the listening ear she needed. That’s when he got a few ideas. He smiled before standing up, stretching his hand out for the girl to grab.

“Come with me. I’ve got an idea! Quickly, we mustn’t be caught.” He said eagerly as he stared at her. She hesitantly grabbed his hand, setting Georgie, her giraffe, on the couch before she was swiftly dragged out of the hut. Draco pulled his girlfriend along, running as she tried to keep up due to the fact her legs were much shorter.

“Where are we going, Dray?” She asked which prompted a quick “shhh!!” from Draco. They both ran across the grounds of the school, hand in hand as to not be caught. (Y/n) had no idea where he was taking her but she thought anything would be better than moping around the rest of the day. They both tried to contain the wild giggles coming from their mouths as they headed in the direction of Hogsmeade.

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As they finally made it, they both still had smiles on their faces at the rush they had gotten from sneaking off. Draco had tied his tie around the girl’s eyes leading her in the way of whatever wild idea it was that he had. “What if we get caught? Someone is bound to see us.” she said, her face forming a frown at the thought of being caught.

“Oh hush darling, we’ll be fine. Besides if we do happen to get caught in some trouble, I’m sure my father won’t mind bailing us out.” He said, finally removing her blindfold. She opened her eyes to see...Madam Puddifoots? She gave him a strange look. “We’re here to get a laugh out of the things that happen in here, sweets. Trust me, you’ll see. Act natural.” He took her hand, leading her to a small booth.

Soon enough, she saw and heard what he meant. The sight of all the couples with their peculiar behaviors was quite a laugh. They saw one couple come in with matching crochet sweaters with each others faces on it, another referred to each other as each others “snuggle-boop-kitty-fuzy-wuzzykins”and only that each time they spoke to each other. But along with the odd, mushy, and gushy couples came a few odd breakups too. One man tried to propose by reciting an “original poem” which turned out to be stolen, causing his boyfriend to dump scalding hot tea on his head. Another guy forgot he scheduled dates with 4 different girls at the same spot, on the same day..didn’t end well for him. A few employees had to carry him out on a stretcher as the girls all exchanged numbers.

By the time they were back on their way to the castle, (Y/n) was already in a better mood. She held an ice cream cone in one hand, and Draco’s hand in her other. They both paused coming to the same realization. Although it was easy to sneak out, how would they sneak back in? The couple locked eyes at the same time before Draco picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder. (Y/n) made sure her ice cream didn’t fall as her boyfriend sprinted in the shadows, using a passageway she had never seen before to get back into the castle. Once inside, they both held in their giggles, quieting their breathing from the run back to the castle as they made their way to his dorm. By then she had long finished her ice cream as he tossed her on his bed, throwing himself down next to her shortly after. (Y/n) rolled over towards Draco to find him already facing her. The pair sat in silence for a moment before both losing composure. They began to laugh hysterically, to the point where a tear or two was shed. After their little laughing fit, Draco sat up, pulling his girlfriend on top of him. She turned, straddling him as she placed a soft kiss on his lips before resting her head on his shoulder.

“I just wanted to say thank you Draco. Not even just for today but for being there whenever I need you. This was honestly one of the worst weeks of my life but if I’m honest, I’d go through it all again to have another evening like the one we just had.” She said as she nuzzled in deeper, taking in the scent of expensive cologne and cinnamon. Her lover was taken back by her words. She was the only one who made him feel like that. Her words meant more to him than anything in the world. He tightened his grip on her, holding her close to him.

“I’d do it all again and more just to see you happy. Why don’t we make this a regular thing of ours, hm? Every friday, we’ll sneak outside the castle and do whatever we want, indulging to our hearts can’t handle it anymore? Even if not, everyday with you is an adventure, sneaky trips or not.” He said. Draco meant what he said full heartedly, everyday she managed to make his life an adventure, learning new things about himself that he didn’t know were there. It was like he was a canvas and she was the painter, each day, each moment, a different stroke of color on his heart.

Perhaps it was Luna’s good luck charm or perhaps it was them, but from then on out each day seemed luckier than the last when he had his girl on his arm.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco #luna lovegood #luna lovegood x you #luna lovegood x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

24 Hour Flu

A/N: This is a Sonny Carisi x firefighter!reader fic, and was totally inspired by the headcanon that Sonny’s a germophobe. This also covers the Truth square in the VDay Bingo. The dialogue is a little weird, but that was only to try and fit the lyrics, whoops. Hope you still enjoy!

Tags: vomit mention, otherwise none, just fluff

Words: 2492

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @glimmerglittergirl @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

(Gif by @amandacarisi)

You had a crazy night; you were a firefighter, and you were covering a shift for a buddy. But it, of course, happened to be the busiest night of the month. You had 4 calls within the first 3 hours, and it never once slowed down after that. Thankfully, none of the calls were too serious, and there were no casualties on shift.

Sore and exhausted, you dragged yourself home at 7am, ready to get some nice sleep. Your boyfriend, Sonny, would be long gone for work. And as much as you missed him when you worked nights, you were thankful to have the bed to yourself. You planned to pull the blackout curtains and sleep until at least 2pm. Thankfully, you were off today; though, you were on call for anything bad.

Entering the apartment, you hung up your jacket, toeing off your shoes by the door. You wanted a shower first; the warm water would help you fall asleep. What you weren’t expecting, though, was to find Sonny, curled up on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet and shivering.

“Dom? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked, alarmed. You could smell the bitterness of stomach acid in the air, and you knew he had been sick. You bent down, cupping his face, putting your hand on his forehead. He was on fire.

“I-I’m fine,” he replied weakly. He was still in only his boxers—his sleepwear of choice—and you wondered how long he’d been here.

“No, you’re not. Come on, let’s get you back to bed…unless you’re going to be sick again?”

As if reminded that he was sick, he quickly leaned over the toilet, vomiting violently. You rubbed his back soothingly before you moved to grab a washcloth, wetting it. After he flushed, his body shook harder, and he collapsed back onto the floor.

"Okay...I think I'm done,” Sonny murmured, voice soft. “I gotta get dressed…I have work—”

“You are not going to work like this,” you said tersely, cutting him off.

“B-but doll, I have 3 motions hearings, an arraignment—”

“I don’t care. You’re going to bed. You’re resting.” To make your point, you lifted him from the floor, cradling him in your arms. He was still shaking violently, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, his face red. You placed him gently in the bed, tucking him in under the sheets. Then, you put the cold washcloth on his forehead.

“How long have you been in the bathroom? How many times have you been sick?” you asked.

Sonny’s head lolled on the pillow. “I…lost count. I woke up when it was still dark out…I think around 3? 4?”

You nodded. “Okay…we have to break the fever. You lay here, rest. I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to grab you some water and Gatorade to keep you hydrated.” Before you left him, you snagged his phone. Unlocking it, you dialed his boss’s number, letting her know that he wasn’t coming in today. Grabbing a couple Gatorades and a water, you made your way back to the room. Sonny hadn’t moved, and he was still trembling slightly.

“Here,” you prompted softly, helping him sit up. You opened a Gatorade, holding it to his lips to drink. You knew you’d have to make him something to eat, too, but this was more important right now.

Once he drank half of it, he laid back down. “I still need to go to work, doll. I can’t call out. Hadid will kill me….”

“Well, I already called her and told her you were on bedrest today. If she doesn’t like it, she can deal with me,” you replied, and Sonny let out a pathetic chuckle.

You sat next to him on the bed, and another violent bout of shakes wracked his body. “I’m cold…hold me?” he whispered. Climbing under the sheets, you wrapped your arms around his sweaty, trembling form.

You both laid there in silence, and you hoped he had fallen asleep. But any wish of that was quickly dispelled as he muttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, babe?” you asked.

“You just worked all night—you’re probably exhausted. And now you’re stuck awake, taking care of me. Plus, what if I get you sick? Maybe I should move to the couch, let you sleep…but I’m selfish; I want cuddles…” he trailed off.

You smiled at your impossible boyfriend, even if he couldn’t see it with the washcloth covering his eyes. “Hush—I’m wide awake now. And I don’t get sick…besides, this is just the 24-hour flu; you’ll be fine in no time. Now just sleep, okay?”

You both fell to silence once more, but his shaking never lessened. Finally, Sonny said, “I can’t sleep…too cold.”

“Okay…wait here.”

He let out a low whine as you pulled away from him, and you leaned back to kiss his burning cheek. Then you hurried to the bathroom, turning the water on in the bathtub. Once it was boiling, you pulled the stopper, letting it slowly fill. You watched as the water level rose, then you went back to Sonny, pulling the covers off him. He shivered again, and you quickly pulled his boxers down and off before gently scooping him into your arms once more. He didn’t complain—he loved that you could carry him.

You gently placed him in the tub, and he let out a little groan at the heat. Once the tub was full, you turned the water off.

“You relax here for a little; warm up. I’ll be right back—I’m going to make a call, alright?” you murmured, stroking his hair.

“Okay…thank you,” Sonny gave you a small smile, and you kissed the top of his head before leaving the bathroom. Grabbing his phone again, you opened his contacts. You had this idea while laying in bed with him; you just hoped it worked.

The phone rang and rang before a woman happily answered, “Dom? How are you?”

“Ah, hello Mrs. Carisi. This is [y/n], Dominick’s girlfriend. Sorry to confuse you—”

“Oh, is my son okay?” she asked, worried.

You swallowed—this wasn’t how you wanted the first conversation with Sonny’s mom to go. “Oh, he’s fine. Well, not really…he’s sick. That 24-hour flu, you know? And I was hoping to make him something from his childhood, for when he’d get sick. Maybe soup or something….”

“Sick? Dominick doesn’t get sick, dear. I swear that boy bathes in hand sanitizer…” she trailed off.

You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for your boyfriend currently marinating in his own sweat and bathwater. “I’m serious—it’s bad. I came home and found him curled on the floor in the bathroom—”

“Oh, I’ll be right over, then! No offense, dear, but I don’t give out family recipes to just anyone. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you—I’m going to try and get Dom to sleep, if you could please enter silently,” you asked, hoping you weren’t sounding too demanding.

Ma Carisi scoffed. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

Hanging up, you moved to throw Sonny’s robe into the dryer, getting it nice and toasty for when he would get out of the bath.

******************

You had taken Sonny out of the tub, dried him off, wrapped him in his warm robe, and replaced him in bed by the time Ma Carisi showed up. Sonny had just drifted off to sleep, no longer shaking from cold. You kissed his still burning forehead, heading out to meet her. She was just putting bags down in your kitchen when you found her. She looked so much like Sonny; or rather, he looked like her. But you could see the differences, the parts that were obviously from his father. It did make your breath catch, however, when her eyes connected with yours, and they were Sonny’s eyes.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear,” Ma Carisi said, pulling you in for a hug and kiss on the cheek.

You hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I wish it was under better circumstances. But I just want to make sure Dom eats something—he’s just now fallen asleep.”

“Let me take a quick peek,” she murmured, moving past you and down the hall. You let her go, looking through the things she had brought over with her, taking out ingredient after ingredient.

She came back soon enough, tsking. “Wow, he really is sick. I could count the times Dominick has been sick on one hand.”

“I…don’t think I’ve ever seen that man sick. He’s a bit of a germophobe,” you laughed, and Ma Carisi smiled.

She moved over to your stove. “Now, let’s get started…before he wakes up.”

*******************

“So, you and Dominick have been dating for almost a year now, right?” Ma Carisi asked while stirring the contents of the large pot. She took care to not let you see how she was making the soup, only asking you to prepare multiple ingredients at once. Not that you minded; as long as it was done soon.

“Yeah…I remember the very first day that I saw him,” you smiled, your mind teleporting back to when you met Detective Sonny Carisi. He was working with the NYPD to find a rapist who was covering their tracks with arson. Hence the FDNY’s involvement. You were instantly smitten by the lanky man, who seemed to be competent and professional…at least, until he tried to talk to you. Then he turned into a stuttering, flustered mess. It was endearing and cute as hell, and you quickly gave him your number.

Ma Carisi turned to look at you, eyes bright. “And have you talked about marriage at all?”

You smiled awkwardly—that was subtle. “We have…discussed it, yeah. We’re both busy, though, and want to wait a little longer. We’ve only lived together for a few months…. Don’t blame him; he wants to be at least engaged. But I’d rather live together a little bit longer first.”

“It is good to know someone completely first, isn’t it?” she asked, but there was something…passive aggressive in her tone, and she went back to stirring. “Add the onions, please.”

Scooping the diced onions into your hands, you dropped them into the soup. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with something that you knew she’d appreciate. You eventually landed on religion. “It’s God's gift to breathe the air he breathes, to be able to share so much with him. Dom completes me, just like I complete him. I have no doubts in my mind that I’m going to marry him. I just don’t want to rush is all.”

Ma Carisi seemed happy with that response. “The basil…and the oregano, please,” she ordered. She stirred everything in as you added the ingredients. “You know, you could get engaged and just wait your predetermined time to get married.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I know…and maybe we will. But I’d like to at least have a sit-down dinner with you and his father…and the rest of his family. Plus, him with my family before we do that…. Look, I love him in every way that a woman can love a man; I’m not letting him go by any means. There’s just other things I think we should do first.”

She nodded, then opened her mouth to say something when you heard a loud thud from the bedroom. You and Ma Carisi exchanged a look before you hurried down the hall, leaving her to finish the soup. You were stunned to see the bed empty, then rushed to the other side to see Sonny on the floor.

“Dom, baby, what happened?” you asked, helping him up. You gently pushed him back into bed.

“I-I thought I heard my Ma’s voice?” he murmured.

Sighing, you felt his forehead; he wasn’t as hot as before, but he was still warmer than normal. “She, uh, came over to help make some soup for you. Just stay here and rest, okay? I’ll bring her back to say hi,” you explained. He nodded, and you tucked him back in bed before you hurried back to the kitchen.

“Dom’s awake and would like to see you,” you relayed.

Ma Carisi nodded. “Okay; just keep stirring this. It’s almost done,” she instructed. You took the ladle from her, letting her visit with her sick son while you tended to the soup. She was back soon enough, taking the ladle back. She stirred a few more times before pulling the ladle up and taking a test sip.

“Soup’s done; do you have a bowl?” she asked.

You dug a bowl out from the cabinet, holding it while she filled it with the most delicious smelling soup you’ve ever smelt. You carried the bowl carefully down the hall to the bedroom. Placing the bowl on the nightstand, you helped Sonny sit up. Then, you sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the bowl, and scooped up a spoonful of soup. You blew on it until it stopped steaming, then lifted it to Sonny’s mouth. He groaned with satisfaction as you fed him, the soup warming him from within and filling his empty stomach. Unbeknownst to you, Ma Carisi watched from the doorway, a smile on her lips as she watched you feed her son, her heart full.

He ate the whole bowl, and once finished, you helped him lay back down, tucking him back in and kissing his forehead.

“Sleep, babe. You need your rest to kick this out,” you whispered to him.

Sonny hummed in acknowledgement. “Cuddle with me? You still haven’t slept.”

“Okay…. Let me just turn off the stove. I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed the empty bowl, heading back to the kitchen, where Ma Carisi was packing up her things. “I’m going to get out of your hair; it seems like Dominick is in good hands. It was a pleasure to meet you, dear,” she said, giving you another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Okay…thanks again for coming over. I think that soup’s going to help him kick this in no time,” you replied. “And it was nice meeting you, too. Hopefully, next time we meet will be under better circumstances.”

After she left, you turned the stove off, covered the soup—you could put it away later—then made your way back to the bedroom. Sonny was barely conscious as you climbed into bed next to him. He slowly rolled onto his side, curling against you.

“Thank you, doll, for everything. I love you,” he murmured.

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Of course, Dom. I love you, too.” You held him until he fell into a deep sleep, and you dozed next to him. The next time you checked, you were happy to find that his fever had broke.

#sonny carisi x reader #thatesqcrushvdaybingo #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #I love writing ma carisi #as a passive aggressive #'when are you getting married' mom

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