#it’s sunny again now so i could’ve just waited but i do what i must
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That scene from Peaky Blinders with the nuns but it’s Merlin and Arthur and they DO NOT PLAY ABOUT THE CHILDREN
TW!!! Check the tags!!!!
“Arthur if you don’t do something about it then I will.”
It was the first thing out of Merlin’s mouth when he charged into the King’s chambers that morning, the sun not yet peeking above the horizon.
Arthur didn’t bother looking up from his desk just yet.
“Gods above, what is it now, Merlin?” There was no bite or malice in his tone, any longer. Long chased away by fond exasperation.
“Arthur.”
His head snapped up, to meet his magical manservant’s gaze head on.
It must be severe, whatever the case. Arthur hadn’t heard that tone of voice from Merlin in some years.
The moment the King’s eyes fell on the other man’s face, his whole demeanor changed. Merlin had been crying. His cheeks and eyes were red and swollen but the emotion that resided there was not sorrow.
It was pure rage.
“What is it?” It was quiet and almost soft in comparison to his previous question.
Arthur’s instincts told him to go to Merlin, to comfort him and dry the last of his tears. (The Almighty Emrys hardly ever allows Arthur to witness them. Choosing to suffer alone than trust Arthur not to chastise him. The King knows he was an arrogant fool in his youth, but he thought they’d moved past hiding long ago.) The look on Merlin’s face told him to listen first.
“Do you remember the nuns?” He asked between clenched teeth, jaw flexing.
“The nuns that run the orphanage?”
Merlin nodded once. “A child, who was previously in their care, hung herself last night just outside the gates.”
All the air left the King’s chest. He was on his feet without the thought of doing so.
“What?! How could they have allowed such a thing to happen? Where were they wh- wait, why did she…” he trailed off, as the realization finally landed, and the endless list of unimaginable things that could’ve happened to that child ran through his head, circumstances Arthur couldn’t have dreamed in his worst night terror, things he’d heard coming out of other Kingdoms, acts that when they were relayed to him through word of mouth his blood ran ice cold. (He had a list of names in the locked drawer of his desk, kings and lords and blacksmiths and ladies maids, mothers, fathers, anyone he had ever heard was harming children in their care or even in their vicinity. Their time left on this Earth would not be pleasant, if Arthur had anything to say about it.)
“How old was she?” He whispered, stricken and stumbling back into his chair.
“She was nine summers old. She was funny and outgoing and, as one of the oldest, she made it her mission to make the others feel cared for and seen. And normal.” The raven boy’s stark blue eyes were gazing out the window, looking at nothing at all, eyebrows still furrowed in frustration. He took a big deep breath. “Teresa. Her name was Teresa.” Arthur nodded and channeled as much sympathy as he possibly could into a single look.
“The nuns made her wash with a different soap than everyone else. They would lock her away on sunny days when the others got to play. When she spoke out against this abuse, she got lashes. On her back, on her thighs-“ Merlin was crying again, and Arthur’s vision was blurring, blinking them back. “Arthur, there must’ve been twenty different sets of scars. Wounds healing just long enough to be able to survive when the next ones came…and every time I visited, she told me everything was fine. I never even suspected that she wasn’t being truthful, I was a willfully blind idiot. That brings me back to my initial statement. If you don’t do something about it, I will.”
“Of course we’re going to do something about it. And we’re going to do it now, but we need the round table as guards and also to escort the children to the keep when it’s over.” Arthur was up again, but remained at the desk, making a list and talking at the same time. “We may be forced to have a trial just for appearances, but-“ he stopped, having a thought. “How did you find this out Merlin? You said you never knew…before.”
“Initially, it was Gwen. After Gaius told me she was gone, Gwen came to me and told me that she couldn’t in good conscience keep her suspicions to herself. Gwen and Teresa had been much closer, for obvious reasons-“
“Wait, what obvious reasons? They’re both women?”
Merlin looked confused for the first time in the conversation.
“No, w-“ He searched Arthur’s face and when he only saw more confusion, he said,
“Teresa had dark skin, Arthur, like Gwen and Elyan, I thought you knew-“
“Hold on! Is that why the nuns…” Merlin could only nod, morosely.
Merlin and Arthur were mirroring each other’s untamable rage.
Without another word, the King led them out of the room, in search of Leon.
They sat across a dark wooden table, three nuns on the other side.
“You wanted to speak with us, your majesty?”
“Yes.” Arthur nodded once, hands gripped white on the arm of his chair. Yet his face remained unaffected, the perfect picture of regal grace. Perhaps it was muscle memory to him, Merlin was not blessed with ability to keep his emotions from his sleeve.
“All of us, sire? At 6:30 in the morning?”
“Yes.” The King replied, cool. Merlin began to wonder the room, looking in cupboards and checking drawers. Some of which were locked.
The head nun hissed at him.
“Get away from there, fool, have you lost your mind?”
“I’ll do as I damn well please.” Merlin tosses over his shoulder, yet even Arthur can feel the venom laced into the words.
“We do not use language in the house of the lord.” She appeared to be scandalized.
This halted Merlin’s pilfering, he began to approach her.
“Nor do we ‘find fault in the innocent.’ Yet, you do.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You fucking do.”
Beside Arthur, Leon looked somewhat worried about his manservant’s intentions. Leon was the last of his knights to be made aware of Merlin’s ‘gifts’, while he was mostly accepting and curious, there was also something else. Arthur couldn’t tell if Leon began to protect he and his men from Merlin, or if he was protecting Merlin from everyone else.
The nun looked from Merlin to Arthur as if waiting for him to be reprimanded by his master.
When there was no sign of it, she sighed and crossed her hands in front of her body.
“May I ask what this meeting is about?”
“The Crown of Camelot is the only reason your orphanage was able to open its doors and feed these children that would’ve otherwise starved. Giving them a place to live when they would’ve otherwise been homeless. You are aware of this, yes, sister?”
“For which we give thanks.” Her eyes were downcast but Merlin saw the hint of panic there.
He stepped in.
“Reports of a most alarming nature have been reaching the King’s ear, Sister Mary.” He circled the three of them like a hawk circling prey. “It seems you and I have similar tempers, yet unlike you, I wait until I’m matched in size.” He practically spit at her as he spoke.
“And whom, may I ask, reported this to the king?”
“No need to worry about that, Sister. I have all the evidence I need. Children, when kept safe and comfortable, will actually say quite a bit.” The King had spoken to a few of the children before arriving here, he sent them to the keep immediately after.
“Who have they spoken to?”
“You’d have them only speak to God?” Merlin offered.
She sent daggers at him with her eyes.
“God be their witness.”
“There is God and then there is the Crown. This is Camelot, we are in Albion. I am much much closer at hand than God.” Arthur smiled but it was villainous, sinister in a way that sends one of the nuns running out of the room.
“We have in this place, children of the worst sort. They lie as easily as breathe.”
“You had a darker skinned child in your care. You made her wash with a different soap.” Merlin was not allowing her to blame those poor children.
“Sire, your own knights’ sins are legend.”
“Our sins?” Leon spoke for the first time. “Our sins, against the beating of children with whips and tree branches? Our sins…our sins against the child who hanged herself for fear of your temper?”
“I do not see how-“
“Oh, you do not see…” Merlin reached over the table and ripped the glasses off her face, slammed them back down on the table, crushing them.
He held her eye.
“Now put them on.” His breathing was heavy. “Put them on your face, or it will be your eyes that are broken.”
After another beat of silence, his voice, quiet yet slicing,
“Please don’t imagine that I won’t use this minute to do it, or that I am afraid of your prayers, or your crosses.”
After a hesitant look around the room, she slowly picked up the crushed frames and placed them back on her face.
“You see the world broken. Like those beaten children will.” Merlin finally backed away from the table and resumed his search of the premises.
“Now look at me.” The King commanded. She did not obey.
“Look at me!” His voice boomed and echoed through the room. She flinched and did as she was told.
“Funding withdrawn. You will leave Camelot, and Albion, if you are smart and I will never see your faces in my kingdom again. Unless you wish to see the full extent of my wrath.” He stood, as did Leon. Looks of absolute disgust on their faces.
“All children will be taken into the care of the crown.”
“You have no say in where the children-“ she was interrupted by the sound of a small, sharp knife its sheath. The point of Merlin’s blade was aimed at her throat.
“If I come for you, and I still might yet decide to come for you, I will bring an army so that you may hear our approach, and have time to repent.”
With that, he left. Following his King right out the door. Never to step foot in that establishment again.
The ‘orphanage’ was permanently moved into the castle, and every child made a ward of a the King. It made the castle alive with youth and laughter.
Merlin and Arthur realized after a few years, that they were practically married, and parents to a hoard of wonderful children. So they were married and the entire kingdom rejoiced.
#merlin#arthur pendragon#merlin and arthur#merthur fic#merthur#Peaky blinders rewrite#tw: child abuse#tw: child suicide
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Chapter Three
Yahmi led them out of the underground room and back out into the warm sunlight. Sora closed her eyes, content to just stand in the warm rays and soak them up. She may not be a full dragon and therefore not truly cold blooded, but she did enjoy warmth more than cold. Made her feel more alive and ready to take on the day.
Sora blinked her eyes open, staring at Yahmi. Today was already shaping up to be a different type of day than she could’ve imagined. Being shipwrecked, unconscious for who knows how long, and then being inducted into a not-cult was not something on Sora’s to-do list.
She doubted it was on Einar’s or Darla’s either.
Einar brushed past Sora, still lugging his bag of weapons. He had taken the shield out and was using it as a sled to pull the bag on, but she could tell that it bothered him to not have a proper place for his weapons on his body. And the more she thought about it, the more she agreed that it wouldn’t be a bad idea for her to get a new knife too.
“Yahmi, where is the nearest blacksmith?” The man merely huffed and pointed down the curve of the road. Einar started lugging his stuff in that direction.
Yahmi put out a hand to stop the dwarf, ignoring the nasty glare he shot back. “You need to know some information first. The Golden Dawn will not require your services until later tonight. You are free until then. However, there are some things I recommend that you do in the meantime. Fixing your weapons is a priority, I agree, but you must know that the captain of the Sunny also survived.”
The trio started. They had all assumed that they were the only survivors.
“We have been unsuccessful in trying to talk to him, as he disappears before any of our scout can approach. If any one of you three could talk to him, it would be highly appreciated.”
Darla interrupted. “Are we trying to recruit him for you? Because I’m not entirely sure I could do that.” She wrinkled her nose.
“No.” Yahmi exhaled sharply through his mouth, blowing the hair out of his eyes. “You are merely trying to warn him that if he manages to make it off of this island, the Blue Oyster Corporation will not be so kind the next time he passes through their waters.”
Sora pondered this for a minute. Their waters? The captain had made it seem that they were sailing through international waters when the Ictherai had been attacked. Did the Corporation have ties to the Ictherai?
Yahmi was still talking, so Sora focused in on his words, hoping that she hadn’t missed anything terribly important.
“He was last seen heading further into town. From there on, our scouts have not located him. Other people in town might know where he has gone, so I suggest you start there.” He pointed the same direction as he did before. “There are multiple shops and an inn down the ways a bit. Someone may have seen him there.” Yahmi turned to go back inside the flower shop.
“Wait! What are we to do now?” Darla was panicked, tail thrashing behind her. She wrung her hands together, hard enough to blanch her fingertips.
Yahmi shrugged. “Like I said. Decide yourselves what you wish to do until I call upon you this evening.” With that, he ducked back inside and left them out in the sun.
Einar hefted his shield in the air and readjusted his pack of weapons. “I vote that we find the blacksmith and leather forge before doing anything else. A well-armed dwarf is a well prepared one.”
Sora shrugged. “And who says we have to stick together? We hardly know one another. We could just meet back up when Yahmi needs us again.”
Darla pounced on sora, clinging to her bicep. Sora was a little impressed with the Tiefling’s grip strength as she dug her fingers into Sora’s scaly arm. “Oh, please don’t split up! I don’t know anyone on this island. I don’t know what I would do without you three.” She buried her face into Sora’s armpit, sniffling.
Sora reached around with her other arm and plucked the Tiefling off of her. “Then we’ll stick together. But please don’t jump on me again.” Darla hung limp in Sora’s grasp. “I’m sorry,” she blushed. Sora chuckled and set the girl down. “Just don’t do it again and we won’t have any issues.”
Einar rolled his eyes. “Can we please decide what we want to do? I’m getting tired of dragging my shield on the ground and being the laughing stock of the island.” Sora chuckled a bit at that. She had no doubt that no one had even noticed their scraggly little trio yet, mush less laughed at how they were carrying their weapons. But it made no difference to the proud dwarf.
“Then let’s look for the captain of the Sunny. That’s at least a place to start. And along the way we can stop at the shops and get done whatever we need to get done.”
With a satisfied grunt, Einar started off in the direction that Yahmi had pointed. Sora and Darla were close behind.
The shop fronts were bustling and full of life. People streamed in and out of the doorways, chattering and laughing with each other. True to Sora’s theory, the trio hardly got a second glance. She counted the stores as they passed, making sure that she would be able to find her way back to the flower shop if needed. A baker, a fish hawker, a butcher – there were so many different options in this town. Sora taken aback by the size of the city. What she had originally assumed to be a small village was quickly turning out to be a bustling metropolis.
One of the shops caught her eye and she stopped in her tracks, Darla running into her backside.
“Oof.”
“Sorry,” she apologized.
A magical book store.
Sora’s mouth watered at the thought of the knowledge that could be contained inside of those walls. She called ahead to Einar. “I’m going to stop in here for a minute.” Not looking to see if he heard, she ducked inside. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the lower lighting and they widened when she saw just how many books there were in the store. She nodded hello to the book keep and beelined for the back of the store. The best books were usually placed there as a pull to keep you in the store longer.
Glittering spines lined the shelves in an array of colors. She ran her claws over the edges, being careful to not snag any. The leathers were soft and supple, some have gilt edges and metal spirals on the front. She slid one off of the shelf and let it fall open. Her eyes scanned down the page, but it was in a language she did not recognize. Sora cursed softly and put the book back on the shelf.
The door to the shop jingled. Sora glanced back and was surprised to see Einar striding in. He spotted her and made his way over.
“I’m surprised to see you in here, master dwarf.” Sora’s mouth turned up a bit at the corners. Einar shot her a sly glance and pulled the same book back off of the shelf. “A well-learned dwarf is also a well prepared one.”
He ran his finger down the title page, his eyes widening. “This is a history book of the island.”
“Arimore?” Sora’s heartbeat quickened.
Einar didn’t reply; he kept reading. After flipping through several pages, he addressed Sora again. “It seems that this island used to be ruled by several kingdoms. They all used magic and coveted the use of it. They thought that whoever had the most magical abilities and items would be the strongest. So they built a magic forge, which legend says is still somewhere on the island.” He turned his face up towards Sora. “And this says that the last ruling family had the surname of Vaungance.”
Her eyes went wide. “So, William is their descendant?”
“I’m assuming so.” He flipped to the back of the book. Hissing with excitement, he noted a family tree on the very last page. There, at the bottom, was William’s name. He snapped the book shut, sending dust into their faces. “Oh well, no time for a history lesson. It’s time to get my weapons fixed.” And he strode back out of the book store, leaving the history book on the shelf.
Sora whipped her head back and forth, confused. Dwarves were an enigma, one that she thought she may never figure out. Running her fingers back over the spine of the book, sora checked the price on the shelf. Her eyes bugged and she quickly snatched her hand back. For that much gold she shouldn’t have even bee touching it, lest she ruin it and have to pay for it. Not that she could, being broke, and all.
The book keep waved a friendly good bye as she left the store, which Sora was too embarrassed to return. Curse her for not looking at the price sooner. At least it had taught them some more about the island.
She almost ran into Darla, who was till standing in the middle of the road. Her belt pouches are full of assorted bottles and bundles of herbs. Darla smiled up at Sora. “I found an apothecary and a potion shop. Restocked my supplies.” She patted her belt proudly.
“Good for you, little one. That may come in handy further down the road.”
They looked around, and spying Einar already continuing on without them, they set off again. Einar was several paces ahead, so Sora kept pace with Darla. They walked in silence, noting that Einar had ducked into a blacksmith shop up ahead. They followed in after him.
The shop was warm, the forge going in the back of the building heating up the whole area. Assorted weapons were hanging from one wall and the other sported a collection of cookware items. Her gaze walked around the room, landing finally on the Dwarf whipping his hands off and addressing Einar.
“Well, I guess I could, for a price.”
Einar raised an eyebrow. “I am a little limited on funds at the moment, so could we possible strike a deal? I can do some work in exchange for a leather harness and the sword work?”
The Dwarf pondered this for a moment. “Since you are a hills Dwarf and so close to the mountains that I came from, I will agree to part of those terms.” Handing over two half finished knives, the blacksmith continued. “If you could finish these knives, I will only charge five silvers instead of ten and give you a five-silver credit on anything else in the store.” Einar shook the blacksmith’s hand.
“It’s a deal.”
Sora and Darla took a seat on the floor as Einar went behind the counter and got started on the knives. The blacksmith, who introduced himself as Greg, took Einar’s sword out of the bundle and began to work on it.
Darla fiddled with her fingers, tapping her nails together. It was barely audible over the ringing coming from behind the counter, but it was enough to irritate Sora. She clamped a hand over Darla’s silently asking her to stop. Darla sat on her hands and nodded her head.
Sora leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. There were no other shops that interested her, otherwise she would be leaving Einar by himself for a little while in this dark workshop. She was almost to the point of dozing off when she heard a scratching sound next to her ear. Cracking an eye open, she noticed Darla was picking at the wall in between them. She let a rumble loose, hoping it would enough to get Darla to sit still. Her hand shoots down and Darla refuses to make eye contact, so Sora closes her eyes again.
When the ringing by the forge stops, she sits up reluctantly. It was so warm in here – she could curl up and fall asleep right here in the foyer. The heat soaked into her scales, lulling her to sleep like a melodic lullaby. Sora shook her head to rid it of sleep and stood. Darla scrambled up as well.
Greg was bent over examining Einar’s work. “Eh, they’ll do. I thank you kindly for the help.” He unfurls his frame and extends his hand. Einar takes it with a firm shake.
“Thank you for the harness and the work on the sword.” He starts to reassemble his weapons onto his persons, taking the time to lovingly place each one in its spot. Finally, the shield was placed on his back and he was ready to leave. Sora thanked the blacksmith a final time and turned towards the door.
A loud crash followed by an “Oops”. That was all she heard. Then, a roar from the blacksmith as he beheld whatever misfortune had happened behind Sora.
“Get out! Get out now! That was me pa!” Greg roared again. Sora pivoted on her heels to see Darla, covered in ash, meekly trying to clean up the shards of a vase that had been sitting on a shelf previously attached to the wall. Now both vase and shelf were in pieces on the floor. Sora slowly met Einar’s gaze. Pure panic radiated from the Dwarf. He shoved Darla forward. “Move,” he growled.
“But, the floor!” She protested, but Einar had a firm grip on her tail. She yelped and stumbled along, apologizing over and over again. Greg continued to bellow, tears streaming down his face. The trio booked it out of the blacksmith.
“What happened?” Einar hissed. He didn’t let go of Darla’s tail.
“Ow!” she protested, trying to tug her tail out of his hand.
Einar repeated his question. Darla sighed. “I was trying to look at the writing on the side of the vase and I accidentally knocked the whole shelf down. How was I supposed to know that it was his father?” She yelled the last part, throwing her hands up in the air. Einar let loose her tail and spun around to face Sora.
“Why weren’t you watching her?” He shoved his hands on Sora’s hips, her height affecting where he really wanted to hit her. She pushed his hands away before snarling a reply. “I was. I just thought she would be following behind me since we were leaving.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t. And now a Dwarf is without the last bit of his father, and it’s all your fault!” Einar jabbed his finger up towards Sora’s face.
She snorted. “It ain’t my fault. I’m not the one who actually touched the dang thing.” Hands on her hips, Sora leaned over to put her face in Einar’s. “And I suggest that you don’t place your hands on me again.” She puffed hot breath out at him.
He sputtered. Before he could get another word out, Darla cut in between the two. “Can we not fight? I am very sorry about the whole thing, but let’s not forget that we still need to find the captain of the sunny. Plus, whatever Yahmi is having us do tonight.”
Sora backed away. A grin played on her lips. Let Einar think what he wanted to, but she wasn’t worried about being able to take him in a fight. Size does account for something. She popped her neck to the left, letting her muscles stretch out. No need for the tension to stay there if they were really going to move on still.
Einar huffed. “Fine. As long as the giant lizard stays out if my way.” He glanced around the town before heading off in the same direction as before.
“No problem, my little dwarf friend.” Sora chortled. Einar’s ears were red, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he addressed the use of ‘little’ and ‘dwarf’ in the same sentence.
The group continued down the road, peering at the different shops.
“Surely the inn is around here somewhere,” Darla muttered. She stopped in front of each store front to read the sign. When the store didn’t turn out to be the inn, she sighed and walked away. With each miss, her sighs got louder. The dirt road finally ended and Darla gazed up at the building that headed off the road.
Realizing that it was the inn, she threw her hands up in the air and leaned back. “Finally! I thought we would never get here!” Then she threw open the door and ran inside, calling over her shoulder for the others to follow.
Sora glanced at the sign hanging over the door. ‘The Silver Inn’ was etched in a cursive script on a dark cherry wood. A smaller sign hanging right underneath that one advertised that they had live music every other Tuesday. A flowerpot in the window held a tray that said ‘Vacant’ in the same cursive script as the sign.
Looking over at Einar, Sora shrugged. May as well go inside. A place as well-frequented as an inn with a tavern would likely have someone inside who knew of the captain’s whereabouts.
“Shall we?” She propped the door open, indicating Einar should go in first. He gave her a wary look, but stepped inside.
Sora sighed and followed after him. This was going to be a long day.
She could feel it in her bones.
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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”
PART 23: PRETTY BOY
emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.
─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen)
─── soc. media + written fiction!
─── word count: a lil over 7k.
author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!
ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).
You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.
The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.
Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.
In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.
noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T
yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me
feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(
You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.
“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.
why does she sound like goofy
The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.
pack it up yandere simulator
idk whats going on but i think im into it?
villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC
“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”
More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”
“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”
“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”
“SD-what now?” Dream questions.
“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”
“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”
“Guess, Sherlock.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.
“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”
“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.
“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.
Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.
“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”
If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.
“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.
“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.
Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”
i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me
^already too late for me bro
As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.
Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.
He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”
He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.
“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”
“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”
“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.
“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.
“HEY!”
“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.
Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.
Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!
“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.
“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.
“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”
Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.
“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”
Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”
“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”
“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”
“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”
“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”
“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”
“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.
“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”
“You were not--”
“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”
“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”
“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.
Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”
“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.
BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS
yns_fishnets donated 5$
mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!
Your fishnets have a point!
“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.
“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.
“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”
“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”
“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”
“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”
“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”
“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”
“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”
“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.
“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.
“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.
“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”
NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK
MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T
“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”
“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”
“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”
“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”
finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for
i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)
the bis won
“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”
“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”
Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”
“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”
“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.
“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”
“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.
“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”
Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.
You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.
That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.
“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”
“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”
“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.
“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”
“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”
“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”
“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!
“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”
Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”
“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”
“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.
“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”
“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”
A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.
“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”
He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.
y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards
Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.
“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”
“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”
“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.
“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”
“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”
“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.
“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.
“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.
“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.
“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.
In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.
“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”
“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).
yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder
queen stop its embarrassing
bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3
More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.
The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.
it’s happening!!!!
omg omg omg omg
VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC
You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”
pack it up light yagami
this has awoken something in me.
^ same
The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.
Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.
“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.
It’s a knife.
In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.
Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.
Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.
So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.
“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.
You grin, “I was looking for something.”
Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.
“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.
“A knife.”
“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”
“Yes.”
“No!”
You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.
i love women
if evil bad...why seggy?
You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.
You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”
“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.
“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”
“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”
“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.
hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom
hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly
mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn
Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.
You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”
“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”
“Is it because you’re bald?”
“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.
You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.
You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.
“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”
You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.
“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.
“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.
“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.
“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”
“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.
“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.
Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.
“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.
“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.
only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3
corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever
the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite
“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.
You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”
“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.
“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”
“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.
“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.
You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.
“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”
“No fucking clue.”
“Y/n?” She tries again.
“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”
“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.
Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.
You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.
“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”
“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”
You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”
“SHIT!”
Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”
“I’m not Impostor!”
“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”
They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.
“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”
“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”
“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”
“I’d never do that, baby.”
Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.
“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”
Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”
“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”
“Holy shit.”
“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.
“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.
“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.
“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.
“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”
“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”
“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”
Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”
“No, she does.” James chimes.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”
More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.
Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼
tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19��� - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai
more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙
#corpse husband#corpse#corpse husband x reader#corpse x reader#corpse social media au#corpse husband x y/n#corpse husband fic#corpse husband social media au#social media au#myso#make you say oh#quackity#dream smp#corpse x y/n#imagine#imagines#reader#xreader
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Pardon My French
pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)
genre: fluff
warnings: none
words: 3556
note: thank you to @ probably_wizardingworld_artist on instagram for helping me translate things into french. also i got some of the lines that sirius says from this website https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-pick-up-lines/
a/n: if you dont speak french (like me) dont look up a translation! everything will be clear by the end of the fic and its more fun if you find out along with remus. i mean, i cant really stop you if you want to translate the sentences but thats just my advice :)
Remus was sitting in the library, a French to English dictionary open on his lap, sighing in frustration as he flipped through the pages. For the past couple of weeks, Sirius had taken to murmuring things in French under his breath and it drove Remus crazy that he didn’t know what they meant. He had asked Sirius on several occasions but Sirius always refused to tell him. But the fact that he didn’t understand the words wasn’t the only reason it drove him crazy when Sirius spoke French. It’s not Remus’ fault that Sirius sounds really hot when his lips curve around the words in “the language of love”.
Remus tries not to think about it but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult because every time they’re alone together Sirius seems to find something to say in French (if only to piss Remus off).
The last time Sirius had said something in French to him had been last weekend. It was the first sunny weekend since the winter and Marlene had suggested that they all go down to the lake for a swim.
Remus’ brain could barely form a single coherent thought from the moment Sirius took off his shirt; he was too busy trying not to stare. He remembered jumping into the lake and trying to get warm by swimming to the far side, away from all his friends. Sirius had followed him to make sure he was okay.
“I’m fine,” he had said, smiling slightly at Sirius. “Just cold.”
“Oh okay,” Sirius said, looking relieved. He had glanced back at their friends before whispering, “On devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique” and submerging his head in the water and swimming back to James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Mary and Alice. Remus had felt a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Then there was the time that Sirius had skipped Quidditch practice to visit Remus in the hospital wing after a particularly bad full moon. James, being the captain, had been able to delay the practice so that he and Peter could come to visit as well but they had to practice for the game the following day. James had to be at the practice because he was the captain and Peter had to be there because they didn’t have another Keeper to fill in. But James had given Sirius permission to stay with Remus (which showed just how terrible he felt that he couldn’t stay as well). They watched a bit of the practice from the hospital wing but Remus was getting frustrated, having to stay in a hospital bed for so long. So, after clearing it with Madam Pomfrey, Sirius helped Remus climb all the way to the Astronomy Tower. They sat up there watching the sunset when Sirius said, “Il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes.”
“Ugh, do you make it your life goal to patronize me?” Remus had said.
“Of course, Moony, what else would I live for?”
“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Sirius had replied, grinning at him. “It’s too much fun.”
“Why do you even bother?” Remus said. “You know I don’t understand a single word of what you’re saying. Why don’t you go talk to someone who speaks French?”
“Because then they’d know what I was saying,” Sirius replied simply. He had refused to answer any more of his questions.
Remus had needed to spend that night in the hospital wing again. All night, Sirius’ voice rang through his head but every time he tried to make something coherent of it, actually words or letters or even sounds, he couldn’t. He could never remember what Sirius had said long enough to actually look it up or ask anyone.
But lately, Remus had noticed that Sirius had been repeating the same sentence in French practically every day. He recognises the sound of the words in Sirius’ mouth.
So today, Remus waited until he was alone with Sirius, waited for Sirius to say what Remus knew he would. And when he did Remus repeated the words in his head a million times until he remembered them. And now Remus was in the library and looking up the words in a dictionary.
He knew that he could’ve gone to Lily and asked her to translate it for him but he didn’t want to. He knows it’s stupid but he feels like this is something that Sirius is saying to him and only to him. Remus had never heard Sirius whisper in French to anyone else. And as much as Remus pretended to be annoyed by it, he actually liked that he had this with Sirius. He liked that they had something that was just their own. And even though it was probably nothing, he didn’t want to share it with Lily right now.
Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi. That was the sentence. Remus looked up each word individually and came to the conclusion that he must have heard wrong or maybe the words were spelt differently to how they were pronounced. Because there was no way in hell that Sirius had said these words to him. It was impossible. Right? Remus didn’t know. And he knew that the only way he could be sure was by asking Lily. He had asked Sirius a million times to no avail. And he needs to know what Sirius has been saying to him, especially now that there’s a chance… No, Remus tells himself, you just translated wrong. Don’t get your hopes up. So Remus gives in. He’d rather ask Lily and find out what Sirius has been saying to him every day for the last month than keep this to himself without even understanding it.
“Hey Lily,” he started, getting her attention. Remus had waited until the two of them were alone, just in case he had translated right. Which he hadn’t. He knows he translated it wrong. But he’d still rather nobody knew about it. “What does ‘chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi’ mean?” He fumbled across the words a bit, hearing how terrible his pronunciation was. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
“Where on earth did you hear that sentence?” she asked.
“I read it somewhere,” Remus lied easily. “So what does it mean?”
“It means ‘every day, I fall more in love with you.’” Remus’ jaw dropped open. “Remus, who told you they’re in love with you?”
“What? Nobody! What makes you think someone said that to me?”
“You said that you read that sentence somewhere but if you had read it, you would have no idea how to pronounce it. Besides the look on your face when I told you what it means is more than enough. So who was it?”
“None of your business,” he said. “But y–you’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what it means. Right?”
“No, I’m not kidding, Rem. That’s what it means,” she replied, laughing at the look on his face. “Come on, tell me who it was.”
“No fucking way,” Remus said. “Besides, they’re probably joking. I mean… no, they’re definitely joking.” Lily shrugged.
“Just ask them,” she said. “And then you have to tell me who your secret admirer is.” She poked him in the side.
“Stooooop,” he said, jumping away from her and laughing against his will. “I’m going.” He got up and started walking away.
“Have fun with your mystery lover,” she called after him without looking back. Remus rolled his eyes but his mind was racing. So apparently he hadn’t been wrong. That was what Sirius had said to him. What does this even mean? He’s teasing you, said a voice in his head, like always. Sirius doesn’t love you. Not like that. But he said he does. Don’t be stupid. Sirius isn’t in love with you. He’s joking. Like always.
The next time Sirius said it, they were in the Room of Requirement. Sirius had ambushed Remus in the middle of his prefect rounds with Lily levitating a cardboard box in midair. Typical. He had practically given Remus a heart attack by interrupting his conversation with Lily, leaving Remus to wonder just how much of the conversation he had overheard.
“So have you talked to your mystery French lover yet?” Lily had teased. Remus groaned.
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “And I probably won’t.”
“Why not?” Lily demanded. “They’re being very romantic, Remus, you should at least appreciate their effort.”
“I’d appreciate it more if they’d just tell me what the fuck they want instead of sending me coded messages that they know I don’t understand,” Remus grumbled.
“Moonyyyyy,” Sirius said, coming up from behind him. Remus jumped, turning around, heart racing in his chest.
“Sirius? What are you doing here?” he asked. “You know it’s after hours, right?” Sirius snorted.
“Yes, Remus, I am fully aware of the fact that I’m breaking a school rule,” he said, smirking.
“Are you aware that technically Remus and I have to turn you in?” Lily said.
“Ah, but do you really plan on doing that, Evans?” Sirius asked.
“That depends,” she replied. “Why are you here?”
“Right,” Sirius remembered, then he turned to Remus. “James forgot to put this box with the rest of the stuff for tomorrow so I said I’d take it. And you’re coming with me.”
“Remind me why again?” Remus said.
“Moony, come on, don’t make me go alone. I’ll be lonely,” Sirius pouted.
“You are insufferable, did you know that?”
“And yet, you’ve tolerated me for 6 years now.”
“Yeah, the keyword there is ‘tolerated’,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “Lils…” he started, turning to her.
“Nope,” she said before he could even ask. “No way. You are not leaving me to do these rounds alone because then I’ll die of boredom. So unless you want me to tell McGonagall that your planning something for tomorrow, you’re going to finish this floor with me and then I’ll go back to the common room and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Evans…” Sirius pouted.
“Nope, that’s non-negotiable, Black. Also, do I want to ask?” She gestured to the hovering box.
“The less you know, the better,” he said. “Although, I would avoid the classrooms near the dungeons tomorrow if I were you.” She nodded and Remus thought he saw her smile slightly for a second.
“You go on, I’ll catch up,” he said to Sirius, knowing that Lily’s mind would not be changed. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have let her leave him to finish this chore alone either. She was right, it was painstakingly boring. Which is why he would much rather be with Sirius. But it was only fair that he finished tonight’s rounds with her; she did cover for him around the full moon, after all.
Sirius pouted but knew better than to argue and turned to go to the Room of Requirement. Remus watched him and he disappeared up a flight of stairs. Only then did he notice Lily was smirking at him.
“What?” he asked, sounding a bit defensive.
“So Sirius is your secret French admirer?” she said.
“W–What?” he spluttered. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, for one, the look on your face when he showed up right behind us while we were talking about your mystery lover,” Lily said. “It was the look people make when you’ve just been talking about someone and then they show up and you’re worried that they may have overheard you.”
“That… is a very specific look,” Remus said, avoiding the question she was asking.
“Then you smiled at him when you called him insufferable,” she said.
“So?”
“So it was one of those I’m-smiling-at-you-while-I’m-teasing-you-cause-I’m-secretly-in-love-with-you smiles.”
“Again, that's a very specific expression,” he said.
“Look, I know you like him, so will you just admit it already?”
“Why? What good would that information do you? It’s for me to worry about and for Sirius to never discover, ever.”
“Remus, you’re kidding, right?” she said. “Sirius literally told you that he loves you, in French no less.”
“Exactly, Lily. In French. If he actually meant it, why would he say it in a language that he knows I don’t understand? He just knew that I would look it up and he wanted to make some joke.”
“I really don’t think so, Remus,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think he really loves you.”
“He doesn’t,” Remus said. “He can’t. Not like that.”
“Remus, do you love him?” she asked. Remus closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I love him.”
“So why are you doing this to yourself? Just ask him what he meant when he said it. You don’t even have to tell him anything, just ask him what he meant.”
“But… what if he says it was a joke?”
“First of all, I don’t think he will,” Lily said. “But if he does, that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? It won’t be a surprise or anything.”
“I know, I know, I just…” Remus sighed and looked away from her. “I don’t think I’m ready to hear him say it. To be properly rejected.”
“Oh, Rem,” she said. They had reached the end of the corridor and Lily stopped to hug him. “Obviously I’m not going to make you do anything. You know what I think. Go find Sirius now, he’ll be waiting for you. Do what you think is right.”
“Yeah,” Remus said, hugging her back. “Yeah, okay.” So Lily went in the direction of the common room and Remus went to the Room of Requirement.
He found Sirius sitting with his back against the wall, the box beside him.
“You’re an idiot,” Remus told him, trying to put the conversation with Lily out of his mind. “You’re practically begging to get caught.” Sirius shrugged.
“I was waiting for you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in.” They paced back and forth in front of the wall three times. We need a place to hide our things, Remus thought. A door appeared and Sirius opened it, leading the box in with his wand. They had been here before to hide loads of things. The room was pretty cluttered from years of students dumping their things in it but they knew where exactly to hide the box so that they’d be able to find it tomorrow when they needed it. Remus followed Sirius through aisles upon aisles of junk, looking at all the broken, discarded things people threw in here.
They found the corner where they’d left everything else and Sirius added the box to the rest of the pile.
“Are we done here?” Remus asked.
“Yep, we can leave now,” Sirius said. They had started walking back towards the door when Remus heard Sirius say it from behind him.
“Chaque jour je tombe plus amoureux de toi.” Remus turns to him and stops him in his tracks.
“Pads, why do you keep saying that? Who are you talking to?”
“Remus, you are aware that you’re the only one here right? I’m talking to you.”
“Then why… why are you—?”
“I know, I know, you don’t understand French,” Sirius says. “That’s why it's fun. It’s amusing to know something that you don’t, for once.”
“Sirius… I know what that sentence means,” Remus says quietly. Sirius’ neck snaps up.
“What?”
“I know what that sentence means,” Remus repeats.
“No, you don’t,” Sirius says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I do. I asked Lily after the last time you said it. She translated for me.”
“Fuck, I didn’t know Lily could speak French,” Sirius says, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… so this whole time you’ve known what I’m saying? So you know that I… you know that I… oh god, Remus I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to… I was just…” Sirius starts to back away, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Remus. Remus reaches out and grabs his hand.
“Don’t go,” Remus says. “Sirius. Is it a joke? Are you making a joke? Actually, no, don’t tell me. Cause if it’s a joke I’d rather you bury me under all the crap in this room and spare me the pain.”
“What?”
“It’s not a joke, is it?” Remus asked, a pleading look in his eyes.
“No,” Sirius said, softly. “It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh,” Remus said, pressing a finger to Sirius’ lips. “Sirius,” Remus tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ear. Remus was vaguely aware of Sirius stepping towards him, towards his touch. “I love you, too.” Sirius gapes at him
“Really?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” Remus says. He’s still holding Sirius’ hand. He pulls Sirius closer and lets his other hand graze Sirius’ cheek.
“Puis-je t'embrasser?” Sirius whispers.
“Pads, I… I don’t know what that means.” Sirius lets out a small laugh and looks down at the floor. Then he looks back up at Remus, his grey eyes glistening in the last sliver of sunlight. He’s biting his lip.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” Remus says, without thinking. He feels the blush blooming on his cheeks but Sirius is already kissing him, rising on his tip-toes to make his lips reach Remus’. Remus feels electric currents dancing around his body, unable to contain the excitement. He’s kissing Sirius. Sirius is kissing him back. Sirius loves him. Sirius loves him in the same way that he loves Sirius. Sirius is snaking his hands around Remus’ waist pulling him closer. Sirius’ hair is soft, tangled between his fingers. Sirius is here, in his arms, and it’s everything Remus has been wanting and more.
“Wait, so now can you tell me everything you’ve been saying in French the whole time?” They’re sitting in the same large armchair, hands still linked together, legs tucked against their chests, knees and thighs and hips pressed together. Remus is very aware of every point where his skin is making contact with Sirius’. He’s counting them.
They found the armchair in the Room of Requirement; it’s unclear to them whether the chair is something that’s been dumped in the room by somebody else or if the room conjured it up because they were looking for it.
Neither one of them wants to go back to the common room yet. Remus doesn’t want to see Lily’s smirk and to have to admit she was right at the moment. He’ll do that tomorrow. Right now, all he wants is to be with Sirius. To press little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips just because he can.
“Oh god,” Sirius says, burying his face in between Remus’ shoulder and the back of the armchair. “It’s like you want me to embarrass myself.”
“This surprises you?” Remus kisses the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then his neck. Just because he can. “Please.”
“Ah fine,” Sirius gives in. “Um, what do you want to know?”
“What did you say that day at the lake?” Remus asks.
“Oh that. I said, ‘on devrait t’arrêter pour excès de beauté sur la voie publique’. It means uh… ugh, you’re going to laugh at me for this. It means ‘you should be arrested for excessive beauty in public’,” Sirius said, blushing. Remus rolled his eyes but he felt his cheeks heat too. He smiles a little.
“What about that day on the Astronomy Tower?” he continues.
“Ugh,” Sirius buries his face in his hands. “You’re trying to kill me. I said, ‘il y a tellement de soleil dans tes yeux que je bronze quand tu me regardes’. Which means, uh… ‘there’s so much sun in your eyes that I get a tan when you look at me.’”
“You’re quite the poet, aren’t you?” Remus smiles. “And what about tonight?”
“I thought you said you knew what that meant,” Sirius says. “Or were you bluffing the whole time?”
“No, I know what it means,” Remus says. “I just want to hear you say it. In English this time, please.”
“So demanding,” Sirius teases. “I’ve said it in French a million times already and you want me to say it in English? What difference does it make?”
“Well, none to you, you speak both languages.”
“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. It’s the first time Remus has seen his face really go red. He decides he likes it. “Every day I fall more in love with you.” Remus can’t hide his smile, nor does he want to, as he leans in to kiss Sirius. He brushes his lips against Sirius’ timidly before connecting them, his hand caressing Sirius’ cheek. Remus loses count of the points of contact between him and Sirius as their bodies melt together and Remus worries that he’s about to wake up from a dream. But when he feels Sirius’ hand gently tracing the scars on his hand he knows that this is real, that Sirius can really love him. Sirius does love him.
People come to the Room of Requirement to throw things away, to hide things that they don’t want anybody else to know about, to leave things they never want to see again. But that night, Remus didn’t just leave something in the Room of Requirement. He found something, too.
#remus lupin#remus lupin fluff#sirius black#sirius black fluff#french sirius#moony#padfoot#wolfstar#WOLFSTAR FLUFF#wolfstar fanfic#Wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar oneshot#remus x sirius#sirius x remus#lily evans#lily evans fluff#Marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders oneshot
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Silent Treatment
from Textbook Love drabble series
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble, smut, college au
synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.
warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation
word count: 4.2k
tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie
a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗
The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.
You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing.
A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it.
“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”
Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.
Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you.
You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back.
“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.
Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.
“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”
Said boy only grunts in response.
“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”
The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”
“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.
He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”
A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.
“No,” he murmurs.
“Then…?”
“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”
“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look. “How long was the interaction anyway?”
“Like 30 seconds.”
“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”
“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.
“Yeah, fine, whatever.”
Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything.
You didn’t do anything.
It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.
“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”
“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”
“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”
“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.
“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question.
He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.
A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.
“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.
“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.
“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”
“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.
There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?
He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.
“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”
“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”
“Jungkook.”
He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”
He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.
“She’s in room 124… Why?”
When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur.
Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor.
He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm.
You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.
“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”
He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”
You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”
You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.
“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”
You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”
He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.
“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”
He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.
Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.
All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.
“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”
You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts.
“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.
“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.
His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”
“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.
“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”
You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.
Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.
After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.
The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”
#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jjk smut#jungkook imagines#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#bts fic#jungkook fic
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Iori Izumi - 16 Idol Album - Part 3: Sometimes it’s just like nothing’s changed
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Iori: From that day on, everytime something happened, I and nii san asked the teddy bear to do something for us
Iori: “Mr. Teddy Bear, please, make the weather sunny tomorrow!” “Mr. Teddy Bear, please, make me run faster!” “Mr. Teddy Bear, please, make the bullies become kind children!”
Iori: “Mr. Teddy Bear….”
Iori: Then, growing up, I realized that the teddy bear had no special power. However…
Iori: Since I was so used to asking the teddy bear, its specs must have been amazing…
Mitsuki: Ah, what a cute memory! Every time Iori was worried about something at the nursery school and didn’t know what to do, he asked the teddy bear!
Nagi: Oh! That’s so cute, Iori!
Riku: Do you still ask the teddy bear, nowadays?
Iori: Of course I don’t. How old do you think I am?
Riku: Why? If you asked the teddy bear with all your might even now, I could forgive you for being so cocky in everything you do
Iori: Got it. Next time I go back to my parents’ home, I’ll properly ask the teddy bear: “Please, make Nanase san act his age”
Riku: Hey, that’s rude!
Iori: I should be the one saying that
Yamato: I wish I could've seen see that as well. Ichi, the spoiled brat
Mitsuki: Ahah, you should have! He was extremely cute
Iori: I-I’m sorry, nii san. I was only a child…
Yamato: Well, a three year old baby is kinda troublesome. It’s quite normal
Mitsuki: Yeah! Also, I was happy. Ah, when you told me that you didn’t want the ghost to do “bad things” to me…
Mitsuki: Little Iori didn’t worry just about himself. He worried about me as well
Iori: Nii san…
Riku: That’s the reason why Mitsuki said that Iori’s teddy bear was a special memory
Mitsuki: Exactly! However, from that moment on Iori started becoming more and more confident. By the time he entered kindergarten, he was even able to go to the toilet all alone
Sogo: Was he really able to go to the toilet all alone so soon? Amazing. I wonder if it’s because of the way your parents raised him…
Tamaki: Really? Iorin’s mama and papa were that strict?
Sogo: I…I don’t know
Iori: Fufu… my education was a normal one. I was just independent
Tamaki: Woah! So early?! Amazing!
Nagi: Now that I heard your story, I feel like you have a very warm family
Yamato: Okay, you could go to the toilet alone, but how about the bath? Up to what age did you brothers take it together?
Mitsuki: Ah, that was a little bit longer…
Iori:...I don’t particularly feel like I want to answer such questions asked by you
Yamato: Why!? What’s wrong with me asking things!?
Riku: Iori, are you embarrassed? It’s okay, it doesn’t matter how old you were when you took baths with a family member. Me and Tenn nii…
Iori: We don’t need to know!
Riku: But I’m not embarrassed!
Sogo: Wait. I think it’s something we shouldn’t hear. Venturing in such a territory already is…
Nagi: Oh, Sogo entered his fan mood! It’s gonna take time…
Tamaki: Aah. Let’s leave him alone for a while
Mitsuki: Okay, Iori! For old times’ sake, let’s take a bath together today!
Iori: W-wait…t-that’s…I mean…It’s not like I don’t want to, but…
Riku: Ahah! Iori got embarrassed again
Mitsuki: Ahah, I was joking! But hey, sometimes it’s okay if I spoil you a bit, just like when you were a child
Mitsuki: You can do everything by yourself now. The fact that you’re so skillful makes me so happy, Iori. As your big brother, I feel like I can count on you
Iori: Nii san, I’m sorry you have to deal with me…you…you alway put my needs in the first place…
Mitsuki: Iori…
Iori: Also, I… I really like watching you doing the things you like the most, with all your strength…
Mitsuki: Mh?
Iori: When you want to reach a goal, you put in so much effort to achieve it…seeing from the back such a large amount of heat…
Iori: You were the real inspiration for the young me, and you made my heart flutter more than any toy.
Nagi:...Mitsuki’s magical power is so strong, then
Iori:...yes. I knew you would understand what I’m talking about, Rokuya san
Mitsuki: Okay, it’s getting kinda embarrassing now…!
Sogo: What about the things you can do by yourself, Iori kun? Have they increased?
Iori: Who knows. I said before that I didn’t want to be a bother, but maybe it’s something different…
Yamato: What do you mean?
Iori: I think I just wanted to become like my brother
Riku: That means that even Mitsuki immediately learned how to go to the bathroom alone?
Mitsuki: No, I learned a while after I entered kindergarten… anyway, the answer is no!
Iori: Ahah…now as then, you have the ability to involve people around you, and cheer them up. You have such a power, after all
Iori: By learning how to do anything by myself, I thought I could have stayed closer to my brother and become able to support him
Riku: Ah…I totally understand your feeling…
Riku: I wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with them and say: “Hey, look! Isn’t my family great?”
Tamaki: Iorin, you’re also amazing!
Iori:...thank you. Given the moment, I suppose we can do such a speech
Sogo: Thank you for sharing such a special memory with us, Iori kun
Yamato:.. Naw, the old man here is not good at this kind of talk
Mitsuki: Thank you, Iori. For always watching me, and supporting me
Iori: No, I was just…
Mitsuki: I guess you still want to support me, right?
Iori: Yes, of course…
Mitsuki: I'm counting on you, then
Iori: Yes!
Mitsuki: I’m thinking about asking the bear “please, let me treat my little brother with love”. Shall we do it together?
Iori: W-with love…? T-that’s…
Mitsuki: My little brother definitely looks like an adult now, but I’d like to spoil him a little sometimes! Please, Mr. Teddy Bear, let it happen!
Tamaki: “Of course! With my power, it’ll be child’s play”
Iori: Wait, Mr.Teddy bear don’t use words such as “child’s play”
Sogo: “I will make it happen thanks to my venerable power”. What do you think?
Iori: He doesn't talk like a warrior either!
Nagi: Then, you tell us! What does your teddy bear say, Iori?
Iori:....y-....
Nagi&Mitsuki&Riku&Yamato&Sogo&Tamaki:...y…?
Iori: “Yes, I’ll make it happen”…
Riku: Ah, it’s more trivial than I expected!
Iori: Please, don’t call it trivial! Okay, enough of this…
Mitsuki: Don’t be so cynical, Iori! Let’s sleep together tonight, just like we used to back then!
Iori: T-the two of us!?
Mitsuki: .. I want to spoil you…
Iori:....!
Riku: Ah, how nice! I want to sleep with you too!
Nagi: That’s unfair! Let me join you, please! Just like when we went to the training camp!
Yamato: Are snacks and alcohol allowed, by the way?
Sogo: Iori kun, if you want to be spoiled by Mitsuku san you’ll need to sleep next to him, I think
Tamaki: Yes yes yes yes! I’ll bring a game!
Mitsuki: Ahah! Looks like it became quite lively! C’mon, Iori!
Iori: …Okay, then I’ll accept the challenge. There are people in here who’ve been spoiled by their brothers more than me, after all
Iori: I’d like to eat a bear-shaped pancake, could you make me one?
Iori: Also…
Mitsuki: Yes! Then, what?
Iori: Tell me about Zero until the sun rises
Mitsuki: Yeah, leave it to me! If only because once I start, I probably won't be able to stop! Let’s stick together like we used to do, and talk about the same things we used to talk about
Iori: Yes, nii san…!
End
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Insufferable
A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!
Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one
Word count: 3.6k
Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader
Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.
Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too
There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.
You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.
Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.
You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.
Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.
Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.
Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.
“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”
“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?
You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”
“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”
Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.
“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”
“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.
“No, but I know how you look naked-”
“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.
“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.
“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.
“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”
“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.
You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-
You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.
Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-
“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.
Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?
You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.
You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.
The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.
“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.
He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.
You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.
“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”
“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.
“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.
You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.
Old habits die hard.
Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.
Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.
The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.
Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.
You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.
“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.
You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?
Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.
You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.
He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.
I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.
I’m so tired.
-Mom
Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.
“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.
“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”
He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.
No thanks to him.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.
“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”
“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.
“Wh-”
He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.
However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.
"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.
You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”
Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.
He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.
His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.
He froze.
Fuck, what food do you like?
He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.
Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.
Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.
He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.
Tip Jar
#yandere bts#soft yandere bts#bts fanfic#bts series#yandere jungkook#bts angst#bts fluff#poly bts au
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If searching for non-existent signs that Sirius might fancy him, is all Remus has to do to get Lily to drop her crazy theory, then so be it.
Read Part One here!
Read Part Three here!
Read The Final Part here!
Get What He's Saying: Part Two
Remus drops down on the couch next to Lily holding a cup of tea.
“Potter just left for Quidditch practice in quite a state,” Lily says. “Was he still mad about me going to Hogsmeade with Chase Danes?”
“Hmm? Oh, no. I think he’s over it. He’s actually going with Hestia Jones.”
“Oh.” Lily presses her lips in a tight line. “Well, good for him. What was he getting himself worked up for now, then?”
“I guess that’s my fault,” Remus sighs. “We had this weird conversation, and I think he got upset because I didn’t believe the stuff he was telling me.”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, he was all like ‘Moony, someone told me he fancies you, and it’s serious and you should-’”
Lily lets out a shriek and bolts upright, staring at Remus with a hand covering her mouth. “Merlin’s beard, Remus! Why didn’t you say so immediately? This is huge! Potter confided in you that Black fancies you? I knew it! I just knew it! How can you be so calm about this?”
Remus blinks at her for a moment. “What? Oh. Oh! No, Lily, no. Merlin, no. Why would you even think- Serious, Lily! As in not joking.”
“Oooh.” Lily sags back on the couch. For a moment, she looks disappointed, but then she starts laughing. “I’m sorry! I totally thought you meant it was Sirius! Really, that boy’s name!”
Remus shakes his head at her, while Lily, still laughing, wipes some tears from her eyes. “Remus, Remus, Remus,” she says. “Getting my hopes up for nothing.”
“Its not my fault you’d jump to such a ridiculous conclusion!” Remus says defensively. “How can that be- Wait. Hopes up? How so hopes up? And what the hell did you mean with ‘I knew it’?”
Lily shrugs. “‘I knew it’ is probably too strong a phrase. More like, I suspected it? Or at least I thought about the possibility before.”
Remus, who has never considered it as a possibility, gapes at her. “Why?” Is all he manages to say.
“I’m not sure,” Lily replies, looking at him thoughtfully. “He’s just... different when he’s around you. More grounded, somehow.”
“Well,” Remus mutters. “We’re best friends. Would be strange if he didn’t feel comfortable around me.”
“No,” Lily says in the same contemplating tone. “It’s different. Different than when he’s with Potter. When you two are together, it’s like... puzzle pieces falling into place.”
Remus can only stare at her. If only. If only he could be Sirius’ missing puzzle piece. But if Sirius’ puzzle is some bright, sunny landscape, Remus is a dreary raincloud that has no business being there.
Lily smiles sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know how else to phrase it.”
“Phrase it however you like,” Remus says. “I’m not going to let myself believe such fancies. It’ll only lead to disappointment.”
“Oh?” Lily smirks. “So you’d be disappointed if Black would turn out to not fancy you?”
Remus clenches his jaw. “It. Doesn’t. Matter.”
“Anyways,” Lily chuckles. “Good thing you didn’t misunderstand when Potter told you! That would’ve made for an awkward conversation.”
“The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Remus responds. “I’d never get such an idea in my head. He’s clearly way out of my league.”
Lily opens her mouth to protest, but Remus beats her to it. “No, Lily. Don’t try to boost my confidence. ‘Remus, you’re not in a different league, you could date someone like Sirius’. James already gave me that speech. He even said I could ‘date someone exactly like Sirius’.” Remus rolls his eyes. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
“Remus...”
“And the conversation was awkward enough without misunderstandings. He kept repeating ‘it’s serious’, while giving me these weird, intense looks. Like, what can I even do with that information if he won’t tell me who it was? But when I asked, instead of answering, he just repeated ‘it’s serious’ again.”
“Remus.”
“And even if James meant it, the person who told him could’ve very well been messing with him. James can tell me this person was serious all he wants, but how can he be sure? I mean-”
“Remus!”
“What?”
“Remus! Bloody hell, Remus!”
“Yes, Lily what?”
“Remus, for Godric’s sake, Remus. You bloody idiot!”
“What, Lily? What am I missing?”
“I’ll tell you what you’re missing, you bloody oaf!” Lily crosses her arms over her chest, giving Remus a firm stare. “You’re missing the whole bloody fact that Potter looked you right in the eyes and told you Black totally fancies you!”
“He... What?” Remus chokes. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”
Lily sniffs. “From what I gather, he wasn’t even very subtle about it.”
“No, Lily. No.” Remus shakes his head. “I really think I would’ve noticed!”
Lily raises an eyebrow. “Do you, Remus? Do you really?”
“You weren’t even there,” Remus mutters.
“Alright, alright.” Lily throws up her hands. “So he didn’t consequently phrase it as ‘it’s serious’ and ‘this person was serious’, and never anything like ‘I’m serious’ or ‘it’s for real’?”
“Well, yeah, he did, but-”
“And wasn’t he throwing you meaningful, emphatic looks every time he said that?”
“He was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean-”
“Come on, Remus! He was sending you a message, you must acknowledge that!”
“Lily, please,” Remus says pleading. “I can’t afford to hope. Hope... is dangerous.”
Lily’s face softens. “Remus, I don’t expect you to run up to him right now and declare your undying love. Although I do think that would be the right course of action,” she adds with a stern look. “But nevertheless, you shouldn’t let fear stop you! Just... try to at least open up to the possibility. Keep your eyes open the upcoming time, for any signs he might actually like you. That’s all I ask.”
Remus sighs. “Fine. I will.”
Lily stares at him for a moment. “Nope,” she then says. “No. Nope. No, you’re not getting away with it that easily. Knowing you, Black could be wearing an ‘I love Remus Lupin’ shirt tomorrow and sit down on you lap at breakfast, and you’d go ‘ah, such an affectionate friend’.”
Remus rolls his eyes, but Lily ignores him and picks up a quill and a piece of parchment. “I’m going to make you a list of specific signs you need to keep an eye out for! Number One,” she says. “Looking at you often.”
“We are best friends,” Remus says dryly. “We do tend to look at each other occasionally.”
“You know what I mean!” Lily says, but still she adds “Looking at you often, while you aren’t talking, or doing anything interesting, so when he has no reason to be looking at you. Let’s see, what else?” She taps the quill against her chin, before bending over the parchment again. “Number Two. Blushing/biting his lip/doing that thing were he tilts his head downwards and looks up at you through his lashes while interacting with you.”
Ah, yes. That thing. Remus definitely knows that thing. Not that he has ever thought Sirius does that around him in particular.
“Number Three,” Lily continues. “Giving you loads of compliments.”
Remus crosses his arms over his chest. “He only says he likes my sweaters to have an excuse to feel how soft they are!”
“Number Four,” Lily says pointedly, while looking at Remus unwaveringly. “Making up excuses to touch you.”
Remus huffs, and looks away.
Lily taps her quill in thought again. “Oh, right! Number Five. Acting extremely jealous when other people flirt with you.”
“How the hell am I supposed to check that?” Remus asks. “It’s not like people flirt with me every day! Or any day for that matter.”
“Well, I could-”
“Oh no, Lily! Don’t you dare! James’ sad deer-eyes are heart-breaking enough without knowing I caused them.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind that much,” Lily mutters.
Remus looks at Lily, then down at the list, and then back up at Lily. “Well, hello kettle. Nice to meet you. My name is pot.”
“I’ll think of something else,” Lily says irritably. “Let’s stick to these five signs for now, starting tomorrow at breakfast. If by the end of the week you haven’t seen any of them, I’ll drop it, but if you do manage to catch a few, you have to start seeing it as a serious option. Or as Potter would say, a Sirius option.”
“Fine,” Remus says, taking the list from Lily. “If that’s what it takes to get you to drop it.”
The next morning, Remus sits down at the breakfast table in his usual seat next to Sirius, across from James and Peter. James is rambling on about some new Quidditch strategy he wants to try out, and Peter is pretending to understand and trying to ask questions that don’t sound too dumb.
As Remus reaches for the porridge, he notices Mary McDonald batting her eyes at him. At first, he frowns at her. Does she have something in her eye, or is she trying to get his attention? Is she sending him a message in Morse code or something? Her finger is twirling in her dark hair so fast, that Remus is worried it might get stuck in there. Then Lily leans over and whispers something in Mary’s ear, and Remus understands. So this is Lily’s ‘thinking of something else’ for the last point om her list.
Remus groans under his breath, but decides that he might as well get started keeping his end of the deal. He turns to Sirius, and startles when he finds Sirius, head resting on his hand, staring right at him.
Sirius, also startled, jerks his head up when he suddenly meets Remus’ gaze. Remus wouldn’t consider blushing as something Sirius Black does, but the colour on his cheeks having been caught staring is definitely red. Sirius bites his lip, and tilts his head downwards, before looking up at Remus through his lashes. “I... Erm, I was just wondering if that’s a new jumper you’re wearing?”
“Eh, no. No, it’s not.”
“Well, in any case, I like it.” Sirius gives him a small smile. “I like how it looks on you. The colour really brings out your eyes.” Sirius chuckles as he reaches out and gently brushes Remus’ hair from his eyes. “If you don’t let that floppy hair of yours cover them completely, as adorable as those curls are.”
While Remus is struggling to form a reply that makes more sense than his first urge to promise Sirius he’ll never wear anything else ever again, another voice demands his attention.
“Rrrrrremus!” Mary makes the R sound like a purr. She has walked up to him and is now standing right behind the bench where he’s sitting, leaning in close over his shoulder so she can directly speak into his ear. Really, if she’s going to lean over like that, she should button up her blouse a bit more. Poor Peter nearly chokes on his toast.
“You’re so good at DADA. I was wondering if you have time after classes for some tutoring? I could really use some practice with my wand work.”
“Eh...” Remus once again struggles to form a reply. If she really needs help it’ll be rude refuse, right? Or is it part of Lily’s scheme? And if it is, would Lily want him to refuse or agree?
Before he can say anything though, Sirius speaks up, his cold gaze intently focused on Mary. “He can’t,” he says in an icy voice. “Remus is already working on his Potions Paper after class, with me.”
Remus doesn’t recall making such plans, but they do have a Potions Paper due, and Remus does desperately need Sirius’ help when it comes to Potions, so he just nods.
“Oh, booo,” Mary pouts prettily. “Better luck next time, I suppose.”
She turns around and walks out of the Great Hall, swaying in such a manner Remus worries she might dislocate a hip. Boys all over the Great Hall hang out of their seats to watch her go, but Remus is pretty sure that Sirius is the only one who’s glaring daggers.
Even though he only started keeping an eye out five minutes ago, Remus goes over the signs on the list in his head.
Well, fuck.
Part One
Part Three
The Final Part
#my tumblr writing#wolfstar#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar fic#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#marauders era#sirius black#remus lupin#remus x sirius#lily evans#james potter
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I'm shy but I tried writing something hope you like it
One last sip of coffee and two stomps to properly secure his boots, and the Gravity Falls Weirdness Expert was out the door.
It was on a particularly sunny, clear day that found Stanford once again out in the field for a little catch up on his studies. The past week had been uneventful within the confines of his basement, as if the world was allowing him time to compile the numerous foot notes and sketches of his latest findings into a fairly cohesive summary within the first few pages of his second journal. Nights and afternoons were spent humming over words that didn't quite flow, and cross referencing facts he had uncovered with rumors that fell deaf upon all ears but his. Lovely as the quiet had been, seven days was more than enough time to stay cooped up in a research shack when there was plenty more to discover.
Stanford cupped a hand around his ear and listened. A woodpecker pecked away at its hole in a birch, determined for an early breakfast. Not too far from there, a squirrel skittered along branches, hoping for an acorn meal of its own. A gnome tutted at a rainbow puddle, helping its reflection pick at its latest zit.
All sounded normal, the scientist regarded with a deep sigh of disappointment. It was uncommon to not have something completely new to marvel over. Were it not for the gnome, one wouldn't know that they were in Gravity Falls at all. It was all so peaceful and Oregonian. Perhaps the world was still holding its breath over more important things to come. Perhaps it didn't quite realize that Stanford was more than ready to jump back into the weird and the wild.
Four more minutes of strolling and listening, Stanford was just beginning to consider going into town to replenish his supplies when he finally spotted an unusual subject he'd been craving.
A long, long, long snake tail hung from below the branches of a bright red leafed tree. The tip, maroon and tan in color, swung slowly and rhythmically back and forth, like the tick and tock of a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Stanford's wide eyes traveled up the tail to see the colors recede to darker browns in circled patterns as the mass grew thicker the higher his gaze climbed. Whatever was up there, the leaves could only do so much to completely cover it. It had to be massive.
The first, most obvious thought that came to his head was Python, but he quickly dismissed it. Pythons were not native to Oregon, certainly not one of this length at the very least. Except, this was Gravity Falls, where the only acceptable thing was to accept the unacceptable. Even so, a Python, even one as gigantic as this, seemed too...ordinary for the town's infamy. He'd made it this far by thinking outside the box, so what else could possible have a snake tail of this capacity?
It hit him, and he had to choke back a gasp of delight. "A naga! An actual naga!" The whispered excitement seemed especially piercing in the quiet of the early morning, but he was too elated to care. This was exactly what he had been waiting for to break what had started as a monotonous walk in the woods. Patting at his breast pocket for a pen and paper, he wracked his brain for what little he knew about these creatures. From what he remembered, the bottom half was always a snake, while the top half-
"Well, hello."
Stanford yelped and juggled his pen for two seconds before he composed himself enough to acknowledge that he was not alone. Clutching his pen holding hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat, he replied hesitantly, "Hello?"
A deep, throaty chuckle seemed to echo all across the canopy of trees, a pleasant sound, but not very becoming of his nerves. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You just looked so excited, I got a little curious."
It wasn't hard to put two and two together. "I...should've realized that nagas were intelligent enough to understand human speech." Stanford cleared his throat, the thrill at the thought of another research subject spurring him on. "After all, if I'm getting my facts straight, your top halves are-"
Even if he had hypothesized it, he was not at all prepared for the sight that awaiting him. Slowing winding down from the thick branches was the top half of the naga; human in shape, and far more handsome than he could've imagined. Barrel chested with long chestnut hair, soulful brown eyes twinkling with mischief, and a long nose that only seemed to complete his features all the better. The naga's mouth curled into a playful smirk at Stanford's beguiled expression.
"Impressed? Understandable. Not every day you run into someone like me, am I right?" He twisted his upper half upside down so that his long hair hung down in a wave of brown, barely tickling the grass beneath him.
Stanford regained just enough sense to formulate a response. "Why, er, no, certainly not...hardly ever!" His excitement renewed, he clicked his pen and resumed reaching for some paper. "You must tell me everything about you!" His grin was all teeth.
"Well, first thing's first, how about an introduction?" The naga said with no small amount of amusement. "My name's Kenneth. Call me Kenny."
"Ah, yes, of course." Stanford shook his head and held out a six fingered hand. "Stanford Pines. Resident Researcher of Gravity Falls Phenomena. Pleasure to meet you, Kenny." Much to his delight, the Naga extended the red tip of his tail to shake with. "So fascinating! Your girth alone would take a whole page to describe! But more about that later; I must know all about your culture!" He set his pen to paper, waiting with baited breath and still beaming.
Kenny returned the smile gleefully. "Well, I'm partial to smooth jazz, but I can't say no to samba. Oh, and don't get me started on-" The naga's rambles were cut short by Stanford's throat clearing.
"Um, as stimulating as that is, I was hoping to do my research on your species as a whole."
Kenny quirked an eyebrow. "Gonna need to clear me up on that."
Stanford nodded patiently. "Well, it could be things like, what your diet consists of. Is English the most common language among your kind? Wouldn't a jungle be more befitting for a body such as yours? What natural abilities do you harbor, if any? How did-"
"Ep, ep, ep!" Kenny, to Stanford's slight indignation, placed a finger to his lips, interrupting his little question vomit. "I think it'd be better to answer one at a ti-" The naga's eyes seemed to glint for a moment. "What was that last question?"
Stanford pushed the finger off his lips to answer, "Um, what natural abilities do you harbor?"
The glint returned, and the scientist knew that he'd seen a look like that many times before. Usually it was on his brother as he was hatching one of his harebrained schemes, one that would more than likely leave the two of them grounded, in body casts, or both.
Suddenly wary, Stanford stuttered, "Um, actually, perhaps you could tell me about your diet-"
"No, no, no! This is a question I know I can answer!" Kenny's voice took on a musical lilt, the sound of it somehow easing just a little of Stanford's reluctance. Besides, hadn't he wanted to study more creatures? This was a rare opportunity, and the naga had offered. Stanford could always put out any potential fire with the extinguisher he'd hidden in one of the nearby trap doors.
"Well, alright, what are your abilities?"
Kenny's smirk returned in full force, and Stanford suppressed the urge to cringe. He was doing this for science, he reminded himself. For science.
"Well, you see, Stanford...can I call you Ford?"
"Oh, uh, yes."
"Well, Ford, us nagas all have one very special ability in common." Kenny chuckled, the force of it rippling all across his coils winding around the branches. Stanford watched, mesmerized at the browns and tans that ebbed and flowed like an ocean of coils.
"Ah, ah, ah. Eyes over here." Kenny's tail tip gently turned Ford's eyes back to his, amusement coloring his tone.
Ford blinked himself out of his stupor. "Yes. Sorry. You were saying?"
"Weeell, nagas have a very useful, very fun ability we just love to use." Kenny sang.
Ford instinctively leaned closer, now more curious than nervous. "And that is?"
"This."
A ring of yellow gently emerged and flowed outward from the center of Kenny's eyes. Then came orange. Then green. Then blue. Back to yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Yellow.
Ford gasped softly at the display. "Enchanting." He breathed. "How on earth are you doing...that with...with your...y-your eyes...?" Odd. It was getting a little hard to speak the longer he observed them. His brain would form thoughts, but the patterns would compel them to swirl away into a silvery mist. Some thoughts would reach his mouth, but his tongue was becoming heavy and useless, like he'd downed a whole bottle of red mulled wine.
Kenny smiled softly, nodding with satisfaction at the colors emerging in his volunteer's eyes. "Magic. Although I've been told by a friend that it's slightly more complicated than that. But what matters is, it feels nice, right?"
"Y-Yes...it does..." Stanford sighed his agreement, the hand holding his pen going slack at his side. It really was the most wonderful feeling, like any care or worry that had ever crossed his mind just didn't matter anymore. The weight of expectations and responsibilities lifted off his shoulders, and in their place was an intense feeling of relaxation and peace, welcoming him to their cozy little world of lovely colors and rippling coils.
Ford giggled curiously. "Wazzz...wh-what's...happening?" He should have been writing this down and asking more pressing questions, but his brain may as well have been cotton by this point. Everything felt soft and warm and good.
Kenny giggled back. "Jussst a taste of my abilities, like you wanted." He tilted his head. Ford's own head followed, glued to his eyes. "You're looking a little sleepy. How bout' a little nap?"
"Nnn...nap...?" Ford blinked sluggishly, the word sparking a flash of recognition to reignite his sleep addled brain."H-Hold on...jus' a..." It took a painful amount of effort and willpower, so much that his eyes watered, but Ford managed to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic spectacle, taking a moment to rub the drowsy out of them.
"I...what just..?" He was dazed and dizzy. But he knew just enough to figure that he had to keep his eyes covered.
Kenny blinked away his hypnosis, startled by the rare show of resistance from a subject. There were few who could resist when they were that far under, but Ford just made the very short list. Even so, he wasn't completely out of the park yet, if his sleepy ramblings were any indication.
"Aww, hey, what's wrong?" Kenny kept his voice gentle, but couldn't suppress some amusement either. "I thought you wanted to know all about the abilities of the nagas?" He tilted his head, feigning hurt.
"Of...of course I do, but..." Ford turned away from where he heard the voice, having enough sense to cover his eyes with his arms, but not enough to remember how close he was to Kenny's tree. "I...I need to be-OOF!" He smacked right into it, the shock enough to snap him out of the spell completely.
He shook the swirls and cobwebs from his head, gritting his teeth and focusing on the pain. "You..." He turned back to where he thought Kenny was, eyes shut tight and pointing accusingly. "You tried to hypnotize me!"
"Wrong way." The voice to his left snorted playfully.
Red in the face more from embarrassment than anger, Ford turned in the proper direction. "What do you intend to do, use me as some sort of thrall?! Easy slave labor?!"
Kenny clapped. "Ha! Much more original than any accusations of eating people! But no." Ford heard a rustling of leaves to his right, and he flinched backwards, into a mass of coils that propped around his shoulders like a friendly arm. "You asked me what nagas could do. I was just showing you the works."
Stanford stubbornly remained angry. "You could've just told me! Or I could've watched you do it on a gnome, or...I don't recall giving you consent to hypnotize me!"
Kenny held up his hands in a placating gesture(that Stanford could not see). "Easy there, Ford! You're saying you didn't like it?"
Ford sputtered indignantly. "I...that's besides the point! I'm doing this for science, not for a...a nap! Can you imagine how many hours of precious research time I'll lose if I sleep?!"
To his surprise, Kenny's voice took on the slightest bit of concern. "Um, when was the last time you slept?"
Once again caught off guard, Ford had to gather his thoughts and take a deep breath to answer calmly. "I can handle not sleeping for a few days. What I can't handle is how the world moves on with or without me. Every second of every minute of every hour, something is happening. Creatures to catalogue, reports to write, disputes to diverge! I'm going to change the world with this project! I'll sleep when I'm dead!" Ford had forgotten what calm was by the end of his tirade.
Still with that aggravating concern he'd often heard from his mother, brother, and Fiddleford, Kenny tutted and gave Ford's shoulders a little squeeze with his coils.
"That's no way to go, buddy. Everyone needs sleep. Even life changers like you."
"We're getting off subject." Ford gritted his teeth, trying to breathe evenly. "You showed your ability. Thank you. I'll write all about it in my next volume. Now leave me alone." Eyes still shut, Ford ducked under the coils and felt around for the paper he had dropped during his little spell. Kenny's tail curled around his right wrist, as though dejected by the lack of attention. The six fingered scientist yanked his hand away, cursing quietly when he dropped the pen it'd been holding. "I mean it, Kenny. I've had enough." He snapped.
"Oh, but you really haven't."
Maybe it was the cockiness with which the naga said it, but Ford couldn't withhold his curiosity. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, that I'd only just begun, and you'd only barely felt the full effects of a naga's powers. You resisted, and that just sent everything off kilter. Imagine how much info you could write about if you only knew what it's really like to be hypnotized by a real naga?" Kenny studied his own hands smugly, feigning nonchalance and hoping the anticipation didn't show on his face. He needed a new cuddle buddy after all.
Wait. Ford's eyes were still closed. What did Kenny have to worry about?
Ford crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his jacket. Kenny was just using promises of scientific discovery as a lure for another hapless victim, that's all this was.
Regardless, he did have to know something. "Why do you even want to hypnotize me, anyway? It can't just be because you think I need sleep." Ford huffed.
Kenny shrugged(Ford could STILL not see it). "I just wanted a cuddle. The fact that you need sleep is serendipitous."
Stanford had lost count of how many times this naga had had him completely flustered. "That's...that's why you...huh?"
"Of course! It's what I do. And no, it's not really a naga thing. It's just a Kenny thing." The naga laughed.
Ford found himself letting his guard down a little at the confession. "That's...really all there is to it?"
"Mm-hm!" Kenny nodded confidently. "Besides, is losing a few hours to the best sleep you'll ever have really that bad? Think of the discoveries you're missing out on!"
"W-Well, no, but...cuddle with you? I mean, that's just...uh..." Darn it, he was thinking of the discoveries! What could he be missing by resisting such power? Was sleep all that would happen? Could he dream under the effects of naga hypnosis? How long could a human like himself last before he gave in?
The questions were leaking through the dam of resistance in his brain. It wasn't long before they'd break free. Not only that, but...it's not like anyone would know about this. There was no one around this area but him and Kenny. Losing a bit of dignity for a few hours couldn't be too bad, could it?
Slowly, Ford allowed his crossed arms to leave his side. He knelt to the ground, feeling around for a good place to sit.
"I'll take that as a 'Go ahead'?" Kenny couldn't hide his excitement.
Hands patting a particularly soft mound of earth, Ford grunted and set himself into an upright sitting position, legs splayed. "Don't try anything stupid." He warned, determined to have as much control over this bizarre circumstance as he could.
"No problem at all." Kenny giggled. "Now, how 'bout you open your eyes, first."
Reluctantly, Ford slowly pried his eyes open, squinting against the light of mid-morning. Blinded, it took five seconds for his eyes to adjust the many colors of the day.
But then, he realized, it wasn't the day he was looking at. It was a now familiar sight of oranges and yellows and...he could barely keep track. They were going at a steady rate, but when he thought he could pick out one color, that one would fade into another, and another, and another...
Ford squinted, still stubbornly wanting to remain in control. Who said he couldn't monitor the scientific intonations in his head, after all? That way he could do research on the naga's hypnosis without losing any time to useless pastimes like sleeping.
The colors are reaching a familiar pattern. They ebb and flow like tides of the ocean. One disappears, only to appear just when you've forgotten it existed. Incredible. Dazzling. So very...focus! I hear something. A voice...a song...birds? No. Smoother. Kenny? Is it a lullaby? Trying to make it more challenging? Do your worst. I'm not...sleepy...at...all...Beautiful...So pretty...FOCUS!
Kenny watched, patiently awaiting Ford's lapse into sleep. One second his swirling eyes would droop, the next they would spring back up as he caught himself growing drowsy. Even when Kenny began to hum a gentle, lulling tune, Ford was putting up a good fight. But if the bags under his eyes told him anything, it was that he really needed a siesta.
Right. Time for a little coiling.
Noises of the forest are...fading...easier to focus on Kenny's voice...all that matters...wait. No. I was...I can't...sleep now...not yet...Focus on...ability...
Getting harder...to fight...melatonin trigger perhaps...so sleepy...yes, must be...mela...the stuff that...makes you...sleep...eyes make it...easy...to sleep...using...colors...lovely colors...
...?
Feeling...heavy...around...waist...
Indeed, a coil was just starting to inch its way around Ford's abdomen, squeezing in especially tense areas and loosening any aches and pains he had been feeling just seconds before. Around and around the tail went, carefully pinning his arms to his sides, just enough to restrain, not enough to alarm or hurt. The tip continued on upward, reaching over his chest, feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. When the tail reached his shoulders, Kenny used his impressive strength to gently tilt Ford backwards, lying him on the ground, and making sure his hypnotic eyes were always in view.
...Warm...Blanket...? No...coils...? So...sleepy...Why was...I...fighting...?
Kenny grinned over the helpless state Ford was in. His mouth hung open, his lids were periodically shutting and opening out of sync over his still swirling eyes, and his upper body was all wrapped up in his coziest coils. Still, even after all that effort, Ford looked like he need just one more little push. A nudge in the right direction.
Kenny slowly, slowly, slowly pulled him into the air, so that he hung suspended over the ground, legs dangling with the direction he swayed in. Another loop of coils around his body, and Stanford was covered neck to toe in the warm embrace of a naga hug.
...Being..held...so...wonderful...
Eyes lidded so low he could barely see Kenny's, Ford moaned softly at the sensations of his predicament. He couldn't remember why he had bothered fighting. Actually, he couldn't remember anything outside of his euphoric drowsiness and coil cocoon. Even then, Kenny noticed that his eyes hadn't closed just yet. Continuing his hummed lullaby, Kenny gave the coiled mass a little push, giving it a rocking effect.
...back...forth...back...forth...sleepy...so...sleepy...
I'm...
Falling...
Falling...
F...a...l...l...i...n...g...
Gentle snores emerged from the cocoon, and Kenny sighed with satisfaction. "That wasn't so bad, was it now?" The tip of his tail closed Ford's mouth, where the snores turned into deep breathing. The coils gradually shifted from horizontal to vertical, so that his cheek was comfortably rested against his scaly bonds.
Kenny ran a hand through Ford's brown hair, smiling with his usual mischief. "You wouldn't mind sharing your results when you wake up, would you?"
---submitted by b120583
OOC: I love this! :'3 Always nice to see a character like Ford in a situation like this <3
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Hello? Really hope your doing well. I saw your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could please do a scenario of nami and her s/o (preferably male, but gender neutral is fine as well) spending the night together aboard the sunny. They're talking and laughing the night away until s/o says:"I can't wait to marry you." Nami is happy, shocked or however you would think she's going to react. If it's a lot of work you can ignore this request. Thanks and have a great day/night
authors note : hello ! <3 this is such a cute idea .. i’d be happy to write for it ! i kept the reader gn if that’s okay <3 and i hope you’re doing well , too. please enjoy , i hope i brought out the best of thy vision ! + i hope you don’t mind i adjusted the prompt a bit ;; ++ it takes place during the beginning of Water 7 , before all the chaos. thought it’d be cute to have them on a date .. ( can you guys tell what my favourite arc is yet ? )
Nami x Reader , “ I Cant Wait To Marry You “ Drabble
You and Nami sat together in the tiny boat that was being dragged along by a vibrant king bull. The crew had figured it’d be best to wait to find a shipwright, wait to further discuss things with that man. What did the woman at the train station say was his name, again? Iceburg? Who cares, that wasn’t what was important right now. You were all told to have fun, to split up for a few hours before going to the bank. And that was the perfect time to give you and your girlfriend, Nami, private time.
The sound of laughter echoed out of your shared water carriage as you two traded words. You couldn’t recall the last time you two, or any of the crew could do something so mundane. To others, this must be incredibly boring, just riding around in the slow water roads of Water 7 but it was special to you and the crew. Having time to act like people over pirates for even just a few hours was glorious.
You loved being a pirate, but each time you docked on an island you couldn’t help but wonder how things could’ve been if you stayed back at your home village. Perhaps it could’ve been calm but you would’ve never been so happy, if not for your crew mates. Especially Nami. She was your utopia, your rock. She always was, ever since you met the crew. Even if Nami was a thief, and a rather vulgar woman, you couldn’t help but fall captive to her heart. She was so warm, so kind to the ones she loved. Nami was the woman for you and you knew that, even only after dating since she escaped the wretched clutches of the wicked man known as Arlong.
“Hey, Y/n!” Nami said, her tone high with the upmost happy tune. You looked over at her, raising your eyebrow.
“Mhm?” You hummed, looking at her face. Her normal smile soon twisted into a smug one as she fished one of her freckles hands into her pocket.
Oh no. That face never delivered good news, always just stripping her actions to expose the nudity of her own impulsive choices.
“Look what i got you!” Nami held her hands out infront of your face, palms now decorated with the sparkling chain of silver. “It’s a necklace~! Some random geezer that passed us had it and i just knew you’d love it.” She snickered, showing clear pride in her actions.
Part of you wanted to scold her for stealing from a purely innocent person. But then again, she was a pirate. You were a pirate, your whole existence and the message you stood for was criminal, now wasn’t it? You had no right to shout at Nami for stealing, especially for your sake.
The abrupt bubbling in your throat crushed all sense to ask Nami to kindly return it to the old woman who had passed you both. You began to laugh loudly, your laughter filling the small street you two were along. She was far too much..!
Nami looked over at you, a confused smile on her face. What was so funny? She leant back slightly against the tiny boat, her navy blue tie fluttering along with the force of the slight wind that waved along the city. She twirled the valuable accessory in between her fingers, looking over at you.
“Do you want it or not? I could get a few extra berries off of this if you don’t want it,” Nami shrugged, eyes twinkling at the thought of having pocket money, as the abundance she had now was all for Merry.
You wiped your eyes lightly, swiping the slight watering of your eyes away. “Oh, Nami,” You sighed to catch your own breath from laughing, your ribs aching. “I can’t wait to marry you! You’re too-“
Crap. Your face reflected the same bright pink that coloured the king bulls scales. How could you fail at catching yourself? This was awkward. Nami probably could never imagine such a thing. Sure, you two were dating but marriage was different. Far different when placed beside the playground of dating.
“Marry me? Y/n, you want to marry me?” Nami managed to keep her cool, not including the pastel hues that dusted her cheeks. How could she be so calm? You felt like leeping out of the boat, letting the oceans of Water 7 take you far away.
“W-well, yeah..one day, at least,” You admitted sheepishly, jerking your head to the side to avoid the look in Nami’s caramel shaded eyes. “Obviously, you don’t have to. I mean, when Luffy becomes pirate king, i just figured, we could settle down and...”
“And what?” Nami egged you on to finish your sentence. “Cmon, say it! We don’t have all day!” She huffed, stomping her heels down as she grew impatient.
“A-and have days like these everyday!” You said loudly to match her own tone. “We could do all sorts of things, we could go to places like this everyday, we could talk like this all day, we could-!”
Nami cut you off as she casually applied her lips to yours, no regards for the public. You kissed back slowly, even if the kiss only lasted seconds.
“Okay,” Nami beamed. “I’ll be your bride after Luffy becomes the pirate king.” She grinned as big as possible, eyes squeezed shut from the smile that stuck to her face. Nami’s cheeks were crimson at this point.
Nami couldn’t help but wonder if Bellemare was seeing this, seeing her agree to such a thing. Nami never thought she’d get such an opportunity in life, she always thought she’d be stuck as Arlong’s right hand for her entire life. But no. She’d never have to picture the horror of the old days, not anymore.
She had Luffy, Usopp, Robin... she had everyone she needed.
Most importantly, Nami had you.
#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece imagines#one piece fanfic#nami#nami x reader#nami x you#nami x y/n#straw hat nami#op nami#fanfic#cute#fluff#x reader#reader insert
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merry christmas, y’all. have some festive fics.
call you home by ashavahista
"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”
“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”
Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".
california wishing on these stars by hattalove
She’s been a roadblock for the longest time, a hard stop that cut off so many of Eddie’s thoughts halfway.
What if—but Buck’s with Taylor.
He could’ve sworn—but Buck’s with Taylor.
Sometimes he wonders—but Buck’s with Taylor.
And now he isn’t.
in which 'tis the season, buck is single again, and eddie is being very brave about it.
Mr. Diaz by therogueheart
Eddie's neighbours keep calling Buck 'Mr. Diaz.'
It takes a while for him to realise nobody is mistaking him for Eddie.
i’ll be your family by eddiesdiaz
“Buck?” Chris says, pulling him from his thoughts. He lets out a big yawn, wriggling around under the covers until he’s comfortable.
Buck couldn’t wipe the adoring smile off his face if he tried. “Yeah, buddy?”
“I know what I want you to get me for Christmas.”
“You do, huh? What is it?” Buck asks.
“I want you to be my dad,” Chris says easily, like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just tilt Buck’s entire world on its axis. “Well, my other dad.”
i just want you for my own (more than you could ever know) by lecornergirl
Eddie bites down on the urge to say I remember everything you say, because that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone in the middle of a Christmas party at your captain’s house. Also because he’s not sure it’s the kind of thing he should tell anyone at all. He’s a little concerned it makes him seem like some kind of unhinged stalker.
He’s not. He’s just desperately in love with his best friend.
Which is where the regrets come in, because Eddie is very very sure that mistletoe and unrequited love is not a combination that’s worked out well for anyone, ever.
But here he is, knee-deep in both.
wherever we’re together, that’s my home by woodchoc_magnum
Set post-5x06 "Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1", in which Buck is struggling and unwilling to let anyone in (until Eddie takes matters into his own hands).
the christmas party hop by hattalove
It's horrifying. Eddie's brain feels like it's stop-starting as he stares at the plastic frog that's turning in a very, very slow circle over his kitchen table.
"I wanted to help decorate," Christopher says, all sunny, his front teeth poking out. "It's nice, right?"
or, christopher diaz, an icon of our time, has had enough of his dads not being together.
nobody ought to be alone on christmas by Nearly
Maddie gets invited to Christmas dinner with Chimney, so Buck plans to spend the day alone. Eddie doesn't think anyone should be alone on Christmas, least of all his best friend. Somehow, everyone knows what's going on except them.
if i can’t have you i’ll walk this life alone by ShyAudacity
Buck must be cheating on him. That’s the only explanation Eddie can come up with as to why Buck’s been so secretive lately.
Eddie would bring it up- ask Buck if something’s going on that he doesn’t know about- but a part of him doesn’t want to know the answer. For now, Eddie would rather just pretend that things are fine. The potential destruction of his relationship can wait until after the new year.
He wants to hold onto this for as long as he can. Whatever is left of it, anyway.
OR
Buck is hiding something from Eddie (but it's not as bad as he thinks).
of meteorites and marriage by intotheblue
The woman - Kara, her name tag reads - laughs. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m, uh, looking for an engagement ring.” Eddie rubs his hand along the back of his neck.
“Alright,” Kara says encouragingly, “Why don’t you tell me about your lucky someone.”
“His name is Buck,” Eddie says, smiling despite himself. “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and the kindest. And he’s beautiful, in every sense of the word.”
Here Where We Should Be (Kiss Me, It’s Christmas) by allisonRW96
Christopher beams brighter than the lights surrounding him and Buck smirks. “Speaking of Rudoph,” he says, reaching behind him to pull something out of the pocket of his jeans.
“No,” Eddie answers before he can even see the objects clearly. “Absolutely not.”
In Buck’s left hand is a headband. A brown one with fuzzy little ears and tall antlers that Eddie is one hundred percent certain are about to light up.
It’s Christmas and Eddie decides he can’t possibly wait any longer to start kissing Buck.
looking at you, looking at me by catching_paper_moons
“Taylor told me she loved me,” he says, so rushed it all blends together like it’s one word. When he opens his eyes, Hen’s eyebrows have hit her hairline, and Eddie just blinks in his direction.
“Um, congratulations?” Ravi tries, and Buck and Hen wince simultaneously. Ravi immediately backpedals. “Oh, not congratulations. Anti-congratulations, then. What’s the opposite of congratulations?”
-
a post 5x09 coda that ended up being too long to be a coda, in which the boys finally figure it out.
light me up like starlight by buddiebuddie
what we should have seen in 3x10, featuring three little words, two idiots in love, and one love actually reference.
The Aftermath of Liberation and Love Confessions by ElvenSorceress
After a very long year of one terrible thing after another, Eddie has a brand new life strategy. It’s called not giving a shit.
There’s the fire of a challenge in Buck’s eyes and a clench in the set of his jaw, and come on, it’s not as if Eddie forced Buck into dating the reporter. Not like he pays it any mind whatsoever. It was doomed from the start. She’s not good enough for him. She’s a terrible fit for him. Buck’s clearly been miserable for months.
Still, Buck says, “Yeah, Eddie. Why don’t you teach us. What would you say if you were professing your love?”
You mean something besides, “In the event of my untimely death, I made you legal guardian of my child”?
Eddie stares back at him. He breathes deeply, and since his renewed life philosophy is not giving a shit and not being ashamed and finally reaching freedom, why the fuck not...
~~~
In which Eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, Buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year.
Goodwill is Sent in Snapshots (You Only Get the Full Picture on Return) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
When both Evan Buckley and Chimney Han are dumped at the start of December, they decide to swap houses - with each other. A nice two weeks in a different location will be a great unconventional Christmas. Certainly not anything life changing.
Then Buck meets Chim's next-door-neighbor, and Chim meets Buck's apartment-crashing sister.
Oh, The Lights Are Shining by soft_satan
“Well, I can’t put lights on the tree if I have no lights. Even if they weren’t a hazard, I can’t very well use the lights that almost killed my best friend.” Eddie came back and sat down on the floor beside Buck, opening the kit and taking out a few supplies. “They don’t deserve the honor of lighting my Christmas tree.”
---
In which Buck tries to help Eddie decorate and lights up more than just the tree.
'cause i've waited my whole life (for you) by chthonicheart
The reason he loves Christmas so much doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. The point is, nothing, usually, can crush his perpetual good mood during the holidays, and this year is no different. If anything, Buck’s even worse than usual. He doesn’t know why; maybe it’s the rough year he’s had, maybe it’s the lock on his emotional vulnerabilities he sacrificed along with Buck 1.0 catching up to him or both. He doesn’t know.
What he does know, though, is that one of those is definitely going to be the excuse he gives when anyone asks why he’s subjecting himself to the Sleepover of Torture.
75 best knitting puns that will have you hooked by iphigenias
Buck—Buck is knitting.
Eddie blinks, rubs his eyes. Yeah, Buck is knitting: thick fingers a little clumsy as Bobby shows him how to purl stitch with a soft-looking ball of pink ombre wool. “You’re knitting,” Eddie says, flummoxed, because Buck’s hands look huge and ridiculous on the needles, but the way he’s holding them so carefully, the pink tip of his tongue pursed between his lips as he concentrates, is making Eddie feel—well, something. He’s not sure what. And then Buck pulls the stitch from one needle to the other, looks up to meet Eddie’s eyes with an embarrassed smile, and, yeah, okay. He knows what he’s feeling.
To Build A Home by red_to_black
This relationship thing is going great, so they take it to the next level - that is, Eddie introduces Buck to his family and prays the handcuffing incident doesn't come up.
And then Buck's older sister shows up.
(In which Buck is loved far more than he even realises, Eddie and Maddie mistake each other for burglars, and Buck is only slightly less accident prone than usual.)
#kelly watches 911#911 fox#buddie#buckeddie#buck x eddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#buddie rec list#my rec list
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love story
spencer reid x reader
summary ↠ the story of how spencer and the reader met, and how they began to fall in love.
category ↠ fluff
warnings/includes ↠ none
word count ↠ 4.2k
“We are all better versions of ourselves when we are loved.” — Unknown
Spencer was insane, he was sure of it.
What else would you call him finding himself hopelessly falling for a woman he’d known for less than a month?
Pure insanity.
They first day they’d spoken he hadn’t been paying much attention. It was a beautifully sunny day, with blue skies for as far as the eye could see. It was Saturday, and the team had been graced with the entire weekend off, with Garcia even joking that serial killers seemed to have taken the backseat. And so, Spencer went where he often spent his spare time- the local park, where he could sit with his chess board for hours on end.
Initially, he didn’t notice when someone sat across from him, too engrossed in his game. It’s only when she cleared her throat slightly that he looked up.
The breath quite literally left his lungs, he felt like he was choking.
She was so beautiful.
Far too beautiful to be talking to you, he thought.
“Hi, I’m sorry to disrupt your game, and please tell me If I’m annoying you and I’ll go but- I was just wondering if you wanted someone to play with?” She asked shyly, a sheepish grin on her lips. She stood next to the table, clutching the strap of her bag in her hands.
He was staggered to say the least but managed to string together some form of a sentence. “You- you play?”
She let out a small chuckle. “I dabble. My father taught me as a kid, but I don’t play often, so forgive me if I’m a little rusty.” She joked, and he just nodded at her wearily.
He was confused, in all honesty. He moved to look over his shoulder, surveying the many other patrons of the park on this particular Saturday. Out of all the people she could’ve chosen to strike up conversation with, she chose him?
He was overthinking everything, like he normally did.
It doesn’t mean anything, Spencer. She’s just looking for some company, and god knows you need it. Just don’t scare her off.
He just nodded at her, words escaping him. She perked up at his approval, joyfully taking a seat opposite him and placing her bag by her feet.
Unsurprisingly, Spencer won easily, within minutes of them sitting down to play.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were rusty.” Spencer remarked, a poor attempt at a joke. He then quickly realised how cocky and ignorant that must’ve sounded. “I’m- I’m sorry, that wasn’t how I wanted that to sound at all I-”
She’s gonna laugh at you, you know? IQ of 187 means nothing when there’s a pretty girl in front of you, right Reid?
Spencer braced himself to be humiliated, as he was used to being. A feeling of unsettledness filled him as he mentally berated himself for not knowing when to keep his damn mouth shut- wait, why wasn’t she laughing at him? He relaxed slightly, looking over at her cautiously.
She was watching him intently, a small frown on her face.
“You don’t have to apologise, I’m not offended. In fact, you’re absolutely right. I should really brush up on my skills before I try playing a professional such as yourself.” She smiled, and Spencer blushed as he ducked his head down, avoiding her eyes.
“I’m not a professional.” He mumbled, trying to hide the smile that pulled at his lips.
“You’re not? Then you must be a genius.”
Spencer figured she was probably joking, but having never been very good with social cues, he simply nodded his head at her. When he saw her curious expression, he scrambled to explain himself. “I am, technically. I have an IQ of 187, I can read 20,000 words a minute and I have an eidetic memory.”
Great, now it sounds like you’re boasting. Why are you being such a showoff, she’s not gonna like that!
Spencer cringed, sighing inwardly, preparing for her to make fun of him. Any possible chance he could’ve had with her was gone, surely she’d think he was weird now.
“Wow, you are? That’s- that’s awesome.” She smiled, and Spencer’s head shot up in slight shock. She smiled at his reaction.
“It’s- I’m- awesome?” He stuttered, and Y/N refrained from showing how his lack of self-confidence made her heart ache a little for him.
“You sure are. I can only imagine all the cool things you know.”
He blushed again, smiling slightly at the compliment.
She grinned at him, happy she’d managed to make him smile. “I’m Y/N.” She reached her hand out across the table for him to shake. He just stared at her hand, and she quickly understood, moving her hand back. “Oh, bit of a germaphobe huh? It’s okay, I get it. I once read that with the number of pathogens passed on with a handshake, it’s actually much safer to kiss.”
Huh. As if she wasn’t perfect enough already.
“You knew that?” He breathed.
“Hm. I might not be a genius, but I know a few things.”
He chuckled a little awkwardly. “I’m- I’m Dr Spencer Reid- I’m Spencer, you don’t have to call me Doctor.” He could feel himself getting flustered under her gaze.
“You’re a Doctor? Like, of medicine?” She asked inquisitively, tilting her head to the side slightly.
He shook his head, moving his hands from where they rested on the table to wipe them on his trousers, only then noticing how sweaty they’d gotten. “No, I have three PHD’s, actually. But none in medicine.”
“Three?”
“I uh- yeah.” He swallowed, nervous as a silence overcame them. Spencer took note of how comfortable he felt, despite his visible nervousness.
“You- you’re really something special, Dr Spencer Reid.” She smiled, and he could tell it wasn’t meant to sound sarcastic or mean, but instead a warming compliment.
“Uh- thanks.” He uttered, unsure of what to say next.
You’re beautiful.
That’s what he wanted to say but he couldn’t force his mouth to form the words, no matter how hard he tried.
She flicked her watch up, checking the time before grabbing her little lavender coloured bag. “Sorry but I have to get going. I’ll uh- I’ll see you around?” She smiled, getting up from the seat. Spencer’s eyes followed her as she stood, willing himself to speak his mind.
Please don’t go, not yet.
Stay.
But the only words that left his lips were. “Y-yeah. I’ll see you.”
And then she was gone.
Spencer couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he watched her walk away.
*
He didn’t see her for two weeks after that. He’d been called away twice for a case, but every spare minute he had when he wasn’t working he spent sat at the table in the park, waiting to see if she would turn up that day. He felt silly, all the days he’d sat there waiting to see if she’d show. He rarely ever actually played any chess, just attempted to make himself look busy in case she just happened to swing by.
He was starting to lose hope that he’d ever see her again when he felt a familiar presence sit opposite him, the sight of her lavender bag being dropped by her feet.
“Are you up for a rematch?”
He looked up, trying to act as though he hadn’t dreamt of seeing her again for the last two weeks.
“Y/N.” Her name left his lips as a statement, relief that she was finally in front of him again. His lips pulled up in a small smile as he took in how she looked, ethereal as ever.
“Dr Reid. How have you been?”
“I’m good, how- how about you?”
“I’m great, thank you.” She beamed, a smile that radiated a warmth that spencer could only compare to the sun. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you again.”
“S-same here.” He grinned bashfully.
“I came here the other day hoping to see you, but you were nowhere to be found.” She commented, and Spencer cringed.
“I- yeah. I was away for work for a few days.”
“Ah. What do you do for work, if you don’t mind me asking?” She moved to lean her elbows on the table.
Of course he didn’t mind her asking. He wasn’t sure there was anything he wouldn’t do for her.
Stop. Stop that. You don’t know this girl, Spencer. Don’t fall in love with her, she won’t ever look at you like that.
“No, it’s okay. I uh, work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI.” He winced at how much it sounded like he was flaunting.
“The FBI, no way.” She smiled, and he simply nodded his head. “That’s another thing to add to the already impressive list of reasons why you’re a pretty awesome guy, Spencer.”
His cheeks flushed again, looking away. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, she smiled sincerely and then looked down at the board between them. “So uh, obviously I’m not very good at chess, and you’re brilliant at it. Would I be overstepping If I asked you to teach me?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth nervously.
Smiling lightly with a little chuckle. “I- uh- no, not overstepping at all. I’d love to teach you.”
“Great!” She looked down at her watch. “I’ve actually got to run, but I’m free tomorrow if you’re about? How’s 11am for you?”
He found himself nodding, even though his mind was nagging at him.
“Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow, Spencer.” She smiled before standing up, grabbing her bag and waving kindly before turning to leave.
and then again, she was out of sight.
He felt dazed as he stared after her longingly.
*
When 11am rolled around the following day, Spencer made his way to the park with a little skip in his step. He had to keep reminding himself that this was most definitely not a date. He was simply going to help teach her how to play chess, right? Nothing else.
Don’t get your hopes up. Last time you did you ended up hurt. You remember that? Don’t kid yourself, Reid.
He pushed the self-depreciating thought deep down, locking it away in his mind. Instead, he focused on the warm feeling he got as he approached their table, seeing her already sat waiting for him.
He had never been more grateful to not be interrupted by his work.
She beamed up at him as he took his seat across from her. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be today, so I’m all yours Doctor.” She joked, and he chuckled a little, ignoring the small twinge of pain in his chest as he thought about how desperately he wanted that to be true.
If only you were mine.
They spent the majority of the day together, Spencer trying numerous tactics to get her to have a better understanding of how the game worked. They even took a lunch break to grab coffee and pretzels from the little stand in the park. Eventually she was playing at a fairly decent level, although still no match for Spencer.
Y/N watched intently as he moved one of his pieces. She knew exactly what he was doing, but still moved her final piece.
Spencer grinned over at her. “Hey! You won.” He met her eyes, his smile faltering a little. “What?”
“You totally just let me win.” She deadpanned, and Spencer gasped dramatically.
“I did not! You’re just that good, I guess.” He shrugged and she squinted her eyes at him playfully, unable to stop the wide smile from forming on her lips.
Of course, he had obviously let her win. He should’ve known she would be smart enough to see that he’d evidently threw the round so she would win. Spencer reckoned that he’d happily lose every round if it meant he could see her smile like that.
Spencer didn’t even realise how late it had gotten until the sun began to set, casting a beautiful golden glow across the park- and her.
Y/N tapped the home screen of her phone, and Spencer watched as the screen lit up, displaying the time. “Wow, it got late quickly.” She quipped. “I should- I should really get going.” She stood from her seat, grabbing her bag and hanging it over her shoulder.
Spencer clumsily stood as well, somehow nearly tripping in the process. “Y-yeah yeah, of course.”
“Thank you for today, Spencer. I had fun.”
“That’s good- that’s good. I’m glad. I had fun too.” He replied, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously.
She simply smiled with a nod before beginning to walk away, waving as she left.
Spencer’s brain was screaming at him.
Spencer Reid if you dare let this woman walk away from you for a third time without asking her out I swear to god-
“Hey, Y/N!” He’d already called after her before even thinking about what he was going to say.
She turned around, frowning a little as he caught up to her. “Everything okay?” She asked.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just um- I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime? I’d love to- to take you out for dinner or something?”
Okay, Reid. Be smooth, stand up straight, stop stuttering. Deep breaths, man. Come on.
She seemed stunned that he’d asked, and he started to backtrack, apologising profusely for even thinking for a second that she might like him. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything. Have a good night, Y/N.” He turned to walk away, trying to eliminate the burning feeling in his chest when she called his name. When he looked back at her, she was smiling at him.
“Of course, Spencer. I’d love to go out with you sometime.”
Relief filled him as he nodded happily, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “Uh well- how about the little Italian restaurant that’s just down the road from here? Does- does Friday around 7pm sound good for you?”
She nodded, grinning contentedly. She then leaned toward him slightly, and Spencer froze.
Holy shit, she’s totally going to kiss you.
She quickly pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before pulling back with a joyful smile. “I’ll see you on Friday, Spencer.”
Then she walked away again. But this time, Spencer had hope. He put his hand to his cheek, touching the place where her lips had lingered mere seconds before. A smile spread out over his lips. He felt an unfamiliar warmth is his chest.
He felt happy.
For a split-second, anyway.
Then his mind caught up with him, and the realisation hit.
What if you get a case? What’re you gonna do? You didn’t get her number, so you can’t tell her why you won’t be there. She’s gonna think you’ve stood her up!
Spencer sighed, his head dropping into his hands.
For a genius, you sure are pretty stupid sometimes.
And because it’s just his luck, his phone chimed with a text from Garcia.
‘Crime fighters! We got ourselves a case!’
Of course.
*
He sat in the local police station, trying to focus on the case files in front of him. But he simply couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting to her. How she was definitely sat at the dinner table of the tiny Italian restaurant he’d made reservations for, waiting for him. It made his heart ache. He wished he had a way to tell her why he was absent. She deserved better than to be stood up by him.
Morgan was sat next to him at the table, watching his friend intently. When he noticed how long it was taking Reid to read the pages of the case file, which would normally take him a matter of minutes, he knew something was up. So he chucked the case file he was reading down on the table, the loud bang getting Spencer’s attention.
“Okay, Pretty boy. Spit it out.” Derek demanded, in his ‘no nonsense’ tone.
Spencer’s brows creased in confusion. “Spit what out?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. You’ve been staring at that same page for like fifteen minutes. I know for a fact that your smartass would’ve finished ages ago. Come on, tell me. What’s on your mind?”
Spencer still tried to play it off, shrugging his shoulders. He really didn’t want any of his friends finding out about Y/N. Not until he was sure if there was something going on between them.
Morgan put on his ‘serious face’, giving Spencer an unamused glare. “You know you can tell me anything, right? Anything you say, I’ll keep between us.” He attempted to persuade him.
Spencer’s shoulders dropped in defeat. It would be nice to get his worries off his chest, and if he showed Morgan how truly bothered by it he was, he wouldn’t ridicule him for it. Hopefully.
“Okay. This doesn’t leave this room though.” Spencer said, deadly serious.
Morgan smirked a little triumphantly, before crossing over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart.”
Spencer took a deep breath before starting. “I met this girl.”
Morgan couldn’t contain his reaction, a smile lighting up his face as he leaned over the table to clap Spencer on the back as he grinned. “My man!”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that. At least not yet. I’ve only met her three times. She sat across from me at one of the chess tables in the park. She’s just- she’s beautiful.” Spencer’s last few words were whispered, and he smiled at the thought of her.
“So? Why don’t you go for it?” Morgan asked, as if it was the simplest solution in the world.
“Well- because. I mean- why would she- she wouldn’t like me.” He visibly deflated as he spoke. Morgan was quick to shake his head, leaning forward on his elbows.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Reid. She’d be lucky to have you. Did you at least get her number?”
Spencer shook his head. “No, ‘cause I’m in idiot. I asked her to meet me for dinner today, but then we got called away on this case and now I have no way of telling her that I haven’t stood her up.“ Spencer’s breathing was picking up a little, and Morgan could tell how awful he felt about it all.
Morgan nodded along in understanding. “Hey, hey. Calm down, Reid. It’s okay. When we get back, you’ll just have to find her in the park again and explain everything to her.”
Spencer nodded but still sighed. “And if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?”
“Then it’ll be her loss.” Morgan promised, and Spencer just nodded, biting down on his lip.
That didn’t help at all. She still going to think you’re an ass.
*
Luckily for Spencer, the case didn’t take much longer to crack. Two days later they were touching down on the tarmac at Quantico. Spencer had been nervously bouncing his knee for the entirety of the flight and drinking copious amounts of coffee (his form of liquid courage.)
With some last words of encouragement, Morgan watched as Spencer practically ran down the steps of the jet, grabbing his go bag and heading off. “Go get her, pretty boy!” He called after him, promising to tell his confused team what that meant later.
Spencer drove quickly to get to the park, where he could only hope she’d be. As he tried his best to focus on the road, he couldn’t help the way he found himself begging all and anyone who was listening to let him fix this.
Please, if you ever do anything for me Universe, please let it be this. I’m a good guy, all I’ve ever done is help people, so i think you owe me this one. Just please, please let her be there.
As soon as he stepped through the entryway to the park, he was immediately scanning the few who were there, hoping to find the one person her cared to look for. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to stop stressing out and think for just one moment. He headed towards where they always sat, the place he would now proudly label their seats.
He didn’t think he’d ever felt happier than when he saw her sat in their spots, her back facing him. He knew it was her by the colour of her hair, and that lavender bag that sat by her feet.
He took a moment to breathe and calm himself down before approaching her.
Alright, Reid. This can go one of two ways- Either she hates you, throws everything back in your face, and you never see her again. Or she’s kind enough to give your stupid ass a second chance which you cannot afford mess up. Just, keep it together.
As he got closer, he noticed how she was playing a game of chess by herself, a skill he’d taught her. He’d mentioned before how being two players really gives you an understanding of the board. He smiled slightly at the sight, knowing she’d taken his words in and actually valued his advice. He sheepishly sat down opposite her and saw how her shoulders visibly tensed as she recognised his presence.
“I see checkmate in five.” She murmured, not meeting his eyes yet.
He frowned, that wasn’t what he expected her to say. He observed the board, the cogs turning in his head as he took note of where each piece sat on the board. “I see it in three.” He mumbled, feeling slightly relieved when her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She whispered back.
fixitfixitfixityouhavetofixit-
“Y/N I’m so so sorry.” Those were the first words to leave his lips, as he tried to poor as much sincerity into the apology as he could. He was never very good at apologies, and he’d also never felt this way for someone before. In all honesty, it frightened him. He didn’t want to seem vulnerable. Was he supposed to just hand her his heart and trust she wouldn’t break it?
She smiled sadly at him. “If you changed your mind Spencer you could’ve found me and told me. You know? Instead of just standing me up.” She gave a weak chuckle at that.
He cringed when she said that. “I didn’t stand you up- well technically I did- but not on purpose! I got called into work for a case and I had to fly to a different state, and I forgot to ask for your number and I had no way to contact you and tell you that I wasn’t standing you up.” He rambled, and Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation. She knew he was telling the truth. He worked for the FBI, it was bound to be a demanding job.
“Oh.” She murmured, not sure what to say.
He breathed out a heavy sigh, hoping he could still attempt to convince her of how sorry he was. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I didn’t want to upset you. Believe me, I was so excited to take you out. Well I was more nervous than anything-“
“Nervous? Why?” She asked inquisitively.
Spencer frowned. It seemed a silly question, wasn’t it obvious? “Why? Why- because you’re absolutely beautiful, that’s why. And for some, unheard of, unimaginable reason you wanted to go on a date with me.”
“Why’s that so hard to believe?”
“Because- because I’m weird. I talk too much and ramble about things no one cares about, I wear mismatched socks and have a phone that’s ancient ‘cause I repel technology-“ He would’ve continued had Y/N not interrupted him.
“I think you’re phenomenal.” She breathed out, smiling a little. “And you’re very handsome, too.”
“I- thank you.” He looked down at his hands, watching how his thumbs nervously intertwined. “I know you probably can’t forgive me, but I just needed you to know I was sorry. You deserved an explanation.” He mumbled, his shoulders dropping sadly.
“Spencer. I forgive you. It’s okay, really. You work for the FBI, for god’s sake. I think saving lives was more important than dinner. And besides, we can just reschedule for whenever you’re free.” She promised, shrugging like it didn’t matter- because it didn’t, not in the grand scheme of things.
Spencer was shocked that she wasn’t kicking him to the curb, leaving him like most people in his life seemed to. “You- you don’t- you still want to go out? With me?”
“Yeah, of course I do. I like you, Spencer.” She blushed.
“I- I like you, too. A lot.” He chuckled, and she laughed with him, as he unsuccessfully tried to downplay how attracted to her he was.
A silence fell on them, both just smiling nervously, trying to figure out where to go next.
“Would you want to-”
“I just wanted to say-”
They both stopped midsentence, laughing at one another.
“You go first.” Y/N giggled.
“I was just wondering- if you would- would you like to go for a walk maybe? If you don’t have somewhere else to be, that is.”
She shook her head, biting her lip softly. “A walk sounds lovely.”
As they began to walk side by side, Spencer, in a move that shocked even him, reached out to gently take her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together.
It wasn’t love, yet.
But it was something.
Something that would only blossom into more than either of them could have ever imagined.
*
Tag list (which I completely forgot to put on here when I first posted this fic lmao) : @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose
#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x reader#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler#mgg x reader#mgg#criminal minds
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By Any Other Name: Chapter Seven
Summary: You and Rex have a conversation on the rooftop.
Chapter Rating: Teen
Warnings: Alcohol, some drunk-ness. Sad, so very sad.
Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.
Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: *insert that Always Sunny in Philadelphia Meme: “NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE, REX HAS BEEN IN LOVE WITH READER THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME* As always, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!
Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
You were supposed to meet him that night.
You’d planned on going to 79’s instead of the rooftop as usual. Rose said the boys had missed you and wanted to play cards again. You’d gotten all dolled up and were about to head out when your comm beeped.
“Hey,” You grinned, shutting your apartment door behind you. “I was just heading out.”
“Yeah… about that,” Rose sounded embarrassed. “There’s been a change in plans. I won’t be able to make it. In fact, none of us will. We got – err – held up on base.”
“Really?” You asked, pausing as you started to head down to the main level of your building. “Okay… well can we meet after?”
“I’m not supposed to go off base but – yeah, yeah I’ll see what I can do. Keep your comm close.”
He hung up and you hesitated in the stairwell for a beat. Fuck it. Even if Rose couldn’t come along, you were still going to have a nice time tonight!
You had gotten more confident about going to 79’s ever since you and Rose had gotten close. You could recognize a few distinct faces now, just from people Rose had pointed out to you or introduced to you in passing. There was a notable absence of 501st blue, which at least confirmed Rose wasn’t just ditching you and had in fact gotten held up at the base with the rest of his battalion.
You approached the bar, settling in and glancing around to look for any familiar faces to keep you company while you waited for Rose. Further down the bar, you spotted Marshal Commander Cody and your breath hitched for just a moment. Rose had told you all about him – the most highly decorated clone soldier in the entire Republic Army. You would’ve been able to guess it even if Rose hadn’t told you about the curved scar on the side of his face. For the way Cody carried himself, even here, held an air of authority, of gravitas and poise.
He was talking to someone, the other person obscured by his own body. You ordered a drink, trying not to look as starstruck by the Commander as you felt.
“I’d try your luck with someone a little less ranked if I were you,” The bartender teased, catching you staring. “I’ve never once seen the Marshal Commander take up an offer to go home with somebody.”
“That’s – that isn’t my intention.” You blushed, taking the drink with a short huff. Still, you glanced at Cody again and watched him clap his hand on the shoulder of the man he’d been speaking with.
“Alright, see you around, Rex ‘ole boy. Stay out of trouble.”
Now that made you turn instantly. As Cody moved away, you were able to get a better look at the man he’d been talking to, and gods above, it was him. It was Captain Rex. Rose had told you so many stories about him that it felt strange finally seeing him in the flesh.
Rose had warned you about how much trouble you both could get in if anyone ever found out you were seeing each other. Your friendship was frowned upon enough as is, but now that it had become something more, Rose had given you the full dressing-down on what could happen to him if you were ever caught.
As such, you hadn’t ever met Rose’s superior officer, and since Rose wasn’t here…
You downed the rest of your drink quickly. There’s no reason the Captain would be suspicious of you. Besides, you wanted to meet him, get to know the man who was such a huge part of Rose’s life.
You wanted to meet his family.
“Hi.”
In truth, maybe your introduction could’ve been a little stronger. But as you sidled over to the Captain and leaned one hand on the bar, he gave you a small smile, nodding once.
“Ma’am.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Rex seemed surprised and looked you over carefully. He seemed to be waging a war with himself for a split second but eventually nodded.
“I don’t see why not.”
You grinned, settling into the seat beside him and waving the bartender over, tucking a hand under your chin. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N.”
“Rex.” He replied, offering his hand to shake. You repressed the urge to giggle. He was such a gentleman.
“What do you drink, Rex?”
He chuckled. “Whiskey.”
“Two of those, then.” You told the bartender. Rex’s eyebrow jumped up but you barely noticed.
“So. You must be a Captain, right? With all this fancy gear?” You said, motioning to his pauldron and kama.
“How d’you know I’m not just some ARC trooper who likes showing off?” Rex replied, smirking and leaning forward a bit.
“I’ve met an ARC trooper or two, and you don’t seem the type to boast.”
Rex chuckled again, taking his glass as the bartender returned. “You must get around, then.”
It wasn’t an insult and you didn’t take it as such. “Maybe I’m just good at making friends.”
Rex smiled and his eyes seemed to appraise you for a moment, taking all of you in, calculating. He took a swig.
“You here with any of those friends?” He asked.
“All alone, tonight.” You replied. “My friends got held up and you looked lonely. Thought I’d keep you company. It’s the least I can do for a soldier like you.”
Rex chuckled, low and sweet. “Most pretty girls don’t just find themselves in 79’s.” Rex drawled, setting his glass down again. “From what I can tell, they’re usually looking for trouble.”
He turned slightly to face you better. “Are you looking for trouble, mesh’la?”
Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that word, but didn’t know what it meant. Rose had called you that before.
“It looks like I already found it.” You replied.
Rex grinned. “Then I guess you better stay close so I can keep a proper eye on you.”
You chuckled, picking up your own drink and finally taking a sip. The whiskey burned your throat but it warmed you to the core. Rex looked impressed which was its own bonus.
“You never answered my question.” You said. “Are you a Captain?”
“I command the 501st attack battalion.” Rex said, a note of pride in his voice.
“Ah, then you must know Echo and Fives.” You prompted.
Rex seemed to age ten years at just the mention of their names. “I take it those are the ARC troopers you’ve met?” He asked. “My condolences.”
You giggled. “We played cards a few times. They’re nice but definitely a handful.”
“They’re all a handful.” Rex waved over the bartender to get another drink. “Every last one of them. That’s why none of them were allowed off base tonight.”
“Oh?” You grinned. “Do tell.”
Once he got going talking about his men, he couldn’t stop. Rex regaled you with the story of how earlier that afternoon he’d discovered his men were not only hiding a loth cat in the barracks, but it had given birth. They had managed to keep it a secret for weeks until the kittens started wreaking havoc. According to his men, Fives and Hardcase had been the ringleaders.
“That’s what they all say at least.” Rex amended. “’Course, Fives’ll take credit for just about anything. But Rose and Echo were suspiciously quiet the whole time. Kix was the only one with the good sense not to show his face in the barracks when I caught them. Still, I’ve got a feeling he encouraged the others to go along with it. Di’kuts, all of them.”
He shook his head but smiled as you laughed. “Anyway. They’re cleaning up the mess and finding natborns to rehome all the kits with. And when they finish with that, they’re supposed to take over the latrine shifts and canteen shifts for any other battalions.”
“Aw, seems a steep punishment for hiding loth cats.” You laughed.
“You didn’t see the state of the barracks.” Rex said, shaking his head slowly. “Apparently a bucket of paint got upended. They should all be scrubbing paw prints out of the durasteel right about now.”
You smiled fondly at Rex. Even as he retold the story, you could tell he was trying not to smile at the antics. It was clear he cared very deeply for his men, even if he had to be the tired parent of them all.
“Sounds like they wear you out.” You teased. “You deserve a break.”
“Are you offering me one?” Rex prompted.
You tilted your head to the side. “What do you mean?”
Rex smirked, and downed the rest of his drink. He took a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself to ask you something.
“Y/N!”
You recognized the voice and turned quickly as Rose hurried up to you. He had a small streak of blue paint across his cheek, but otherwise was beaming.
“Hey, you should’ve told me you’d be here. I went all the way to your apartment and had to backtrack -.”
He noticed the Captain a beat too late and you watched as all the color comically drained from his face. “Captain! Sir!” He snapped to attention. “I ah – I can explain…”
You glanced between Rose and Rex, your own heart pounding. Rose had all but given away the two of you were seeing each other. Rex looked at Rose before looking at you. He then turned to his glass, picking it up and making a big scene of looking it over.
“Sir…?” Rose asked nervously.
“Oh, I’m just inspecting my beverage.” Rex replied smoothly. “I must’ve been drugged you see, because surely I am not seeing my Lieutenant standing here, not when he is under strict orders to stay on base tonight.”
Rose cringed. “Yeah, sir, about that -.”
“It’s my fault.” You spoke up quickly, throwing together a lie. “Rose and I met yesterday, we’d been playing Sabacc with some of his brothers and he very kindly walked me home afterwards. I promised him drinks tonight to thank him and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” You glanced to Rose. “He was just being a gentleman.”
Rex raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rose. “Funny.” He said. “Could’ve sworn I saw you in the weight room with Fives last night.”
“We… came here afterwards sir.” Rose lied, shifting a little closer to you, almost protective. “Ask him, he’ll say the same thing.”
“I’m sure he will.” Rex stood, picking his helmet up off the counter and knocked his knuckles lightly against the bar. “It was lovely to meet you, ma’am.” He said. “Rose?”
Your soldier stood at attention once again but Rex just put a hand on his shoulder.
“We have a briefing tomorrow morning. Oh-eight-hundred. Don’t be late.”
“Thank you, sir.” Rose was barely audible over the roar of the music in the bar. He looked like his knees would give out at any moment.
You could’ve sworn you saw Rex give Rose a little wink, but it must’ve been a trick of the light. He gave you one last nod before quietly departing.
Neither you nor Rose saw him glance back at you over his shoulder one last time before stepping out of the bar.
~
You’d lost track of how long you sat on the roof with Rex. Partially because he’d gone downstairs and returned with a bottle of your favorite whiskey and two glasses, pouring drinks for you both.
“For Rose,” Rex toasted, clinking your glasses together.
You smiled and for the first time that you could remember, Rose’s name didn’t make your heart ache. “For Rose.”
You both tossed the glasses back, that familiar burn searing your throat and chest before you shook yourself out, watching as Rex poured you both a second glass, entirely unfazed.
“He was very unsubtle about sneaking off base to go see you.” Rex told you, leaning back on one hand and closing his eyes as the breeze kissed his cheeks. “I’d give him a job and it would either be done in record time or it would’ve been passed off to somebody else. He once almost missed a debriefing because he’d spent the night with you. Skidded in right as I was about to start.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mind. He was happy. Gods know we soldiers deserve whatever happiness we can find.”
You hummed, smiling as you took another drink. “He talked about you all the time.” You said, leaning slightly against Rex’s side. “Idolized you, actually. He told me about the battles you’d been in together, how well you led your men.” You smiled to yourself, finishing your second drink and making your way towards a third. “He told me about that virus. Blue Shadow Virus, right?”
Rex hummed, getting himself another drink as well. “That was an ugly mission.”
“He said you were hovering a lot.” You teased. “Because he was always so sick when he was little. You were worried about him.”
“Brothers were dropping dead, left and right. Hells, even Commander Tano passed out at one point.” Rex recalled, shuddering to himself. “I thought we were all going to die.”
“He told me he wasn’t scared because you weren’t scared.” You smiled. “I guess you did a good job of hiding it.”
“He had way too many close calls.” Rex chuckled. “That virus almost took him out. We got rescued just in time. There was another time he was scouting with me and a few others on Saleucami -.”
“I remember that. You were shot.” You recalled and Rex chuckled.
“He really did tell you everything, didn’t he?”
“He was terrified. He told me he thought you were dead, the way you flew off the back of the speeder after getting hit..” You murmured.
“What he probably didn’t tell you is that shot just barely missed him.” Rex replied. “I’d been leading but he’d circled around me to get in front. He was goofing around with Hardcase. Bolt whizzed just an inch past his head and hit me instead. He had a blaster burn on the side of his helmet to prove it.”
You shuddered at the thought. “He didn’t tell me that part.”
“Probably also didn’t tell you that he got shot pretty good on Toydaria.” Rex replied. “Not once, but twice, once in the leg and another straight through the chest. Kix thought for sure he was a goner.”
You were familiar with those wounds. A frown pulled your lips. “He didn’t tell me. I had to find them myself.” You grumbled, still bitter. “He’d come back from the mission and told me he’d gotten hurt, but it was nothing serious.” You threw back your drink again. “Bantha shit, if I brushed against him, he winced. Finally made him show me.”
“I’m sure he got an earful after that.” Rex laughed.
“Oh, he did. And he wasn’t even that bothered that he’d nearly died, no, he was more concerned about the fact that his tattoos had been damaged by the shots. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to get new ink over the scars.” You rolled your eyes. “That man…”
“He was just trying not to worry you.” Rex smiled, taking another drink.
“I always worry.” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your glass. “Always. About all of you. I always worried that one day Rose would come home and tell me something had happened to Fives, Echo, you… or any of the others.” You chuckled humorlessly, finishing your drink. “And then… one day you showed up at my door instead.”
A heavy silence fell between you. Rex took your empty glass, filling it up once again.
“It seems so silly.” You said. “That he should survive all of that and then just get shot and killed during a routine supply drop. I thought he was unbreakable.” You shook your head. “Guess I was wrong.”
Rex wouldn’t look you in the eye, instead focusing very intently on the glass in his hands.
“It was quick.” Rex said finally, still avoiding your eyes. “He didn’t feel anything. I promise.”
“I know.” You gave him a small, sad smile, squeezing his bicep gently. “And I guess I have that at least. At least… at least I know he didn’t suffer. He wasn’t alone or – or afraid.”
You smiled wistfully, looking out over the skyline.
“There’s a dress in my closet,” You began. “It’s nothing fancy, just a white sundress with lace around the hem and sleeves.”
Rex already seemed to know where this was going. He took a very long drink and followed your gaze out towards the skyline.
“We were going to leave together.” You said quietly. “Get married. Have a family. He had this whole, crazy plan.” You chuckled. “I’d told him I wanted to think about it. It was a big decision, he’d be on the run for the rest of his life, hiding from the Republic. And I’d be part of that.”
You glanced over at Rex. “He told me he was going to tell you. He said we could trust you. Did he ever…?”
Rex shook his head. “No. He never got the chance.”
You nodded, turning back towards the sky. “I was going to say yes.” You whispered. “I was going to go with him when he came back. We were going to run away together… It was all very romantic.” You shook your head, staring down at your glass. “And it was so stupid.”
Rex was quiet for several long moments until finally he rose to his feet, offering you his hand.
“C’mon.” he murmured. “I think that’s enough drinking for one night. Let’s get you home.”
You nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. You swayed. You didn’t realize how much you’d had to drink until you stumbled, falling slightly against his chest.
“The Rose Lounge owner can’t hold her liquor?” Rex teased. “Ironic.”
“Shuddup.” You mumbled, giving him a little shove. “I can walk.”
“Oh no you can’t, Tipsy. C’mere.” He crouched down slightly, and you slumped against his back. He picked you up with ease, bouncing you once to hike you higher up his back. He wrapped his arms around your legs, holding them snug against his torso while your hands wrapped around his shoulders.
“Don’t puke on me.” Rex warned, carrying you piggyback style towards the stairs.
“’M gonna fall off.” You muttered.
“No you won’t. Trust me.”
Your eyes were heavy, cheek pressed against the back of Rex’s neck and you remembered a time very long ago when another man had carried you on his back to this rooftop, and said the very same thing.
“I trust you, Rose.”
Rex was still. You hadn’t noticed your slip, your eyes already slipping closed.
“Okay.” His voice echoed. “I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
~
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#ro writes#BAON#ByAnyOtherName#Rex x Reader#Captain Rex x Reader#Fives x Reader#ARC Trooper Fives x Reader#OC Rose#Ro's OCs#star wars#star wars the clone wars#swtcw#tcw
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The Night We Met
Part One - The Night We Met
Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader
Words: 5.3k
Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.
Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.
AO3
MASTERLIST
Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.
Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.
If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.
Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.
Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.
You were fuckin’ dumb.
Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.
You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.
His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.
After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.
It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed. A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.
You had to check on Steve.
He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him.
So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other. The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.
When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.
The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.
Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.
Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.
After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.
Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.
“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.
You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.
Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.
You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.
By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.
So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.
“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.
“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.
“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.
“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”
“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.
“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”
“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?”
“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”
“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.
“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.
“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”
“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.
You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.
“You’re not interrupting anything.”
Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.
If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.
So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.
“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.
Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.
You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.
Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know.
...
As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.
“No thanks, I quit.”
“Woman with an iron will?”
“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.
He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.
“Murphy? … Yeah… you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”
Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.
“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.
“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.
“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving. He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.
Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing.
“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.
“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.
“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.” You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.
He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.
News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!
“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.
You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.
“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.
“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…” Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.
“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”
You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.
How was he so goddamn warm?
All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.
You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.
Get a grip Y/N.
The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.
Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.
“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host. You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.
“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”
“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy... He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.
“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”
Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”
“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention, you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."
You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier. He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.
When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.
Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.
You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.
“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.
Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching. He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system. You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.
You were here for Steve...
“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.
“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.
He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.
You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love. This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.
You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”
He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.
It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.
You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.
Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own. Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.
Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.
The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.
“...Is Steve okay?”
“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.
The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.
Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.
Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.
You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.
You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.
This had definitely not been a mistake.
Part Two
#javier pena x reader#javier peña x reader#narcos fic#pedro pascal x reader#I LOVE THE BLACK FUCKING SHIRT#narcos fanfiction#javier peña#murphy!reader
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12 Grimmauld Place (3/?)
Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Remus Lupin x readers brother
Word Count: 2,072
Warnings: angst, language
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4
It was the only room you’d seen thus far that didn’t have peeling layers of dark-colored paints, ranging from deep emeralds to smoky greys and jet blacks. Instead, it was painted likely the lightest shade of grey Sirius could convince his mother to agree to, but looking around, that was probably the only thing she would’ve approved of in this room.
Laughing to yourself quietly, you had a stark, strangely sad realization: this was still a teenager's room. Scantily clad Muggle women postered the walls draped across expensive-looking cars, Gryffindor apparel was strewn everywhere possible, what looked to be a Quidditch banner hung from the ceiling, and various Honeydukes wrappings littered the floor. A large, expensive, very elaborately made chair stood in the corner of the room, buried underneath layers of dark clothing.
“Sorry, probably should’ve cleaned up...wasn’t exactly expecting company though, not that you’re a bother! Merlin, it’s lovely to have someone so love--so...it’s nice to have someone else here.” Sirius finished, as red as the scarlet robes hanging from his canopy bed as he stuttered his way through his explanation.
“This is...this is incredible,” you said, moving through the room to find a picture of Sirius and James with their arms thrown across each other's shoulders, laughing jovially as Remus shook his finger at them in the distance. Chuckling to yourself, you continued to look at the handful of old pictures that littered his dresser.
Another picture nearby showed Sirius sneaking up on James as he very clearly flirted with Lily, her face lighting up with laughter as James jumped up in fright.
“He was always so easy when Lily was around...” Sirius trailed off, smiling sadly at the photos before you. Looking to the other corner of the mirror, you saw three more photos shoved into the cracks.
The first was a picture of the group of them lounged around the Great Lake; you’d guessed Peter was behind the camera because only the four of them smiled up at you. James’ head lay in Lily’s lap, hers rested on Sirius’ shoulder, who waved up cheerily at you. As Lily sat up to meet James halfway for a quick kiss, Sirius stretched out his arm and pulled in a sheepish looking Remus, ruffling the top of his head affectionately. You smiled at the sight of your brother with his friends. The happiness that radiated from this picture was intoxicating, you never wanted to look away.
The next was of them in what must’ve been the Gryffindor common room. Being a Slytherin, you’d never seen the inside of anyone else’s common rooms. Large, comfy furniture was placed strategically around the room, drapings of what you’d assumed to be scarlet and gold draped the walls, an inviting fire dominated the center of the room.
This picture was another of the group of them, but this time a frightened-looking James and a smirking Sirius were evidently getting scolded fiercely by Lily. You laughed upon seeing Remus standing behind Lily in a sort of gesture of good faith but seemingly offered no words to his insolent friends.
“Hexed a fourth year Slytherin,” he explained, you turned to glare playfully at him, and he smiled, “The git tried to stick gum in my hair! I think there might’ve been an incident with myself and a girlfriend of his, though...Anyway, James caught him just before and...well, he was with Madam Pomfrey for a few days, I think. Lily gave us a right good telling off for that one, came close to Minnie’s scoldings,” Sirius sighed wistfully, likely reliving the day in his head.
“Wait...” you trailed off upon seeing the last.
The third picture was in the Great Hall; though many people were in the picture, the center focus seemed to be a group of Slytherin girls standing in the entryway. There, in the center of the photograph, laughing heartily, was you. Your Y/H/C hair was seemingly shining underneath what was likely a very sunny day, your teeth gleaming as you laughed at something someone had said.
“Is that..?” you turned around, looking to find him sheepishly smirking at his feet.
“Yes, I believe it is,” he said. A smile was on his face, but he was scrutinizing yours. “I think I nicked it off Remus at some point.”
“Why?” you shook your head. Surely Sirius Black hadn’t been fawning over you as well? Surely you hadn’t wasted all these years apart because neither one of you had the bollocks. “You could’ve had anybody...”
“Well, I could--and did,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not proud of my whorish boyhood--though it only seems fair having given my recent dating history, funnily enough, a dementor's kiss is not a hot thing.” he broke off when you let out a rip of laughter. “But all that is behind me. I can still hear James suggesting I settle down with a nice girl instead of working my way through the female half of our year. Remus gave up on that idea long ago, I think.”
His smile turned sad at the mention of his friend, and your eyes fell back to the picture of the two of them being scolded by Lily.
“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said honestly. “The last half of your life...it must’ve been awful. Losing your best mate, your brother essentially, and then being blamed and imprisoned in fucking Azkaban for a decade for it.”
Sirius didn’t answer, merely looked darkly at the floor. You took your cue to steer the conversation in another direction. Tightening your towel around you, you cleared your throat.
“So, this nice girl James wanted you to find, any luck thus far? Do I know her?” you asked, lightening the mood.
“What do you think? This decrepit house isn’t exactly overflowing with options. Unless you count portraits of past, insane, family members, then I’m swimming!” he laughed, skirting around an answer.
“Nothing like a little pureblood incest,” you laughed in return. A draft of cold air blanketed the room, and you shivered. “So, er, I didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag on my way out; you don’t by chance have any clothes you wouldn’t mind me using, do you?”
“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s absolutely freezing in this drafty old house.” Sirius commented, gesturing to your goosebump covered arms. He turned and clapped his hands, flying to his closet.
“Well, I’ve got a bunch of my old school clothes in here...Seems dear old Mum had at least half a heart. This stuff might fit you a tad better,” he murmured, running his hands along the swinging clothes in his old closet. After a moment, he let out a barking laugh. “Here!”
He threw you a maroon hoodie, and you gave him a look, knowing he was teasing you about the housing. Opening the balled up fabric, you smiled despite yourself seeing the front. It was a Gryffindor Quidditch sweatshirt. You grinned giddily as you turned it around and saw Sirius’ last name splayed across the back, complete with his number. What you wouldn’t have given to wear this years ago...
“Did you need pants, too?” Sirius asked, an odd look on his face as you smiled down at his sweatshirt.
“Oh, no. That’s okay. This looks like it should cover everything--I’m a hot sleeper.” you explained sheepishly.
Turning, you padded softly over to the adjoining bathroom and clicked the door shut.
What a turn of events. Standing in Sirius Black’s bathroom, you took stock of the night.
You’d been attacked and almost killed by Fenrir Greyback, only just managing to escape what would have been a horrid death--or worse. After being mended by Madam Pomfrey, Sirius Black was to continue nursing you back to health. Sirius Black, your greatest childhood crush, and the way your heart hammered in your chest even now told you it might not be all the way extinguished. Never once did you think you’d see where he lived, let alone be undressing in his bedroom.
And his bedroom...what a time capsule it was. It made you feel like you were in school again, hoping to catch him in the hallways between classes, always peering through the stacks of books as he and James teased Remus during his studies. And further, it seemed all that time you hadn’t been the only one watching. Sirius Black had been watching you almost as much as you had him in your school years. Evident in that hidden in his bedroom was a photo of you, a photo you didn’t know he snuck. A photo surrounded by the greatest hits of his school years, surrounded by those he considered family.
Trying not to let it all go to your head, you groaned when you slipped the sweatshirt over your head. Though the pain in your body wanted to bring you back to reality, the full, uninhibited scent of Sirius sent you reeling once more. A sickly sweet, smoky scent was the most noticeable. Tobacco, maybe? Suddenly, the image of a young Sirius lounged beneath a tree on the skirts of the Great Lake was brought to mind, smoke rolling from his mouth as he brought his hand down from his lips. Of course, another inherently muggle form of rebellion, a double whammy to his family.
Something woodsy lingered underneath, as if the hoodie had been swaying in the breeze of some forgotten forest for the last twelve years instead of shut up in this abandoned house. Head swimming, you gingerly stepped out into the bedroom before you got lost in your thoughts.
“So, er, about the bed situa...” Sirius said, trailing off as he turned around to see you leaning against his doorway, sweatshirt draped to the tops of your thighs.
“Sorry, shit, I can put something else on if you want...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I mean, we’ve known each other all this time--sort of, anyway. I must be like a sister to you...this is probably super weird. I’ll just fetch a pair of pants,” you nervously rambled. Sirius’ face had not changed since he saw you, and you were beginning to feel incredibly anxious about it all.
“No, no. Seriously, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius said, his old playful smile playing on his lips. Rolling your eyes, you damned the blush creeping up your cheeks.
“Here, I found you these," Sirius said, tossing you a pair of thick brown socks. "I remember hearing you whine about your hands being cold all the time, figured the same might apply to your toes in an old drafty house like this.”
“You remember?” you asked him.
“Yes, well, I overheard you whining about it a time or two, and Remus was always mentioning you whining about being cold...I just remembered, that’s all.” Sirius said, his tone becoming oddly choppy.
“Well, you’re right. My toes were positively popsicles, but I didn’t want to be a complainer or anything, though...” you trailed off, pulling the thick socks onto your ice-cold feet.
“Ah yes, get attacked by a murderous werewolf, blast yourself into a wall, shatter a few bones, but lest you complain!” Sirius teased you, smiling once more.
In the next second of silence that occurred, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you smiled sheepishly.
“Bastard got me right in the middle of making dinner,” you explained.
“Well, come on then. I’ll have Kreacher fix us something; what would you like?” Sirius asked, seemingly happy that he could help.
“What’s he good at?” you shrugged, hungry for anything. Winking at you, Sirius barked for Kreacher as he led you down into the kitchen.
“Yes, Master?” Kreacher croaked, bowing so lowly his nose brushed against the dusty floor.
“Fix us some herb dumpling stew, won’t you? And some of those delicious little mince pies you make.” Sirius said, and at once, the elf nodded and stepped over to the stove.
“And some apple pie?” you asked hopefully as you sank into the seat across from Sirius at the long kitchen table.
“Whatever she asks, Kreacher,” Sirius commanded, smiling fondly at your excited state.
“Of course, Master...Kreacher gladly serves those pure of blood...gladly...whatever she asks..” he agreed in his funny speech patterns.
While Kreacher was cooking, Sirius reckoned it was time to alert Remus and the rest of the Order, and you couldn’t find a reason to disagree.Sighing, you watched him disappear to retrieve Remus.
#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#Harry Potter Smut#Ron Weasley#Hermione Granger#Granger#Ginny Weasley#Fred and Goerge Weasley#weasley twins#weasley#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius#sirius black smut#sirius black fanfiction#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus#remus lupin fanfiction#lupin#back#marauders fic#harry potter marauders#marauders x reader#harry potter fic#Draco Malfoy#Draco#daddy draco#draco malfoy smut#blaise zabini
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love to hate you | Part 2
„After a year they meet again and they’re not amused.”
previous | masterlist | next
• Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Reader (Princess of Bavaria)
• Word count: 3.8k
• Warnings: my terrific writing ✨ none, just the usual
• A/N: Thank you all so much, so much for the all the responses and everything! I hadn’t expected so many readers, thank you! 🥺💖💖💖💖
I know I’ve said that part 2 could be uploaded within a week, but I wasn’t so happy with it and still I am not 100% satisfied. And I’ve learnt that I shouldn’t promise uploading dates :’) Thanks again to @netflixton on, you were right rewriting scenes does help, a lot!
This part is longer than the first but maybe not as thrilling, yet I hope you enjoy it
• Small dictionary:
Bärli – a cute nickname, kinda a cute way to say bear
Lake Starnberg, Bavaria, 1813
With closed eyes and a bright smile on your lips did you enjoy the warmth of the sun on your skin. Today’s weather was unusual sunny and warm, even for a day in the spring. But of course, you didn’t mind the variance. No one did, as long the weather was pleasant.
Splashing your feet in the cold, but refreshing, lake’s water and your arms spread behind you, supporting you, you bathed in the sun. Warm sunlight tickled your skin. The weather couldn’t be better, it almost felt like a farewell gift. As if the sun knew that this was your last day before your departure for grey, rainy England. You’ve heard about its infamous weather and expected weeks of grey- and dullness.
While you weren’t too keen on the English weather, your excitement for the voyage was undeniable, it was … it was … you couldn’t really put it into words. You were excited, yes, even more than that. Maybe you could compare your feelings to someone who made a big discovery, a positive one. But that didn’t catch it right either. It was just … you were so happy about your first real travel. Yes, you’ve travelled to Vienna, Tyrol, Frankfurt and … Prussia. But England was your first travel with a ship. Your first time overseas.
Filled with delight and excitement you flopped down in the soft green grass, surrounded by the first wildflowers of spring. Happily, you sighed and when the picture of your old governess appeared in your mind, you couldn’t even think about stifling your laugh. Oh, she would be furious if she saw you like that. She hated it, with great passion, to see you laying on grass, in the sun or water. It was unproper, grass stains, tans, and so many other reasons that didn’t make sense.
You hummed in delight.
Good that you were no longer in need of a governess.
London, England, 1813
Sitting under a pavilion in the queen’s garden, together with his aunt, Friedrich enjoyed his breakfast to the fullest. It was beyond incredible how good today’s meal tasted and how happy he felt. Almost overjoyed. The queen used to look up from her dish and latest Lady Whistledown, eying him with slight bewilderment, whenever she heard him hum happily with every bite he took. He still did that, humming in delight with every bite, but by now she was used to it.
Friedrich felt that this year would be going well. This year was a good year, maybe even one of his bests. He was doing well, his mother was more than well, his travels had been fantastique, especially this one, and the annual ball to his birthday had been better than ever. Mainly because one person, who he didn’t like to think about, didn’t attend. For the first time in forever Friedrich didn’t had to see the face of we-don’t-talk-about-her. She had been sick or something, he didn’t really care, when he heard the sad news, as his mother called them, he felt like dancing, purely out of joy – or relief, or schadenfreude, or all three of them.
Well, the only thing that mattered: Friedrich hadn’t seen someone, the one who shall not be named, for over a year.
What a true blessing.
And even better, at the Salisbury ball he met her, Daphne Bridgerton. His aunt, Queen Charlotte, had told him so much about her, there were only things to praise. She was so enthused by this girl; he had rarely seen his aunt like that. To her she was flawless but to him she was so much more.
If you’d ask him the queen wasn’t able to give Daphne justice. No one could. Her words couldn’t describe her, not the slightest. Friedrich had met her, she wasn’t only beautiful with her copper hair and rosy skin, her laugh was incredibly charming, infatuating, and endearing. Sadly, he only had had the chance to dance with her once.
Did Friedrich believe in love at first sight? – He didn’t know, exactly. Maybe.
Was is love at first sight? Maybe.
He didn’t know.
. . .
England was exciting, no, thrilling! You had seen different big cities, each unique in its own, but London and its countryside were something else. Never had you seen such huge white cliffs, which looked like someone had chopped them off with a knife. From your ship you could’ve starred at them for hours. The biggest surprise, however, was the English sun shining down on you. The weather wasn’t as cloudy and rainy as you’d imagined. Your father must have lied.
London wasn’t Vienna but it had its own charm, which made it impossible for you to not marvel at, literally, everything.
Your inn was magnificent. It hadn’t looked like much from the outside. Well, to you it looked just like the other brick buildings of Mayfair, but when you entered the house you couldn’t contain your wonder. You were amazed how big it was from the inside. Oh, and your suite was decked in lush green colours, which reminded you of home. It looked very pleasant, homey even and the bed very inviting. Tired as you were you flopped down onto the huge bed, face first.
One of your family’s maids, who stood ready, with straight posture, near the door, stared at you with wide confused eyes. You hadn’t noticed her at all. Of course, she knew your habits. But seeing you falling into your bed so plump, like a ragdoll … or a corpse, completely ignoring her, was … a surprise.
“What shall I do now?” the young girl asked herself in a whisper, her eyes huge and baffled. She knew that you had just set down foot on English ground, but there was no time for you to rest. They had to get you ready for tonight’s soirée at Lady –
Were you snoring?
“Oh, you must be kidding.” Your snores were almost able to compete with your father’s. Not very ladylike. She pondered if she should wake you, already calculating the time she needed to tend to your hair, robes etc. But after the long travel you needed some time to rest – wait, she also needed that!
For a mere moment you made no sound and she grew scared, did you stop breathing? What should she do? If she reported a dead princess their first, and maybe only, suspect would be her.
Oh. Oh, no, everything was fine you were snoring again.
“Okay,” she sighed, addressing your limp, sleeping body. “But only for some minutes.”
“But Mama, do we really have –“you tried to stifle a yawn, not succeeding. The short nap had felt incredible but now the movement of the coach, light but steady rocking, made you feel tired again. Right now, you felt like falling asleep any moment.
“Y/N, please, your manners,” scolded Marie, your mama. Well, it was hardly scolding, she knew you were tired, hell, she herself was tired from your travels. It was more like a friendly reminder, not to yawn every second at the soirée. “Or Lady Danbury could feel offended, thinking she bores us.”
“But do we need to? It’s our first night in London. – And it’s not like we know this Lady Danbury anyway,” you asked, or more tried to convince your mother of returning to the inn, mumbling the last part.
But like so often Marie had heard every word you said. “Oh, Bärli. I’ve told you; her son and your papa were friends.”
Your mama nodded to your father, who had dozed off, arms crossed and his head falling to his shoulder. At the sight of her snoring husband Marie sighed. “They met at Oxford, or was it Cambridge? God knows where he studied – but he made friends with her son. Well, you know the rest.”
His feet were dancing but his heart wasn’t. Yes, he had asked Miss Cowper for a dance and she was a good dancer, but his heart longed for another girl in his arms. Kind as he was Friedrich tried to focus on Cressida, it was only fair. She too was a marvellous young lady, with incredible coiffure if he may add. But deep inside his heart yearned for another. His blue eyes always seemed to seek out Daphne on their own, but he couldn’t help it.
Friedrich always spared short longing glances at Daphne Bridgerton. Cressida knew and hated it. She wanted the prince to focus on her, and only her. But what should she do? Break off the dance and risking offending prince and queen? No, she wouldn’t do that. She and her mama had worked too hard for this opportunity to go to waste.
Daphne seemed to enjoy this dance and sharing it with the duke. Ugh, deep inside him Friedrich felt a weird mix of longing and jealousy. Yes, he was jealous of the duke, because he was able to dance with her and make her laugh. He wanted to be the one, but he was also a gentleman, and thus respected Daphne’s wishes. But he couldn’t help himself, his eyes were glued on her. She looked very lovely in her pale blue gown.
When the music finished Friedrich’s heart desperately wanted to run off to Daphne. But one she was still enjoying the company of the Duke of Hastings and second, he couldn’t do that to Cressida. So instead, he asked her for another dance.
Cressida smiled, even if the prince hadn’t been completely focused on her, him asking for another dance was a good sign. So, when she saw that Daphne Bridgerton retired from the dancefloor she said, “I would love to, your Highness.”
And so, they danced. For Cressida this felt like a triumph, one Daphne didn’t have.
Your father, risen from his beautiful slumber, as if he had pricked his finger on a thorn, ushered you towards an elder lady. One you didn’t know, but that wasn’t so surprising, so far, you knew no one in Mayfair. But you guessed that this Lady, dressed in rich purple colours and resting her weight on a fancy cane, was the infamous Lady Danbury. And after your short greetings you knew that you were right. The lady across from you was, indeed, Lady Danbury.
The older woman stared at you, studying you with raised brows and eyes like a hawk. “You’ve grown a lot since I saw you.”
You tried not to look puzzled, but her comment left you dumbfounded. You couldn’t remember her, when have you two met? Clearly you failed with your attempt of hiding your confusion, Lady Danbury laughed at the look on your face. “Oh, you won’t remember. Your sister Franziska was four I believe.”
You nodded at her words. Of course, you couldn’t remember her when you met you must have been a year old.
“Oh you were a very plump baby, even chubbier than my son, which I thought was impossible. But the plump baby turned into a lovely lady, I’d say.”
Blinking confused you smiled at her words. What could you retort to that? All children of your parents had been chubby babies, or so you’ve heard since you where the last offspring. Karl, your dear papa, laughed wholehearted at Lady Danbury’s word. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered how plump and wrinkly you used to be.
When Lady Danbury hit his leg with her cane, more than once, his laughter died abruptly. Karl winced at the power the dowager hold, she was quite strong for an old lady. “I see you finally managed to grow a beard. Whiskers even!” Lady Danbury remarked with a sly and cunning smile.
She eyed his locks critically. “And you still have your curls. You can be lucky, that your wife met you when you were young. I see more skin than hair!”
Karl’s face grew red, his fingers moved to carefully touch and brush his hair. He didn’t like his receding hairline, but he had always thought with his curly hair it wasn’t that obvious. But Lady Agatha Danbury saw and heard everything, he should’ve known.
Like your father you couldn’t help but giggle at Lady Danbury’s words and his embarrassment. You didn’t think of his hair badly, but his face was just too good. He looked so flustered and alarmed; you couldn’t contain your laughter. And then you couldn’t hide a little yawn. Quickly you covered it with your hand, but Lady Danbury shot you a sharp look. “Do I bore you, your Highness?”
You gulped; you didn’t mean to offend her, but the yawn had escaped by itself. After all you haven’t properly rested. Seeing your panicked eyes Lady Danbury loosened her façade and cackled. “Don’t dread, I am merely joking. I know you’ve made a long way and had no time to rest, I might say.”
She stung your father with her gaze and hit him with her cane again. “I invited you so that you could attend a day after your arrival. I know my arithmetic. – I bet your father has departed later than planned, back in Cambridge he often dawdled.”
With a splutter of words Karl tried to excuse your late arrival. Something with the wind and water, the roads and so on. But Lady Danbury had nothing of it, she simply continued. “But I must say I am very lucky to have a prince and a princess attending my soirée. What are the odds?”
A prince and a princess? The way she said it she couldn’t mean your parents. There must be someone else, maybe a prince from the Isles, Sweden, or Austria even? Your excitement and curiosity grew. Was it someone you knew?
“Oh! There he is!” Lady Danbury exclaimed with a satisfied grin. Interested you turned around and your smile faded fast. Your curiosity and all your excitement was gone, all swept away, when you saw him. Standing in front of you, with a blonde lady in his arm, was Friedrich and he looked as pleased as you did.
The Prussian prince stared at your family in shock.
What where they doing here?
What where you doing here?
He was so shocked to see you here in London, in the same house, that Friedrich didn’t notice the stunned look on your face. Like him, you were frozen, unable to even move a tiny muscle of your face. He could sense Cressida’s fingers on his arms, slowly bringing him back to consciousness. Cressida had no idea who she was facing or why her prince was standing stiff like a statue.
“Friedrich, we didn’t know you would be here. What a pleasant surprise!” exclaimed Princess Marie happily, a big friendly, maybe even relieved, smile on her face.
Of course, he wasn’t happy to see you, but he couldn’t say so. Friedrich cleared his throat and put on his best smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Marie laughed and nudged you lightly with her elbow, reminding you to greet him proper. She expected a proper curtsy but knowing you, Friedrich excepted nothing. To his surprise you curtsied, well if you could call bending your knees barely a centimetre a curtsy, and you kept your mouth shut. You merely looked at him grimly, with gloomy eyes and tight lips, remaining silent. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes and ears, for once you didn’t greet him with your typical phrases and rolled his first R. It was unusual but heaven to his ears.
“I see you’ve grown chops,” you remarked, suddenly, not sounding neither pleased nor appalled. It was merely a fact. Friedrich had grown hair, almost as blonde as his fluffy curls, on his cheeks. He was clueless on what you had intended with your statement like … yes, he had sideburns.
But then you mumbled something incomprehensible, Friedrich only saw your lips moving unable to make out a single word. But they lit an impish spark in Lady Danbury’s eyes. Her almost sinister chuckles made Friedrich curious, but also anxious. Like he couldn’t hear you but regarding Lady Danbury’s reaction it hadn’t been something good.
Friedrich was glad, no, relieved when he could withdraw with Cressida from their company. His life was going so well, one year without you felt like a stay in Rügen. No, even better. Strolling aimlessly through the hall with Cressida on his arm, he asked himself how he deserved this. Has he ever sinned so badly to justify you? Friedrich tried to forget his encounter with you. Yet he couldn’t; like so often you inhabited his mind as soon as he saw you, even if it was just a glimpse. Avoiding you always became his sole intention as soon as he knew you were there.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” Cressida asked him, pressing her fingers lightly into his arm. Swiftly Friedrich nodded, putting his casual, friendly smile.
Cressida hadn’t really a chance to talk to Lady Danbury’s guests. She was only able to introduce herself, which frustrated her because she wanted to know more. Cressida wasn’t stupid, she had noticed his reaction. They must know each other, she concluded, she just didn’t know what their relationship was.
“You seemed quite familiar. May I ask – are they your friends?”
He scoffed at the thought of being friends with you, and yet all he said was yes. “But they’re more my mother’s friends than mine.”
“I see.” That was all she needed to know. They were his friends and when they knew his mother, they probably knew him for quite a long time. How wonderful! This surely would become useful for her.
Saying that you, one single person, ruined his evening might be an exaggeration but you did. You were able to ruin his mood and everything solely by existing. Finally, Friedrich could spend his time with Daphne. He should feel happy, well he was happy to finally be with Miss Bridgerton. But he couldn’t stop looking for you.
Deep inside his mind, far, far away in one little corner were you, you practically inhabited that small space of his mind. And knowing of your presence was enough to drive him insane. Since he didn’t harbour the desire to talk or even face you again, he kept looking, only to avoid you. But he really should relish his moment with Daphne.
How could he enjoy his time, when you were dancing, jumping, and laughing around with a gentleman? This man must’ve been insane to even ask you. But Friedrich told himself, that he felt irritated because you stole his chance to dance this exact same dance with Daphne.
“Are you alright, your Highness?” He heard Daphne ask him and felt like he had heard the exact same question once before. Friedrich looked at her, startled and immediately felt like he could drown in her big, worried eyes. “You seem a bit absent. Is something bothering you, don’t you feel well?”
Oh, wasn’t she adorable? Briefly he shook his head, as if he wanted to cleanse his face from his sour mood. “Don’t you worry about me, Miss Bridgerton. I assure you, everything is fine.”
He had thought that his words would reassure her, he didn’t expect for her to look even more troubled. Her light brows hitched up in concern, she clearly didn’t believe him. But her worried face made his heart … it felt a bit like it was dancing, nervously. How could he not like her? His aunt was right about her. The prince only knew Daphne for over a week and yet he was so infatuated by her … how could he not? She was flawless, no, even more than that.
“Have I told you, that you look absolutely lovely today?” Friedrich must sound like a love-struck fool.
“Well, yes you did,” she said, sounding rather confused, maybe even a little more concerned. Clearly his plan of distracting her mind wasn’t working. “You said so earlier this evening, when we met. Do you remember?”
“Yes, you’re right.” He chuckled. “But I can say it more than once, no?”
Indeed, Daphne looked very lovely wearing her pale blue dress, adorned with small stitched flowers. It perfectly emphasised the warm colours of her hair and skin. He could compliment her every second.
He had expected her to blush, she’d look lovely with pink cheeks. But his words couldn’t divert her from her concerns. “I know we’re not friends per se, but if something’s bothering you, your Highness …”
“Glad to know that, Miss Bridgerton. But I assure you –“ You laughed, loud, a sound his ears couldn’t ignore. This devilish sound was like an alarm. But when he quickly turned around and spotted you amongst the dancing folk, he was surprised that you were having … fun. Unlike him you enjoyed your evening. And you didn’t laugh at anyone, you laughed with them, which you never did with him. You were just mocking him.
How was it fair, and even possible, that you enjoyed your time with others but used his to torture him?
To his dismay Daphne caught his gaze, his move had been anything but discreet, and he didn’t know why, but she shouldn’t have. Even worse, she seemed to know you. “Oh, is something the matter with Miss Y/N?”
Knowing you must be heaven’s punishment, Daphne shouldn’t know you, but she did. “You know her?” Friedrich asked puzzled. While he knew that you acted pretty civil and friendly around others, just not him, he couldn’t imagine anything but the worst.
Daphne nodded, not thinking much of his confused face. “Well, yes. I met her and her mama. – We talked a little; she was really lovely.”
Friedrich blinked. He furiously blinked at her. Had he heard right? Did Daphne call you lovely, after spending her precious time with you?
You? Lovely?
Friedrich could describe you with many words but none of them would be lovely. Malicious, annoying, vicious, disturbing, and so on, but not lovely.
You, Y/N of Bravaria, spawn of the devil, lovely?
Not a chance.
. . .
Friedrich jolted awake, his blonde locks tousled, his shirt out of place, tired his drowsy eyes wandered around the room looking for any sign of time. A few shafts of sunlight shone through the gaps of his heavy curtains. It was morning already but why did he not feel properly rested? Sluggish he sat in his bed like a slack potato sack. A loud tune, probably a trumpet or so, blasted still through the walls of the palace.
Friedrich groaned. Dizzy he slowly began to remember. This had to be a nightmare and with the melody blaring he knew that he must still be in his nightmare. Else he wasn’t able to explain all of this. Yeah, he must still be dreaming. This was all a dream, yesterday never happened and you never moved into the palace.
Yearning for some more minutes of sleep Friedrich flopped back on to his pillows. He tried to drone out the music, but it nearly impossible. Not even his thick pillows, pressed against his ears were helping him. Frustrated Friedrich groaned, gave up sleep and starred sullen at this ceiling.
Who was playing the trumpet, or any instrument for that matter, at this unearthly hour?
Who?
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#love to hate you#bridgerton#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#prince friedrich imagines#prince friedrich x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#prince friedrich fanfiction#own fanfic
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