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itstheoneshot · 8 months

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Misdemeanour

request

Summary: All you had to do was sit still and listen, but that was asking too much of you, wasn’t it?

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Power Imbalance, Age Gap, Dubcon, Breeding Kink, Brat Taming, Degradation, Unprotected Sex.

“Are you going to answer?”

You snap out of your daze, focusing in on the source of the voice. You heard your name and were unsure if you were daydreaming, but now with your lecturer standing in front of your desk, you accept the truth.

“Answer what?” You ask in monotone, not even attempting to feign interest.

You couldn’t care less about this class, one of the mandatory units you need for your degree, only here to pass and nothing else, you don’t care about high marks.

“I asked you,” He sighs, clearly frustrated, “To speak on what the author meant on page 14… were you even listening to me?”

You lift your head up to make eye contact with your teacher. Professor Byun Baekhyun. Barely in his 30s, and way too smart to be wasting his time with a student like you. He’s handsome, witty, and you know that if you cared about the topic, you would probably try for his sake at least, but truth be told, all you can think about right now is the day ending so that you can go home to bed.

“No,” You smirk at him, “And no, I wasn’t.”

You watch the vein in his neck bulge as he draws in a sharp breath, and you stifle a laugh, though you can’t wipe the smile from your face. You were never a well-behaved student, not in any of your schooling years, and still now in university you just thrived off frustrating your teachers. You could never really pinpoint why, but you were sure that your psychology lecturer, the one right in front of you now, could do so.

“Stay back after class,” Baekhyun murmurs, an order, not a question, “We need to speak about your attitude.”

You roll your eyes at him in an attempt to dissuade yourself from stamping your feet in protest. You know that you’re not the only one in class who doesn’t pay attention, but you have no idea why he singles you out.

“Are you kidding?” You ask him, “Sir, I have shit to do tonight.”

Baekhyun narrows his gaze, jaw clenched as he holds himself together, “Mind your language,” He warns you, “I won’t keep you too late if you can act like an adult.”

You don’t get a chance to clap back before he turns to walk to the front of the class, resuming the lecture and seemingly forgetting that he had asked you to join in the discussion. Though you should, you still don’t focus for the rest of the class, leaning back in your seat and staring at the clock on the wall, waiting for the session to end so that you can get this stupid talk over and done with.

“My office,” Baekhyun murmurs as you stand up from your desk, “Follow me.”

You roll your eyes once more, and drag your feet for good measure while you make your way over to him, but you do as you are told and follow him down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to his private office. As expected, the walls are lined with shelves full of books, and you scoff thinking about how boring they all must be. Baekhyun closes the door behind you before making his way to his desk, sitting behind it and gesturing to one of the chairs in front for you to take.

“Do I need to be here?” You ask, glancing down at your watch, “This is a waste of time for us both.”

Baekhyun stares blankly at you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Even earlier when he was calling you out for your inability to pay attention, there was still a niceness to him, but not now you are alone.

“You definitely need to be here,” He replies, “And the fact that you don’t think so proves it for me.”

You raise a brow in confusion, not quite sure what he means by that at all.

“Cut the attitude,” He continues, “You won’t get anywhere in life if you continue to act this way.”

Exhaling deeply through your nostrils, you close your eyes to try and centre yourself, but not before Baekhyun continues to berate you.

“You think you’re funny, disrupting the class the way that you did today,” He states, which is not a lie, “But that’s just because you’re insecure, isn’t it?”

You suddenly feel bare, exposed, how the fuck can he read that from your behaviour? You know he has a doctorate but really? It’s that obvious?

“I am not,” You try to cover yourself, “I just don’t give a fuck about your stupid class.”

Now it is Baekhyun’s turn to compose, breathing deep into his chest, “I said,” He begins, “Cut the attitude.”

You break the intense eye contact to glance down at your watch again, how has it only been five minutes? “Can I leave now?” You ask, more persistent this time, “I am getting nothing from this.”

Baekhyun stands up, towering over you even though he is not the tallest man you know. You would never admit that it frightens you a bit, but if he is as good at reading people as he makes it seem, he would be aware.

“You need to learn to do as you’re told,” He states, “And you aren’t leaving this office until you can do that.”

You know that from his position, he has a good view of your body, and if you can be sure you’re not insane, you just caught him staring. Your shirt is a little low cut to be worn to Uni classes, but you had planned to go out for drinks after, so wanted to save the need to change.

“What are you insinuating?” You ask, “Baekhyun… seonsaengnim.”

Baekhyun’s lips curl up in a playful smirk, and you feel your stomach drop. You hate that he has gotten under your skin with such seemingly simple words, and such small actions.

“I’m insinuating,” He replies, “That if you don’t do as I tell you, that you may have to repeat the whole year…”

Coercion? He’s using coercion on you? But you don’t break so easily.

“I don’t care,” You respond with another flat out lie, “I’m not doing anything.”

You can feel his patience waning, but this only fires you up more, ready to fight, wanting to make him pay for making you feel so fucking… subordinate.

“I don’t think your parents would be happy to hear that their daughter is wasting their hard-earned money,” He murmurs, “I know they pay for your studies, and they’d be very, very disappointed if that money went to waste.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. The only people who you really care about, your parents, would be devastated both emotionally and financially if they had to fork out the fees for an additional year of university. He has you backed into a corner, and you know it, he knows it too, and he is just waiting for you to give in.

“What do you want from me?” You ask him, your tone softening in what is probably fear, though you don’t feel it often enough to know for sure, “What do I need to do?”

Baekhyun smiles this time, showing those perfect teeth of his, and it makes your skin crawl. Psychologist or psychopath, you have no idea, and you take deep breaths to center yourself awaiting his response.

“I said, obey me,” He replies, “I know what you do outside of class, all the boys talk, so I’ll be making my own judgement today.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mind racing as you begin to realise exactly what he is speaking about. You are embarrassed, maybe a little ashamed, knowing that your stupidly attractive professor has heard about your… indulgences… It makes you crazy.

“What is your order?” You ask, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, “Is this even allowed?”

Sure, you’re an adult, well and truly, but he is so much older than you, ten years at least, and the imbalance is evident. You are mature, but nowhere near to his level, but you can see in his eyes, and feel in your body, that neither of you are upset about that.

“I make the rules,” He smiles at you again, he might be crazier than you are, “And the first one is I need you sitting up on this desk.”

You try not to be afraid, though your legs are a little shaky as you do what you are told, moving from behind the desk, to in front of him. He moves his chair back far enough that it hits the wall behind him, giving you plenty of room to sit down, and you cross your legs, not quite ready to give up without a little fight.

Baekhyun stands to join you, loosening his tie before reaching down to pry your legs apart. Your skirt rides up, exposing most of your thighs, and you feel so… impure.

“Much better,” He nods approvingly, his long, delicate fingers trail up your bare skin, “If you take me well enough, you may even see your marks improve. Your parents would be so proud, wouldn’t they, honey?”

Bile rises in your throat, but you swallow it down to return an even sweeter smile. It’s true, your parents would be overjoyed to see you do better, but of course they could never find out why. You watch Baekhyun as he scans your body, clearly pleased with what is laid out in front of him, fuck it, he’s too hot, and the benefits of this are enough to give in, of course, he wins.

“Use me,” You mumble, clearing your throat, “Take me, teach me my lesson.”

Baekhyun laughs, his hands sliding under your skirt to trace his fingers over your too-thin panties, “Such a slut,” He growls through gritted teeth, fingers pressing against you a little harder, “Ready for any boy to use whenever they want… but none are as experienced as me.”

You have no doubt that he is right, and it excites you more than you would care to admit. You whimper softly at the feeling of his fingers, close but not close enough, and you move forward just slightly to show your neediness.

“I didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” He teases, “I guess what they all say about you is right.”

“You don’t want me to play nice?” You ask, stuttering over your words as you feel his fingers slip under the elastic of your panties.

Baekhyun’s fingers breach you, two of them, deep and curled up at an angle. You dig your nails into the desk either side of you to keep still, not wanting to seem as turned on as you truly are.

“I might have hoped for a little more fight,” He purrs, pulling his fingers out only to thrust them in again, “But that’s okay, I’m sure I can break you more.”

The subtle threat has you reeling, though you’re quite distracted with his fingers inside you. You don’t know what to expect, glancing down to his crotch, the bulge evident, even through his slacks. You gulp, and stifle a whine when he takes his fingers from you, using them to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his suit pants, letting them drop down and pool at his ankles.

“Sir,” You mumble, realisation setting in, “I… do I have to?”

It is a little bit of an act, your hesitation, but at the same time it isn’t, fearful that a few teasing motions of his fingers weren’t quite enough to get you ready for what looks to be an exceptionally large cock. You brace yourself as he tugs down his underwear, and watch as he strokes himself, though already at full hardness, just to slick himself up with the little bit of arousal that he pulled from you.

“You do,” He nods, stepping forward so that his thighs almost hit the desk, “And you will.”

He lets go of his cock to grab you under the thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. You grip tightly to stop yourself from falling, and Baekhyun holds you with one hand on your hip, the other reaching for his erection. With a skill that you find way too hot, he uses two fingers of that hand to pull your panties aside, and guides his cock to your hole, teasing strokes along your slit, anticipation rising as you await his next move.

“Fuck!”

Baekhyun lets go of your hip to cover your mouth with his hand, “Quiet!” He orders you, but fuck, it is hard. His cock fills you painfully, thick, long and throbbing, your eyes roll back as you try to compose yourself, overwhelmed and now fully submitting out of fear.

He doesn’t give you any reprieve, keeping your mouth covered as he fucks you, hard and fast with no time to adjust. Your whines and moans are muffled by him, and you can’t quite pinpoint when the pain subsides and pleasure rolls in, but oh wow, it does.

“So tight,” Baekhyun groans, “This is all you’ll ever be good for if you don’t start focusing in class.”

You don’t respond, too distracted by the way he fills you up, and fucks in to you with no care for your own needs. It is degrading, his words and actions, but it turns you on more than you can explain.

“Or would you like that?” He continues, “Just serving me for the rest of your life instead? Wet and ready whenever I need my fill?”

Right now, you probably would say yes. Forgetting the degree you are so close to finishing, if you pass this year, you are drunk on his cock and would probably do anything for more.

“I might just get you pregnant,” Baekhyun goes on, and your body clenches as you realise he didn’t put a condom on, “Knock you up, force you out of your family, keep you as mine, so I can fuck you every single day.”

You are dizzy with both pleasure and with the lack of airflow, having your mouth held shut. You are sure that you look pathetic, but Baekhyun likes that, likes how easily you let him in, how utterly powerless you are compared to him.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” He sneers, “Turns you on so much when I treat you like the filthy slut that you are, doesn’t it?”

With tears in your eyes, your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking and nails leaving scratch marks on the wooden desk as you moan silent cries. You don’t know if any guy you have slept with ever got you to orgasm from penetration alone, so you are addicted to the way that Baekhyun has you feeling.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” He warns, “I want to see your tummy bulge, be a good girl and take it all.”

You whine a little as he moves his hand back down to your hip, now free to breathe again but still choked close to silent with the remnants of your orgasm. Baekhyun’s thrusts speed up, the harshness of them tenfold, and you watch sweat beads form on his forehead, biting his lip before he too climaxes, cock twitching in you with further thrusts, releasing his seed as deep into you as you can take it.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, pulling out of you slowly, but replacing his cock with his fingers to keep you plugged, “Can’t let any of this go to waste now, can we?”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, lips raw from biting on them to keep your volume down. You feel crazy, dazed and confused, a little afraid but still too fucked out to really process what is happening.

“Are… are you going to fail me?” You stutter, words a little slurred as he presses his thumb to your clit, fingers working to bring you to climax again.

Baekhyun works fast, wanting you to fall apart even further, and you aren’t sure how much more you can take. You can’t push him away, and you’re not sure if you even want to, focused on how good he makes you feel.

“Cum for me again,” He orders, “Need to feel you sucking me in, and then, I’ll make my decision.”

It isn’t hard to obey this order, the man is talented, and you wonder for only a moment, how many other students he has had on this very desk. Your thought is interrupted as your body seizes, cunt clenching to his fingers as your peak comes to head, biting your tongue to stifle the pitiful cry that escapes you, throwing your head back as tears roll down your face.

“Good girl,” He praises you, finally slowing down and extracting his fingers, readjusting your panties before he moves back from the desk, “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You watch him as he pulls his pants back up, after wiping his hands with a tissue and sanitiser, and you catch your breath before asking again.

“So,” You start, “Am I going to fail?”

Baekhyun smirks at you, cocking his head to the side. He is so arrogant, and you are back to being mad at him again.

“No, I think you’ll pass,” He replies with an almost cheerful tone, “But if your attitude doesn’t change, just know I won’t go so easy on you next time.”

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #exo #exo fanfic #exo smut #Baekhyun #Byun Baekhyun #Baekhyun fanfic #Baekhyun smut #Byun Baekhyun smut #Byun Baekhyun fanfic #Baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #fic request

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jbreenr · 3 years

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have.

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request.

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were.

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence.

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse.

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen.

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone.

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through.

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen…

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to.

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing.

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours.

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then.

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him.

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud.

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears.

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention.

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer.

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

694 notes · View notes

weasleylangs · 3 years

Text

swipe right / f.w

Summary: Finding your best friend and your biggest crush on Tinder is always awkward. Pairing: Muggle!Fred Weasley x Muggle!Fem!Reader Warnings: Discussions of sex, language, alcohol, food/drink mention. Word Count: 6.9k (this is the longest thing i’ve ever written)

AUTHORS NOTE / hiiiii... this is my first fic in SO long but thank you for waiting for me!!! a huge thank you to my lovely rosie @spacexcowgirl for inspiring this fic and also listening to me ramble on about it for hours on end as i was writing it and for also beta reading it guys this fic rly wouldnt exist if it wasnt for rose so.........

/ also, george’s girlfriend in the fic is named ‘em’ and she has no physical description besides also using she/her pronouns. i’m trying this out so even people who aren’t (primarily) fred simps can self insert in this fic!!!

taglist / @amourtentiaa @weelittleweasley @lumos-barnes @lumosandnoxwriting @loveboyhalo @harrysweasleys @freds-slut @rcwenaclaw @barneswidow @fandomhideout

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

Y/N stared at her screen, the Tinder profile of Fred Weasley staring right back at her, teasing her ominously. She eventually decides to lock her phone to avoid the familiar and unwelcomed feelings rising in her throat. The last thing she ever expected to see during her mindless swiping at 1am was her best friend’s Tinder profile.

She knows it’s hypocritical to feel this way but she’s also not stupid. She and Fred both have had their fair share of dates and hookups thanks to dating apps- they’re in the twenties and single after all. But she can’t shake how weird she feels finding Fred. Like she’s stumbled across something private.

Y/N unlocks her phone again, curiosity eventually making her cave after staring at her ceiling blankly for way too long.

‘Pros: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that's a good thing). Cons: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that’s a bad thing).’

It’s a short and simple bio, much like her own but she has to stifle a choked laugh. She and George’s girlfriend have said these to both the twins and she feels a sense of accomplishment that she can’t explain. Almost like Fred thinking of her while he sets up his dating profile means something.

She hesitates a moment, debating between swiping left and never thinking about Fred and dating profiles ever again and swiping right just to see what happens. Y/N’s definitely making it a bigger issue than it has to be, which is why she doesn’t realise when George’s girlfriend and her roommate suddenly appears in her doorway holding chocolate.

“Em, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow?” She questions and the girl in the doorway shrugs, making her way into the room and sitting down without an invitation.

“I can vaguely hear you monologuing next door,” she laughs as she breaks a line of chocolate off the bar and hands it to Y/N. She groans, in her moment of panic she completely forgot about the fact it’s late and their bedroom walls are paper-thin. “All I heard was something about Fred and the word fuck. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she winks and Y/N cringes, Em’s usual 15-year-old boy humour shining through as she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth.

“You’re hilarious,” Y/N says rolling her eyes but she can’t deny the fondness that’s there for her best friend. “No, you’re not interrupting anything, rather the opposite actually, look.” She passes her unlocked phone to Em and Y/N wishes she could have captured the shocked look on Em's face.

“Fred has a fucking active Tinder?” She’s quickly swiping through his profile and she hates to admit he has good pictures, but when she gets to his bio she snorts and rolls her eyes. “That’s something you say, Y/N.”

Y/N feels her face go red at Em’s comment. She’s acknowledged this already but when someone else says it she feels like she isn’t being as far fetched as she’s convinced herself. While she outright refuses to acknowledge her feelings for Fred to anyone who isn’t herself, she knows Em knows without having to tell her. Call it best friend instinct, ‘dating-his-twin-brother’ instinct, whatever she pleases, which is why when there’s a mischievous glint in Em’s eyes, Y/N immediately is reaching for her phone. “No.”

Em whines, rolling onto her back. “Why not, you’re so boring!”

“I am not swiping right on Frederick fucking Weasley.” She feels her face becoming warmer as she says it. Em gives her a look as if to say ‘I believe you’ with a glint in her eye that makes Y/N know she doesn’t. “I’m just never going to open the app again!”

Em rolls her eyes but the fond smile on her face is unmistakable. “And do what, love?”

Y/N falters for a second before shrugging. “Not perceive his profile. It’ll be gone into the abyss of people who live in London and I’ll never think about it again.” She’s smiling, thinking she’s concocted the most perfect plan.

-----

It wasn’t the most perfect plan, for when Y/N is hanging out with Fred two days later she’s faced yet again with the ‘Tinder Predicament’ as dubbed by Em. Fred and Y/N are sitting in their favourite park, the new spring weather of London on their skin as they soak up the friendly sun rays after a harsh winter. Y/N is laying on her stomach, the book open but she’s barely reading as she pretends to listen to Fred ramble on about only God knows what.

It’s 11am, not too early for the park to be empty but busy enough that other people are turning up, mostly couples. Y/N tunes Fred out, quickly getting lost in her own thoughts. Do other people think we’re a couple? she thinks to herself. She knows if Em could read her mind she’d say yes and Y/N is quick to push the thought out of her mind.

Everything is interrupted when her phone lights up with a ‘You’ve got a new match!’ notification and before she can hide it from prying eyes, Fred’s wolf-whistling.

“You’ve got dating apps, do ya, Y/L/N?” he teases and Y/N wants the Earth to swallow her up, she can’t think of a worse situation to be in.

“Yeah, don’t you?” The second the words leave her mouth she regrets them. Fred’s smirking at her, a signature smirk of his he only does when she knows he’s up to something. Unfortunately for her, she is on the receiving end of that something.

“Something along the lines of ‘looking for a golden retriever boy?’. Ring any bells, darling?” Y/N feels her blood drain from her body and Fred releases a laugh that can only be described as a full-body chortle. “You know I have one, darling. Besides, you popped up last night. I already knew.”

Y/N groans. This shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it feels but it’s Fred and knowing Fred has seen her dating profile was low on her wishes for this week, or for her entire life for that matter.

“Did you at least swipe right on me?”

It’s said with a teasing manner, falling right out of Y/N’s mouth before she can stop it. Her curiosity always gets the best of her and she wants to kick herself for it. But she doesn’t even notice Fred’s slight falter, the red tint kissing his cheeks and emphasising the freckles across his face at the comment. “You’ll have to swipe right on me to find out.”

She can’t tell if he’s joking. But Fred is always joking. So she laughs and pushes him slightly, “If I come across your Tinder profile, I’m reporting it.”

“It would be a blessing from the universe for you to come across my dating profile. I’m sure you’d appreciate my bio.”

“Let me guess. ‘6’3 if it matters’?” Fred scowls looking down at her and she knows she looks way too proud for that comment but she doesn’t care and after a few seconds, Fred doesn’t care either. He starts to feel a small shred of jealousy from knowing Y/N has a Tinder profile, but he swallows it, tabling it for later when he isn’t with her.

“Why do you have the app?” He blurts out, annoyed at himself for letting it slip out. “Just… Curious, y’know?” He adds on when he notices Y/N looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t really want to know, but the words are out there and the cute scrunch of Y/N’s nose as she thinks of an answer almost makes it worth it.

“Male validation, mostly,” she laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck when she hears Fred laugh along with her. “I don’t know, Freddie.” She says, exasperatedly. “I barely use it. What about you?”

“Sex, if I’m honest.” Now it’s his turn to awkwardly laugh because he knows he answered that way too quickly and a little too honest for his own comfort. Y/N’s been his best friend for years, probably knows him best besides George but she didn’t really need to know he uses his Tinder profile to hook up with people.

When Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, Fred takes it badly. He knows she would never judge him, not about anything and especially not this, but his thoughts get the best of him and sometimes he can’t help it. He has no idea Y/N is in her own head, jealous other girls get to hold Fred at a distance closer than she ever will.

He clears his throat and checks his phone to see no notifications besides a direct message from Lee Jordan. He knows George isn’t expecting him home- cursing his brother when he remembers George demanded the flat to himself (and in turn, also Em) today for a few hours. “Hey, uh. I’ve gotta go. Emergency with George apparently.”

He knows he shouldn’t have lied, it’s not even a good lie but it was the first thing he thought of. He notices Y/N’s eyebrows furrow before she shrugs, nodding before closing her book. “That’s okay, I was getting tired anyway. I might pop back to my flat for a nap.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Fred asks and his chest feels warm when Y/N meets his face with a smile.

“Of course, Freddie.”

She watches Fred leave, her thoughts getting the best of her. She knows for a fact there is no ‘George emergency’- she knows George is with Em probably being sick and in love and she’s sure Fred knows this too. The realisation Fred made an excuse to not spend time with her hits her like a truck, her mind frantically searching for what she could’ve possibly done to upset her best friend.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, the second she realises.

-----

To: Em > if you come home tonight dont mind me being drunk x

Y/N sends the text as she stands in the kitchen, pouring herself her second glass of wine before it has even hit 6pm. On her way home, she stopped by the liquor store, picked up her favourite wine and decided to drink away the anxieties of upsetting Fred.

From: Em > ill be home. ill pick up chinese on the way. save me some wine!!! x

She smiles down at her phone, knowing Em would always be there without even realising it. She sits down on their couch and turns on the television- old reruns of early 2000s sitcoms playing on almost every channel.

It’s 20 minutes late when Em turns up. She’s nursing the Chinese food as if it’s a child as she tries to unlock the front door without dropping the food or her bottle of wine. She smiles proudly at Y/N the second she gets in, putting the food on the table before she grabs her own wine glass.

“What happened today?”

Y/N is caught off guard but she shouldn’t be shocked. She doesn’t usually drink and when she does, it’s very rarely without Em. “Nothing’s wrong!” she says, skulling the rest of her wine when Em gives her a knowing look.

“You were with Fred today and now you’re sad drinking. What happened?” Usually, she loves when Em is her all-knowing best friend, but right now she wishes she’d shut up.

“Nothing happened!” She’s adamant to not say too much. She knows it’s probably all in her head, that she and Fred will be fine in a few days but when Em gives her one more knowing look, she breaks. “Okay, fine. I think I upset him today.”

Em’s confused, to say the least. Fred, for as long as she has known him, has never been upset with Y/N- even on accident. She has the tall redhead wrapped around her finger. “How?” she questions, because she truly can’t think of a single thing that Y/N could do to hurt him.

Em places Y/N’s food in front of her when she starts speaking. “We were talking about Tinder- don’t give me that look he saw a notification and it came up and he asked why I had it. I said I don’t know and when I asked him, he said he uses it for sex,” Y/N says softly, pouring herself another glass of wine before continuing. “I didn’t say anything when he said that, because… Well… You know why.”

Em does know. She knew the second she became Y/N’s roommate their first year of University that she had feelings for Fred and she knew immediately Fred liked her too but Y/N’s never believed her. “You think he got upset you didn’t say anything about sex?”

“I think he thinks I was being judgemental.” Em sighs at Y/N’s response. She loves both her best friends- they’re her favourite people besides George but she knows they can be idiots. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the forks against their Chinese containers before Em grab’s Y/N’s phone, unlocking it.

“Well if Fred’s using Tinder for sex, so should you!” she says matter-of-factly and when Y/N groans from the kitchen sink, Em speaks again. “It’s true! He likes you but won’t tell you, you like him but won’t tell anyone! Who’s a good meaningless shag going to hurt?”

That’s how they end up in Em’s bed, cuddling under the duvet with ice cream and Y/N’s Tinder profile open on her phone. “You’re so fucking picky, holy shit,” Em says when Y/N scrunches her nose up at the sixth consecutive guy. “It’s a shag, not a hand in marriage, love.”

“They don’t do it for me!” Y/N is avoiding the elephant in the room- that she’s comparing every guy that pops up to Fred. “I have to be attracted to them for this meaningless shag you’re preaching about… See, he’s cute!” His name’s Cormac, he’s 21 so only a few years younger than Y/N and he’s not bad looking.

“He looks like a douchebag!” Em exclaims and Y/N groans.

“You told me to stop being picky!”

“Stop being picky doesn’t mean saying yes to the first conventionally attractive guy we see!” Em exclaims as she swipes left on poor Cormac. Y/N gets up to pour herself and Em one more glass of wine each and she hears Em starting giggling to herself when the new profile shows up, hiding the phone from Y/N’s eyes when she walks over. Without even questioning Y/N, Em swipes right and immediately she starts howling laughing.

‘New Match!’ the screen reads and Y/N feels her breath hitch when snatches the phone from Em’s hands and she sees who she matched with.

Fred, 24. 2km away.

“I remembered after dinner, you said he told you to swipe right to see what he did,” Em says proudly, and Y/N regrets even mentioning it to Em offhandedly. Y/N’s eyes are transfixed on the tiny screen. There’s no way he seriously swiped right, she’s sure it’s only a joke- people jokingly match with their friends all the time. “So here you go, Freddie swiped right on my lil Y/N/N.”

Y/N shakes her head at this. “I’m sure he only did it as a joke. People do that when they find their friends on Tinder all the time!” she says, sitting back down on the bed and cuddling up next to Em. “You were telling me to swipe right on him last night, after all.”

Em looks at Y/N and sighs, clearly sensing how uncomfortable Y/N is feeling right now from the confrontation of her feelings for Fred. “I was telling you to swipe right because I know you’re in love with him,” she says softly, not missing the way Y/N’s eyes soften at the mention of her feelings for Fred. “I’m sorry if I’d known-”

“Don’t apologise! I’m just going to ignore the fact we matched,” she says softly, unlocking her phone and immediately exiting from Fred’s profile. The tension from a few moments ago quickly dissipates as Y/N receives another match, this time from a boy named Neville who Y/N knows is friends with Fred’s little brother.

“When did you swipe on Nev?” Em asks and Y/N shrugs. She knows she probably did it to be funny, like what she thinks Fred’s done to her, but the more she thinks about it, Neville isn’t a bad match. He’s nice, friendly and now he’s in his twenties, he isn’t bad looking either.

“Nev’s sweet. If he asked me out I’d say yes.” She says. She isn’t lying- there’s been times she’s considered going on dates to avoid her feelings for Fred, to get over him once and for all but whenever it gets to that point, she chickens out. “I know you want a meaningless shag, but I think maybe a date would be a good idea. You know?”

Em nods, pulling Y/N closer to cuddle her and suddenly feeling bad about preaching for meaningless sex. “Maybe you’re more of a date before shagging kind of girl, and that’s okay.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

-----

Em’s fast asleep and Y/N’s overthinking next to her when she gets a message from a match. Y/N rolls her eyes when she sees the time reads 2am; knowing whoever's messaging at this time is just looking for a booty call but she opens the notification nonetheless.

From: Fred > i can be a golden retriever boy :)

She smiles at the message, Fred’s presence always does that to her. She never expected him to message her on tinder considering she’s convinced it was just a joke swipe right, but this is probably just a joking message too. She checks his bio is still the same Aries joke before quickly replying.

To: Fred > good thing im a big aries fan then ;) > how tall are you though? im sure youre well aware it matters

She hopes Fred laughs at her messages because making Fred laugh is her favourite pastime. The three dots signalling Fred’s typing pops up and her heart starts to race.

From: Fred

> im 7’5 if its that important :/

She giggles and when doesn’t know how to reply after that, she exits out of their messages, but it’s not like she has to keep a conversation with Fred going. She’s trying to think of a funny message to send Fred when she gets another message; this time from Neville.

From: Neville > hi Y/N! i hope this isnt a weird time to message you, i just finished grading some work. i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime this week? we were kind of friends at school, after all, and it’ll be nice to catch up :)

The message from Neville is sweet, and she almost feels guilty reading it. Attached is his number and everything and Y/N feels her throat closing up. She would feel terrible going on a date with Neville despite what she claimed earlier, knowing her heart currently belongs to Fred.

But Fred’s lack of interest in her is eating at her as much as her own feelings for him do, and she knows she deserves better than to sit around and wait for him any longer. If Em was awake the date would already be confirmed, she knows that much so she decides to say yes to Neville, to at least put herself out there. She can imagine the little Devil version of Em dancing on her shoulder as she begins to type out a reply to Neville.

She doesn’t even think to look at who it’s being sent to before clicking send. But by then it’s too late- she doesn’t even know how she ended up back in Fred’s messages but now she wants to roll up into a ball and die.

To: Fred > hi neville! id love to grab dinner one day, here’s my number and we can organise it tomorrow because im going to bed now! x

She’s staring at the message for so long she doesn’t even notice the ‘???’ she gets back from Fred. She quickly copies and pastes the message to the right recipient this time before plugging in her phone and rolling over to sleep.

Em’s slight snoring lulls her to sleep, thoughts of Fred filling her mind before she passes out for the night. What she doesn’t know is that while she falls asleep, Fred lays awake, staring at his ceiling. Contemplating the knowledge he has knowing Y/N’s potentially organising a date with one of his little brother’s best friends.

-----

Fred hates this feeling; this feeling of jealousy in his stomach that’s threatening to spill out of his throat. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Y/N accidentally messaging him about a date with another person all morning and he knows George is getting annoyed with him.

“Why are you being such a prat this morning?” George had asked when Fred scowled at his brother for simply standing in the kitchen. Fred had huffed as a reply, grabbing the milk for his tea before sitting down at their table to munch on his toast.

“Not being a prat,” he says, words muffled by the food in his mouth and George gives him a disgusted look before taking a bite of his own toast. “Do you remember Neville Longbottom?”

George nods, of course, he knows Neville. “Ron’s friend? Super nice bloke. Think him and Hannah Abbott just broke up, why?”

Fred shrugs, he’s almost positive it’s the same Neville now. “Think Y/N’s going on a date with him, that’s all.” When George raises his eyebrows, Fred speaks again, “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t going on a date with a prat.”

“Wanted to know who she is going on a date with in general, more like it,” George mutters under his breath. He knows Fred better than he knows anybody, better than he knows his girlfriend and almost better than he knows himself. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

Fred squints at George. “Why would I be jealous?” Fred stands and makes his way to the kitchen to wash up his dishes and he almost drops them in the sink when George speaks again.

“Because you’re in love with Y/N?” He says it so casually Fred almost chokes on air. He’s never thought about himself and Y/N in that way. Sure they like to cuddle when they’re drunk and they spend every waking moment together but he’s not in love with Y/N.

Is he?

“What makes you say that?” Fred asks quietly, hoping to hide the red blush forming on his cheeks. George might be his best friend and twin brother but he knows he would never live it down admitting he has feelings for Y/N.

“You two are worse than Em and I, and we’re actually dating,” George speaks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When Em first met Y/N, she asked how long you and she had been together for, mate.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Fred says a little too quickly.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, Freddie,” George smirks as he speaks, getting up to wash his dishes now. Fred stands in the kitchen, nursing his cup of tea as he contemplates George’s words. Sure, he always knew he had some kind of feelings for his best friend, but being in love was another whole ordeal. It means wanting long term commitment, probably a house together, maybe marriage, perhaps kids if Y/N wanted them and the longer Fred sits with these in his mind, he quickly realises he does want all that and even more with Y/N. He’s probably wanted it with her for a while and he just hasn’t ever realised.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, low enough for George not to hear but when Fred doesn’t have a rebuttal to George’s words he knows he’s accidentally sent Fred into an existential crisis.

“Look, Fred. If Y/N going on a date bothers you, you need to tell her.” George knows he’s about to cross some lines that he promised himself he would never cross but it’s getting dire in his eyes. “Y/N likes you and deep down you know you like her too, even if you’re oblivious. She deserves to know and if you’re too much of a chicken to admit it to her, then you don’t get to be bothered about her going on a date with Neville Longbottom.”

Fred huffs. He knows George is right, but he can’t help but feel like he truly noticed too late. He swiped right on her on Tinder hoping she would swipe right back and they could go from there. But he knows Y/N only swiped right to see if he had done it first, that she only swiped right out of curiosity and right now, Fred is cursing the app under his breath.

“Well, fine, yes I like Y/N, but I can’t just stop her from going on a date. That’s controlling and mean.” Fred states and George just sighs. “I’ll talk to her after her date, if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

George stares at him. “Since when are you mister Que sera, sera, Freddie?” Fred shrugs, not understanding the reference George made. “Since when are you just letting it happen?” George translates when he notices the blank stare on Fred’s face.

“Since right now. I don’t want to come off controlling to Y/N.” Fred says. In actuality, even though he knows George would never lie to him, he’s scared. Y/N is his best friend and the last thing he ever wants to do is ruin his closest friendship all because of some jealousy.

“Okay fine, but if she gets a boyfriend, I’m sorry mate,” George says and he knows putting the threat of losing Y/N romantically on the line is harsh, but it’s what he has to do. He’s watched the pair pine for each other for years and he’s sure this is the last straw.

“We’re going out with the lads in a few days, by the way! Maybe you can stop moping enough for a shag!” George calls out and Fred flips him the finger as he walks off to his bedroom.

-----

Y/N and Neville decide on getting dinner together three days later. It’s a Friday so neither of them has to worry about work or coursework the next day, which is perfect. Neville tells Y/N about his favourite Italian restaurant right near Old Street subway station in Shoreditch, so that’s where the pair decide to meet.

It’s rather busy when Y/N gets to the station. Neville has apologised profusely for still being fifteen minutes away but she reassures him it’s fine and that she’ll meet him outside the station so they can walk to the restaurant together.

Y/N’s on her phone, texting Em and telling her she’s safe when she feels a presence next to her. She tenses up quickly but she soon relaxes when she looks at the person next to her and realises it’s Fred.

“Hi,” she says, smiling. She hasn’t seen him since the day in the park, but they’ve texted and called so she’s sure everything is fine. “What are you doing all the way on this side of London?”

Fred smiles and shoves his hands in his jeans pocket before replying, “Grabbing a drink with the lads tonight, love. What about you?” His tone is casual and Y/N has to stop herself from checking him out. He’s dressed in a nice dress shirt, it’s orange and on anyone else, it would clash with his hair but Fred somehow manages to pull it off. He’s got a black jacket over the top of his shirt, alongside black jeans that show off his long and muscular legs on and his outfit is paired off with a pair of boots on his feet.

He’s not making it easy to get over him, that’s for sure.

“I’ve got a date,” she’s shy when she says it, looking away from Fred and then back down at her phone. The time reads 6:47pm and Neville’s train will be getting in any second now. She’s trying to get over Fred and the last thing she needs is Fred lingering when said date turns up.

“Ah yes, with Neville, if I remember correctly,” Fred’s teasing and Y/N has to force a laugh out. She blocked out the fact she’d accidentally messaged him instead of Neville and was hoping he would forget as well. But this is Fred she was talking about, and Fred never lets up a chance to tease Y/N for something.

“Yeah, Neville Longbottom,” she says and she catches the look of recognition that flashes across Fred’s face. “He was friends with your brother in school.”

Fred nods in acknowledgement while he can’t decide whether or not he’s happy with the confirmation that he was right. He’s sad and jealous, that much is obvious, but he’s a little happy. Happy that even though Y/N is going on a date with someone who isn’t himself, it’s someone he knows would treat her like she deserves.

“Neville’s a good guy, I’m happy for you,” he forces out and Y/N smiles up at Fred and he wants to sink into the Earth. The smile on her face is one he wants to be the cause for forever. “I should get going, tell Nev hello for me!”

He pulls Y/N into a quick hug, presses a quick kiss absentmindedly on the top of her head before letting her go and crossing the street and making his way to the bar he’s meeting Lee, George, Harry and Ron at.

Y/N watches him leave, dumbfounded. The kiss on the top of her head is nothing less than usual; Fred’s always been touchy with her but now it feels weird. All she wants is to call out to Fred and demand the redhead take her on a date instead.

But before Y/N can do anything drastic, she hears Neville call out her name and she turns around quickly. He’s just as sweet and cute as she remembers and even if she wishes Fred was the boy she was on a date with, Neville is someone she would be friends with above anything.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” He says when he reaches her, kissing her cheek as Y/N pulls him into a hug. His presence is comforting and he smells like cinnamon and Y/N feels herself instantly relax.

“Not too long!” She replies as she begins walking towards the restaurant with Neville. During Spring, the cold weather still returns at night so their hands are shoved inside their jacket pockets to keep warm but they’re walking closely together. “I ran into Fred just before, so he kept me company.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Neville says as he grabs the door to the restaurant, “can’t have a pretty girl waiting outside a subway station alone.” Y/N feels her cheeks heat up at his comment.

They’re quickly seated and wine is ordered. They’ve been placed in a booth right near the window, where they’re able to watch the City of London go by. “How’s teaching going?” Y/N asks when she remembers Neville recently graduated and got an immediate job offer at the Agriculture department at a college in Surrey.

“It’s going well! I specifically teach the floriculture courses so I love it, of course,” Neville’s smile couldn’t get any wider. Y/N specifically remembers his constant fascination with plants and flowers in school and she couldn’t be happier for him to be doing what he so clearly loves, “What about you?”

“Being hammered by my postgrad coursework,” she says, laughing and taking a sip of her wine. “My job at the bookstore near my flat doesn’t suck but I definitely don’t work as much as I used to, unfortunately.” Neville raises his glass, almost to say I’ll drink to that when the waiter comes over to take their order.

Dinner goes quickly, conversation flows easily between the two and soon enough the bill arrives and Neville grabs the cheque before Y/N can even say anything. “You can grab it next time.”

Y/N falters at this. She knows she should say something to Neville; that this has been nice but there won’t be a second date. She’s too caught up in her panic and she’s beginning to curse Fred Weasley under her breath when Neville gently places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the restaurant.

“Are you okay?” Neville asks when they get outside. He noticed the tensed look on Y/N’s face the second they got outside and when she nods and sighs he takes it as a sign to stop walking.

“This has been nice, Nev,” she starts and she feels terrible even though she knows it’s better, to be honest. “But I don’t think I’m-”

“Ready for a relationship?” Neville finishes for her, and he’s not condescending when he says it. He could tell even before dinner was finished that she probably felt that way and he doesn’t mind. “I don’t think I am either. But this was fun, was it not?”

Y/N nods, smiling as the anxieties of hurting Neville wash away. “It was fun!” she says, “I hope we can do it again. Even as friends?”

He nods back, a warm smile gracing his cheeks. “Of course.”

They walk back to the station together, promises of seeing each other again soon leaves their mouths as they walk to their respective platforms.

From: Neville > thanks for tonight. i forgot to mention, please tell me when you’re home safe!

She smiles down at the text, shooting Neville a reply of reassurance that she will before opening her messages with Em to let her know she’s on her way home. She’s jumping through her apps, Snapchat that she only uses for filters, Facebook she only uses to check the ‘Dogspotting’ group until she lands on Instagram.

She sees a story from George and when she opens it, she immediately regrets it. It’s their friendship group, that much she expected but she sees a girl sitting next to Fred nursing what looks like a Gin and Tonic and Y/N feels sick.

She immediately closes the app, pretending she didn’t see it. She has no right to be upset over this but it plagues her thoughts for the entire subway trip home.

That’s when she decides she’s going to demand answers from Fred. She doesn’t know how, or when or if she’ll even do it without Em forcing her to, but she knows she deserves better. That she doesn’t deserve to hang on the end of every touch, every word of Fred’s in hopes he’ll hold her closer than arm's length while she desperately wants more.

-----

The next night, Fred’s laying on his couch in an uncomfortable position searching Netflix at 10pm when he hears a knock at the front door. He knows it isn’t George, or any member of his family for that matter and any normal person would ring before coming over this late at night. So when Fred gets up and looks through his peephole to ensure he’s not about to be murdered, he’s shocked to see an angry-looking Y/N.

He opens the door and she’s immediately inside, pushing past Fred’s body and when she turns around, she has the most determined look on her face he’s ever seen.

“I’m annoyed at you.” Fred’s taken aback, he tries to think back at their interaction the evening before, trying to piece together anything that would annoy Y/N but he’s coming up blank.

“What did I do?” He wearily asks and when Y/N purses her lips together and looks like she’s about to cry Fred has to resist the urge to apologise without knowing what he needs to apologise for.

“I’m annoyed at you because,” she pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I’m annoyed because I went on a date last night. I went on a date with the loveliest man I’ve ever met. And I spent the whole fucking time wishing I was on a date with you. And I’ve spent all of today debating coming over here and telling you that so I drank half of Em’s bottle of wine for some liquid courage and here I fucking am!”

That’s the last thing Fred was expecting to come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Well, that’s not-”

“I’m not finished.” She stares at Fred and he immediately shuts up.

“I’ve been in love with you for years and it’s not fair on me anymore, Freddie.” Her voice is shaking like she needs to get everything out as soon as possible. “I need to know if you feel anything for me, even in the slightest, because if I need to move on, I’m begging you to be honest with me.”

Fred feels his heartbreak at how sweet, how broken, how defeated Y/N looked standing in front of him right now. He can see the need for an honest answer swimming in Y/N’s eyes and he’s never felt braver to admit his feelings than he does right now.

“I’m an idiot,” Y/N scoffs but lets him continue, “because I didn’t realise how fucking in love with you I am until I almost lost you. I thought…” he pauses, looking for the right words and when his eyes meet Y/N’s, there’s a softness there that wasn’t there previously. “I thought what we had was normal; the cuddling, the constant need to be with each other, the constant subtle touches. But George knocked some sense into me.” Y/N lets out a breath as she laughs, of course, it was George’s doing.

“I’m in love with you, and I think I have been since we were 17. So I’m so fucking sorry, for ever letting you think you meant any less to me, my love.”

Y/N’s eyes are overflowing with tears at his words and Fred panics for a second before he sees the biggest and most loving smile overtake Y/N’s face. “Fucking hell, you big dummy.”

She crosses the room, quicker than she’s ever moved before and pulls Fred’s 6’3 frame into her arms. She feels Fred pull her away, only slightly, so he can look down into her eyes and cup her cheek with his hand. His thumb is providing comfort as it strokes across her cheek and wiping away any stray tears.

She cups the outside of his hand with her own and brings her face to the side to kiss his palm. This is the closest the two have ever been and both their hearts feel like they could beat out of their chests at any moment. It’s the adrenaline from this moment that causes Fred to blurt out his next question, without any hesitation.

“Can I please kiss you before I die?”

Y/N laughs as she looks up at Fred. She doesn’t even give him an answer, she just pulls the tall boy down before locking their lips together. They’ve both kissed plenty of people, had many first kisses whether it be with first dates or partners but they can both agree this is the best kiss either of them has ever experienced.

Y/N is pouring everything she can into the kiss, knowing she will never get tired of the taste of caramel that she will forever associate with kissing the love of her life. She presses her lips harder against his, her tongue running along Fred’s chapped lips asking for more before he opens his mouth to massage his tongue with hers.

Fred decides to be a tease, pulling back slightly before capturing her lips again and biting her bottom lip slightly. This action pulls a moan from Y/N’s throat, soft enough that Fred almost misses it but he can’t help but smirk into the kiss. He wants nothing more than to kiss Y/N for the rest of his life, but eventually, he has to pull away to catch his breath and the whine that leaves Y/N’s mouth might be the cutest sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“I hope to God you know I’m never letting you kiss anyone else ever again, holy shit,” she says, cheeks flushed red and when she looks at Fred she thinks she’s fallen even further in love with him. His hair’s messy, thanks to her running her hands through it and his lips are slightly swollen. She thinks this might be the most beautiful she’s ever seen Fred in her life and if this is how gorgeous he looks after a few minutes of kissing, she’s secretly anticipating how gorgeous he’s going to look laying in her bed, naked.

Fred smiles dopily down at her, “Don’t worry darling, I never want to be with someone who isn’t you ever again.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fae writes

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 years

Text

Jason was someone who knew the value and the importance of a good night sleep. And life on the Argo ll showed him that the others were lacking in that department.

And without quite fully realising it, he studied them and found solutions that maybe they hadn't even realised.

(Or, Jason is distressed team mum and wants to help everyone get some sleep)

He'd find Percy drifting off while sat on the sofa and would inquire that the other slept. Percy would give him a fond and amused grin "yeah, I will." But Jason can see the bags under his eyes and the way he's slower to react (not by much of course, it was Percy after all impulse was kinda his thing) and resists the urge to shake his head.

Instead Jason goes over to the window, and feels his power fill the air. A cool gust of wind and the trickling of rain start to appear, followed by the cool lapping waves of the sea (because of the wind) and Percy listens to them absentmindedly but only takes a few minutes for him to nod off on the sofa, lulled by the sounds around him. Jason had heard him fondly talk of Montauk, of a rainy cabin by the sea and Jason knew at once what to do.

A light swirl of wind picks up the blankets from his room and tuck him in, a pillow pet wedged in his arms.

Jason finds Leo tinkering in the engine room with Annabeth by his side. They've thrown themselves into another invention and happily explain it to him. And while most of its intricacies go over his head, he praises them regardless (and tries not to frown at how surprised they are, especially Leo to receive genuine praise. That he files away for later.)

His points of going to sleep fall on death ears of course, but he's caught them before they've started to consume any caffiene. Jason takes a deep breathe and mumbles some words in a language he's never truly used before. But Leo does, freezing in place and staring at Jason in open mouth surprise.

It's a song Reyna sings, has sung to Jason more times than he can count. On cloudless night skies full of stars, when all they have is each other to hold on to. Jason doesn't completely known the language but Reyna uses it when there alone, he wants to know because he knows just how important it is to her.

Tears well up in Leo's eyes, his body sags and his eyes flutter sleepily like Jason had hoped. It reminds Leo of his Madre, and warmth wells up in his heart. To seal the deal, Jason hands over a blanket with all the importance of a treaty and mimes for Leo to put it around him.

Leo raises an eyebrow, still reeling from the song and does so. He gasps in surprise, for this is a weighted blanket that seems to by magic dull the anxiety that wells up in his friend. (Jason is certain that weighted blankets are just magic). He gives Jason a grin but for once it reaches his eyes, eyes that shine witb gratitude "okay okay, I'm going to sleep Jase if you're gonna go through all this trouble."

Annabeth looks like she's about to protest for all of 3 seconds before shaking her head and bade Leo goodnight. She gives Jason a calculating look "I'm assuming you're doing this with everyone." Jason nods, open and honest because he has nothing to hide and knows how much that means to her. Annabeth stares at him for a few seconds, before nodding, accepting it.

"We have been... Running ourselves ragged I suppose...." To Jason that's an understatement, she can read them all but he can read her 2. He can see just how much she's struggling to keep herself together. Otherwise she'd probably have put up more of a fight to his plans. "So, care to tell me what you thought of for me?"

Jason smiles, taking out a book and pressing it into he'd hands, she raises an eyebrow and makes what's halfway between a snort and a chuckle. "You want me... To read till I sleep?" She asks, Jason nods absolutely serious. Annabeth isn't sure how to react that but finds no harm in it and does so. She's about 5 pages in when her head falls onto the pillow beneath her and softly snores.

Annabeth had been that exhausted that few things wouldn't have made her fall asleep. That is if she were anyone else, but she was Annabeth. She was someone who's guard was raised at all times, so he made his intentions clear and handed her a book to help her sleep. It wasn't that the book was magic or anything it was even what it contained though that was important.

It was on keystone arch way design, an architectural style that had been pioneered by Romans. This particular book was one of Jason's favourites, and by giving her a book important to him, about something he cared about he was able to gain her trust. Jason had relaxed Annabeth enough that her guard dropped momentarily so that her tired body was able to win out.

Jason had no doubt she would read the book the next day and bookmarked it for her, using the wind to gently send her to her room.

He found Frank polishing his bow and talking to Hazel. Jason strode over to them and told them that it was late and they should rest. That they had a big day ahead of them and he wouldn't want them to get hurt through their exhaustion.

And while the words were casual enough, they bore with them a certain edge. Not harshness or even cruelty but a certain form of confidence that spoke of authority. Now Jason didn't have authority, not here but he used to. Frank and Hazel has known him for a while personally but not as long as he'd been their Praetor and Jason knew instantly that they'd recognise his tone.

But he didn't leave it there, otherwise he'd have felt cruel and cold, and besides it wasn't the whole plan. Jason smiled warmly, and began to tell a story. Like so many he'd shared at a campfire after long days at Camp Jupiter. Hazel curled up beside Frank who stifled a yawn, the almost Prateor voice had got their attention yes.

But the story pulled them in, just like it always had. It was one they'd heard a thousand times of a mission a former Prateor had been on but Jason weaved words like magic and before he was finished they were out like lights.

He smiled fondly, just like than and wrapped a blanket around them and left once they were comfortable.

Piper was sat by one of the windows, staring into her blade in deep thought. Jason clears his throat to make his presence known and she jumps slightly, waving at him once she regains her composure. "Oh, hi Jason. What's up?" She tries and fails to hide her true feelings. Piper's afraid, and Jason knows it. He asks her if she can fall asleep and she shakes her head silently. Jason nods, expecting as much and sits beside her.

Instantly she rests her head on his shoulder, it takes a few seconds but she voices her worries. Her anxiety and fear about their mission, and he holds her close. Jason let's get it all out, even prompting her at times before consoling and comforting her. He addresses every one of her fears with a realistic but kind response, it reminds him of new campers still learning the ropes and asking a billion questions all at once.

He comforted them, answered their questions and made sure they knew he was always their to support them. Jason comforts Piper the same way, bringing up that she has improved, how far they've gotten and holding her close.

And it helps her relax, much like it did to them in the past and once she does she starts to yawn. He gives her a pointed look and she laughs tiredly "fine I'll get some rest, only if you do as well." Jason nods, watching her go back he'd to her room.

Of course he will, he fully intends to keep that promise like all the rest. The rain is more natural now, perhaps he'd initially caused it but oh well. Jason thinks of the seven, or rather the six and how they've worked their way into his heart. He thinks of Reyna and knows she'd have been amused of his efforts as she always is.

And now Jason finds himself able to sleep, now that he knows everyone else is well and truly resting. And that's what he feels as he drifts off to sleep curled up in a nest of blankets like the wolf he is.

When Nico joins them, and everyone notices him having trouble sleeping there is little surprise among the six when Jason quietly approaches him.

It's a lot less surprising when they see Nico drinking hot chocolate at night and discussing Mythomagic strategies with Jason, as his eyes begin to flutter, that remind him of so much of late night conversations with Reyna on days that have been so hard on them both.

Because every now and again Nico will drop in something serious in their friendly banter and Jason will not belittle, nor ignore nor make light of it or coddle him but listen and ensure he feels listened to. Because that he finds is what Nico needs... And if he manages to hug him at some point and get him to sleep that's a definite plus.

(Really wanted to hammer it home that Jason makes others feel comfortable by addressing who they are as people and uses himself to help.

With Percy he uses his powers to remind him of his safe place when he's in distress.

With Annabeth he uses his passion and being a literal open book because he knows she values and needs trust and safety.

With Leo and Nico it was his friendship with Reyna, of how they've both helped each other when there hurting and applied what he's learnt here.

With Frank and Hazel and Piper it was his role as Prateor, the knowledge of how to help tjise who are openly hurting and want that support and telling stories because that's what helped campers like Frank and Hazel are to feel better.

Because helping others is such a core part of who Jason is)

#jason grace #percy jackson #The seven #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo #piper mclean #leo valdez #Frank zhang #Hazel levesque #annabeth chase #Mama Jason Grace #jason grace protection squad #jason grace appreciation squad

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Text

Voiceless Love Chapter 8: Sweet Release

(Loki’s Route)

Loki x reader

Word count: 2712

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp @lokiyoulittle @magicalpieex

A/N: So there is not a lot of reader in this chapter for some good reason. We're gonna focus on Loki for this and then the next chapter, the reader will be back more later. Also, for those picking this route over Bucky’s, this one will be a bit longer and more detailed. Much love!

Loki wakes up in his dungeon cell to the sound of metal sliding against metal. His food tray sits in front of the door as the sound of somebody walking away disappears. He crawls over to the food to devour it. Although he may be home, he doesn’t feel like it. The food is disgusting and there’s no sight of the lovely Asgard anywhere. Nothing feels the same.

Nothing has felt the same since he got back. You weren’t there to talk about books with him, play chess, or cuddle. He didn’t have your warm body to hold at night to keep him from being cold. Your voice didn’t wake him up every morning and your hands don’t brush his hair anymore. He finds himself dirty and matted, no one taking care of him or even caring to help him take care of himself. The pile of dirt in the corner of his cell is his only friend/company.

Loki has lost track of time, not sure whether it’s been months or weeks since he’s been gone. From Thor’s words, he knows you’re handling his absence as well as he’s handling yours. You’ve been hiding in your room the whole time, refusing to leave or talk to anyone else. He’s glad they’re trying to talk to you, but he’s nervous about what. He knows they don’t like him, they disapprove of their relationship and are probably telling her out of loving him. Ignoring the terrible thoughts, he’s distracted by the door opening.

Thor stands in front of the doorway in his suit. He looks down at his brother. Loki looks frail, tired, weak. His hair is a mess and his clothes couldn’t be more dirty. There are bags underneath his eyes that are bloodshot from crying. His skin is pale, but his blue shows through.

“Brother, you look-”

“Disgusting? Wretched? Thank you.”

“I was going to say handsome, but those words are more accurate. How are you?”

“Take a look at me and ask that again.”

“Right, well, I’m working hard on getting you out of here.”

“Oh, are you? How is that going?” “Well, it’s taking some time. Father says you still have a couple of months in here still.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Three months?”

Loki rolls his eyes, shaking his head and looking away. Three months. Three months since he’s seen you, held you, kissed you.

“How is she?” he asks.

“Y/N?”

“Of course, you idiot.”

“She’s doing well.”

“Is she?” “Do you want the honest truth?”

Loki looks at Thor in the eyes. He can see pain and pity. Something is wrong with you and he doesn’t think Loki can take it. He wants to protect him.

“Yes.”

“She’s not doing well. She stayed in her room for the whole time. She hardly eats, hardly sleeps. No one’s heard from her. Bucky tries to speak to her, but she ignores him a lot, until just recently. He took her to the hospital to get looked over. She’s weak. She’s tired.”

Loki's eyes swell up with tears when hearing about you. You miss him as much as he misses you and are taking it the same way. She’s stroking herself. There’s little anger stirring in him at the sound of Bucy talking to you. He’s sure he’s taking care of her, getting closer. His jealousy gets the better of him as he punches the wall behind him.

“Why him? Why out of anyone who could help her, it has to be him?”

“We all know his alliance to her, brother.”

“Yes, but you could be that one and when he goes, you tell him you have it under control.”

“Are you really yelling at me for not helping her when I’m helping you? I’m trying to get your freedom!”

“That’s not going so well, is it!” Loki yells back.

The tension is thick between the brothers, they’re eyes not unlocking. Loki looks furious at Thor who’s standing with his chest out and teeth gritting.

“If you weren’t so frail right now, I would want to strangle you.”

“Oh, please do. End the misery I’m in. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Thor knows those words are too true. He knows his brother and when he misses something, he misses it. It’s like a drug and he’s going through withdrawal. Attention. Power. The tesseract. Now you. It takes over everything in him and he can’t think of anything else.

“Brother, I promise you I will get you out of here. No matter what it takes. Not just for you, but also Y/N.”

“Even if it involves going against Father and being banished from Asgard until he dies?”

“Yes.”

Loki knows his brother’s alliance and loyalty to their father, and he knows his words are false. There’s no way he’d go against Odin’s power especially with the whole army of Asgard behind the All-Father.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Honestly, a bucket of water and soap? I feel disgusting.”

Thor drops his head and chuckles, pointing at Loki. “I’ve always loved your humor.”

Thor leaves the cell and shuts the door. Loki is left once again in his own darkness and mind.

“That wasn’t a joke.” he mutters.

Thor wanders the hall of the castle. Asgardian women pass by, giggling and whispering to themselves as they walk by Thor. He watches them as he walks past before redirecting himself back to the plan. He walks straight to the throne room where Odin is sitting and talking to his advisors.

“Ah, hello, son,” Odin welcomes, “What did I do to have your presence?”

“Lock Loki up. When will he be set free?” “Well, I haven’t really thought about that. Maybe in two years time, I haven’t decided.”

“You haven’t decided? Your own son sits and rots in that cell, being punished for something he didn’t do on this planet, and you haven’t decided his sentence length?”

“Do not criticize me, son. I will decide when it’s time. He’s hardly served what is fair, yet, so it is far from my mind. I have a whole kingdom to rule over. You’ll understand one day when you take the throne.”

“Yes, I will understand. And I will understand when someone is locked away for years, rotting away when he doesn’t need to be. He was getting punished by Midgard. Why take him away?”

“Loki thinks they are lowly. He won’t learn a lesson being ‘punished’ by someone lower than him. He need to be taught by someone in authority, someone he respects.”

“You’re a fool if you think he respects you.”

“Do you forget who you are talking to?” Odin yells, standing up.

“No, I know exactly who I am talking to. The King who doesn’t have enough time or care to worry over his son who is dying in a cell.”

“If he is dying, we’d know. He’d be creating chaos for attention.”

“So doesn’t it worry you that he’s not doing anything?”

There’s thick silence in the room, hanging off of Thor’s words. Odin had never considered how odd it is for the god of mischief to be so quiet while angry and contained. It wasn’t easy getting him in there even though Heimdall had brought him with ease. Loki had fought to not been put it in that cage and now that he is, he’s oddly quiet.

“Thor, I know how you care deeply for your brother, but there are things you won’t understand,” Odin says, ignoring the worrying words that linger in the air.

“Father, I am sure you are right, but Loki is not a negotiable term.”

“You are right. He is not, which is why you coming to be about him seems irrelevant. Nothing you say will change my thoughts as of this moment on.”

“Please, I beg of you to reconsider yourself and think about it for-”

“Are you daring to question my decisions? I am not to be-”

“I dare to question it all when it comes to Loki’s freedom.”

There’s a crack of thunder heard from the distance. Odin’s eyes snap up to meet his sons, seeing them glow blue under the light. The rage builds inside of the god as he stands there, chest out and fists clenched.

“I’ve never seen you so worked up over Loki before. There is more to this, isn’t there?” “It’s incredible to see you finally stop thinking about yourself for once.”

“Why is it so important to you?” “Because I am not seeking Loki’s freedom just for myself or him. There is someone on Midgard in need of his presence.”

“Are you telling me there’s a Midgardian actually wanting him back?”

“You may be the All-Father, but you are not the All-Knowing, Father. There is a human who desires Loki in ways no one else would understand.”

“A Midgardian in love with Loki. Quite interesting.”

“It is, indeed, and I promised her I would not stop fighting for Loki’s release. I will do this for her.”

“She made quite the impression, then? And how does Loki feel about this inferior being?”

“Loki would argue with you on the ‘inferior’ part of your description.”

Odin slowly sits back down on his throne, leaning his chin on his hand in contemplation. He scans Thor’s face for any sign of lies, but he sees none. He knows his son. Loki can hide a million lies, but Thor is easily persuaded and weak. There is not much Thor can hide, yet there is nothing to hide. Odin knows what Thor says is true.

“What do I have to gain by releasing him free? He will not learn his lesson. He’ll lack the power and attention and create chaos once again.”

“You have never seen Loki with this moral. She contains him, controls him,” Thor informs, “She’s the calm to his storm.”

His words ring throughout the throne room. Some of the officials have stopped what they are doing to listen to the two royals bicker and Thor’s description of the girl has piqued all of their interest. They murmur to one another, discussing the topic at hand. A girl who really has control over Loki? It seems impossible. They all remember him growing up, running around and causing havoc. The only woman who ever kept him in check was Frigga. Another woman, a mortal even, being able to have the same power is extraordinarily rare.

“Somehow I believe you,” Odin admits.

“Then let him go and come with me. You can meet her for yourself. She’s truly a rare creature if I say so myself.”

“I might consider that, Thor, but if I were to let him go and your words not be true, there’s no telling what he could do. He could stab me in the back and attempt to take over another world.”

“Fine, then come now. See her for yourself.”

There’s a large flash of light that comes down on the hangar. Nat watches as Thor and Odin appear, dressing in formal Asgardian clothing. They walk down the bridge towards the doors as Nat whistles for Steve or Tony. Steve and Bucky walk in to see the gods strutting down.

“What’s happening here?” Steve asks.

“I thought you could answer that,” Nat replies.

“Everybody, this is my father, Odin.”

Their eyes go wide at Thor’s smile. Dropping to their knees, they show Odin respect who chuckles with joy.

“I never knew Midgardians were so compliant. No wonder Loki came here.”

“Father, please try not to anger anyone. No promises that I will protect you. I am here to introduce him to Y/N. I suppose she is around?”

“I’ll go get her.”

As soon as the words leave Bucky’s mouth, Steve gets up to protest but the soldier is already down the hallway. He returns a few moments later with you, wrapped in your blankets. Bucky lightly pushes you towards Thor who stretches out his hand. You take his hand and look over to him with curiosity in your eyes.

“Father,” Thor says, backing up to show Odin to your eyesight, “this is Y/n, who Loki fell in love with.”

Odin looks over you, stunned by your appearance. Although you look better than you have in the last few weeks, you’re still a little scrawny. You don’t stand with power or confidence, but instead with your head low and eyes lower. You lack the flame, the boldness, the theatrical attributes Loki has. Nothing about you makes sense to him.

“You’re the one I’ve heard so much about?”

You nod your head which stirs Odin.

“Will you not answer my-”

“Oh, Father, I failed to mention something important. She is mute. She does not speak to anyone, except for Loki.”

Thor gives his father a shit eating grin, proving another point of Loki’s importance. Odin takes a step back in shock.

“Nobody?”

“Nobody, but Loki.”

Odin looks back over to you who nods your head in agreement, “How unremarkable. Loki falling for a mortal and one who doesn’t speak at that.”

“Like I said, a rare creature.”

“So, tell me, or don’t… do you love Loki?’

You nod your head at Odin’s question and it looks as if he doesn’t understand your answer or as if he doesn’t believe you. Although he has one eye, you can see the confusion on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but it quivers with no sound coming out. His eyes wander down to see a small gold necklace laying on your chest.

“What is that?”

You hold it up for him to see. The metal resembles a snake, one coiled up and hissing.

“Did Loki get you that?”

You nod enthusiastically, fiddling with it between your fingers. Steve walks up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Loki has given her a few gifts actually. Flowers, jewelry, name it.”

“And you, whoever you are, have you seen the way Loki is with her?”

“We all have,” Steve admits, “he’s gentle, patient. He’s never made her uncomfortable. She’s his first priority when he wakes and his last thought before he lays himself to bed.”

“Son, it seems your words ring true. I may consider freeing Loki, but I need time.”

“Father, in all due respect time-”

“You’ve challenged me enough today. Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you and I have learned a lot about Loki, even in our short time meeting. Thor, let’s go back to Asgard. There's a son I’d like a word with.”

The door to the cell opens and Loki’s head springs up. Expecting to see Thor, he’s shocked when Odin comes through looking solemn.

“Father, I-”

Odin holds up his finger, silencing Loki. He paces back and forth in the room.

“I know a lot of things. Nobody doubts that,” he rambles, “but for my son to fall in love with a silent mortal girl is not one. She’s sweet. I like her.”

Loki cocks his head to the side, mouth slightly open in confusion.

“Yes, I met her. Tiny thing, but cute. I see why you like her. Thor likes her, too. He’s been arguing with me all day about letting you go and on behalf of her. I can’t say I’m not surprised. It took me a moment to truly believe him when he said you fell in love with a Midgardian. Once he took me down there to meet her, everything made sense. So, I have a proposition for you. You never return here and live the rest of your life on Midgard with her or I keep you here.” “What’s the catch?” Loki whines.

“There is none. Take my generosity before I change my mind. Doesn’t happen often.”

Odin walks out of the cell, but leaves the door open. Loki doesn’t stand up right away, not sure if he’s playing a trick on him or not. He looks around every corner and crevice, checking to see if there is anyone hiding to tackle him for stepping out. Loki stretches his body, bones cracking and popping into placement. He can feel the energy returning to his body as he takes a step out of his cage and towards the main halls of the castle.

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson series #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fluff #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #lovingallforloki #voicelesslove

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Text

One For The Books || Midoriya Izuku

Synopsis: Kissing you in the middle of a bookstore was worth being late to his own party.

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is for @bnhabookclub Celebrating Deku event and bingo event! Prompt: “Kiss me, quick. I promise I’ll explain later.” Bingo Slot: Bookshop AU Thank you @hawks-senseis @todoscript for beta reading! Tagging: @pixxiesdust

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Izuku stumbled into the bookstore by happenstance.

The breeze was particularly strong that day, coming in from the east, and Izuku is naturally attracted to the scent of wilted parchment. The voices of the great authors from before entice him to take a peek into the homely shop. The size and location suggests it’s a family owned business, a hidden gem amongst a sea of overly flashy boutiques. It is the definition of grassroots and Izuku loves patronizing these types of down to earth businesses.

Izuku’s been an avid reader his whole life. He believes everybody has a story to tell and every story is worth being read.

The bell jingles upon opening the door and the place, though small in size, reminds Izuku of a never ending abyss filled to the brim with an infinite amount of stories. He can't wait to dig his fingers into the pages of each and every one of them. He already feels a sense of home with the purposefully decorative clutter - wooden knick-knacks and potted plants mixed with soft acoustic music playing in the background gives the place charm.

He greets the clerk who smiles politely, greeting him by his hero name. Izuku doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to being treated as a hero. The fame and fortune never appealed to him, preferring a simple life where he’s free to be himself without the weight of expectation. He feels bad for thinking this, and hasn’t told anyone because he doesn’t want to appear ungrateful. Please don’t misunderstand, he loves being a hero and saving those in need, but sometimes he needs to get away.

Izuku peruses the numerous aisles, his finger grazing the spines of books waiting to be opened, when he freezes right smack in the middle of the aisle. You’re tucked in the corner with a book in hand, he can’t make out the title no matter how hard he squints. Izuku feels a bit creepy staring at you from the thin opening of the bookshelf, and you must’ve felt someone staring at you because you look up and meet his eyes causing him to whip his head. A flush creeps along the apples of his cheeks from being caught by you. Despite his embarrassment, Izuku chances a glance back up and he breathes a sigh of relief when your eyes have returned to your book. He doesn’t miss the fond smile gracing your lips now.

And that’s how a bookstore that’s two cities away became Izuku’s home away from home.

He tries to convince himself that he’s only going for the books, but he’s such a terrible liar that he can’t even lie to himself. It sounds ridiculous when he’s been on the train already for an hour, alone, on his birthday. He managed to escape for a few hours, finding time to catch a glimpse of you in between birthday traditions with his mother and hanging out with friends later tonight.

His heart skips at the thought of seeing you tucked in the same corner, a book in one hand and your usual coffee in the other. You dog-ear the pages instead of using a bookmark, and you gasp when you find a quote worth remembering. You dare not take your eyes off the page, like you’re afraid you’ll never feel the same magic you felt when you first read the passage. Izuku always smiles when he sees you have trouble finding your highlighter, feeling your way around the table even though it’s in the same position you always leave it.

He’s talked to you a couple times, if you could call it talking, it’s more like you ask him a simple yes or no question and Izuku proceeds to blubber like an idiot for the next five minutes; your face adorned with a small smile as you wait for him to string words together that make sense. He appreciates your patience. It’s rare to find that kind of patience anymore.

He also appreciates how you don’t openly acknowledge his hero status. Seems like everyone wants something from him nowadays. It’s hard to make friends outside of the hero industry. A part of him wishes to return to the quiet stability, back when he was just Izuku. Maybe that’s why he finds himself constantly coming back to this bookstore, because this is the one place he feels like nobody's watching him and you’re the one person who makes Izuku feel like he doesn’t need to be anything more than himself.

His stomach drops when he takes in the vacant corner. He hoped to catch you today before his party, perhaps he would’ve finally gathered the courage to actually talk to you. This wasn’t how he pictured today would go, but he figures he traveled all this way so he picks up a couple books anyway (a couple to Izuku means a pile that looks ready to tip over) and plops down in his usual spot across from you.

He barely gets through the first paragraph when the bell jingles, signaling a new customer, and you rush in breathless. The few people roaming the aisles turn their heads, including Izuku, and you look picturesque standing in front of the wide-open door, your hair swaying in the wind. Your eyes scan the bookstore, stopping at Izuku, and you walk briskly towards him. Wait, no, that can’t be right, but Izuku feels dumb glancing behind his shoulder because he’s sitting against a wall.

Izuku feels the breath rush out of him in one swoop.

“Kiss me, quick. I promise I’ll explain later!”

Izuku chokes.

“Huh? I- I’m sor-sorry- di-did you- you just- kiss- uhm, I’m sorry, what?”

Izuku misheard that, right? There’s no way… Yeah, he had to have misheard that. His mind tricking him into what he wants to hear. Strangers don’t normally ask other strangers to kiss. Unless it was New Year’s, but it’s the middle of July, so that can’t be right.

You bite your lip, and it’s the first sign of hesitancy you show since making your grand entrance.

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not New Year’s-”

You heard that?

Sweat prickles the back of his neck at being caught so openly. He’s always had a habit of thinking out loud, and it manages to happen at the worst times.

“I’m just gonna go now, oh god, I’m so embarrassed, pretend you never-”

Izuku never gets to listen to the end because he jumps from his seat and pulls you in. You gasp, the same way you do when you come across a melodic phrase on a page, when his lips touch yours. You’re frozen in place, eyes wide, like you didn’t expect the kiss despite being the one to ask. Izuku has only kissed a few girls, enough to count on one hand, but he gives it everything he’s got.

He traces your bottom lip, asking for permission like the gentleman his mother raised him to be, and he barely holds back a smile when you gain your bearings and shyly open up for him. He can tell from the way you kiss that you don’t normally ask random guys to kiss you in bookstores, and Izuku’s relieved at not being the only one feeling a little awkward about this whole situation.

Izuku explores the inside of your mouth, shyly meeting your tongue, and he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the small curls at the nape of his neck. Izuku doesn’t know how long the kiss lasts for, but long enough to feel like he might pass out if he doesn’t take a breath. He doesn’t completely pull away though - he makes it halfway, only to take a small gasp of air, before he goes back in to peck you one more time, trying to remember how your lips taste in case this is the first and last time he kisses you.

What is he saying? Of course this is going to be the last time he kisses you. You’re a stranger- a beautiful stranger- but a stranger no less. He doesn’t even know your name! He probably should’ve asked for your name before he stuck his tongue in your mouth. Maybe he’s not much of a gentleman after all.

You open your eyes slowly, still hazy from the kiss. Your fingers are still entangled in his hair, and Izuku doesn’t want to let go of you, but you’re both coming down from the high of kissing one another. You detangle yourselves, stepping back an appropriate distance. There’s a fair amount of quick glances and awkward silence before you both speak up at the same time.

“I don’t normally-” you say.

“S-sorry if that wasn’t-” Izuku says.

Both of you stop at the same time too, laughing off the awkwardness. Izuku rocks on the balls of his feet, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. You glance around, unable to stay in place, until you set your sights on the towering books in Izuku’s corner. Your eyes sparkle as you bounce over to pick up the current book he’s reading.

“I love The War Within!”

“Y-you do?”

The War Within is one of Izuku’s favorite books. His mother would read it to him all the time as a child.

“Of course! My childhood is in these pages,” you say as if you can read Izuku’s mind.

You flip through, careful not to lose where Izuku left off even though he’s still on the first page.

“This story seriously doesn’t get enough love,” you comment after giggling at a passage from the book.

Izuku couldn’t agree more, and the flutter of excitement swirls through him. He finally found someone he can discuss his favorite book with. Although a fantastic book, it’s terribly underrated and anyone he’s mentioned it to looks at him like he has two heads when he gets carried away talking about it, but not you.

“I couldn’t agree more! The struggle between following your head and following your heart is timeless and the author writes it in such a wonderful way, accessible to a younger audience. Everyone comes to that crossroad between choosing to do what is socially expected and going after what you personally want. I can’t believe more people haven’t read this book and-”

Izuku abruptly shuts up, biting his tongue when he realizes he’s rambling yet again to someone about his favorite book. He’s always been a smart kid, but it wasn’t until later in life when he fully grasped the depth of the message. He’s never related more to the protagonist than right now.

You’re not looking at him strangely like everyone else. Instead, your face is adorned with that same soft smile Izuku saw the first time he laid eyes on you.

“What’s the famous quote at the end again?” You skip to the end, eyes scanning for the passage Izuku already knows by heart. He answers your question in earnest at the same time you find the passage. You speak together for the second time today, words flowing in unison.

“To win a war within one’s self is the greatest victory of all.”

You lock eyes at the end. Izuku feels electric, adrenaline coursing through his veins, the same feeling as when he uses One for All. How did he get so lucky to bump into you that fateful day? The chances of Izuku choosing to get off the train when he did and stepping foot into the bookstore was slim to none, and for you to be here when he did…

What he would give to kiss you one more time.

The conversation dies, both of you too caught up in one another to say a word. All is left is the occasional murmur from other patrons and the soft music playing in the background. Izuku opens his mouth as do you, like you’re riding the same wavelength.

“I never got your-”

“Happy birthday!” You blurt, effectively cutting Izuku off.

He’s taken aback. He didn’t expect you to know today was his birthday. You never showed any sign that you knew of him, let alone take the time to look up his birthday.

Oh god. What else did you find about him? The internet is scary and there are plenty of not so pleasant articles about him from media outlets looking to cause a stir.

“Oh- ahem- I, um, heh…” He awkwardly trails off, a simple “thanks” unreachable to Izuku’s poor stuttering heart beating in double time.

He sincerely hopes only good things came up when you searched his name.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head slightly to hide the flush on his face.

Neither of you have a chance to continue the conversation when Izuku’s phone pings and he receives a text message from Uraraka that he better not be late to his own party again. Izuku glances at the time, eyes widening; he has to leave in the next five minutes if he wants to make the train home.

“I have to go.”

You glance down like you’re unsure of yourself, until you take a deep breath and face Izuku head on with fierce determination; the same look of a hero about to make a life or death choice.

“I wanted to kiss you.”

Izuku steps back. Not with distaste, but with admiration for your honesty.

“There’s really nothing else to it. I like you, and you probably get that a lot, and I know it’s crazy to say that when this is the first time we’ve had an actual conversation, but.. I thought I’d take my shot because, well, why not?”

You chance a glance up at Izuku who’s staring at you in awe. You shuffle under his intense stare, like you don’t know what to make of his silence after your confession.

Izuku will admit that even he didn’t think he’d have the courage to confess his attraction to a complete stranger; yet here you were in the middle of a public bookstore, putting yourself out there, and opening yourself up to the possibility of rejection.

Or opening yourself up to the chance of a lifetime.

Izuku’s terrified of the strong woman in front of him - and not because he feels his masculinity threatened, but because he knows you’ll push him out of his comfort zone in ways he needs most.

“What’s your name?”

Your eyes flash like you didn’t expect that in the least, but you give him your name like he asks.

“Do you wanna grab coffee sometime, Y/N?”

“Like a date?”

Izuku nods and your eyes widen before shyly replying, “I’d love to.”

He laughs awkwardly, feeling like he missed a step. Don’t people usually start out as friends, go on a couple dates, and then kiss? This happened out of order, and not the way Izuku ever expected an exchange with you would go, but for some reason it feels right.

Izuku counts it as a win when he saves your number and can finally attach your name. He has one more question before he takes off though.

“What if I didn’t want to kiss you? What would you have done then?”

You bite your lip in thought, looking around at the endless tales waiting to be read, before smiling at Izuku.

“It’d be a great story either way. One for the books.”

Izuku finds the way you giggle at your own puns absolutely adorable.

He bids you goodbye with an awkward handshake turned hug- he went for a handshake while you went for a hug. Izuku makes it to the door, ready to leave, but for some reason he stops. His body takes over, shutting off his mind screaming what a terrible idea this is, before turning back around. This time, he’s the one to walk towards you with purpose, with intent to open himself up like you did. You inspired him to risk it all for a single moment, and even though it may be the worst decision he makes.

There’s a chance it will be the best decision of his life.

Your small gasp is music to Izuku’s ears, a song he wants on repeat for the rest of his life, as he pulls you in once more. The moment your lips touch, Izuku can’t help the small sigh to escape him, because the risk is totally worth any rejection that may follow. You wrap your arms around his neck, like your body was made to fit perfectly in his, and you run your fingers through his curls. The kiss is rushed, but not sloppy, like you can’t get enough of each other because you both have no idea what tomorrow brings. It’s over too soon for Izuku’s liking, but he enjoys how a single kiss was able to leave you breathless. A tinge of heat graces your cheeks and your kiss-bitten lips are proof that Izuku didn’t make this up in his head.

“S-so coffee next week?” Izuku steps back, running a nervous hand through his hair.

You smile with that same sparkle glittering your eyes.

“Sounds great. Happy birthday, Izuku.”

Izuku’s breath catches at the sound of his first name caressing your tongue. He bids you goodbye for good this time before taking his leave. The clerk winks at Izuku who flushes, ducking his head down, but the beginnings of a fond smile grace his own lips.

Kissing you was definitely worth being late to his own party.

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya fluff #mha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #bnha fluff #midoriya imagine

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myluciferiscody · 4 years

Text

Class Fight (p.1)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,303

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 2 part 3

It was the first semester of your Senior year. The first month of school had flown by, and the Fall dance was just a few weeks away. Your small group of girlfriends was anxiously awaiting for their crushes to ask them.

You weren’t particularly concerned with this. The dance fell on the one Saturday of the month where you had to accompany your mother to some stupid Tupperware party. It was the newest trend in American dining, and your mother needed you as her plus one. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one dance… right?

Your best friends Winter and Zoe were excited, but they were devastated you couldn’t come. You always went with them as a trio.

“Are you sure you couldn’t cancel?” Winter asked while you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. The school day was over, and you planned on accompanying her to the diner for greasy food and to catch up on homework.

“I already promised her weeks ago,” you said, drying your hands. “There’s still prom?”

Winter nodded in understanding, and you both knew it was the end of that discussion. Zoe came out of the stall, her face flushed and hair tied back. She looked clammy.

“You alright in there?” Winter asked her as Zoe took a disposable cup and drank some water.

“Kyle asked me to the dance!” Zoe replied breathlessly. You and Winter both congratulated her, and Winter asked why she looked so sick.

“I just got overwhelmed, you know? He came up and asked me right as I put my books away. I didn’t think he was going too, he never brought it up before-.”

You followed them out as Zoe recanted the story of how Kyle asked her. The halls were mostly cleared now as kids scrambled to leave as soon as possible.

“You’re riding with us, right?” Zoe then asked you, raising a neat eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Dandy probably left already.”

The girls both smirked to themselves, but you ignored it. You were used to it by now.

The thing was, Dandy Mott was the best looking guy in school, in your opinion. You had never attended a public school in your life, but you knew those boys could never compare. Dandy was from the wealthiest family in your private district, and with his looks, girls were all over him.

However, he was quite the character.

Dandy didn’t necessarily associate with a particular group of kids. He was reticent and didn’t bother with any clubs, but he was quite attuned to the drama program. He was also known for his temper if things didn’t go his way, but age matured him, mostly. You were one of the few people who he actually gave a damn about in life. You attributed that to knowing him before school. Your grandfather was a business partner with the Mott family, where your family name found their wealth, and how you two were friends.

You weren’t bothered by the unwanted attention you got from girls attempting to weasel their way into your circle for the chance to talk to Dandy. Most of them gave up quickly, and that was that. Plus, you had Winter and Zoe as your protectors. They weren’t afraid to kick a bitch in the vagina if they overstepped the clear boundaries you had set for yourself. Dandy trusted you, and you weren’t about to fuck that up.

Plus, his mother, Gloria, was continually trying to set him up with girls in other parts of town.

You climbed into Zoe’s new car, buckling your seatbelt and glancing across the almost deserted parking lot. You spotted him instantly, sitting in his car and staring right back. You slowly raised your hand, giving him a wave. Dandy slowly reciprocated the action, and you swore you saw him smile.

You spent the evening with the girls, eating dinner and trying to explain the symbolism in the required reading in English. The football team had finished their practice and were crowding what few booths and tables were left. You tried to block out their raucous laughter, loudly asking Zoe to read your theory to see if it were plausible.

Winter had noticed the Quarterback, Jason, occasionally staring at you as he chewed his burger. Your back was to him, so you had no idea. She didn’t say anything, instead watching him from the corner of her eye, figuring he wouldn’t approach your table.

“I just think it only makes sense to me,” you told Zoe, scratching your head. “I can’t concentrate with the boys screaming for no reason.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. You did misspell authority, though…”

You laughed to yourself, glancing around the diner as Zoe fixed your spelling. You were so distracted, you misspelled simple words.

“We should get ready and go, it’s getting stuffy in here…” Winter commented, closing her English book.

“Just a moment!” Zoe said excitedly, scribbling down in her own notebook now.

You had started gathering your things when both Zoe and Madison looked behind you, looking a mix of concern and amusement. You glanced behind you to see Jason Dean, smiling down at you. His dark hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back.

You had no idea what to say. The last conversation you had with Jason was probably in fifth grade when he commented that women were weak while helping you carry boxes of school supplies, and you accidentally dropped a massive box of markers on his foot. He cried for an hour.

“y/n,” he addressed you. You glanced at your friends who were eagerly watching you with their faces hidden behind their textbooks. Winter’s was upside down.

“Hi, Jason,” you responded, hearing the confusion in your voice. You listened to his friends giggling behind you, and you wondered if this was a joke.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said cheekily, and you nodded. “You look good.”

You quickly looked him up and down. Jason was muscular but not bulky, and he was definitely a whole foot taller than you. He grew into his facial features, and he was a handsome guy. You assumed he was just talking to you on a dare, so you finished putting your things in your bag. Zoe and Winter didn’t budge, still pretending to read their books.

Jason realized you were dumbfounded at his statement. He quickly backtracked, “I just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

You bid him farewell, turning to your friends who were having a hard time concealing their laughter. You heard Jason’s best friend, Matthew, call him an idiot and what sounded like a smack on the back.

“y/n, you have a boyfriend?” Zoe asked, smirking at you.

You glared, standing up as they shouldered their bags and grabbed their books. “You know perfectly well I don’t speak to him.”

“I bet he wants to ask you to the dance.” Winter grinned at Zoe, who nodded in agreement as you stepped into the cold autumn air.

“I’m not going either way.” you mumbled, and the girls dropped it until the next morning.

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal that the Quarterback tried to talk to you at the diner a few nights before. All the students who were present spread gossip like wildfire. You ignored it. You knew they were just children speculating what it could mean when it probably meant nothing.

Zoe and Winter never brought it up again, and you were relieved that your friends didn’t dwell on it for too long. You loved that about them.

It was after lunchtime when you sat in your History course, going over the notes for the test. You heard Jason and a few of his friends pile in, laughing and making comments under their breath. They took their designated seats in the back, and you felt eyes on the back of your head.

A group of popular girls across the room started to giggle, and you glanced up to see Dandy walk in, his nose up and sauntering to the seat directly behind you. You wondered why he didn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t dwell on it long. Dandy was often absent from any social interaction.

Your teacher began the class the moment the bell rang. She decided to go over the notes an extra day and postponed the test. You were mildly disappointed but knew the material well, so you decided to doodle in your journal. One of the girls in the front occasionally popped her gum.

Ms. Strode was talking about World War II when you felt something hit your elbow. You glanced over and saw a balled-up piece of paper. You glanced around to see most people were either frantically jotting down notes or not paying any attention. You picked it up, assuming it just needed to be passed ahead.

However, you read your name in neat cursive and opened it under the table.

Would you go to the dance with me? - Jason

You read the short invitation a good ten or so times before you could comprehend what he was asking. While the teacher wasn’t looking, you peeked over your shoulder to see him staring at you. His buddies were hiding their own smiles, but you didn’t see any malice behind it. Was he serious?

Of course, you’d have to decline. You already have an engagement. You promised your mother. You already declined the evening with your two best friends.

You didn’t send a note back, knowing it would be too distracting trying to pass it. Dandy would never try to give a stupid message.

However, Dandy had been paying attention and had managed to read the note over your shoulder when you laid it on your pencil case. He became green with envy, closing the book he hadn’t been paying attention too in the first place.

You hardly spoke a word to him this year. He wondered why that was. Dandy was very particular who he said too, and gave any sliver of his precious time. You were a comfort to him and probably didn’t realize that. Dandy knew he couldn’t seem desperate for your affection, or at the very least, your attention. He had hoped you’d be waiting for him in his car after school like the previous years before. Did he do something to upset you? Were you too good for him?

Dandy spent the rest of the class staring at the back of your head. He knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was his behavior that steered you away. Of course, he liked being friends with you, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He was a loner who enjoyed his alone time. Dandy heard what people said about him. The general consensus was that he was doing everything right.

When the class was dismissed, he hung back, watching as you quickly gathered your things and paced out the door.

“Tough blow, man!” he heard Matthew say.

“She’ll come around.” Jason replied, his tone snarky. Dandy watched as they walked out of the room, his brows furrowing as he debated on taking the high road and asking you to the stupid dance himself. He wouldn’t go willingly. His mother, Gloria, needed him to be involved as much as possible. To keep up appearances, of course. Not for Dandy’s own goodwill.

Dandy trailed out of the class, seeing you across the hall at your locker. Winter was beside you, somehow talking and applying lipstick at the same time. He stood off to the side, not minding all the bodies bumping into him and temporarily panicking that he’d yell at them.

This is it, Dandy thought. It’s a war, whether Jason Dean knew that or not.

Jason approached you the following day and asked if you’d mind talking to him at lunch. You hesitantly agreed, catching Zoe’s eye as she hugged Kyle before going into her class. She smiled at you, and you gave her a hesitant one in return.

He definitely matured through the years. Jason was interested in you, and you felt comfortable talking to him through the entire lunch period, even catching yourself laughing at his sense of humor. Dandy played with the apple in his hands, glaring daggers at the back of Jason’s messy head. Winter noticed from her spot at your usual table and nudged Zoe, gesturing for her to look.

“He looks pissed.” Zoe giggled, and Winter nodded in agreement.

“I think Mott is going to kill him!” Winter said, stabbing at her steamed broccoli.

“Shouldn’t we let y/n know?” Zoe asked.

“I think she’s about to figure it out.” Winter said as Dandy stood up, heading directly to the table where you were sitting with Jason. Zoe and Winter fell into a hush, shoving food into their mouth and intently watching what was about to unfold.

Jason saw him approaching first and paused, sizing the other guy up and down. Jason was bigger than Dandy in height and muscle tone from being an athlete, but Dandy wasn’t lanky either. You turned around, shocked to find Dandy staring down at you.

“y/n,” Dandy nodded at you, ignoring Jason.

“Dandy, hi!” you said, genuinely happy to see him. “How are you?”

“I’m decent.” he said, smiling a little. “Could I have a word?”

You glanced at Jason, who seemed timid, but he nodded. You stood up, promising Jason you’d be back as you followed Dandy out to the hallway. Multiple eyes followed you, and you heard the whispers starting as the door swung shut.

“How are you?” Dandy asked now, looking down at you. His dark hair was neatly gelled and had a slight curl.

“I’ve been good. I haven’t heard from you in a while…” you said.

Dandy nodded, “I could say the same. I assumed you’d come back around soon enough.”

You felt he was hurt by your absence. Dandy looked bothered, and you felt terrible. However, he was capable of approaching you as well. Which is what he thought he had to do.

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, hoping his mother was doing well. You hadn’t seen her all Summer.

“y/n, you know you’re one of the only people I care about in this stupid town,” Dandy said, glancing towards a teacher walking to the lounge. He gave you guys a questioning look but didn’t comment, disappearing into the next room.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so Dandy continued, “Which is why I think you shouldn’t go to the formal with Jason.”

You frowned, “How do you know he asked me?”

“The whole school knows!” Dandy retorted, and you remembered. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going either way.”

Dandy looked surprised, and you saw the relief in his eyes. He laughed a little, his fingers drumming against his leg. “Oh.”

“What, are you jealous?” you asked, laughing at him. Dandy tried to hide his laughter, but it didn’t work. The quiet hallway was filled with your giggles.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Dandy said, and you were saddened to hear the bell ring. Dandy straightened up, the smile leaving his face as kids filed out of the cafeteria and the surrounding classrooms. Kids stared at you and whispered, many laughing and wondering if you were now a couple.

Jason slowly walked in your direction, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to Dandy. You were ashamed that you had avoided him for so long. You missed him. Dandy glanced behind you, his eyes sharpening as your new suitor waited patiently, his hands in his beige jacket.

“Be careful around him.” Dandy whispered to you before he disappeared down the hall.

You approached Jason, who gave you a soft smile, “Am I missing something? Are you two together?”

You shook your head, a light smile on your lips, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Jason nodded, “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day. We don’t have to go to the dance together, but-.”

“Oh!” you gasped. Jason frowned, giving you a quizzical look. “The dance… I forgot,” you lied. “Uhm, I’m actually not going. I have other plans…” you said.

Jason looked defeated but took the rejection gracefully. You promised you’d sit with him again tomorrow, and he visibly cheered up at that. You ended up having to sprint to your locker for your books after saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Dandy’s warning.

“Be careful around him.”

The Friday before the dance went to complete shit.

That morning you ate your breakfast slowly, listening to your parents argue in the kitchen over a business deal your mother thought was a bad idea. Your father was greedy and looked towards the top dollar than what was best for the business and the family.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Winter fell sick and couldn’t go to school. You had to wait for your father to finish getting ready before he could drive you. You were ten minutes late and got a verbal warning; you never got in trouble at school. You had three tests in a row, and by lunch, you were about to rip your hair out.

Jason was nowhere to be found, so you sat with Zoe. She was worried that Winter would miss the dance but was happy that she’d at least have Kyle if Winter canceled. Kyle came and sat with you guys, his shaggy blond hair wet from the downpour outside.

You were anxiously looking around the cafeteria for any sign of Dandy. He had missed a few days of school, citing a fever when you called his house and spoke to his maid, Dora. You wished him well and knew he’d pull through fast. Plus, you saw his car this morning when you got dropped off.

“They’re going to cancel the dance if more kids fall ill,” Kyle said as he ate a burger. Zoe glared at him, telling him to look on the bright side of things.

“What? I am!” Kyle replied, smirking at his new girlfriend.

“I’m sure they won’t cancel.” you placated Zoe, who beamed at you. “All the parents who gave money will be pissed.”

You ate most of your lunch when the principal walked in. The room immediately quieted as he observed the tables before landing on you. He walked to you briskly, and you felt your heart racing as he approached.

Am I getting detention? I’ve only been late once!

“Ms. y/l/n, could you come with me?” he asked politely, smiling at you, Zoe, and Kyle.

You nodded slowly, bunching up your trash and placing it on the tray. Zoe told you to leave it, and they’d take care of it. You quietly thanked her and followed Principal Harmon out, struggling to keep pace with his long, thin legs.

“Is everything alright, sir?” you asked. Now wondering if your parents died in some fiery crash or if you failed a class.

“There’s been a disturbance outside this afternoon,” Harmon replied, his voice grim. “With Mr. Mott and Mr. Dean.”

You were shocked to hear this. You were silent during the rest of the trek to his office. When he opened the door, you saw both boys sitting in chairs. They both had packs of ice on their faces and sheepish expressions.

“What were you thinking?” you hissed to them as Mr. Harmon gestured for you to take the empty seat next to Dandy.

“Well, now that y/n is here, I think you both owe her an explanation and an apology.”

Jason and Dandy shared a look. Dandy now looked pissed, and you could only imagine what lead to this.

Oh, I have a pretty good fucking idea.

#dandy mott #dandy mott x reader #ahs imagine #dandy mott imagine #ahs freak show #winter anderson #zoe benson #american horror story

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fanmoose12 · 4 years

Note

Can I have one where Levi is a highschool teacher and a lot of people assumed hes like this grumpy man who doesnt have a partner (although the students who are close to him think he's pretty cool). Then one day hanji came to give him his lunch which he forgot and the students in his class are like shook. I thought this would be cute and funny hehe

There were a lot of rumors about Mister Ackerman. Not that Armin, or anyone else in his class, found it hard to understand him – under all of his cutting remarks and cold eyes, there was a kind man, who actually loved working with children and who tried to make better people out of them. But his past was clouded in mystery, and Armin with his friends frequently discussed the most interesting rumors about their PE teacher.

The most famous was the rumor about Mister Ackerman being an ex-member of a notorious gang. No one actually knew the gang’s name, or in what city they had operated, but a few upperclassmen convinced everyone that Mister Ackerman was a criminal, who managed to escape from authorities only with the help of their history teacher, Mister Smith.

The second most discussed rumor was about another student from their school and Armin’s own best friend, Mikasa. Mikasa had the same surname as Mister Ackerman, and that fact had given birth to a gossip that she was his distant relative. Or not so distant, as some students even claimed that she was his sister or illegitimate daughter. It was true that they looked very much alike, with their dark hair and similar scowling faces, but Mikasa fiercely denied any relation to Mister Ackerman, and no one dared to ask him about those rumors.

But most interesting talks were regarding Mister Ackerman’s spouse. He wore a ring on his finger, but no one had ever seen his wife or husband, and that intrigued the students of their school. After all, everyone knew that Mister Smith was single, everyone loved Mister Dawk’s wife, Marie, who brought homemade and extremely delicious cakes on school’s festivals, and it wasn’t a secret that their English teacher, Mister Zacharius was married to a school’s nurse, Nanaba. But no one had ever seen Mister Ackerman’s spouse. No one waited for him after school, no one brought him lunch and no one accompanied him to school’s dances or trips.

“Whoever he was married to, they probably dumped him, because he is annoying,” Mikasa declared during one of the lunches. “That’s why he’s so angry all the time.”

“Or maybe, they have died?” Historia asked with a sorrowful expression on her face. “And that’s why Mister Ackerman always looks so sad.”

“He’s not sad, he’s just an asshole.” Mikasa argued.

“Nah, I think Historia’s guess is better,” Ymir smirked, wrapping her hand around Historia’s shoulders.

“You say that just because you’re dating her!” Eren interfered, pointing an accusing finger.

“Maybe,” Ymir shrugged. “But you are just a lonely loser with anger management issues, so your opinion definitely doesn’t matter.”

Eren flared up and shot up to his feet, his face red from anger. Armin stopped him, putting a hand on his elbow.

“Eren, calm down!” he whispered worriedly. “Besides, we shouldn’t discuss Mister Ackerman’s personal life so loudly.”

“Yeah, he can come in at any minute,” Sasha nodded.

“And I don’t know about you,” Jean added. “But I don’t want to run fifteen laps during today’s lesson. So shut your stupid mouths and hurry with your eating. We can’t be late for Mister Smith’s class.”

“Fine,” Eren begrudgingly returned to his seat, continuing to glare at Ymir’s smirking face.

***

Armin walked inside the teacher’s room, meaning to find Mister Smith, when he witnessed a peculiar scene.

Mister Smith was sitting at his usual place next to Mister Zacharius, as always, but today there was also a bespectacled woman Armin had never seen before. Mister Zacharius had his hands wrapped around her shoulders and Mister Smith was smiling happily, as they both intently listened to that woman.

“I’m sorry!” Armin squealed, when Mister Smith’s eyes landed on him. “I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, Armin, don’t worry,” Mister Smith told him kindly. “Did you come to return me my book?”

“Y-yes,” Armin took a step closer and handed the book to his teacher.

“Ah, don’t be so shy!” Mister Smith chuckled. “Come here, I’ll introduce you to my good friend. That’s Doctor Hange Zoe, Professor of Archeology. And that’s Armin Arlert, one of my most prominent students.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, P-professor Zoe,” Armin shook the woman’s hand with a nervous smile.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” she answered warmly. “Erwin told me a lot about you, he’s very proud of your grades.”

Armin’s eyes darted to Mister Smith, and he blushed, seeing the smile on his teacher’s face. “T-thank you!”

“Say, Armin,” Mister Zacharius called. “What is your next lesson?”

“Um, PE, sir.”

“What a coincidence!” Professor Zoe shot to her feet. “I was just going to see Levi! Armin, would you be so kind to show me the way?”

“Of c-course!”

“Excellent!”

“Just try not to surprise Levi too much, alright, Hange?” Mister Smith chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t give our shorty a heart attack.” Mister Zacharius added.

Professor Zoe threw her head back and laughed. “Can’t promise anything!”

***

“Ah, the school changed so much!” Professor Zoe mused, as Armin and she made their way through the school corridors.

“You’ve been here before?” Armin asked. “Have you been studying here?”

“Oh no, I haven’t. But my friends work here, so I used to visit a lot.”

“Used to? Why did you stop?”

“Oh, I’ve just returned from an expedition with my team. We’ve been digging in Norway for almost a year.”

“Trying to find something from Viking Age?”

“Yeah!” Professor Zoe beamed. “Erwin was right, you’re a bright one.”

The warm gaze of an older woman made Armin blush once more. “So you’re friends with Mister Ackerman as well?”

Professor Zoe giggled. “Yeah,” she said, playing with a ring on her finger. “We’re very close friends.”

Soon they reached the doors to the school’s gym.

“The lesson is about to start,” Armin said. “Mister Ackerman is probably inside.”

“Alright, thank you,” Professor Zoe nodded. Armin looked at her more closely, the woman seemed to be nervous.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah, of course,” she answered, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I just haven’t seen him in a while.”

Professor Zoe exhaled loudly, fixing the glasses on her face. “Let’s do this,” she whispered to herself and pushed the door open.

When Armin entered the gym, he saw that his classmates were already standing in a straight line, dressed in their sports uniform. Mister Ackerman was in front of them, and he tsked as he heard the door open.

“You know that I hate it when you brats are late to my lesson,” Mister Ackerman turned around, clearly meaning to lecture Armin. However, as he saw who was standing next to the boy, his eyes widened almost comically. “Hange?” he asked in a quiet, disbelieving voice.

“Hi,” she answered, awkwardly waving her head.

“You’ve returned? But you said you won’t be back until the next month.”

“Surprise?” Professor Zoe giggled nervously. “I brought you lunch by the way!” she dug through bag and produced a pack of sandwiches. She smiled victoriously at Mister Ackerman, but he just continued to silently stare at her, completely dumbfounded.

Armin and his classmates watched the scene with great interest. Who was this woman? Why was Mister Ackerman so surprised by her arrival?

“Dismissed,” Mister Ackerman suddenly announced, his eyes never leaving the face of Professor Zoe.

The class remained in their place, not sure if they had heard him right. Mister Ackerman had never ended his lessons earlier.

“Dismissed.” He repeated urgently.

Armin and his friends hurried to leave the gym, and as soon as they turned around, Mister Ackerman started walking towards Professor Zoe.

Armin was the last one to walk out of the gym, and before he opened the door, he swiftly looked back. Mister Ackerman was standing next to Professor Zoe, holding her in his arms. They were talking about something, but their voices were too soft for Armin to hear.

But he didn’t need to know what they were talking about to understand what was going on. Seems like he managed to solve one of the many mysteries about Mister Ackerman.

Armin was sure that there was no need to gossip about his spouse anymore. They’ve just met his wife, after all.

#this is so stupid im sorry kgjfdlkgjfgjl #but its the best i can do #levihan #levi x hange #levi and hange #levihan fanfiction #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi x hanji #snk fanfiction #snk fandom

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

hey, once in twitter we talk about how much we love Castle, so i was thinking if you could write a rowaelin scene based on caskett ♥️

OI GIO!!!!!! Ok so I had so much fun writing this. I decided to start from the very beginning so everyone (even those who didn’t watch it) know what’s going on. If you never watched Castle, you MUST!!! Also, fyi, the warnings are NOT about Ro or Aelin, they are absolutely fine in here. No sad shit, I promise

Warnings: mentions of graphic death

Gone death

Aelin winked at the red headed man in front of her, a grin plastered on her lips.

She handed him back the book, waving off his thank you as he scrunched away to enjoy the rest of the party. She looked around, half paying attention to the hundreds of people who had come to the release of her latest book.

Since Aelin was a seven, she had had a deep fascination with mystery and horror. Thankfully, she was also a fucking amazing writer, which allowed her to transform that fascination into her job. Now, twenty six years later, Aelin was the bestseller author of several stand alone as well as a series of eight books, all of them following the same two main characters while they investigated a series of gruesome murders. She had loved the series, had started writing them at fifteen and published the first one at twenty five. She thought she could write about Sam and Lyria forever.

Until she realized she couldn’t.

Aelin felt a hand gripping her elbow, and had to hold in her sigh as she turned around to stare at her ex husband.

One of Aelin’s biggest regrets in life was marrying so early. Chaol had been her college boyfriend, and they got married few months after they started dating. Looking back now, Aelin could see how stupid she had been, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. They got a divorce less than a year later, and Aelin would have been happy in never looking at him again. Unfortunately, he worked with her publishing team, and if she added that to their past together, she could almost understand why Chaol always felt so entitled to know and control everything in her life.

It was fucking distressing and annoying.

“If it’s not my money sucking ex husband. What did I do this time?”

He had a fake smile on his lips, looking at her as if he didn’t dislike her. “You killed your golden goose, Galathynius. You fucking killed your main characters.”

Aelin shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine. “It was time.” She started walking away, and had to hide her scowl when she realized Chaol was following her.

Some people couldn’t get the fucking hint, could they?

“Why would you do that? Sam and Lyria were making you filthy rich, and everyone loved them.”

“They got boring, that’s why.” Aelin stopped in her tracks, turning back to Chaol. She crossed her arms, raising her chin. “Writing The Guild used to be fun, used to be exciting. Writing Sam used to be interesting, but since the seventh book it has just been work. I don’t write for money, Chaol. I write because I love it. When I stopped loving it, I decided it was time to move on from them.”

“Wow, and God forbid you ever have to actually work like an adult, right?”

“It. Was. Time. Besides, Sam and Lyria are not the golden goose, I am.”

She said the words loud and clear, ignoring the frown on his face. Aelin always knew that Chaol saw her writing more as a job than as a passion, and it pissed her off endlessly. She turned around again, walking to the bar where her cousin and son were sitting. Her heels clinked against the marble floor, and the sound was almost loud enough to hide the fact that Chaol was following her. Again.

She sighed loudly as he began speaking. “You could have made them retire, could have made them get married and leave the force. Hell, you could have made them join the goddamn circus. But no, Aelin Galathynius must be dramatic and put two bullets on her main characters’ heads.” When she ignored him, he just kept talking. “What the hell are you going to do now, Aelin? You permanently ended The Guild with your stupidity, and we both know you don’t have any other ideas.”

At that, Aelin spun on her heels, clenching her fists to stop herself from physically attacking Chaol. The photographers would love seeing her getting into a brawl, and most of the rest of the party would probably find it immensely entertaining. Lysandra, however, wouldn’t find it so amusing. Her PR and best friend loved some mischief, but she also worked hard enough to make sure Aelin’s public image was a good one, so Aelin wouldn’t mess that up by fighting her ex.

“Who says that?”

Chaol snorted. “The nine week delay to publish the eighth book should be indication enough.”

“Can’t rush talent.” Aelin said, a nasty smile on her lips.

“I won’t say you’re not talented, Aelin, but you are out of ideas. You weren’t bored, you had a writer’s block and freaked out.” Chaol said, oblivious to Aelin’s rising temper. He looked at her, giving an infuriating shrug. “You have a month to hand me the new idea. A full and useable idea. The first manuscript, preferably. You’re famous, write any shit and people will eat it up.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin said through clenched teeth.

Chaol merely smiled as he walked away. “A month, Aelin.”

Aelin wanted to go after him and smack his face against one of the piles of books in the room. Fortunately for him, Aelin was stopped by several people who wanted her autograph in the newest and last book of The Guild. It probably took her an hour to get through everyone— talking and giving every single person her full attention— until she finally managed to make her way to the bar.

She spotted Aedion’s head first, his broad figure standing up against the bar and talking to a pitch-black haired boy, Nino, sitting down near him.

“Who does homework at a party?” She heard Aedion asking.

“I have a test next week.”

“So do I. It’s called dealing with your mom while she contemplates hitting her head against a wall to force an idea to come out.”

Nino laughed, looking at his uncle. “She’ll come up with something, she always does.”

Aelin smiled at her son, his words warming her. She had had Nino extremely young— had only been seventeen at the time— and he became her friend along with being her son. She approached her cousin from behind, listening to him ask for a glass of champagne.

“Make that two, please.” Aelin said and Aedion’s eyes immediately snapped to her as she approached the boy sitting down and passed an arm through his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, mom.”

Aedion grinned, raising his glass and gesturing around. “Built yourself an empire, Aeae.”

Aelin smiled in return, winking at her cousin. “Always said I would. But tell me, Aedion…”

“Uh-oh.” The boy Aelin was half hugging said, a humorous smirk on his face. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Cut it, genius.” Aedion snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “What’s up, Ae?”

“Did you tell Chaol I was having trouble writing?” Aelin smiled sweetly, even though she wanted to strangle her cousin right now. The look on his face was enough to give her the answer.

“I told him nothing of the sort.” Aedion replied quickly, defending himself. Aelin only raised an eyebrow at him. “Ok, I— I might have let slip that for the past nine weeks you have been walking around the apartment with either a cup of coffee or a bottle of wine while you curse the Gods for lack of creativity.”

“I am going to kill you.” Aelin said, a smile still plastered on her face as she noticed some cameras pointed at her. It was always like this whenever she went out with Nino.

“Ae, that’s ok. You’re an artist, that sort of thing is expected.”

“I can’t believe it, Aedion! The deal for you to live with us was plain and simple.”

“No meddling on her work.” Nino reminded Aedion, the boy looking immensely pleased at his uncle’s doom. “And no Chaol.”

“You know how things are with Chaol. No. Talking. About. My. Work.“ Aelin said, temper rising once more.

“What is there to talk about anyways?”

“Uncle!” Nino said exasperatedly.

“Whatever there is or isn’t to talk about,” Aelin was saying, jaw clenched. “I would appreciate if you didn’t share it with my ex husband.”

“Oh, I think I hear Lysandra calling me.” Aedion interrupted, absolutely ignoring Aelin. She narrowed her eyes, knowing damn well that Lysandra would never be calling Aedion judging by the brunette’s deep dislike of her best friend’s cousin. Aelin tried to stop him, but he just started walking away faster, shouting that they could talk at home.

It was just a fancy way of saying they wouldn’t discuss at all.

She turned around, looking at Nino. He had a smirk on his face as he looked down his physics book, a pen on his left hand.

“You should have stopped me.” Aelin grumbled.

“Letting uncle Aed move in?” Nino asked, looking up at his mom. “Nah, I think it’s sweet. Besides, I like him.”

Aelin only grumbled more, taking the two glasses the barista had put in front of her. She smiled in thanks, holding one of the glasses and placing the other in front of Nino. He smiled humorously, raising an eyebrow. “You know I’m only sixteen, right?”

“You’re an old soul.”

“Well me and my old soul can wait until I’m twenty-one.”

Aelin smiled at her son, all anger and tightness leaving her body. Nino had always been her steadying rock, since he was a baby his presence had always been enough to calm her down. Differently from her, however, Nino was extremely serious and responsible, always following the rules, studying and making sure everything was right.

Most times Aelin found it immensely funny to see how different from her he had turned out.

“When I was your age—“ She was saying, a grin on her face. She immediately stopped, frowning. “Can’t tell you that story. Too inappropriate for your innocent ears.”

Nino snickered, pushing the champagne glass away.

“Don’t laugh, boy, this is exactly my point. Don’t you want to have wild, law-breaking, inappropriate stories that you can’t tell your kids one day?” She rested her elbows at the counter, a smile on her lips.

“You’ve lived enough of those for both of us now, mom.”

Aelin snorted, taking a sip of her champagne. “You’re studying physics at a party. At your age I would have been drinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You were pregnant.” Nino said slowly, a winning smirk at his face.

“Damn it.” Aelin muttered, earning a laugh from Nino. Despite her crazy stories, Nino knew very well how responsible she had been during her pregnancy with him. Nino, since before birth, had been the one thing capable of making her act like a serious adult. “You want to know why I killed Sam and Lyria?”

Nino raised his brows at the change in the topic, but nodded just the same.

“Because life should be an adventure, sweetheart. It should be full of unexpected turns and plot twists. It should be full of funny stories, embarrassing stories, inappropriate stories.” Her smile became soft, and she grabbed one of his hands. “I had to kill them because it wasn’t an adventure anymore, it wasn’t surprising. I knew exactly where they would always go, what they would always do. If my own characters weren’t surprising me, how could I hope they would surprise anyone else?”

“Mom…”

“I’m not telling you to be like I was when I was younger, it’s definitely not your type. I just want to make sure that you know you can make mistakes every now and then. That I don’t expect you to be like me, but I also don’t expect you to be perfect.”

He matched her soft smile, squeezing her hand slightly. “I know, mom.”

“Good.” She straightened, taking her champagne glass and looking around. “You know what else is boring? These parties. After having sixteen of these, the seventeenth seems rather dull.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, people praising you seems awfully boring, mom.”

Aelin grinned, resting her hips against the counter as she turned fully to him. “It’s always the same thing. ‘Oh my god, I’m such a big fan’, or maybe the ‘Where’d you get your ideas?’.

“Let’s not forget the fully adult men asking you to sign their chest.” Nino’s face crumbled in disgust.

Aelin laughed out loud, drinking from her glass. “I don’t mind that one very much.”

“Well, I do, if you’re interested in knowing.”

She snorted, putting the now empty glass down. “I don’t know, Nino. I just wanted for someone to surprise me once. I want something new to give me inspiration, to be my new muse. For the past eight years I have been hearing the same thing over and over again. I just want someone to catch me by surprise, to say something so shocking I won’t have a reaction, so surprising that I will—“

“Ms. Galathynius.” She was interrupted by a brisk tap on her shoulder. Nino raised his eyebrows at the person standing behind her, trying to get her attention in such impolite manner.

She forced a polite smile on her face, taking a pen from her bra. She turned around, raising the pen. “Where do I sign?”

A broad shouldered man was now standing in front of her, and even in heels Aelin had to tip her head back to stare at him. His arms her hanging by his side, his clothes extremely casual for him to be part of the party. His white button down and leather jacket hugged his arms and torso, and if his face wasn’t so enthralling, Aelin would probably have had a hard time not staring at the rest of him.

His features looked somewhat tense. His hair— probably blond, but looked so light that it could only be described as silver— a mess, almost as if he had ran his hands too many times through it. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and his pine green eyes were stuck on her face with such intensity that Aelin felt her face heating.

“Detective Whitethorn, OPD.” He said, voice grave and words rolling out of his tongue with a lovely Scottish accent. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight.”

Aelin registered his words, but didn’t have any reaction. She just stared at the man, her eyes looking quickly at the Orynth Police Department badge he was holding.

Nino laughed quietly, reaching over his mom to take the pen out of her hand. “Well, this is new.”

Only then she turned slightly to her son, a scowl at her face. “No shit, Sherlock.”

—-----

Aelin had always written about this, but she never thought that she would herself be like one of the characters from her story.

Honestly, she wasn’t nervous at all, just curious.

Hundreds of people had seen her all afternoon and night at the party, and she knew that she hadn’t killed anybody, so fear was off the table. Now, why the police thought she had any knowledge about the crime at all was what made her so damn curious.

Upon arriving at the precinct, detective Whitethorn had left her at the care of two identical men. Both had the exact same face, but where one seemed to radiate light, the other one seemed to suck it. As they took her to wait in the interrogation room, she thought that they would make great main characters.

“Whitethorn will be back shortly, ma’am.” The serious twin said, walking out of the room as she sat down. The other twin, however, lingered.

He was staring at her, his head cocked to the side just like a wolf seizing his prey. Aelin stared right back, raising one eyebrow at him. Despite knowing she hadn’t killed anybody, something inside of her was tensing at his staring. Did they think that her involvement with the murder was more serious than she had initially thought?

“You killed your main characters.” He said, and the air rushed out of Aelin’s lungs. She scowled, suddenly pissed that he had made her so tense and it was actually just about a goddamn book.

“Yep. Bullet right through the head.” She made a finger gun and put it against her forehead. “Disappointed?”

He shrugged, resting against the threshold. “It was brilliant, but I adored Sam and Lyria. After eight years following the series, seeing your favorite characters being killed makes you want to kill the author.”

Aelin smiled when he winked at her. “Pardon. If it makes you feel better, I have already been scolded by my ex husband. Said it would have been better if I had just made Sam and Lyria join the circus.”

“Sam would have been a shit clown.”

Aelin nodded. “You’re right. Should have told that to my ex.”

The detective laughed, but was immediately interrupted when Whitethorn’s voice sounded from behind him. “Fenrys.”

“Sorry, Rowan.” Fenrys grimaced exaggeratedly, and Aelin grinned. “See you later, blondie.”

Aelin just nodded, her eyes immediately on Whitethorn when his figure approached the door.

“Ms. Galathynius.”

“Detective Whitethorn.” She eyed the manila folders he was holding. Some papers and photos were sticking out, but Aelin couldn’t really tell what they were.

He sat in front of her after closing the door, opening one of the folders. His eyebrows rose as he read, and he eyed Aelin quickly before sighing and putting the open folder at the table. “You have quite the history with the law for a best selling author, Ms. Galathynius. Public disturbance, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest…”

Aelin shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “Living all your adventures through paper seem a little too nerdish for me.”

Detective Whitethorn rested his forearms on the table, inclining himself forward. Aelin did the same, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“You stole a police horse once.”

“Borrowed.” Her smile widened. Detective Whitethorn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it funny in the slightest.

“And you were,” he looked down at the folder before looking at her again. “Nude.”

Aelin shrugged once more. “It was springtime.”

“And every time the charges were dropped.” He drew back, resting against his chair. “Care to explain?”

“The mayor enjoys reading The Guild.” Aelin sighed dramatically, propping on her elbows and resting her face against her hand. “You know how people love to bond over mutual interests. And he loves my son, there’s that too. But that’s besides the point.”

“Oh, is it?” For the first time, the detective seemed entertained.

“Yes. I don’t think you’re here to talk about my college prank of a decade ago, detective.” She half smiled. “So why don’t you make your murder questions so I can go home and convince my son to stop studying so his eyes won’t fall out?”

“Ms. Galathynius.” He said, smirking at her. Aelin didn’t think it was a good smirk, though. “I fully believe that the cocky, irreverent, hot girl slash genius act makes people eat out of the palm of your hand in your glamorous world, but I work for a living, so why don’t you cut the bullshit because in my world, you can be only two things.”

“You think I’m hot, detective?”

Whitethorn’s smirk didn’t waver. “You can be the person who makes my life easier and goes home quickly, or the person who makes my life harder and stays handcuffed here until you decide to be the first option.”

“I could make so many inappropriate jokes right now, you have no idea.” Aelin said, and she could swear his smirk turned more playful. She smirked back, crossing her arms. “I supposed I shouldn’t want to be the one making your life harder.”

He didn’t answer, just let go of the manila folder containing her information and opened the other one. He took out the picture of a brunette woman. Dark hair, brown skin and big black eyes, the girl couldn’t be older than twenty five.

Aelin grabbed the picture, analyzing it. “Hum, pretty.”

“And dead.”

“Gods, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

He didn’t reply, just took another picture out. This time it was a man, probably at the same age, but instead of bright and soft features the girl possessed, his skin was pale and blue eyes glassy.

“Recognize them?”

Aelin shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sighed, letting go of the pictures. “I’ve been to dozens of signings, events and parties, detective Whitethorn. I can’t possibly recall every face.”

“Not what I meant. Do you recognize their features?” He asked, tapping the pictures.

Aelin looked back down once more, looking at those faces until something hit her fully. “Sam and Lyria. They look like my characters Sam and Lyria.”

Detective Whitethorn seemed satisfied with her answer, because he took other two pictures and placed in front of her. One of them showed the girl, her body dressed in a series of white cloths, wild flowers surrounding her whole body. Where her eyes should be, two big daisies laid, and looking more carefully, Aelin could also see daisies stuffed in her mouth and nostrils.

The other picture showed the boy, his body laying inside a casket, instead of white cloths hugging his body, his were blood red. The floor around the casket showed a series of markings drawn in white chalk.

“Holy fuck.” She breathed.

Detective Whitethorn was eyeing her carefully. “Her name was Mandy, his was Felix. He was found dead two weeks ago, but we only made the connection after we found her today. The deaths look exactly like the ones described in chapter six and twenty two of your book Gone Death.”

“A fan?” Aelin asked, a humorous smile on her lips.

“Yes, a really deranged fan.”

“Oh, you don’t seem deranged.”

He looked up from the pictures, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

“Detective Whitethorn, I am a best selling author and yet I can count on my fingers the amount of people who even know that Gone Death exists.” She smiled when he rolled his eyes. “It’s ok, I always thought it was a terribly underrated book. Only hardcore groupies ever read that one, though.”

He cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy constantly praising yourself, ma’am?”

“Oh, you have no idea, sir.”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “Does any of these groupies ever write you fan mail?” She just stared at him blankly. “Disturbing ones.”

Aelin shuddered, and this time it wasn’t for show. “Oh, try being a murder mystery writer. Every fan mail I receive is disturbing. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“It’s because sometimes, in cases like this, we find that—“

“The killer attempts to contact the image of his obsession, yes.” Aelin completed his sentence, earning a questioning look back.

She looked back at him, and curiosity beyond this case sparkled inside of her. She could feel an idea brewing, and the more he talked, the more interesting he got.

“I write murders for a living. I’m well versed in psychopathic methodologies and the process of murder. Another occupational hazard, I guess.” She inclined herself forward. “And has anyone ever said you have pretty eyes?”

He stared at her, mouth open as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He finally rolled his eyes, pulling the pictures back to him. “And so I assume you won’t have any problems with us going over you mail, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Be my guest. I have thrown some out, however.” When he looked at her, she just shrugged. “My son lives in that house, detective. And as much as I’m not a strict mom in the slightest, there are things I will not allow my son to be near. Middle aged man sending naked pictures and blood vials is one example.”

He nodded, getting up. Aelin looked up at him, jerking her chin in the direction of the manila folders.

“Can I get a copy of that?”

“A copy?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I have poker night with other best selling authors and you have no idea how jealous this would make them.”

He hesitated for a moment before slowly asking. “Jealous?”

“In my world, detective, having a copycat is like wining the fucking Nobel.” She said, half surprised at the complete incredulity on his face. “So?”

He threw the folders at the table, placing his hands down and bringing his face inches away from hers. “People are dying, Ms. Galathynius.”

“I’m not asking for the bodies.”

He rolled his eyes, drawing back. He took the folders from the table, walking to the door. “I think we’re done here.”

Aelin stared at his back, seeing him leave the room. Once he was out of sight, she took her phone out, looking through her contacts until she found the one.

“Good night, Rolfe.” She greeted the current mayor of Orynth. “You have a direct say in the OPD business, don’t you? Because as you know, The Guild just ended but…”

Aelin looked at the door once more, and even though he wasn’t there, she smiled.

“…but I think I just found my new inspiration for a new series.”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @yesdreamblog @multifandommessblog @heirofthenightcourt

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faintingheroine · 3 years

Text

A Little Princess - Chapter 3

“On that first morning, when Sara sat at Miss Minchin's side, aware that the whole schoolroom was devoting itself to observing her, she had noticed very soon one little girl, about her own age, who looked at her very hard with a pair of light, rather dull, blue eyes. She was a fat child who did not look as if she were in the least clever, but she had a good-naturedly pouting mouth.”

Why is fatness always associated with not being clever in children’s books? The only exception I am familiar with is Piggy from Lord of the Flies.

And of course we see here something we see a lot in older children’s novels. Someone’s character being obvious from the face they make or their features.

“Upon which Miss St. John gave another jump, and when Lavinia and Jessie tittered she became redder than ever—so red, indeed, that she almost looked as if tears were coming into her poor, dull, childish eyes; and Sara saw her and was so sorry for her that she began rather to like her and want to be her friend. It was a way of hers always to want to spring into any fray in which someone was made uncomfortable or unhappy.

"If Sara had been a boy and lived a few centuries ago," her father used to say, "she would have gone about the country with her sword drawn, rescuing and defending everyone in distress. She always wants to fight when she sees people in trouble."”

And here we have the first instance of Sara being a truly idealized character. So far she has only been odd and intelligent and unnecessarily polite which only added to her weirdness. But starting with this instance she is portrayed as a fairly heroic idealized character, I will admit to that. But I am not too troubled with this, because she is still an original character with a particular personality and not the cardboard cutout of how the author thinks little girls should behave.

“So she took rather a fancy to fat, slow, little Miss St. John, and kept glancing toward her through the morning. She saw that lessons were no easy matter to her, and that there was no danger of her ever being spoiled by being treated as a show pupil. Her French lesson was a pathetic thing. Her pronunciation made even Monsieur Dufarge smile in spite of himself, and Lavinia and Jessie and the more fortunate girls either giggled or looked at her in wondering disdain. But Sara did not laugh. She tried to look as if she did not hear when Miss St. John called "le bon pain," "lee bong pang." She had a fine, hot little temper of her own, and it made her feel rather savage when she heard the titters and saw the poor, stupid, distressed child's face.

"It isn't funny, really," she said between her teeth, as she bent over her book. "They ought not to laugh."”

The book, having been published in 1905, hits you over the head with how “stupid” Ermengarde is. I remembered her as exceptionally stupid, though this might have something to do with her later naïveté in not understanding Sara’s new condition. Based on this chapter alone, she isn’t “stupid”, she is just a seven-year-old who is not particularly academically talented and has anxiety because of the expectations of her father.

We again see Sara’s heroic streak.

“When lessons were over and the pupils gathered together in groups to talk, Sara looked for Miss St. John, and finding her bundled rather disconsolately in a window-seat, she walked over to her and spoke. She only said the kind of thing little girls always say to each other by way of beginning an acquaintance, but there was something friendly about Sara, and people always felt it.

"What is your name?" she said.”

I really like how randomly children can become friends.

How friendly Sara is is something that is always recognized by others. Is this the same Sara that thought she didn’t care much for other little girls and was only interested in her books in Chapter 1? Perhaps by “friendliness”, it means “goodness” and “kindness”, after all in this chapter Sara befriends Ermengarde partially because she pities her, not really because she is desperate for a friend.

“To explain Miss St. John's amazement one must recall that a new pupil is, for a short time, a somewhat uncertain thing; and of this new pupil the entire school had talked the night before until it fell asleep quite exhausted by excitement and contradictory stories. A new pupil with a carriage and a pony and a maid, and a voyage from India to discuss, was not an ordinary acquaintance.”

Sara being defined by her riches is important, because the story is about whether she can stay polite and a “princess” when she loses all of it.

“"My name's Ermengarde St. John," she answered.

"Mine is Sara Crewe," said Sara. "Yours is very pretty. It sounds like a story book."

"Do you like it?" fluttered Ermengarde. "I—I like yours."

Miss St. John's chief trouble in life was that she had a clever father. Sometimes this seemed to her a dreadful calamity. If you have a father who knows everything, who speaks seven or eight languages, and has thousands of volumes which he has apparently learned by heart, he frequently expects you to be familiar with the contents of your lesson books at least; and it is not improbable that he will feel you ought to be able to remember a few incidents of history and to write a French exercise. Ermengarde was a severe trial to Mr. St. John. He could not understand how a child of his could be a notably and unmistakably dull creature who never shone in anything.

"Good heavens!" he had said more than once, as he stared at her, "there are times when I think she is as stupid as her Aunt Eliza!"

If her Aunt Eliza had been slow to learn and quick to forget a thing entirely when she had learned it, Ermengarde was strikingly like her. She was the monumental dunce of the school, and it could not be denied.

"She must be MADE to learn," her father said to Miss Minchin.”

Ermengarde’s father is well characterized. He is an intellectual who picked a pretentious ancient Germanic name for his daughter; one which the similarly bookish Sara is charmed by. He is openly insulting to his daughter and his sister/sister-in-law. His high hopes for his daughter and insisting her to be what she isn’t probably contributes to Ermengarde’s anxiety in the classroom. She is seven years old and he is already disappointed in her. He is a jerk.

“"You can speak French, can't you?" she said respectfully.

Sara got on to the window-seat, which was a big, deep one, and, tucking up her feet, sat with her hands clasped round her knees.

"I can speak it because I have heard it all my life," she answered. "You could speak it if you had always heard it."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," said Ermengarde. "I NEVER could speak it!"

"Why?" inquired Sara, curiously.”

I like that Sara knows French so well not because she is a super-genius but because she was raised bilingual.

(Sara is talking about why she was given her own sitting room). “”Yes," Sara answered. "Papa asked Miss Minchin to let me have one, because—well, it was because when I play I make up stories and tell them to myself, and I don't like people to hear me. It spoils it if I think people listen."”

I relate to Sara here.

"Oh, she got back to her seat before we could see her!" Sara explained. "Of course they always do. They are as quick as lightning."

Ermengarde looked from her to the doll and back again.

"Can she—walk?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," answered Sara. "At least I believe she can. At least I PRETEND I believe she can. And that makes it seem as if it were true. Have you never pretended things?"

"No," said Ermengarde. "Never. I—tell me about it."”

Ermengarde is amazed by what Sara is doing, but what she is doing is an ability which is on some level common to all children and which we unfortunately mostly lose as we grow up: That is the ability to play pretend knowing that it is pretend and still get absorbed in it without needing to tell anyone about it. Actually on some level Sara is less childish about her game of pretend than most children are, she clearly feels the need to tell others about it as if she is a storyteller rather than a little girl simply playing, and she actually is a storyteller. Her daydreams and games aren’t simply left as just that, they are also recounted.

“She was so bewitched by this odd, new companion that she actually stared at Sara instead of at Emily—notwithstanding that Emily was the most attractive doll person she had ever seen.”

I have lost the count of how many times Sara is described as “odd” or “queer”.

I like that Ermengarde calls Emily “doll person”.

“Sara sat upon the hearth-rug and told her strange things. She sat rather huddled up, and her green eyes shone and her cheeks flushed. She told stories of the voyage, and stories of India; but what fascinated Ermengarde the most was her fancy about the dolls who walked and talked, and who could do anything they chose when the human beings were out of the room, but who must keep their powers a secret and so flew back to their places "like lightning" when people returned to the room.”

Ermengarde is fascinated because she didn’t grow up with Toy Story.

(Sara and Ermengarde are talking about Sara’s father and how she misses him) “I love mine more than all the world ten times over," Sara said. "That is what my pain is. He has gone away."

She put her head quietly down on her little, huddled-up knees, and sat very still for a few minutes.

"She's going to cry out loud," thought Ermengarde, fearfully.

But she did not. Her short, black locks tumbled about her ears, and she sat still. Then she spoke without lifting her head.

"I promised him I would bear it," she said. "And I will. You have to bear things. Think what soldiers bear! Papa is a soldier. If there was a war he would have to bear marching and thirstiness and, perhaps, deep wounds. And he would never say a word—not one word."

This is clearly foreshadowing of how Sara will behave when faced with serious hardship.

“Presently, she lifted her face and shook back her black locks, with a queer little smile.

"If I go on talking and talking," she said, "and telling you things about pretending, I shall bear it better. You don't forget, but you bear it better."

This again foreshows how Sara will survive through the novel.

“Ermengarde did not know why a lump came into her throat and her eyes felt as if tears were in them.

"Lavinia and Jessie are 'best friends,'" she said rather huskily. "I wish we could be 'best friends.' Would you have me for yours? You're clever, and I'm the stupidest child in the school, but I—oh, I do so like you!"

"I'm glad of that," said Sara. "It makes you thankful when you are liked. Yes. We will be friends. And I'll tell you what"—a sudden gleam lighting her face—"I can help you with your French lessons."”

I love how as children you can be frank about wanting to be someone’s best friend.

*This book is too fun to make it into homework so I am not going to continue with these chapter by chapter posts. I will write a post about it if I have anything particular to say, but I am not going to do separate posts on chapters. I will definitely write a retrospective and my final thoughts when I finish the audiobook though.

#a little princess #a little princess reread

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Top Shelf: Chapter 13- For the Love of Books

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/bartender/baking AU)

Word Count: 2,312

Summary: You have dinner with Steve and Peggy and fill them in. You also set up your meeting with Tony and pitch him your idea.

Author’s Note: I loved getting some more time with Steve and Peggy here, I love everyone and how much they love each other. It was fun to write Tony too because I just love him as well. I’m sorry for the angst at the end, but as I was writing this chapter that whole thing just kind of hit me...like...oh yea, what if? If you want to check out Los Tacos you can see their menu here and Eleven Madison Park is amazing if you want to see it here. Again, I cannot thank you all enough for your continued kindness and support! You are amazing. Thank you all for reading and much love always❤❤❤

Warnings: Sweet fluff, teasing amongst friends, soft fluff and some angst at the end

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers *

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love *

Chapter 9: Pour it onto the Page

Chapter 10: Recipe for Love *

Chapter 11: The Pages in Between

Chapter 12: Bookaholics

By the time you and Bucky fell asleep it was after 7am and you slept well past lunch time. Steve and Peggy were coming by for dinner around 5 so you had plenty of time. After a nice refreshing shower, you sit on the couch, arms resting on the back while you watch Bucky make coffee. “I can just see you doing this in the bookshop. You’ll have to wear and apron and probably tie your hair back,” you say, almost dreamily.

“Maybe I’ll just cut it. I’ve been thinking of doing that.” Your stunned silence causes Bucky to turn around, two steaming cups of coffee in hand. “No?” Taking the cup in your hands you sigh at the delicious aroma, looking at Bucky while you take your first sip. “I mean. I know you’ll look handsome with any kind of haircut, but you know…I love it like this.”

He sits next to you, carefully pulling you close while you hold your coffee, “well, it was just an idea.” His hair is still wet, and you comb your fingers through it, “I know,” you whisper, taking another sip. “This is so good Buck. So good.” You sit in comfortable silence and drink your coffee. A text chimes in on both your phones and you grab yours to look while Bucky just waits for you to read it.

“Steve says he’s starving and what are we eating?” Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes, “of course he is!” Chewing on your bottom lip, you ask, “can we just get takeout. I’m still shot from last night.” Bucky’s eyes light up. “Yes! Let’s get Los Tacos!!!” You giggle at his excitement, quickly replying to Steve with the idea. A few seconds later your phone rings. “It’s Steve,” you deadpan, answering it with a simple, “hey, Steve.”

“OK, Los Taco. Yes. But you need to get me at least 12. And then there are the sides. Do you have pen and paper? Are you ready for my order?” You pull the phone from your ear, giving Steve the side eye even though he can’t see you. “Oh my god, Steve! Just text me what you want that way I have it all down.” Silence. “Oh yea, ok, that makes sense.” You hear Peggy’s voice in the background and Steve’s loud oof before Peggy is on the line. “Hey love. Listen, I’ll get our order and text it to you right away this way you can call.” Now smiling you reply, “Thanks Peg, sounds great. See you soon!”

“You say Los Tacos and he loses his mind!” Bucky says with a sideways grin. “Well, they are delicious.” Putting down your coffee you crawl into his lap while looking over the menu. “I never know what to get though. It’s all so good.” Kissing the top of your head he mumbles something inaudible. “What?” you laugh, turning to look up at him. “I said, just make sure you get an order of chips and salsa and one of chips and guac.”

“Are you sure one of each is enough. Steve is coming.” Bucky pretends to think it over for a moment, scrunching up his nose, “you know what, maybe two of each is better.” You both laugh, cuddling closer and waiting for Peggy’s text. Once it comes through you place the giant order, thanking them profusely and explaining that it’s because you love their food so much.

Steve and Peggy arrive shortly after and you all make yourselves comfortable while you wait for the delivery. “So,” Steve says, smiling. “Let’s hear it guys.” Peggy squeezes your hand and gives you a reassuring smile. You go over your idea again, adding in the news from Sam about getting in touch with Tony. When you finish, Steve and Peggy are both smiling from ear to ear.

Steve turns to Bucky. “Does this mean you’re finally going to let me teach you some stuff?” Bucky hangs his head and laughs. “Son of a bitch. I knew you were gonna say that!” You look to Peggy with a confused face, “what is this about?” Steve’s smile gets bigger. “Bucky is jealous of my construction skills. Always has been.”

Bucky stands up, hands on his hips, “ugh, here we go,” he mumbles, walking to the kitchen. Steve continues, “I’ve always been good at building and fixing things and everything Bucky touches he breaks. But now…,” he waggles his eyebrows, “I can be in charge of the changes in the bookshop. And the only payment I require is cookies!”

You look to Bucky who is failing at trying to hide his smile, then back at Steve who can’t hold his back and launch yourself into his arms. “Really Steve? You mean that? Because that’s a huge help and a big expense and I’m getting way too excited for you to be pulling my chain.” Steve gently sets you down, his face more serious. “Nah, I’m not pulling anything. I mean it. Every word. I’ll do anything for Bucky. And you. We’re here to help.”

Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you against his chest and he rests his chin on your head. “Thanks Steve.” They exchange a look that holds much more meaning than words could say and your heart swells once again. How did you get so lucky to fall into the arms of such a good man that has such a good family? A quiet “thank you,” leaves your lips, unsure if you can say more without breaking down.

“When are you talking to Tony?” Steve asks, his eyes soft. Regaining some composure, you explain that Sam told you to call him tomorrow and set up a meeting for that week. “Sam said he would let Tony know I would be calling. I’m nervous. He sounds intimidating.” Steve chuckles, “it’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

The four of you spend the rest of the evening bullshitting over wine and left-over cookies. It isn’t until you cover your third yawn that Peggy stands, insisting they leave the two of you to get some rest. You send them home with a few cookies and lots of hugs. Steve pulls you in tight, whispering in your ear, “I heard you got jealous over my cousins.” You push off his chest and look at him in shock. “WHAT!?! I did not. It was simply a misunderstanding. And did Bucky tell you he practically gave Peter a heart attack for simply doing his job?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up into his head before he looks to Bucky who pretends to not be listening. “We’ll just leave you two to sort this out. Thanks for dinner guys, have a good night.” Steve grabs Peggy’s hand and runs out the door, smiling the whole time. Spinning around you pin Bucky against the door. “So now you’re going around telling your friends I’m a jealous girlfriend, huh?”

Bucky throws his hands up, feigning innocence, “all I did was tell Steve what happened.” With a good hard poke to his chest you turn on your heel and try to hold back your giggles. “Maybe I’ll ask around the bar next weekend, see what my female customers think about me getting a haircut.” You stop dead in your tracks, slowly turning back toward him, “go for it. I’d be curious to know what they think.” With a triumphant twirl you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, leaving Bucky in amused disbelief.

After feeble attempts to read before bed you both give in and curl up under the covers, quickly falling asleep in Bucky’s arms. As usual Monday hits you hard. You’re sitting at your office desk staring at your phone and Sam’s text with Tony’s phone number. Picking it up you dial, biting your nail while it rings. “Hey doll, everything ok?” You let out a sigh at hearing Bucky’s voice, “yea fine, thanks, I’m just nervous about calling Tony.” You can hear his smile. “Then let me call him. I’m more than happy to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, about to give in but remembering this was all your crazy idea. “No, it’s ok babe. I can do this.” “Of course, you can. Call me right after, ok? I love you.” Taking a deep breath, you reply, “I will, I love you too.” Hanging up with Bucky you give yourself five minutes before calling Tony, your hands shaky as you dial his number.

He picks up after the first ring. “Tony Stark.” You awkwardly clear your throat, cringing already. “Hey, Mr. Stark. This is y/n, y/n y/l/n. I’m a friend of Sam’s.” His voice gains energy with his greeting, “oh yes! Hi y/n. I’ve been expecting your call! Sam said you have a new business venture and wanted to meet to discuss it.” Shaking your head yes you realize you aren’t actually talking. “Yes, exactly! Bucky and I would really love your input. Sam said you have a really good head for this stuff.”

Tony scoffs, “I have the best head for this stuff! And I’d love to meet with you guys. How does Thursday night sound? We can have dinner at Eleven Madison Park, say around 7pm? I’ll take care of the reservations.” Once again, you’re shaking your head yes, this time very excitedly. “That sounds great, thank you so much! I look forward to meeting with you.” With a smile, Tony replies, “me too, see you then.”

Your fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call Bucky. He picks up immediately. “So?” “Thursday, 7pm at Eleven Madison Park!” The both of you try to celebrate with subdued excitement, failing miserably when you draw the attention of your coworkers. “Crap, I better go, everyone is looking at me funny.” You hang up and give them a little wave, doing your best to remain calm and smile.

Each night for the rest of the week you and Bucky work on devising a semi-decent ‘business plan.’ Neither of you really know what you’re doing but thankfully Sam offers to help. It isn’t until Thursday afternoon that you finally have something presentable. Shoving the papers in a folder you close it with a loud sigh, shooting Bucky a text with a picture of it.

You take a cab to the restaurant, the both of you nervous but excited. Bucky looks perfect is his button down and slacks and you’re elegant and chic in a simple black dress. You’re greeted by the hostess and you tell them you’re here to meet Tony. They immediately rush off and come back with the manager who personally escorts you to the table. Tony looks up from his papers and smiles.

“Right on time,” he says, standing to shake your hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Stark,” Bucky says, holding your chair out for you to sit. “Please, call me Tony.” He looks to you with a sweet smile, “and you must be y/n.” Straightening your shoulders you smile with a nod, “good to finally meet you Tony.” He clears away his papers, muttering about always having work to do.

“So, I hope you don’t mind but I ordered some wine and appetizers for us this way we can get right to business.” You both thank him, looking to each other before pulling out the folder. “We came up with a rough business plan, it’s nothing fancy but it will give you a good idea of what we want to do.” Tony waves a dismissive hand, squaring you both with a serious look. “I’m more interested in the real story. Yours. And how this idea came about. Just start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

Letting out a sigh of relief Bucky squeezes your hand and launches into a recap of the first day you met at the bookshop. Tony listens intently, his eyes warm and his smile soft. He asks questions or interjects now and then and you don’t even realize that you’ve been talking the whole time until dessert is served.

“Oh wow. This looks really good!” you blurt out, eyeing the incredible piece of art on the table. “You think you want to try to make something like this at the bookshop?” Tony jokes, taking a sip of his wine. With a chuckle you say, “no, I’m not sure it fits our aesthetic, but it does look amazing.” Tony nods, “and just wait until you taste it. But you’re right. You’re not going for fancy and over the top. It’s clear you want to create a space that’s comfortable and charming.”

Bucky smiles at you before looking back to Tony, “that’s exactly it. We don’t want to lose the feel of the bookshop, we just want to give it an update.” Tony intertwines his fingers and rests his elbows on the table. “So, I only have one question before I tell you that I want to help you.” You can barely contain your happiness at his words but then he gives you a somber look and asks, “what are you going to do if this doesn’t work out?

You’re combined confusion is evident and neither of you know what to say. Finally, Bucky speaks up. “Well, we are trying to be positive and from what you’ve told us it seems like we have a solid idea here. Failure isn’t really an option at this point. I need to make this work.” Tony’s smile is back, this time a bit more forlorn. “I like your passion. You’re going to need it, but I’m not talking about the bookshop. I mean you two,” he says, pointing at you both. “What if things don’t work out between the two of you?” Bucky quickly turns to you with a panicked look just as you suck in a breath and before he can reply you quietly say, “we never thought of that.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @breezy1415 @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-minty-breath @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @imgaril-lindru @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @kaosera @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @loricameback @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @nano--raptor @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @flyawaybay @throwmyheartawayagain @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @inflxmes @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @yansi1923 @addikted-2-dopamine @curlyred2020

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shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Singing from the soul - Oneshot

Summary: 'If you're gonna tell them everything/tell them I'm a good kisser./Tell them all things you told me/in your desperate whisper./If you're gonna tell them everything/don't leave out the good part./Tell them the way that you broke my heart/when you told me that your missed her./Tell them I'm a good kisser!' Bakugou's voice was a pleasant warm rumble through the room.

Jirou wasn't sure how many people knew, but he had a great singing voice. Not as rough around the edges as his regular speaking voice, but more smooth like an old time jazz singer. She'd never admit it out loud, not to Bakugou at least, but she loved listening to him sing and often goaded him into it. In her room, he sang more freely than when they were outside which was just another plus to this weird arrangement that they had.

.....

Or where Jirou finds out who Bakugou's soulmate is, and has minor dilemma on whether she should tell him or not.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (for some choice words, but that’s it)

Author’s Note: The songs included in this fic all belong to their creators. Those songs are in order of appearance: -Good Kisser by Lake Street Dive -Bakugo Rap by Daddyphatsnaps -Love Like You by Caleb Hyles

They're all really great songs and they're all available on Spotify! Go listen to them! Also, since I was listening to it while writing/posting this, another great song that very much reminds me of these two is POV by Ariana Grande!

Jirou lounged back against the pillows of her bed slowly making her way through the day's homework. At the end of her bed, Bakugou's blond tufts stuck up just over the edge of the purple bedspread. Music thrummed through her room, quiet and unassuming as to not disturb their studying.

Normal business as usual.

She couldn't exactly remember when this had started, Bakugou knocking on her door to study and the pair of them sitting in companionable silence with only music to fill the space. Sometimes they discussed her music choice of the day or something that didn't make sense on their homework, but mostly, they were silent. Their time together was probably the only times Jirou saw Bakugou do anything quietly. It was relieving and honestly a breath of fresh air, and she thought that maybe it was the same for him.

Bakugou huffed, and there was the soft clatter of his glasses hitting the table as she finally glanced up from her book. His head was leaned back against the bed, heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. Silently, his lips moved, but they weren't moving along to the words of what they were listening to.

Reaching over, she turned down the volume on her radio to near silent. “What's the matter?”

“My soulmate,” Bakugou ground out, pressing palms into his eyes harder, “Keeps singing the same song over and over again. Fucking annoying.”

“What's the song?”

'If you're gonna tell them everything/tell them I'm a good kisser./Tell them all things you told me/in your desperate whisper./If you're gonna tell them everything/don't leave out the good part./Tell them the way that you broke my heart/when you told me that your missed her./Tell them I'm a good kisser!' Bakugou's voice was a pleasant warm rumble through the room.

It was good that his singing voice was nice though because his soulmate, whoever they may be, had a habit of singing for hours on end. Sometimes Bakugou could resist the pull, clench his jaw against the words trying to roll off his own tongue. Other times, he either didn't have the energy to fight it or just didn't care, and let them flow. When he was in her room, he rarely tried to force them down.

"Over and over and over again," Bakugou growled, still in the same position as before, "Like the song doesn't have any other lyrics or something."

"I've heard it before. I think they just like those lyrics. Maybe it's stuck in their head."

"Fucking fantastic."

Jirou smiled, reaching over to pat his spikes. He growled at her, but didn't move as she swung her legs over the side. “Is it really that annoying?”

Again, Bakugou growled. When he dropped his hands, it was only to reach for her music player on her bedside table. “Enough to need something to drown out the little fuck. Can't believe he's listening to something so annoying. I don't think it's stuck in his head, I just think he put it on replay.” He scrolled through her playlist before clicking out and going to the list of music they'd made together.

That was another thing that had become common, and it had happened after the music festival. Making music together. Unbeknownst to the others, Bakugou could rap and seemed to prefer it, though she'd gotten him to duet with her a couple times. His voice filled her room as he turned up the volume on the stereo.

“He?” Jirou asked curiously. She stretched her arms high over her head, back popping from neck to waist. “Do you know who it is?”

Bakugou ducked his head back towards his book, but she knew he was lying when his ears blushed red. “No, how the fuck would I know that for sure? It just wouldn't make any sense if my soulmate were a chick seeing as I'm gay.”

Jirou hummed, but thought about how soulmates weren't always exclusively romantic. They could be platonic. Kaminari and she had proven that when they'd figured out they were soulmates.

People could also have multiple soulmates, and Kaminari had proven that when he'd started singing someone else's song and she hadn't been compelled to join him. That had been a very strange and confusing day, but they'd figured it out. Kaminari was still looking for his second soulmate, but it didn't stop him from singing Jirou's song with her.

“A plausible reason,” she said, slipping her slippers on, “Do you want anything? I'm going to get a drink from downstairs.”

"The watermelon lemonade I made earlier.”

“Sure thing.” As she left the room, she heard Bakugou start in with the song he'd put on. She rolled her eyes, and closed the door.

Downstairs, her classmates were clustered in the living room laughing wildly. Stepping up beside Kaminari, she raised an eyebrow. “What's going on?”

Wiping a tear from beneath an eye, Kaminari gasped. “Midoriya's soulmate has got him spitting bars. It wouldn't be so funny if it were just normal rapping, but-” Another peel of laughter fell from his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Jirou raised an eyebrow, and stepped closer to get a good look at Midoriya. His face was red from forehead to chin, mouth moving rapidly as he shielded his face with his arms. Her eyebrows jumped higher as she finally caught the words.

'Let me just tell you something/You don't want to fuck with me./Imma be number one cause bitch that's all that I can see./King of the UA/Everybody knows that I'm a G/Everybody knows that I will be/Top of the class/No rivalry-' He clamped his lips shut, but after a moment, the words were spilling out again. 'What I gotta do to prove I'm in another league?/I get stronger as I go/Don't give a fuck about fatigue./I'm a warrior without a challenge-' Curling in on himself, Midoriya hid his head between his knees. His words went muffled, and Jirou finally stepped away towards the kitchen.

Rushing, she grabbed two glasses and the jug of watermelon lemonade before booking it back upstairs. There was absolutely no way that Midoriya and Bakugou were soulmates. There was just no way. It was ludicrous to think about, to even consider. What kind of sick joke would that be for the universe to bind the two of them like that?

She bumped her door open with her hip and paused in the doorway to hear Bakugou still going for it. The song had changed, but a quick plug of her jack into the floor told her Midoriya's words still matched up perfectly with Bakugou's. She felt dizzy with the new revelations, confused even. It just didn't make any kind of sense.

Swallowing, she set the glasses and jug on the table. “Have you ever thought that your soulmate might be embarrassed when you rap? You're songs aren't exactly... clean.”

Bakugou glanced up, pausing.

Through the floor, she heard Midoriya let out a grateful sigh.

“Has my soulmate ever thought that maybe I get embarrassed when he makes me sing Ariana Grande or Blackpink for hours on end? Tic for tak.” He waved off her concern, glancing down at his papers again. “He'll be fine.”

Jirou rolled her eyes and poured herself as glass of the lemonade. “Oh, I'm sure. They'd have to be able to take a lot to deal with you.”

Bakugou's head jerked up. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what is sounds like.” She grinned, and he flipped her off.

…..

After that, Jirou made a habit of paying more attention to the pair more than normal. She wasn't normally one to insert herself into her classmates' business mainly because she didn't want them in hers. She was making an exception for these two, determined to figure out 1) how they couldn't have possibly realized it yet and 2) how it was even possible. They were the bad kind of opposites. They still barely got along, even after everything they'd been through. Their tolerance of each other had to do with necessity rather than want. They couldn't even agree on a drink to buy from the vending machine.

She'd watched an argument breakout between them when Midoriya offered to split a drink with Bakugou on one of the hotter summer days, but they'd never even made it to pushing coins into the machine before storming away from each other. She didn't understand it, but she wanted to.

So she started to pay attention. Neither of them had a habit of singing during the school day, both staying relatively quiet except to talk to friends or answer a question in class. Neither of them even hummed. During the day, there wasn't even a peep of musical notes.

At night when they were back at the dorms was a different story all together.

Jirou would often walk downstairs to find Midoriya and Bakugou whispering the words to the same song under their breath on opposite sides of the common room. Or pass each other with their headphones in, one singing loudly while the other's mouth barely moved. Or eating at dinner with someone playing music, and one would start singing followed closely by the other. Or Bakugou would be sitting on her bedroom floor singing along to something slow that had come on, and she would plug her headphone into the floor to hear Midoriya crooning the same song on the floor below.

It was honestly maddening. Now that she was paying attention, it felt incredibly obvious what they were. There was a voice in her head screaming at her to tell them, to reveal the truth to them, but even though she was invested, she was unwilling to meddle to that degree.

Leaning against the edge of her balcony late one night, she didn't notice the two bodies slipping across the lawn. It was late enough that the lawn was dark, all of the lights on the bottom floor turned off as well as the girls' side of the building. The sky was moonless, the dark expanse punched through with numerous stars and beautiful to a fault.

It was the only reason Jirou was still awake. Her eyes were trained on the sky, watching shooting stars pass in a never ending shower.

So, no, she didn't see the two bodies stopping in the middle of the lawn or fanning out the blanket that had been bundled under an arm or lying down side by side with their hands twined between them. She did hear them though, hear the first beginning threads of song. A quiet humming in the dark.

Jirou's eyes jerked down, easily finding the dark shapes in the grass below.

“Deku,” a second voice growled without heat, “You know I'm not a fan of that song.”

Midoriya's voice floated up from the darkness, soft and coaxing. “But I like singing it with you. Just once. Please?”

After a pause, Bakugou grumbled, “Fine, but you can't complain about what I choose next. And no crying this time.”

Midoriya's reply was to start up his humming again, a light gentle tune that after a moment, Bakugou picked up with his deeper base. Their voices were a harmony Jirou didn't think they could achieve, Bakugou with the deep smoothness of his singing voice and Midoriya's tentative but strong tenor. Listening to them was like watching a romance at the exact moment the main characters fell in love.

Their words filled the night, gentle and twining. 'If I could begin to be/half of what you think of me/I could about anything/I could even learn how to love./When I see the way you act/wondering when I'm coming back/I could do about anything/I could even learn how to love/like you-' Midoriya's happy little chirp of a laugh cut into their words, even as Bakugou kept going. 'I always thought/I might be bad/now I'm sure that its true!/'Cause I think you're so good/and I'm nothing like you!/Look at you go!/I just adore you!/I wish that I knew!' Midoriya jumped in, their voices twining together again if a little choked. 'What makes you think I'm so special.'

Jirou felt heat press in at the backs of eyes, and she pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her sniffle.

Bakugou's voice dropped away, and this time Midoriya sang as his voice trembled with obvious tears. 'If I could begin to do/something that does right by you/I would do about anything/I would even learn how to love./When I see the way you look/shaken by how long it took/I could do about anything/I could even learn how to love/like you. Love like you~'

Again, Bakugou joined in, and she could hear just how tight his throat had gotten as his voice deepened. 'Even though I can't compare/and I'm sorry if I stare/I just want to do everything./Maybe I could even learn how to love./ People say/this love is wrong/but all I want is to belong./I could say without any doubt/everyone should learn how to love/like you/love like you/love like you~'

They trailed off, and after a time, Bakugou whispered, “This is why I don't like singing this song. You always end up crying at the end.” In the darkness, she could just barely make out one form pulling the other in close.

“I'm sorry. I just love listening to you sing it. It makes me happy.”

“I know, that's why I do it even if I don't want to.”

'Holy shit.' Jirou's thoughts were a scatter of confusion and elation. On the one side, she was happy that they were together, that they knew about each other. On the other side, she was so incredibly confused on how they hid it so well. And on one last side, she was a little embarrassed to still be standing on her balcony listening to their private moment together. 'I should go inside. I should forget about this. I should congratulate Bakugou tomorrow about it.' She had too many thoughts and not enough brain capacity to deal with them at the moment.

Midoriya hummed, and she heard a barely audible, “I love you, Kacchan.”

'Definitely time to go!' As quickly and quietly as she could, she slipped back into her room and started closing the sliding glass door, but she still caught Bakugou's reply.

“Love you too, 'Zuku.”

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #jirou kyouka #Jirou POV #alt pov #one shot #my writing #singing from the soul #soulmate au #singing soulmate au

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aerynwrites · 4 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

Javier Peña x Reader Soulmate AU!

Author’s Note: Okay y’all, not sure how i feel about this one lol, I’m kinda on the fence about it? But I kinda like it? Idk, you guys let me know what you think! ALSO! I highly recommend listening to - Oh, What a World by Kacey Musgraves in the last half of the fic, bc it was kinda the inspiration behind this idea.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, cursing, blood, minor injury, fluff.

/////

Living in a world where soulmates are determined from the day you turn fifteen sounds like something out of a science fiction book. Yet, here you were, living it every goddamn day. Most people love it, they love the idea that there is someone out there for them. Someone that is meant for them and only them until the day they leave this earth.

Not you.

You woke up on the morning of your fifteenth birthday, a Friday if you remember correctly, and you were beyond excited to see the words appear on your wrist. The words that your soulmate would say to you the moment you met. However, as you bolted upright in bed and pulled your sleeve up your arm, you felt your heart drop when there were no words on your wrist at all. You had run, panic written all over your face, to your mother who just smiled and said that sometimes it takes a few hours to appear. Afterall, hers didn’t show up until the afternoon of her special day. Your excitement came rushing back as you continued to get ready for school, but as the day came to a close…the words were still no where to be found.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, and the nights after when words still failed to appear on your wrist. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and you finally gave up on the idea of ever seeing the fateful words on your wrist. Your friends tried to console you, your parents took you to multiple specialists, but no one could tell you why the words never appeared.

Why you didn’t have a soulmate.

Eventually you grew out of the childish hope of having a soulmate, you could find happiness elsewhere, you were sure. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, excelled in it and eventually, after college, you landed a job in the DEA. You worked there for several years, quickly becoming a senior agent and creating a name for yourself. A name that your superiors caught onto and the reason you were transferred to Colombia to help the other DEA agents take down Escobar.

That’s how you ended up here, sitting across from Steve Murphy while Javier Peña was discussing the reports of the latest take down to the ambassador. Your eyes kept glancing up at the clock, counting down the seconds until you could go home. You returned your eyes back to your paperwork and bounced your leg impatiently before casting another look at the clock a few feet away.

“What has you so worked up?” Steve huffs, taking his eyes from his desk to look at you instead.

You just shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, “Nothing. Just ready to go home is all,” you say lamely, tapping your pen against the desk absentmindedly.

Steve rolls his eyes before a shit eating grin works his way onto his face and he leans back in his chair, “Oh…” he sighs, “I bet I know what it is.”

You sit up straighter and cross your arms, “I highly doubt that Steve,” you retort, trying to get him to back off.

He just chuckles, “Oh yeah I do. I bet you and Michael have some plans, am I right?” he asks smugly.

At the mention of the man’s name, your heart drops into your stomach and a frown tugs at the corner of your lips. He was the last thing you wanted to talk about.

“No Steve, we don’t have plans,” you bite, looking away from him.

At that very moment the one man you really didn’t want to have this conversation with came waltzing back through the door, glancing between you and Steve, “Who doesn’t have plans?” Javier asks, innocently.

You wave your hand in the air, trying to dismiss the conversation, “It’s nothing Javi, Steve is just-“

“just trying to figure out why miss (y/n) over here is so anxious to leave the office,” he says teasingly, “I think it’s because she has plans with Michael – if you catch my meaning,” he says suggestively, elbowing Javier.

You see Javier clench his jaw at Steve’s words, an action that doesn’t surprise you since he never seemed to like the guy you were dating anyways, but you don’t dwell on it too long before you’re leaning across your desk and smacking Steve’s hands with a nearby folder.

“I don’t have any plans with Michael!” you say defiantly, “Now will you just fucking drop. It.” You spit out the words, irritated that your friend won’t just leave you alone.

Steve just laughs, “Oh come on (y/n), I’m just having a little fun! You’ve been together for a while, now right? I’m surprised he hasn’t dropped the question yet. Guy’s crazy about you from what I hear from the other agents,” he says casually.

You feel tears sting the back of your eyes at the mention of something that could never be, and you have to choke out a response, “Yeah, well-“ you cough, trying to hide the tears in your voice, “he dumped me last night. So, I doubt he’ll be asking ‘the question’ anytime soon,” you say bitterly, slumping back into your seat.

Javier and Steve’s eyes go wide at the news and surprisingly Javier was the one to speak up first, “he dumped you? Just like that?” he asks, bewilderment and, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you heard a slight tinge of hope in his voice.

You don’t look at either of them, afraid that if you do, you’d burst into tears right that moment, “Yeah…” you whisper, “just like that.”

“What in the hell-“ Steve begins, but you shake your head.

“I really don’t want to talk about it guys, can we just drop it? Please?” you beg.

Steve shakes his head, apparently not hearing your plea, “That asshole…I swear to god if I see his ass I will-“

“Steve please!” you call, “He had every reason to do it.”

Javier jumps in at this point, “What possible reason could he have for just dumping you out of nowhere?”

You shake you head, eyes glancing up to the clock and realizing it was time to go, you quickly stood from your chair, desperate to avoid telling them the one thing you hated about yourself, “I’ve got to go guys” you whisper, trying to gather your things as they continue to badger you with questions within the small space of your shared office.

“did he cheat on you?” “did he get another job?”

“I just can’t believe-“

Just as you retrieved your gun from your desk drawer you slammed it shut, silencing both men as you blurted out the only thing running through your mind the entire day, “He left me because he found his soulmate! Okay?” you cry, barley holding back the tears threating to spill, “He left me for her, even thought he has no goddamn idea who she is. There! Are you happy now?” You bark out the words before turning on your heel and leaving the office, ignoring the calls of apology from your partners.

------

When you finally got back to your apartment, you dumped your stuff by the door and went immediately to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of the strongest alcohol you had. Once you poured the dark amber liquid into the glass your eyes fell to the bottle and realized that it was a gift that Michael had given you for your anniversary. As you stared at the bottle, you felt all the emotions and tears you had been holding back all day finally spill over. It felt like your heart was being torn into a million pieces – not really over Michael leaving you – but at the thought that you would probably be truly and utterly alone for the rest of your life.

You hated this. You hated the stupid tattoos on everyone’s wrists. You hated Michael. You hated his soulmate. You hated the world. At the last thought a harsh sob pulled itself from your throat just as you let out an anguished cry and threw the glass in your hand across the room, watching as it hit the opposite wall with a satisfying crash, the untouched liquid spraying across the wall and floor.

In your emotional and irrational state, the small act gave you some sense of control – a sense of satisfaction. So, without even thinking, you took the bottle in your hand next and threw it against the ground, watching as it hit the ground with a loud shatter before going silent once more. And as quickly as the satisfaction came, it seemed to leave all at once, and your tears returned full force as you leaned against the fridge and slid to the ground. You were so caught up in you thoughts that you didn’t even hear the rapid knocking on your door or the sound of it opening and footsteps rapidly approaching you until a familiar figure hovered in front of you.

“(y/n)? Jesus Christ – “ Javier’s voice spoke as he looked around you, “What the hell happened?” he asked.

You didn’t respond, you just looked blankly at the man in front of you as he grabbed your hands in his gently, moving to help you up, but he paused when his hands met yours, “Shit – you’re bleeding,” he said, tone serious yet concerned.

His words finally got your attention and you looked down to where his hands cradled yours and sure enough, the palms of your hands had a few cuts on them. Most likely from the glass scattered around you.

Javier let out a small sigh as he took in your shattered state, and he felt his heart constrict at the thought of what you must be going through. He turned away from you momentarily to retrieve the first aid kit he knew you kept under the sink. Once he had that, he tucked it under his arm before picking you up bridal style and walking you into your living room, sitting you down on the couch and taking your hands in his own once more. He started to tend to your wounds in silence, meticulously disinfecting them and wrapping a bandage around them. Neither of you said anything for a while, until he finally broke the silence.

“You’ll find them eventually you know,” he said quietly, pushing past the lump in his throat as he did.

You looked at him, a confused look on your face, “What?”

Javier sighed, “Your soulmate – you’ll find them eventually,” even if I don’t want you too.

He had to bite his tongue before the last words slipped out. He had been harboring feelings for you since the moment you walked into the embassy. He had even planned to ask you out to dinner a few weeks after you had arrived, but when you came in gushing about Michael – it crushed any hope he had of being with you. Honestly, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he felt a little spark of hope shoot through him when you told him you and Michael had broken up. But now, as he looks at the toll it has taken on you, all he felt was guilt. So, when you let out a humorless laugh, it was his turn to be confused.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

You shook your head, another tear slipping down your cheek, and he had to restrain himself from wiping it away as you spoke, “I don’t have a soulmate Javi,” you whimpered.

He felt his eyes widen at your admission, “you what?” he asks incredulously.

This time you hold your arms out to him, palms up to show him your bare wrists. Javier looked at them in a mixture disbelief and utter elation, thumbs rubbing your wrists lightly and you sigh a little at the contact. Deep down, you had always harbored feeling for your partner, it felt like an instant connection the moment you met, but the minute you found out about his habits, you dismissed the feelings, refusing to sign up for the hurt that was sure to come from a relationship with Javier. You realized after a moment in thought that you had never said anything after Javi, his thumbs still rubbing soothingly over your wrists, waiting patiently for you to respond.

You took in a shaky breath, “The words never appeared when I turned fifteen…or the years after,” you said lowly, “We went to so many specialist, talked to different people, scoured the library and newspapers for something – anything that would explain what was happening but-“ your voice cracked, and you shrugged your shoulders, “nothing. We couldn’t even find another case of this happening to someone,” a new wave of tears poured from your eyes as sobs wracked your body, “I’m going to be alone forever Javi-“ you cry, leaning forward as he pulls you into a tight embrace, “and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it,” you finally whisper.

Javi didn’t say anything at first, weighing his words as he held your shaking form in his arms. You both stayed like that until your sobs turned into small hiccups instead, and Javi finally decided to speak up.

“That’s not true,” he said quietly, hands rubbing up and down your back slowly.

You pulled away from him slightly, wiping at your nose as you sniffled, “What?”

Javier turned his gaze to the floor, uneasiness filling his mind as he struggled to utter the words he had been wanting to tell you for years now, “You don’t have to be alone – you’re not alone (y/n).”

You looked at him confused, unsure of what to say, so Javi took this as his cue to continue. He quickly pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and took his watch off, the one you always assumed covered his soulmate tattoo, only to reveal a blank expanse of skin – exactly like yours. You let out a small gasp and your eyes immediately snap to meet his own.

“You don’t – there’s no-“ your mind is running a million miles a minute at the realization that you are, in fact, not alone in the world.

Javier just sends you a small smile, “I never got my words either,” he admits, “So I just gave up all together, used it as an excuse to throw myself into my work and sleep around. But that was only until-“ he stopped in his tracks, weary of if he should continue down this path, and possibly ruin the partnership and friendship you both had.

You looked at the man crouched in front of you expectantly, hoping, praying he would say the words you had been thinking all these years. Even when you were with Michael.

His adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow and finally spoke, “Until I met you,” he said softly.

As soon as the words left his mouth, you slid from the couch to kneel in front of him and brought your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a hesitant but passionate kiss. Javier was uncertain at first, wary that you were just upset – emotional from the breakup. But as soon as your lips met, as cliché as it sounded, it was like sparks flew. A fire ignited within Javier, something he had never felt with anyone he had been with before. And he eagerly retuned the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you up, so you were straddling him. Unfortunately, it felt as soon as you had kissed him you were pulling away, panting slightly and eyes wide as you looked down at him.

“Woah,” you both said in unison.

You let out a huff of laughter and leaned your forehead against Javier’s taking in a deep breath, relishing in the feeling if his arms around you. Your breaths mingled together as you continued to sit together, minds racing, trying to understand what you were feeling. As contradictory as it sounded, the thought that keeps crossing your mind is that you and Javi were meant for each other.

In some weird twist of fate, by neither of you having a soulmate – maybe you were soulmates. You closed your eyes as tears of relief and happiness gathered in your eyes and you finally spoke up, “I never thought that I would-“ your voice catches in your throat and Javi pulls away from you slightly, a hand cupping your cheek gently, thumb brushing away a tray tear.

“I didn’t either,” he admits quietly, a small smile adorning his face, “and then there was you.”

You let out a quiet laugh and kiss him quickly before nuzzling your face into his neck, “and then there was you,” you repeat, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you and Javi stayed in each other’s arms.

////

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