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osamustar · 2 years

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High School Sweetheart

Part three

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No trigger warnings provided.

Sexual content.

Female reader.

You wanted to rip all of these chords off of you, and run to the station to Michael. What were they doing to him? Was he okay? You were worried about your lover. Jason sat quietly next to you as he waited for the others to come back. Billy had gone off to either scream or flirt with some nurses, and Freddy went to get you some snacks from downstairs. “Jason… Hey…” You nudged him, making him jump out of his little daze he was in. “Help me get out of here. I need to see Michael.” “Y/N, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” “Jason, please. They’re going to tear him apart in there and you know it. I was a prime witness, I can defend him.” Jason knew you were right, but was scared. “It’s okay, Jason. You aren’t going to get in trouble.” You assured him.

Jason turned off several of the machines, and ripped off the dozens of chords all over your body. “Jason, what the hell are you doing?” Freddy walked in with a bag of snacks and drinks. “W-We have to get her to the station, Freddy.” He stuttered. “Freddy, please. We can’t let Michael to go jail… I saw what happened, I can help defend him.” “Defend him with what, Y/N? It wasn’t self defense. He attacked first.” Freddy laughed, pushing Jason away from your bed. “You have to stay here and get your rest. He has a lawyer. A good one at that… He’ll get him out. Stop worrying so much.” You were silent. You held yourself back from punching him in the face. “Michael was defending me. Travis was touching me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable.” “That doesn’t change the situation, Y/N.” Freddy chuckled, connecting the chords back to your body, and flicking on the machines. “You won’t be in here long, just calm down. You’ll probably be out later today.”

The rest of the time you were there you didn’t speak. You were pissed. You knew Freddy always had the best in mind for you, but in this situation you were not having it. You wanted out. You were completely fine why were you still even here? After hours of waiting your doctor came in, “Alright, Y/N. It looks like everything is fine now, and you can head on home. No driving for a few days, and make sure you have people around to watch over you.” He explained as he helped you up. “Yeah… Thanks.” You mumble, grabbing your stuff, and quickly walking out of the room. Freddy sighed, “Sorry, Doc… She’s not in the best mood right now. We’ll watch her.” The boys ran after you, following you into the elevator. “You guys don’t have to treat me like this, I’m fine.” “Doctor’s orders, champ.” Freddy smiled, patting your back. “I hate you.”

You made Billy speed to the station. You were in a hurry. You burst through the doors of the station, “Woah! Hey there… Slow down.” A cop stopped you, “What you in such a rush for?” He chuckled. “Michael Myers.” You glare. “You the girlfriend he talks so dearly about? He’ll be out in a second, he’s finishing up his question— Speak of the devil.” Michael walked out beside a very nicely dressed man with a briefcase, who you assumed was his lawyer. You ran up to him, jumping into his arms. Michael let out a loud grunt, holding onto you, “Missed me that much?” He chuckled. You were quiet, just happy to be able to hold him again.

Michael dropped you, “I gotta go sign some papers, just… Wait here. I’m not going anywhere.” Michael held your shoulders, giving you a serious glare. You nodded, watching him as he left the hallway. You turned towards his lawyer with a smile, “Hi! I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you.” You put your hand out to shake. He took your hand, “Saul Goodman. Michael is good to go. Travis isn’t pressing charges.” A wave of relief washed over you, “Oh thank god… I was so worried.” You sighed. You heard the doors open, the boys walking in panting. “Jeez, Y/N. Think you could’ve waited for us?” Freddy tried catching his breath. “Not my fault y’all are slow.”

“You watch out for Michael. If something like this happens again, I’m not sure there’s much I can do.” Saul warned. You nodded, “thank you. He’s getting talked to once we leave.” Saul raised his wrist, “well I have to get going. You kids be careful out there.” He smiled, squeezing through the group and out the doors. You turned to the boys, glaring at Freddy. “You asshole! You made me think Michael was going away for sure!” You shoved him back. “Yeah well obviously that dickhead Travis survived… I didn’t think he was.” Freddy shrugged. “He obviously doesn’t want Michael to have a grudge on him.” Billy laughed, “kid is probably cowering in his hospital bed right now.” “Billy shut up.” Michael smacked him up the side of the head, “can we get out of here, please? I’m starving.”

“I can take us to the diner to get a bite.” Billy suggested. “Can you take me home? I’m tired.” Jason whispered, rubbing his eyes. “Sure man, you gonna be alright? Your mom might get mad at you for that party.” Billy asked, concerned. “She’ll just be glad that I-I’m safe.” Jason replied. You looked up at Michael. He had developed dark bags underneath his eyes, and his hair was a curly mess. He looked pissed off. You intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing his hand. He didn’t stop looking forward. He was exhausted, and hangry. All he wanted to do was tear into a big fat juicy burger right now, it was all he could think about. “Alright, well… Let’s get going.” Billy pulled out his truck keys, exiting the building as everyone else followed. Michael let go of your hand, walking on ahead in front of you. You frowned, clasping your hands together, unsure of what was going on with him.

“Did I do something wrong..?” You caught up to Michael, looking up at him. “Y/N I really don’t want to talk right now.” His voice was low. You knew he was upset, but not this upset. He was never like this towards you, it was concerning. “Michae—“ “Y/N. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed. Your eyes widened, stopping in the middle of the road. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, taking a deep breath and continuing to walk behind them all. Billy got into the drivers seat, starting up the truck with a roar of the engine. Freddy sat beside him, leaving you, Jason, and Michael to sit in the back. “Fuck, Freddy! Push your chair up!” Michael yelled, barely being able to squeeze his legs in the back. “I can’t push it up anymore!” “Figure it out before I sit up there.” Michael groaned. Freddy fumbled with the bar underneath the seat, pushing on it as hard as he could. It fell down, the seat flying forward and crushing Freddy’s knees into the dashboard. “Ah, fuck!” He cried out, “there! you happy?!” “Yeah, thanks.” Michael stretched his legs out. “Asshole…” Freddy mumbled. “You’re fucking up my truck man!” Billy whined. “Not my fault Michael’s a fucking tree.” Freddy retorted. You couldn’t help but giggle along with Jason.

Billy dropped off Jason at his house, his mother basically dragging him inside, glaring at everyone in the truck as she did so. “His mom’s such a weirdo.” Billy sighed, shifting gears and pulling out of the driveway. “She just loves Jason… Have you never experienced that before?” You asked Billy. “My mom doesn’t treat me like a fucking five year old.” He replied. “Dude, he’s autistic, of course she’s going to treat him like that. It’s probably scary letting him out with kids like us.” Freddy told Billy, shoving him. “Hey! Don’t fuck with the driver!” Billy smacked Freddy. “Jason can handle himself. Kid’s perfectly capable of killing someone.” Michael sighed. “Aren’t we all…” Freddy mumbled. You looked around the truck at the three of them, knowing damn well you were not capable of killing someone.

The drive to the diner was long. You ended up falling asleep on Michael’s shoulder. He had the strong urge to shove you off, but remembered you just got out of the hospital. He’d tame his grumpiness for now. “Be nice to her, man… She really loves you. She wanted to go make sure you were okay the entire time she was in that place.” Freddy turned to look at Michael. You were still sound asleep. Michael was silent, not wanting to respond. Freddy rolled his eyes, going back to looking out the windshield. “That mushroom swiss burger is calling out my name right now.” Billy moaned, turning into the driveway of the diner, finding a place to park. “Shut up weirdo.” Freddy laughed.

“Hey… Wake up.” Michael shoved you awake. You whined softly, picking up your head, looking around. Michael got out of the truck, walking to stand on the sidewalk. You crawled out, slamming the door shut. Michael was staring at you with dark eyes, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. A look you didn’t want to see again after the fight. You gulped, looking down at the ground, following the boys inside. You guys sat in your usual booth, a waitress bringing by some menus, even though you all had memorized it from coming here so often. “So what they do to you in there, man?” Billy leaned forward to listen to Michael. “They shoved me into a cell until morning and then they questioned me… Let me go once they found out that kid wasn’t pressing charges.” Michael shrugged. The waitress came by with drinks, setting them down in front of everyone. “Thank you.” You smiled at her, knowing the boys wouldn’t acknowledge her.

“You look like shit.” Billy laughed. “Yeah I haven’t slept.” Michael chugged down his tea, gasping once he finished it all. You were quiet the entire time, staring out the window to your left. You were upset with Michael. You didn’t deserve to get treated like shit when you did nothing. Michael’s hand clasped around your thigh, squeezing it as he continued to talk to Billy and Freddy. You side eyed his hand, not sure what he was trying to say. His hand trailed up your leg, creeping underneath your dress. You stiffened, your breath hitching in your throat. His fingers pressed up against your heat, pushing themselves in between your folds. You pursed your lips, trying to act it off. “What can I get you guys?” Michael’s hand quickly pulled away, settling atop the table to grab his menu. You turned towards the waitress, smiling at her. “I’ll have the mushroom swiss burger… Extra fries. Can I have extra grilled onions too?” Billy looked up at the waitress with flirtatious eyes. She completely ignored his gaze, writing down in her little notebook. “Okay, what else?” She looked back up. “Two bacon cheeseburgers… And a refill please.” Michael set his menu on top of Billy’s. “Got it.” The waitress looked over at you. “I’ll have a plain cheeseburger.” “I’ll have the avocado burger.” Freddy said after you. “Okay… I’ll be back with your refill.” She smiled down at Michael. Michael nodded, sliding all of the menus to her. She picked them up, and walked away. “God, she’s fine as hell.” Billy sighed. “Do you ever—“ Billy interrupted Freddy, “No, I don’t.”

Michael looked down at you, smirking at your flustered face. He leaned down to your ear, “keep quiet and maybe I’ll be nice.” He purred, pulling away to look back at the boys. You were confused on what he meant until his fingers crept underneath your dress, finding themselves buried in your panties. “Yo, Y/N. You good?” Billy waved a hand in front of your face. Your eyes flicked up with a quick nod, “yes, sorry. I zoned out.” You giggle, grabbing the straw given to you, pulling off the paper, and stuffing it into your drink. Michael acted as if nothing was happening, talking calmly to his friends as his fingers circled around your clit. You came back to reality again, zoning in onto their conversation to catch up.

“Dude, remember that time you got into a fight with Charles Ray?” Billy asked. “Chucky? That kid was so lame. Started crying for the coach when he saw I had my pocket knife clipped on.” Michael laughed, “Coach Leeman! Coach Leeman! He’s gonna kill me Coach! Help me Coach Leeman!” Michael waved his hand in the air in distress, mocking him. “He’s such a pussy. Woah, Y/N, you okay there?” Billy looked over at you, noticing your labored breathing. You nodded, “y-yeah it’s just um… Anxiety.” “Why are you having anxiety?” Freddy pitched in. “I uh… I have to go home after this to pick some things up and I’m just scared what my Dad’s gonna do… It’s always a mystery with him.” You smiled, looking away from him as fast as possible.

Michael’s fingers slipped inside of you, making scissoring motions, stretching you out. He slowly pumped them in and out of you, trying to keep his arm as stiff as possible so the boys didn’t notice. The waitress came back by with the plates of your orders, making Michael pull his hand away. He stared at his plate, sticking his wet fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off. Billy and Freddy were too entranced by their food to notice Michael. You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. You crossed your legs to prevent Michael from continuing if he so dared. You didn’t know why you let him in the first place, your seat was probably soaked by now.

——————————————————————————

“God, I’m stuffed!” Billy poked his belly out, rubbing it. You giggled, smacking his stomach, “You got a whole food baby!” “His name shall be Jared.” Billy laughed, opening the door to his truck. “Alright, am I taking you two home?” He turned to Michael and you. “Could you run by my house and then drop us off at Michael’s?” You asked. “Oh yeah, I forgot… Sure. Hop in.” Billy grabbed onto the handle above the door, pulling himself up onto the seat. Michael stopped you before you opened the door, turning you to face him. He grabbed your chin gently, leaning down to kiss you. You smiled, cupping his cheeks. “I’m sorry… I love you…” He whispered, pecking your lips again. “I love you too. Let’s get home and talk about it, alright?” You peck his lips back, turning around to hop into the back of the truck. Michael stared at you for a moment before following you in.

Billy brought you by your house, pulling into the driveway. You lived in a old trailer park not far from where Michael lived. The trailer looked like absolute shit, as it was abused over the years. Many liquor and beer bottles littered the ground, with cigarette butts scattered everywhere. “You be careful in there, alright? We’ll be watching.” Billy assured you. “Yeah… Thank you…” You stepped out of the truck, hopping onto the ground. You walked down the walkway and up the stairs to the door. You opened the screen door, unlocking the main door, stepping inside. So far so good, no sign of your drunken father. You quietly crept to your room, grabbing a bag, stuffing it full of clothes. “Y/N? Is that you?” Oh fuck. Heavy footsteps made their way towards your bedroom until they came to an abrupt halt. You slowly turned around to face your father with a small smile, “Hey Dad… I’m just stopping by to get some clothes, I’ll be out of your hair in a few min—“ “I don’t give a fuck! Get out before my boys get here. Hurry your ass up.” He spat, waving his bottle around. You nodded, zipping up your bag. “Why the hell haven’t you moved out already? You stay with that damn boyfriend of yours so much you practically live with him! You’re eighteen, you can leave.” He grumbled, leaning against the doorway, looking as if he was about to pass out. “I-I’ll figure something out, Dad. I gotta—“ “Stop calling me that! You aren’t my damn child. Never were. You were a mistake. I begged your mother to get rid of you, and that bitch went ahead and made the decision to keep you and died doing it.” You sighed, “I understand, please move out of my way…” You were used to this type of talk from him, it was nothing new. “Give me a kiss and maybe I’ll let you pass.” He smiled, his disgusting yellow, blackened teeth dulled in the light. You grimaced, shoving him out of the way. “What the fuck! Hey!” He yelled, trudging after you. You opened the door, and slammed it in his face. He screamed from behind the door, struggling to get it back open. You ran down the stairs as he walked out onto the porch, screaming. He raised his arm, throwing his bottle at your back. You groaned, turning around to face him, the bottle shattering against the concrete. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell. You heard the truck door slam, and shoes crunching against the rocks on the ground. Michael. He gently pushed you towards the truck as he walked over to your father. “Michael, no! Don’t!” You grab his arm, tugging him back. Michael glared at you, ripping away from your grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ boy?” Your dad questioned Michael’s doing. He walked up the stairs to your clueless father, slamming him against the wall. Michael swung his fist into his face, throwing him to the ground. Michael stared down at his pathetic form, spitting on his figure. “Hurt her again and I’ll fucking kill you.” Michael shoved him with his foot, a low groan leaving your father. You stared in shock, hoping your father was okay. Yet at the same time you prayed he was hurt beyond repair. You winced, reaching around to touch your back. It was definitely going to leave a nasty bruise.

Michael walked down the stairs, and to you. His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you back to the truck, “You’re moving in with me.” You weren’t even going to argue. Your father was a disgusting man, and staying with him did you no good. You didn’t know why you hadn’t moved out sooner. He wanted you gone, and he was going to receive his wish. “Did he fucking throw a bottle at you?!” Billy asked in shock, hanging out the window. “Billy.” Michael gave him a death glare. “Yeah yeah…” Billy mumbled, quickly rolling up the window. Michael opened the door for you, throwing your bag inside. He helped you up, getting in after you. “Please hurry and leave before his friend’s arrive…” You beg. Billy stayed silent as he pulled out of the driveway, speeding out of the park. He didn’t want to waste a second more in that hell hole.

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” Billy smiled, waving at the two of you. You waved back, a saddened smile on your face. You felt like you were about to break down. Michael rubbed your back, giving them a quick wave before rushing you inside of the house. You didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. You just wanted to lay in Michael’s arms all day and cry into his chest. You threw your bag down onto Michael’s bed, pulling off your dress. Michael’s hands snaked around your waist, pressing himself into you. He pressed soft kisses into your neck, trailing them up to your jaw. “You wanna take a bath..?” He asked quietly, caressing your hips. You hummed, nodding, “that sounds nice.” Michael stood with you for a few more moments, kissing all over your shoulders. “I love you.” He pressed one last kiss to your cheek, leaving to his bathroom.

You walked into the steamy bathroom. Michael had lit a few candles on the rim of the bathtub, and the counter. “I hope this is relaxing enough.” He chuckled. “It’s lovely, babe.” You smile, unhooking your bra, letting it drop to the tile. You leaned down, sliding off your underwear, shoving them to the side and out of the way. You lifted your foot up, stepping into the warm water. You settled down, the water rising against your body. You let out a loud sigh, resting your arms on the outside of the tub. Michael pulled up a stool beside the tub, sitting down on it. He ran his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head. His hands found their way to your shoulders, massaging them. You moaned softly, rolling your shoulders against his hands.

You closed your eyes, relaxing. Michael’s hands pulled away from you. You heard the rustle of clothing being taken off, and dropping to the floor. “Sit up.” He ordered. You opened your eyes, seeing his naked body in all his glory. You gulped, quickly pushing yourself to the front of the tub. “I was going to stay out but I prefer a different type of relaxation.” You didn’t quite understand what he meant by that. Michael stepped in behind you, sitting down with his legs spread. He pulled you close to him, settling between his legs. You laid your head on his shoulder, smiling, “we’ve never done this before…” “Mhm.” Michael hummed, leaning down to kiss your neck, gently sucking on your soft skin. You leaned back, exposing more of your neck to him. Your body jolted up, his fingers slipping in between your folds. You now know what he meant by a “different type of relaxation.” You didn’t mind this type at all. After all, you deserved it after what you’ve been through today.

You took in a deep inhale, squeezing your legs together around his hand. You felt his member harden against your backside. You whined as his fingers rubbed you out. You squirmed against his body, two of his fingers slipping inside of you, moving just how you liked it. You cried out, your back arching as your head shot back. His thumb lingered on your vulva, swirling around it. “Michael…” You gasped, head rolling around in his shoulder. “What baby…” He pressed his lips to your cheek, “talk to me.” You grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it with all your might. “Right there… Right there!” You yearned for his touch, wanting him to provide you with even more ecstasy. He was addictive. You could stay like this for hours, and he probably was going to have it that way. He would edge you all night until he had you screaming his name, begging to let you cum. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#michael myers #halloween #halloween kills #slashers #michael myers x reader #slashers x reader #headcannons #imagines #michael myers x reader smut #slashers x reader smut

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miekasa · 3 years

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future nostalgia (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader, armin is absolutely putting in the work and deserves wingman of the year, mikasa is your well-reasoned, protective friend how you like them apples

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, everybody is a little bit of an idiot, armin and eren supremacy, i will find a way to make levi captain of something in any and every au

↯ word count: 1.5k

↯ summary: armin arlert is the greatest wingman a boy could ask for; unfortunately he’s also oblivious as hell and painfully single himself, but you know what, he’s doing his best (aka you and eren putting your friends through the mental wingman/wingwoman olympics).

↯ notes: i’m running out of gifs to use i’m going to have to learn how to use photoshop to make headers rip in peace to me, also this an old piece, reworked for eren again, sometimes i cheat off of myself it’s okay

“Just come by the rink during practice,” Armin pleas, “I promise, he can put his hot-headedness to good use!”

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckle, your voice booming through the speaker of his phone, “But I’m pretty sure the rink is closed to non-athletes or team members, Armin.”

“But I can get you access! Manager’s privileges!” Armin boasts.

“While I appreciate the reminder about how single you think I am—and, I do, truly, Armin, from the bottom of my heart, thank you—you don’t have to try and set me up with one of your hockey jockeys.”

“They’re not jockeys!” Armin protests.

“Reiner Braun is most definitely a jockey.”

Armin slumps down a bit. Okay, most of them are good people. Most of the time. Look, Reiner is the exception, not the norm, but even he could be analytical and composed when he needed to be.

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Armin threatens.

“Fine, then I’ll tell him that you almost leaked his nudes to the entire girls volleyball team freshman year.”

“You play dirty,” Armin pouts, face growing red at the memory. (In his defense, it was freshman year, pretty much the first time in his life he’d had alcohol unsupervised, and in his drunken haze he thought he might have been doing Reiner a favor; he was pining over Christa pretty hard). “Which is exactly why you’ll love Eren!”

“Eren, still?” you question, trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “What’s the infatuation with me and Eren? You know, if I’m being honest, Jean is more my type, or even the captain—what’s his name again?”

“You mean Levi?” Armin questions, incredulous, “He’s the exact opposite of your type, don’t lie to me!”

“He’s still hot.”

“Is he really?” Mikasa’s voice questions doubtfully; and you can practically feel her rolling her eyes from across the receiver, “You can do better than him, (Y/N).”

“Wait, am I on speaker?” you ask.

“Maybe, doesn’t matter,” Armin hums, brushing away the topic, “Like I was saying, Eren is great, and you’re great, so you’d be great together! Plus, he’s kind of loaded, and very generous. Not that you’re shallow or anything, but I’m just saying, he’d take you on nice dates.”

“You’re kind of loaded and you don’t take me on nice dates.”

“Because we’re not dating.”

“You could take me on a friend date,” you muse, “Don’t be stingy, Armin.”

“She has a point,” Mikasa quips, “You always go to the fancy museums and don’t invite us.”

“Because the last time I did, you fell asleep! In the middle of the coral reef exhibit!” Armin whines.

“Because it was boring as fuck,” Mikasa deadpans, prompting you to chuckle.

“I have to agree. I’m afraid if you and Eren have the same taste in dates, it will never work out.”

“We don’t!” Armin insists, “Look, Eren is exactly your type, (Y/N), I’m telling you! He’s cute, athletic, but not bulky, and little clumsy, but it can be charming! Plus he loves puppies, cares about the environment, believes the healthcare system is corrupt, and hates most branches of law enforcement! What more could you want!”

“Armin,” you pause, holding back your laughter, “Maybe you should set yourself up with Eren if you think he’s that great.”

Armin chokes on the other end of the line, and your chuckles stumble out; you can imagine the blonde growing red and increasingly embarrassed with every passing second.

Mikasa hums. “Armin and Eren do have good chemistry—”

“Hello?! I don’t want to date Eren!”

“—but, I’ll vouch for Eren on this, too,” Mikasa continues, “I think you two would be good together.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You’d always known Mikasa was in support of setting you up with Eren too—albeit much more subtle than her blonde counterpart—but she’d never said it explicitly; showing her approval in contended nods and hums whenever Armin would scheme to get you and Eren together. It was somewhat reassuring to hear.

You’re about to continue teasing Armin about the subject, when you hear your apartment door unlock. You shift your phone to your other hand, as you hear the sound of keys clanging onto the hook near the door.

“Look, guys, I gotta go,” you tell him, “This is been fun, but maybe focus on working out your feelings before setting me up, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a beautiful friends to lovers story.”

“Will you—I want you to date Eren, not date him myself! There—be quiet, Mikasa—there are no feelings to work out, I don’t even like g—”

“Sounds, good Armin,” you chuckle, words hurried as you hear footsteps approaching you, “Try and get Levi’s number for me, would you? Rumor has it he’s loaded, too—old money rich and everything.”

“But Eren is perfect—” is all you hear before you end the call, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, just as your thumb presses against your screen.

Ruffled, brown hair falls onto your shoulders as a chin is propped up against your neck; a flurry feather light kisses greeting you soon after. You hum, reaching your hand back to curl into the brown tresses, a final, exaggerated kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Why are you trying to get Captain’s number,” Eren questions, voice muffled as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, “No offense, but I think you’d have to line up behind his hundred and one fangirls first, babe.”

You chuckle lightly, neck growing warm as Eren continues to bury himself into your skin. His is cold from the winter air, but you don’t know why he insists on inflicting it onto you, when you know he’ll be back to furnace temperatures within the next ten minutes.

“I’m just messing with Armin,” you answer, resting on of your hands over Eren’s at your waist and giving it a squeeze, “He’s still trying to set us up.”

Eren chuckles, undoing his hold on you to spin you around to face him, cold hands cupping either side of your face. You scrunch your nose at the frigid feeling, but Eren finds it cute, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose as an apology.

“Well, Armin is nothing if not loyal,” Eren muses.

“He’s too good for you,” you jest, poking at Eren’s forehead playfully, “He’s putting in all this work to be a good wingman, and you’re slacking off.”

“Technically, he’s not doing any work, we’re already together.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Eren questions, using his hands to squish your cheeks together, “I wanted to tell him two months ago.”

“First of all, this secret thing was your idea to begin with,” you point out, “Which—oh, by the way, I told you Mikasa approves of you; she said we’d be cute together on the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean she still won’t castrate me if we ever break up,” Eren says, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of it.

It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from all of your friends forever, but he was hesitant at first, unsure of how your two friend groups would merge and take the news. And, he knew how much Mikasa cared about you, and truthfully, the dark haired girl scared him a little.

But it was bordering on half a year now, and he was certain that somebody would catch on soon enough. That, or Eren would accidentally let it slip to the entire hockey team one of these days—he almost has on a handful of occasions, but you don’t need to know about all of that.

And while a part of him did like the privacy that came along with dating in secrecy, Eren was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend to not be in love with you whenever you two went out with your friends; and to not brag that he had a super hot, super supportive girlfriend to wear his jersey during games, and Jean didn’t.

“You have plans to break up with me, Jaeger?” you question, but there’s a playful lilt in your voice.

It makes Eren grin, using his grip on your face to pull you closer, words ghosting over your lips before he pulls you in for a kiss, “Not in a million years.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff #eren smut #levi x reader

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ronsonlywhore · 3 years

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Hi im new in here,so i don't know exactly what you write so could you please write something like wolfstar being the readers parents with the fluffy prompts 3,13,19,34,and 39,sorrt if that was weird,i have major daddy issues and see them both as father figures,thanks for the attention and sorry again if you don't write this kinda of stuff

❛ 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗻𝗲. ❜ dad!wolfstar

summary: in which (y/n) is the light in both sirius and remus's life.

prompts: fluff/ 3. "stop moving around and let me braid your hair." / 13. "oh! my heart! it's too full of love for you! quick, i need a doctor!" / 19. "you can't leave without letting me hug you first." / 34. "help! there's a spider holding me hostage over here!" / 39. "i had a nightmare...can i stay with you tonight?"

a/n: au where neither sirius nor remus dies and sirius is cleared and they live happily ever after the war with a little girl they adopted. OKAY THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE. i didn't know if you wanted like a little reader or an older reader, so i included both! thanks for requesting anon <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"(y/n)! come back here right now, you little devil!"

(y/n)'s giggles echoed throughout the house, her wet hair leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor. sirius could hear the quiet pitter-patter of her feet on the hardwood floors, and he quickly dropped a towel on the floor to clean up the mess she had made running away from him.

"(y/n)! this isn't funny!" sirius shouts into the silent house. it's quiet...too quiet.

"oh, i see...you're hiding from me are you? well, hopefully you're not hiding...behind the curtains!" he rips away the curtains enthusiastically, only to find an empty space behind them.

sirius creeps over to the closet, putting an ear to the door. he swears he can hear his five-year-old shuffling around and pulls the door open, feeling triumphant. "caught you!" he says, victorious.

his face falls when he's met with an empty space as well, and now he's starting to get worried. where could she be?

suddenly, he hears a small ah-choo! and a gasp followed by the sneeze. he smiles and drops down beside the couch. there (y/n) is, trying to hold in her giggles and wiping dust from her face.

she screams when sirius appears next to her, and laughs (the most angelic laugh sirius has ever heard) when her dad picks her up and hoists her on his shoulder.

"thought you could sneak away from me, huh?" sirius says as he sits (y/n) down and tickles her. "i just need to brush your hair before it gets all tangled."

(y/n) sighs. "i know, but you pull too much. i like it better when daddy does it. when is he coming back?"

sirius takes out the brushes and sits behind (y/n). "he'll be back today, i promise. now, sit still and let me brush your hair."

(y/n) moves away before sirius can start though, and he's starting to lose his patience. "(y/n), if you don't sit down right now, i'm not taking you to diagon alley with me. i'll just drop you off with harry while i go and have fun at fortescue's ice cream parlor," he threatens.

(y/n)'s eyes widened. she liked staying with cousin harry, but her dad was talking ice cream here, so there was no way she would let herself be hauled off to harry's while her dad got to stuff himself full with sorbets galore.

"no! i promise i'll let you brush my hair...but on one condition. you have to let me eat the last slice of cake right now. for breakfast." (y/n) crosses her tiny little arms and pulls out the puppy eyes, the puppy eyes sirius can never resist.

so how could sirius say no?

"you've got a deal, my little devil." sirius says as he shakes (y/n)'s pudgy toddler hand. she giggles, sits down obediently, and lets sirius brush through her hair, only painfully wincing twice.

later, as (y/n)'s barreling forkfuls of cake into her mouth and sirius is hastily trying to clean up her face before she messes up her shirt, the door opens, and (y/n) squeals happily. "daddy's home!"

she jumps down from her chair before sirius can say anything, and runs like mad to the front door.

remus is there, taking of his coat and grimacing as his sore muscles protest. his face is pale and and there are a few scratches running along his cheeks and neck. he hears (y/n) before he sees her, and quickly turns around to find the girl jumping into his arms.

"you're home!" she shrieks happily and tightens her hold around his neck. remus laughs and hugs back tightly. he notices frosting around her mouth and asks sternly, "and what is this, young lady?"

she smiles sheepishly and says, "it's cake! do you want some?"

sirius appears and remus turns to him. "sirius," remus starts, "you let (y/n) have cake for breakfast?"

sirius throws his hands in the air defensively. "i don't even get a hello kiss? not even a 'good morning, darling'? nothing?"

remus rolls his eyes and says grudgingly, "good morning, darling."

"that's better," sirius says as he leans in and kisses his husband's cheek. "if you must know, (y/n) and i made a deal. i let her have the cake in exchange for her letting me brush her hair. apparently, she likes it better when you do it."

remus looks back to (y/n), who's staring intently at his face. she picks up one of her little hands and places it on the cuts running from his chin to his right eye.

"what happened to your face? she asks sadly.

sirius and remus look at each other morosely. (y/n) doesn't know about remus's...condition, both men agreeing to tell her when she's older.

"just a...rough night at work, sweetheart." remus answers as he puts (y/n) down and walks over to the couch, throwing himself down on it. sirius follows him and runs a hand through his hair. (y/n) runs off into the kitchen, probably wanting to finish her cake quickly.

"was it a bad one?" sirius asks as he sits down beside remus.

remus shrugs. he always feels tired after a full moon, especially since he travels so far, as far away as he can to keep his family safe.

suddenly, (y/n) is standing next him, smiling as she dots his nose with frosting. remus laughs and picks her up again, holding her above her head. she stretches her arms in front of her, mimicking a superhero in flight, and remus "flies" her all over the living room until they hear a yelp of pain.

remus turns to see sirius doubled over, holding his chest. he quickly puts (y/n) down and hurries over to him, while (y/n) asks, "what's wrong with daddy?"

"sirius? darling, are you alright?" remus asks worriedly.

"oh! my heart! it's too full of love for you both! quick, i need a doctor!" sirius exclaims, feigning agony.

remus scoffs, grabs a pillow from the couch, and whacks his husband over the head with it. "that wasn't funny!"

sirius, rubbing his head, drawls, "oh, you wanna fight, do you? don't say i didn't warn you; you mess with the bull, you get the horns." he grabs a pillow and smacks remus's side.

remus doesn't care that he's dead tired, doesn't care if he's hungry and terribly needs a bath: he will take sirius down in this pillow fight even if it's the last thing he ever does.

(y/n) squeals and gets on the couch, jumping up and down, cheering both of them on.

after, with both pillows destoyed and feathers littering the living room (sirius definitely won, although remus would never admit that to anyone), sirius and remus flop down on the couch, preparing to doze off, when (y/n) exclaims, "but who's gonna clean this up?"

"oh...we'll worry about that later. come here, my little devil." sirius says tiredly and pulls (y/n) into his chest. remus loops an arm around sirius, and the three soundly sleep into the late hours of the evening, all interwined together.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

years later

"dad, i'm not five years old anymore. you don't have to do my hair anymore."

"stop moving around and let me braid your hair."

remus's fingers were definitely getting a bit too aged to be able to braid (y/n)'s hair with ease like he used to when she was small, but he was able to manage decent plaits to tame (y/n)'s wild hair.

both remus and (y/n) look into the mirror, and remus smiles. he places his hands on (y/n)'s shoulders and sighs wistfully, "oh...look at how much my angel's grown."

"don't start getting all sappy on me now, dad." (y/n) laughs as she shrugs off her dad's hand as she starts downstairs.

remus blocks the door way. "nuh uh. you can't leave without letting me hug you first."

(y/n) smiles and rolls her eyes, but gives in either way. she wraps her arms around her father's waist tightly, and remus can swear he's the happiest man in the world.

they pull apart when they hear glass shattering from the kitchen. remus and (y/n) rush downstairs and find sirius balancing on top of a chair, holding a pan in the air defensively. two glass cups are sitting on the counter, the third one in broken shards on the floor.

"sirius, what on earth are you doing?" remus asks as he moves into the kitchen.

"oh, good, you're here! you have to help me, there's a spider holding me hostage over here!"

(y/n) laughs. "dad, we've been through this before! all you have to do..." she trails off as she graps a cup and traps the spider in it, then takes a table mat and slides it under the cup, "is catch it, and set it free."

she places the spider on the open windowsill, and it scuttles away into the garden.

sirius precariously climbs down from chair as remus sweeps up the broken glass. "you're a lifesaver, you are," sirius says as he claps a hand on (y/n)'s back.

"that's me, full-time superhero."

. . .

sirius and remus are on the couch, watching the telly (that sirius begged to have), and almost dozing off when sirius feels a tug on his sleeve.

"dad? dad, are you awake?"

sirius groggily opens his eyes and sees his daughter staring into his face. "(y/n)," he asks, "what's wrong?"

the soft voices wake up remus as he too sits up and rubs his eyes. he takes notice of (y/n), and a worried expression crosses his face. "are you alright, sweetheart?"

(y/n) nods her head quickly and says, "everything's fine, it's just...i had a nightmare, could i sleep here with you guys?"

remus and sirius instantly scoot apart to make space for (y/n), who squeezes in between them. she's not as small as she used to, but is cozy enough as her dads close in beside her.

"remember when you were smaller and would sleep in sirius's arms?" remus asks his daughter.

she nods sleepily, "i'm far too big for that now."

remus and sirius laugh, and cuddle in closer. the scene is a sight for sore eyes, and (y/n) easily dozes off, glad she has the warmth of her dads on either side of her.

because two is always better than one, right?

#wolfstar #wolfstar imagine #dad!sirius #dad!remus #harry potter fluff #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter angst #wolfstar fluff #remus calling his daughter sweetheart😫#sirius calling his daughter 'my little devil'😫#remus x sirius #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #sirius x lupin #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black and remus lupin

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 3 years

Text

Overworked

Fandom: DC Pairing: Batsis!reader x Batfamily Word count: 3k Summay: Your on your way to be the next C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, but the road is filled with challenges and a lack of self-care that your family can’t help but worry about (based on this) Warning: Slight angst and unconciousness, near death experience Requested by a pretty great Anon: Can you do a one shot of future ceo batsis overworking herself with long days and vigilante nights and she’s basically not sleeping or taking care of herself and batfams gotta step in and make her listen to reason.

The cup of coffee had already grown cold, the liquid inside it stale and surely undrinkable, when you reached for it. Hardly the first few drops of the liquid had ran down your throat when you realized the horrible transition it had gone through from the nectar of productivity to the lovechild of tar and sulfur, your face distorting into an expression of utmost disgust as you quickly put it back down and besides the other six paper-cups that were all half-filled at most. You sighed when you realized that it must have already been an hour since you had made - and after completely forgot about - the coffee. It really was a cursed circle that you had been going through for the last eight hours. You made a cup, brought it to your office, drank a bit, forgot about it and realized how horrible it now tasted half an hour or so later and then you took at least another twenty minutes before deciding to head for your next cup. Was it already time for the next one? No, it could wait a bit longer. You turned your attention back to the screen in front of you - or rather the three screens - and let your eyes fly over all the data and graphs and numbers that you had to have in a presentable form by next morning for the monthly debriefing. This time would be your first time without Bruce on the sidelines and overlooking your work, a fact that made you feel proud at your accomplishment while simultaneously scaring you to the core. You knew that logically it wouldn’t be different than the last two - which you had also done basically solo with Bruce only sitting beside you silently observing - but there was still that internal voice that told you that without your father by your side the board would rip you apart until nothing was left over. You didn’t know what exactly caused it but suddenly you felt dizzy and the letters and numbers in front of you started swimming around, turning into absolute gibberish, the neon-lights of the screen hurting your eyes. No, not the screens themselves, it was the contrast between the brightly lit screens and the darkness that spread out behind them. It was only then that you let your gaze move behind the confines of your office and through the glass doors to the rest of the office space that was completely engulfed in darkness. Now you realized that it wasn’t only that, it was more, there was no soul wandering the floor and no sound beside the ever-so-steady growling of the computer fan and the clicking of your keyboard. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter when you looked at the clock beside you which already read half past nine. Which meant that you only had half an hour at most before your patrol started. Ignoring the pounding that built up in your head you tried to remember how it was possible for the time to surprise you like that. You had come to work at eight that morning and had spent two hours calling around, checking on contracts and meeting with potential clients, then you had your daily briefing with the department heads - which had extended into almost an hour because Brad from PR really couldn’t get his shit together - then you had to talk to HR about finding a possible replacement for Brad from PR and after you had started working on the numbers. And now you were standing in the elevator on your way to the car park. Did you have Lunch today? No, you had to skip Lunch break for Brad. What about Breakfast? No, wait, you forgot about that too. You rubbed your eyes and felt the need to curse rise again when you realized that you’d have to get right back to the numbers as soon as you had finished patrol which meant that you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet again. What was that? The fourth night in a row? Your only solace was the possibility that you’d maybe finish quickly and get a good one to two hours before you had to be back in the office, but deep inside you knew that it was unlikely. It hadn’t worked the last four nights either. But you’d pull through. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. After tomorrow’s meeting you’d go home at a normal time and indulge yourself in that full meal your stomach had been begging you for, sleep for a full eight hours and maybe even watch a movie if you felt especially crazy. Just for one night you’d really let yourself go. But for that to be possible you had to bite your teeth together and stay on your path.

The elevator arrived at the car park and you quickly rushed to your car and made your way to your apartment which - for maximum efficiency - was only a five minute drive away from the Wayne Ent. Tower, where you quickly rushed into the hidden side room to change into your gear. As you checked the time you realized that you still had a good five minutes before you had to check in with your father and you had to very quickly decide between your two options: quickly eat something or make and drink another coffee. You decided for the second one, but as you made your way to the kitchen counter where your coffee machine stood you caught a glimpse of the unopened stack of mail on the kitchen island and with a sigh decided to just get that over with, effectively ignoring both your previous options. The letters were rather quickly sorted through and before you knew you were standing on a nearby ceiling and activated your comm. “Y/H/N reporting from area 7.4 in central Gotham.” “Good evening Y/H/N, it’s Oracle, I’ll be your voice in the background tonight,” Barbara’s voice echoed through your ears and after exchanging the usual greetings she quickly gave you the location of a robbery in progress. With quick, experienced movements you jumped over the roofs until you stood on the ceiling of a jewelry which was - luckily for you - made out of glass. There was only a single man in the darkness of the store below you, using a flashlight to clean out the display cases, and he wasn’t especially silent so you used the noise to your advantage as you opened one of the few ceiling windows that were openable and let yourself glide down with a hook. “I think you have to pay for that,” you interrupted the robber who quickly turned around, his face hidden by a black, knitted hat with badly cut out holes for the eyes. He was definitely no professional. The man - obviously panicked - got out a gun with shaky hands and pointed it at you, but before he could even think of shooting you had thrown a batarang and the piece of weaponry landed on the floor too far from him that he could reach it before you. Seemingly not seeing another option the man started charging at you and you just sighed and said: “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” but by the end of the sentence his fist tried to make contact with your masked face, but you caught his hand expertly and used the momentum to twist it behind his back, grabbing the other one too and with quick movements you had used a pair of handcuffs that you had in your bat-belt™ to chain him to one of the displays before letting him go. “If you’ll excuse me for a second,” you mumbled before walking a few feet away where you told Barbara to contact the police and tell him they didn’t need to hurry. You had just finished the conversation and muted your mic again when the same dizziness as earlier in the office hit you but this time tenfold. It was like the ground was swaying below you and you had to take ahole of a countertop so that you didn’t fall. “Hey, are you okay, you look kinda sick,” the robber asked in an actual concerned voice, but you didn’t answer, instead you quickly used the hook you had attached earlier to let yourself swing out of the window again. “Y/H/N?” Barbara contacted you and you tried your best to swallow down the weakness in your muscles that suddenly seemed to grow over you. “Yeah?” “Bats asks you to meet him on the roof of the Jefferson building down in third.” “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

You gave yourself another few seconds to collect yourself before you did as you were told and made your way over to the roof of the builduing Babs’ had told you to go to, the dark silhouette of your father’s persona already expecting you there. Like you had done so often before, you started to run towards the edge of the building next to it - the one you were currently on - and made yourself ready to jump, only for your muscles to suddenly give up on you and the only thing you felt next was the rushing of air as you were falling and then the sudden stop and pain in your wrist as something caught you. Bruce quickly pulled you up and even with the cowl you could see the concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice worried which definitely sounded uncanny in connection with what he was wearing. “Uhm yeah, my legs just kind of gave up on me there,” you tried to wave it off with a chuckle, not wanting him to see that you were frightened to your core. “Y/H/N?” he asked again in that voice he had always used when you tried to sneak out at night and lied when he had caught you. He hadn’t used that voice in so long. “I’m serious Batman, everything is okay, it’s no big deal,” you huffed - now defensive - and stood up with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “It is when you suddenly fall from a roof. What would have been if I hadn’t been there to catch you?” he asked, now slight anger edging through the worry, but you couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again,” you sighed and hoped he would just let it go, especially considering that the dizziness started to return. Along with it came the heaviness of your eyelids that you had gotten used to that somehow now seemed to actively pull you down. You raised your hand to rub your eyes - hoping it would put some more live back into you - but even that slight movement seemed to be too much as the world started swaying again and you felt gravity getting the best of you. Something black started moving in front of you and you weren’t quite sure if you were falling unconscious or if it was Bruce who came towards you to catch your falling form, but it turned out to be latter when you found yourself being lowered to the ground and propped against the end of one of the vantilator shafts of the building with Bruce kneeling beside you. “You’re definitely not okay,” he muttered as he held your face in his hands to get you to look at him. “I’m just a little bit tired is all,” you tried to argue, but your voice was weak and almost started lulling. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” You shut your eyes in concentration as you tried to remember. “Wait I know the answer to that one,” you muttered but almost fell asleep, only being kept away when your head started falling downwards, “What did you ask again?” “When was the last time you slept an entire night?” he tried again, this time more specific. “What day is it today?” “Friday.” “Then I think it was Monday,” you whispered since suddenly the loud noise of your voice seemed to pierce your skull apart. “You were on Patrol from nine to two a.m. on Monday,” Bruce disagreed and you almost chuckled. “Yes, and after I went to bed and got a full five hours. That’s pretty good isn’t it,” you couldn’t help but smile almost proudly, your mind starting to fog up with bubblegum coloured smoke that made it impossible to think straight. “And when did you last eat?” Bruce sighed, worry and recognition crossed his face. He himself must have known too well what you were going through. You averted your eyes and looked down at your lap where you played with your hands like an embarrassed child. “Also Monday,” you mumbled and Bruce immediately shook his head. “That’s not okay, you have to take care of yourself Y/H/N, you’re no good for anyone when you don’t.” You weren’t sure if it was only tired paranoia that made you see only disappointment on your fathers face - that ignored all the worry - but suddenly the prospect of having disappointed him, the one thing that you were trying to avoid ever since you could remember, made tears well up in your eyes and your lip quiver, “‘M sorry,” you could just press out before the tears started rolling. Bruce immediately regretted his tone of voice, but he knew nothing he would say now would be remembered by you so he just pulled you up from the roof and started carrying your already passing out form towards the batmobil. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow…”

The feeling of waking up rested was foreign to you, especially since it wasn’t one of your four separate alarms that woke you, and caused you to immediately sit up, only to be pulled back into the mattress. Your eyes flew open and explored your surroundings. The chandelier above you, with rainbow-coloured glass-pendants and the dark blue dealing with the painted stars immediately calmed you again. This room was your childhood bedroom which meant that you were in the manor, which in turn meant that you were safe. For a moment the calm was pretty nice, but then you remembered your case of immovability and looked down at where your wrists came out from under the cover. They were bound by silky bands and a move of your feet told you that the same was the case for them. While you were contemplating ways to get out of the unbelievably good, but still comfortable restraints, the door started to open and you turned as well as you could towards where you smallest (figuratively and literally) brother entered. “Your awake?” he asked in his usual stern voice, but you had known him for long enough to recognize the hidden worry. “Yeah, mind telling me why I’m strapped to my bed?” “Forced self-care,” he stated matter-of-factly and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes. “What?” “You fainted on Patrol, father says you haven’t eaten or slept since last Monday so we took measures to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself with how careless you are.” You wanted to reply with something snarky, but you were well aware that what he said was probably right. “I’m sorry okay, I just had a lot on my plate, but you’re right and I feel a lot better now that I had some sleep, so you can let me go again,” you tried to smooth your way out of there, but you had the slight suspicion that it was hopeless. “I respect your try but you will not be let go until father is certain that you’re better.”

“But I am better!” you whined and tried yet again to wiggle yourself out of the restraints. Damian just raised his eyebrows unimpressed. He walked over to a chair that was standing beside your bed and as you followed him with your eyes you noticed the shutted curtains and the small gap of light between them. “What time is it anyways?” you sighed and felt surprise when you had to hold back a yawn. “It’s about 8 a.m.” Your eyes widened. That meant you had enough time to get to the office! “Please Dami, you gotta let me go, I have to get to the board meeting,” you begged, starting to wiggle more and more, but to no avail. “But Ukthi, you-” “No you don’t understand! This is my first time alone, I can’t let dad down, I have to be able to pull through with this if I ever want to make it as the next C.E.O. Dad wasn’t allowed a break either.” “Ukthi-” “Damian please, please, I promise I’ll come back right after and take care of myself, but I have to do this if I-” “Ukthi! The board meeting was yesterday. You slept for over 24 hours!” Damian shouted to get you to stop interrupting him and when you realized the weight of his words you sunk back down into the pillow. “What? But I was supposed to…” “Father just postponed it, he didn’t leave room to argue, he also gave you the week off from patrol and work.” If your hands weren’t bound you’d probably sunken your face into them in shame. You tried to hold tears back as you looked away from Damian. “Y/N?” he asked and came closer. “I’m sorry, It’s just- how am I supposed to handle being the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprise if I can’t even handle little things like board meetings? How am I supposed to take after dad?” “Y/N, you keep on saying how father managed to lead the business on his own, and how you should be able too, but you’re not alone. You’re not supposed to be either. You have all of us by your side for a reason and we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re here for you and you shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. We’re family, we love you and we want to support you with all we can. “For now, how about you rest a little bit more and then I’ll let you out of bed to get a proper meal, Alfred made your favorite. After that I’m afraid Father will want to have a word with you.” “Oh shucks….”

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hellotherekenobi · 3 years

Text

───high and dry.

summary: no one can predict what day will be their last, and you don’t want any regrets. it looks like now is as good a time as any to tell obi-wan all you’ve wanted.

tw: angst, mentions of death and injury.

ONESHOT. ⟶ 2,375 WORDS.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There were plenty of feelings you didn’t enjoy. Disappointment, heartbreak, when you step in a puddle with your socks on. Maybe that last one was the worst, but nothing compares to pain. Real pain. Throbbing pain. The kind that leaves your fingertips tainted red as you try to steady your breaths and keep a clear head. The kind that leaves you with that one dreadful question no one should have to answer: am I going to die?

Yes, says the voice in your head. Yes, if you don’t move. It’s a fiery feeling that bursts at your side when you try to move an inch to the left, something that rips a yelp from your throat that you couldn’t have kept down even if you had tried. It burns but you don’t stop. You keep moving, dragging yourself along the wet ground, nails digging into the mud, until you’re beside the hole. That damned hole that you fell down. Though, that was an understatement. You were pushed down.

Despite the rasp, you call out. Help! Was anyone still there? You couldn’t care less at this moment if the person who remained standing on top was the very same person that ran you through, you just called out with all the might you had and hoped that if anyone would hear you, it would be Obi-Wan.

There was a thud only moments before that came after the sizzle of a lightsaber, and you knew that someone had won the fight. The question kept poking at your mind as you called out, but you were already as good as dead even if a threatening face dropped down to greet you. You didn’t take care to the other question that promised to tear you apart at the answer; if Obi-Wan was the victor or victim. Was he already dead? You’d rather waste away if it were true.

Then came another sound, of someone inching down the hole as small clusters of dirt sprinkled from beneath their boots. You moved your head to the side as you waited, hoping for good. A single slither of dirt came crumbling down as the figure dropped to their feet a little further from where you sat, grunting at the impact. They were weakened from the fight, no doubt, but it was only until they called out your name did you know who it was, and your questions were answered.

“Obi-Wan!” you groan, voice barely loud enough.

You try to move but the effort is too much, being poked by that fiery feeling yet again.

He rushes to your side, skidding along the mud to kneel beside you and raise a hand above your wound. “Oh Maker, no.” he breathes, something unsteady.

“I should have blocked it,” you say.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You couldn’t have.”

“I could have fought harder.”

“You fought well.”

“Not well enough.” it’s almost a groan when you say it. Obi-Wan shushes you but you don’t let him. “It doesn’t look good for me.”

“Stop.” he emphasizes, seeing as you ignored his attempts to quieten you. “You’re going to be fine.”

As much as you wanted to believe that, the chances of you being fine were much too slim to get your hopes up. There was only two outcomes of calling for help and one of them was not surviving this. Now that Obi-Wan is here, you’re wondering if you should have simply rolled over and accepted fatality. You couldn’t bare to actually look at the damage, but you know that even calling it a scratch wouldn’t lighten the mood. It was deep. Too deep.

He assesses your wound with more concentration, as if it had changed since the last time he looked. The only thing that changes is how much blood continues to seep out. You’re sure you’re covered in it, coating the ground as well. Despite the amount, Obi-Wan doesn’t give in. He keeps trying to push against the odds.

“If I can just stop the bleeding,” he starts, and you know it’s going to be your turn to shush him.

“Obi-Wan...”

“Keep it wrapped,” he continues. “Then get you out of here.”

“Obi-Wan,” it’s as firm as you can say it. “Look at me.”

He hesitates at first, breathing heavily as if he needs to catch up from all the words he just spoke. You notice the way he’s shaking, ever so much that you’d have to know him well to spot it. You do know him well. You know him well enough to realize he’s affected by this much more than you, and he’s going to crumble unless he can steady himself. But he manages to meet your eyes, however slowly, with that boyish fear lurking beneath the cerulean.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. He shakes his head again. “It’s okay.”

“No, no.” the tears start now, welling in his eyes and threatening to fall. “Don’t leave—don’t leave me.”

It’s not a pretty sight when your hand finds his cheek, painting his skin a deep red. That’s all of you.

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t... not again.”

He doesn’t make sense, but you don’t voice your thought. The injuries you’ve sported from your other missions haven’t always been small, but you’ve outlived them. Being in a situation as life threatening as this can be counted on one hand, and even that would be excessive. You’ve always bounced back. This time, though, the springs are feeling worn out.

“I can’t lose you too.” he whispers, a tear spilling down his cheek.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” you breathe, bringing your hand down to grab at the fabric of his tunic, silently cursing at yourself for this very moment and how it had to happen. “I’m so sorry.”

It was like when he was a padawan, wasn’t it? When he had fought beside his master, yet it wasn’t enough at the time. The way Qui-Gon had been slain, it was like how you were attacked—lightsaber pushed into your side. Obi-Wan’s worry and trembling attempts to assure your survival was an instinctual defense mechanism, all because of what he experienced as a boy. Oh, Obi-Wan, you think. Oh, my sweet Obi-Wan. I’ll be brave for you.

“No, not again.” you assure him, swallowing thickly. “My cloak. You can wrap the wound with that.”

You barely have the strength to point over to it, where it lays soaking after it had fallen down the hole much earlier than you had. Obi-Wan hurries to grab it, folding it to thicken the material and have the cleaner side outward.

“Can you sit up?” he asks you.

You sigh, knowing how the fire is going to return again the moment you move, but nod regardless. Obi-Wan scoops a careful arm under your body to tilt you forward and though you try not to curse, the longer you’re in this position the more it stings and you cry out.

Obi-Wan’s quick to return you against the wall, voice rising out of fear. “I thought I could move you.”

“Yes, but I never said it wouldn’t hurt.” the last word comes out in a hiss. You would explain to him that it was because of the pain and not because you’re frustrated, but you doubt he cares about being offended at this point. Honestly, neither should you. “Keep going.”

Though he grunts at your response, he moves you forward again to quickly bring the cloak around your abdomen and wrap what he can before resting you back. The cloak feels tight wrapped around you, but it doesn’t seem to bother your wound. You don’t mention it. Instead, you reach deep within your trouser pocket to pull out your comlink, slick with your blood.

“Since yours broke,” you say, pushing it into Obi-Wan’s open hand.

The comment manages to earn a raspy chuckle from him, though his smile doesn’t stay for long. “I go through too many.”

“Yes and cloaks, too.” when he gives you a look, you crinkle your nose at him. “Such the drama queen.”

“I can’t help it,” it seems to be a half-minded comment before he flicks the comlink open, trying to hide the squeamish look on his face as he pounds a finger down on the button to call, but you catch the way he stares at the blood.

He speaks into the comlink firmly, asking for aid. There’s a rough static acting as a reply before it hisses once and a voice, barely audible, begins to speak. Though Obi-Wan tries to inform the other person as best as he can, there’s too much feedback to get a clear sentence through. He tries again, then again, then once more before a whine screeches out of the speaker and it sends Obi-Wan into a soppy rage you’ve never seen before; slamming the comlink shut as he cries out.

“Hey,” you start, just finding your voice by the end of the word. “It’s okay.”

“They don’t know we’re here,” Obi-Wan bellows. “How can this be okay? I—I’m not a medic. I can’t... I can’t help you.”

The air stays quiet as you wait for Obi-Wan to take a breath, watching the frustration fade from his jaw first and then his brows. You would always tell him that he was not a very good liar because of those eyes of his and the way his brows arch or furrow. You’re the only one who knows me like that, he had told you. You had hoped to know him more before this day came.

“Hold me.”

“What?” he asks, and there’s that boyish look in his eyes again.

It’s what you need right now. Even if it were a silly thought, being held by Obi-Wan could cure any disaster. If there ever were a time to be selfish, it’s now. So, you simply nod your head at him, letting him know you meant what you said, then he’s moving beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders to gently lower you—head rested on his lap.

This is it, you think. The perfect place to die. He was still warm, unlike you who was growing colder each minute. He held you comfortably and intimately, something you yearned for since the day you realized just how in love with him you truly are. It’s perfect. You’re in the arms of the man you love.

His hand seeks out yours, holding it tightly. “There’s so much left for us. All the things we always wanted, they’re still waiting for us. So you can’t leave. Okay? You have to stay.”

His words are softer, slower. Not frantic like they had been before. You don’t know if the change in tone is because he believes the words he says or if he’s accepted what you already have. It’s only now, with those words, that it starts to sink in just how unfair this is. You had promises, but what good were they now?

“You’re right,” you say, feeling the tears prickling. “There’s so much... so many things we still haven’t done. So many words I haven’t spoken. So, I’m going to say them now... if you’d listen.”

Obi-Wan nods, moving closer if it were at all possible. “Tell me.”

Licking your lips, you need to coat these words. “I promise... to love you... and to cherish you, til death do us part.”

A sob breaks the flow of your words, both from your own lips and Obi-Wan’s. It rocks you both, shaking down your spine and to your toes. It feels like it rocks the earth as well, and you can barely keep the tears back when Obi-Wan begins crying in earnest now, letting out all of the pain he was holding back to keep him sane. You’d feel the pain too, but your body is numb. It’s been numb for a while and you wouldn’t dare tell him. You just cry with him over the promise you both made to each other and won’t be able to keep—his promise to love you completely, like you love him, and to share a name, share a heart, share a home. All of it is broken now. There’s no hope left.

It was a dream you two shared, of living a life away from the Order and away from the war. A life you could both grow old together in, where your story would be shown in the grey hairs and the wrinkled skin. The stories that could be past down from your children to theirs. The love you share would coat the stars, but your heart will rest between the sparkles until he could meet you again in the next life. Maybe it will treat you kinder.

The image in your head of saying those vows to Obi-Wan properly, somewhere warm and secluded, sits behind your eyelids when you close them, starting to fade in his arms as his cries reverb. You watch the scene where you take his hand and slip the ring on his finger, smiling as bright as the flowers he had picked out. You see his hair shining golden in the sunlight, an iridescent happiness that swells up in his chest as he says I do. You watch him lean to you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss unmatched from all the others. But you feel it too. Now, in this moment outside of your dream, you feel Obi-Wan’s kiss, and you realize when his tears touch your cheeks that he’s giving you the kiss that will last forever, if now was the only time he could promise it.

Without the strength to kiss him back, you let go. You let yourself slip away. You ready your course to the stars to watch over him. Now or never, and now until forever. Though, the stars prove out of your reach when you hear something, and it’s when Obi-Wan’s lips pull away from yours do you recognize the sound. It’s your comlink. It chimes and you can hear Obi-Wan’s voice spring to life, almost washing you over and reviving you, and suddenly your senses awaken when his hand touches your cheek and his voice opens your eyes.

“They’re coming, darling. Hold on.” he smiles, something confident. “And I promise, I’m going to marry you.”

taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @yelenacbelova @immoral-rose @bloodybunnyuwu @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @pradahux @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @iamtracyz @chogisss @nectav @disastereyebags @hellolitty @stareyeddie

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan fanfic #obi-wan fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #oneshot

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Text

Going Virtual

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I love this concept sm!! like Harry is in full pest mode with this one lmao...but it’s cute. Enjoy🙃

School was back in session. Not only was Harry’s 7 year old beginning the first day of 3rd grade, you were also in school and going into your sophomore year of college. Harry had gotten so comfortable spending all of his time with you both over the past 6 months, and even more since June that he was practically dying from boredom because of having all this newfound time to himself. And it wasn’t even alone time. It was him being all by himself while you two were confined to your respective spaces in the house to get you guys’ schoolwork done. You guys were literally so close, but yet so far away from him now. All he wanted to do was pull you both away from the computers to spend time together. The only moments he had with you or his son were the brief periods when either of you summoned him for assistance or for a refreshment of your snacks. With school in the picture even more, there was just about no time in the day for Harry. At least when you two physically went to school you both were kind of out of sight out of mind so to speak given the fact that he didn’t have much accessibility to either of you during the day.

Now even though you and Harry’s son were in school and doing schoolwork during the day, it didn’t stop Harry from being a bit of a pest at times. And he was mainly a pest to you. When he would bring you guys snacks while you were taking care of your assignments, during and after school, he’d try his hardest to shift some of you guys’ attention onto him. Now he wouldn’t try as hard to get at his son. The most he’d do was attempt to instigate a tickle fight or offer up some play time. But due to Harry’s successful efforts to have consistency and put your work first before play when raising his son, his tactics weren’t being accepted at all. Bubs would simply tell Harry, or daddy for that matter, to stop and that he could play with him later. And because he was so adorable and Harry couldn’t get enough of him, he’d give his cheeks a good pinch with a kiss to the forehead before offering to help with his work.

But with you on the other hand, Harry didn’t go that easy.

Instead of just leaving you alone after you pushed him away, he continued on. He’d try to pull your chair away from the table while you’re typing away on your computer. He’d also sit on the floor while you’re in your zoom classes and pull at your pants leg or hem of your shorts depending on what clothing item you threw onto your body before your class. And eventually he did in fact leave once you practically (and almost literally) kicked him out of the room. But he didn’t stop his little attacks to get your attention there. He’d even send you raunchy messages, explaining in detail all of the many ways and times he wanted to take you. And this wasn’t just during your classes; this was also when you were working on your assignments. He refused to let up. And believe it or not, Harry began working even harder to get your attention within in the last couple of weeks. It’d only been about a month and he’d already begun to intensify his “attacks”.

And today was nothing short of Harry trying to get you and bubs’ attention. If he wasn’t lying on the couch reading or trying to write or do anything that was in the slightest bit productive, Harry was checking in on you and bubs. He’d periodically make his way to you guys’ workspaces to check in and bring you snacks and any help if needed. Once he checked in on the third grader down the hall, he’d take a stroll down to your space to check in on and bug you. When you were in one of your zoom classes a bit earlier on in the day, Harry walked into the room, brought you what he normally got you at that time, then sat on the floor next to you so that he could be a pest. Today you were wearing shorts so his pest level had spiked, he was touching you and just not leaving you alone. He enjoyed making you gasp or react to his touches while your camera was on. Now even though you thought that his efforts were cute and you felt a bit bad for not spending a lot of time with him, it didn’t stop you from plucking Harry whenever you weren’t writing something down. You didn’t know why, but it was a bit nice to give him a pluck here and there while he tried to seduce you into stepping away from your computer.

To make things worse, he knew your schedule in and out! This meant that he’d come in during the tail end of one of your classes then continue being an even bigger pest when you were trying to get some work done in between.

“Can you please like leave me alone.” You ask calmly, keeping your eyes on the screen in front of you.

“Umm no. That is, only if you take a little break right now.” Harry barters from below, continuing to touch you.

“Why don’t you go bother your son? I bet he wants to see his daddy more than I do right now.” You say matter of factly, finally turning your head down to look at him.

“Well first of all, you calling me daddy right now was a big mistake and because of it I’m going to be an even bigger pest.” Harry begins. At least he admitted to being a pest. “Now second of all, I’ve already checked on him and he doesn’t need me. So now I’m in here.” He continues on with his explanation.

“Oh my god! We’re gonna need some defense strategies against you.” You huff. “What is it going to take for you to leave me alone?” You ask, deciding to finally give into his antics of it meant that you’d have a little moment to get some Harry free work done.

“Let me make you cum and I’ll leave you alone. I know you’re already drenched since I did see that you read my messages.” Harry says.

“Fine, but hurry up. I need to get back to my paper.” You concede, standing up from your seat to let him have your way with you.

“Well you don’t have to be so hostile, it’s not like you’re not going to enjoy it. If you don’t, I’ll be reevaluating my skills while you ignore me.” Harry replies as he lifts himself up from the ground, letting out a series of grunts in the process.

“Well it never hurts an old dog to get new tricks.” You push back. The age gap was a definite hot button for the two of you so if there was any window to push it, you were going to take that opportunity.

“Well I don’t think that I’ve heard you complain about my old tricks.” Harry begins, pushing back the chair to stand behind you. “In fact, I always hear you screaming for more.” Harry whispers into your ear as he swiftly tugs your shorts and panties down your legs in one motion.

“Maybe.” You reply defiantly, trying to stand your ground with him.

“That’s where you’re mistaken baby.” Harry hums, bringing a hand down between your legs. “And judging but the stickiness between your legs, you know that it’s not just maybe either.” Harry continues, pushing two of his fingers up and down your folds before finally pushing them into your entrance.

“Oh my god.” You sigh, taking in the feeling of his fingers entering you. You hated it when he was right, but this time he was, his fingers felt so good.

“Not so mad at me bothering you now huh?” He chuckles behind you, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“No” You whimper. His fingers were doing wonders to your body. And that was all he was doing. Hw was simply fucking his fingers into your hole and you were falling apart as you clutched onto the edge of the desk for dear life.

“Good girl.” He praises, bringing his face to your neck to sponge kisses into your neck as he pleasures you. While he continues pumping his fingers into you, he moves his hand that was securely planted on your waist down to your front to begin circling two of his fingers around your clit.

Right now, you were going insane. Your paper was now long forgotten; at least for the time being. Harry’s hands were like magic between your legs and you could feel yourself beginning to drift closer to the edge. There was a special warmth that infiltrated your body when you were getting closer to letting go, and you were starting to feel it move through your body. You were also beginning to feel the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten.

“Can feel y’clenching up around me, wanna cum sweets?” Harry hums into your ear, fanning his warm breath across your skin and creating goosebumps all across your body in the process.

“Please daddy.” You pant in response, feeling your lower half begin to go numb.

“Let go f’me baby.” He whispers, pushing his fingers as deep as possible and holding it there while continuing to stimulate your clit.

“Fuck!” You exclaim lowly, trying to hold back your moans as you cum around his fingers.

“That’s it sweet girl.” Harry praises happily, feeling your walls contract around his fingers. While you continue riding the wave of your release, Harry keeps his fingers inside of you and he continues placing kisses onto your neck as well. And once you finish riding out the amazing orgasm that ripped right through you, your mind goes right back to what you need to get done. And to be honest, for some reason that was unbeknownst to Harry, he absolutely loved that about you.

“Can I go write my paper now.” You huff shakily, trying to move your feet around to reagin more feeling in your legs and trying to get your mind straight again.

“Only if you promise to spend some more time with me and bubs later, we miss you.” Harry bargains, slowly removing his fingers from inside of you.

“Fine.” You breathe out cheerfully. In that moment, you didn’t exactly know what you were happy about. You weren’t sure if you were happy about getting a nice little break in the monotony of your work or of it was from the fact that Harry was finally going to leave you alone for a little while or that you were going to finally spend some time with the little family you were lucky enough to be apart of. Either way, you were definitely going to take a bit of a break later.

And let’s just say that this school year was going to be a bit of an interesting one for Harry.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing

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calamitykaty · 3 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

Charlie x Fem! Reader

Word count:7670

Warnings: Slight Swearing, I think that’s it?

Requested: Sorta? It’s a multi writer topic by @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic revolving around the idea of y/n finding an ad to rent a date for Thanksgiving. *You can find the first writers fic HERE

A/N: HUGE thank you to @dream-a-little-bigger-x for reading every rough draft of this that I sent her, along with bouncing ideas with me! Also a huge thank you to @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic for supporting me when I got stuck and reading my super rough draft!

I wasn’t gonna post this until tomorrow but now I have a Christmas Reggie fic that I want to post tomorrow so...Happy Reading.

Y/N wrapped the buffalo plaid scarf around her neck and pulled her favorite slouchy red beanie over her thick mop of curls. Her cellphone was pressed between her right shoulder and ear as she buttoned up her navy peacoat and half-listened to her mom rattle off the preparations she needed to make for Thanksgiving.

“Mom, I really need to…” Y/N attempted to interject only to be cut off by her mother. She placed the phone on speaker and set it down on the counter while she slipped her feet into a pair of black boots. She had stopped listening to her mother’s droning voice nearly a half-hour beforehand, but her ears perked up when her mother asked the dreaded question.

“Are you bringing Noah this year honey? I know you guys like to alternate holidays with his family, but your Aunt Martha is going to make it this year and she is just tickled to finally get to meet him.”

Y/N pursed her lips and ran a hand over her face, she hadn’t told anyone that Noah broke things off with her two months prior. She hadn’t meant to keep it a secret for so long, but her mom loved Noah and she just knew she would blame her for ruining a good thing. She had been dating Noah for three years and it was perfect until Noah started talking about marriage and Y/N began to realize that she couldn’t picture her entire life with him. Noah felt like a moment in time to her, not an eternity.

“I’ll have to check, Mom, I don’t know what Noah is doing yet.” Y/N settled on a half-truth to buy herself some time. She placed her elbows on the edge of the counter and rested her head in her hands.

“Honey, I need to know by the end of the week, okay?”

She could hear the irritation in her mother's voice at the non-answer that Y/N had given to her. Her mother was a meticulous planner and she could not stand curve balls making a mess of her perfect holiday plans. Her mother treated every holiday as if the editors of Better Homes & Gardens were going to drop in at any moment and do a two-page spread on her decor and perfect meal.

“Got it, mom! I have to go!” Y/N quickly ended the phone call and shoved her phone into her pocket. She huffed out a heavy sigh and made her way to her front door, grabbing her keys from the catch-all bowl on the table next to the door. She quickly locked up her apartment and rushed down the two flights of stairs to the small community lobby. She adjusted the scarf around her neck and reached for the door but stopped as a new flyer on the community board caught her eye. She took a step back and ripped the paper from the thumbtack that held it to the cork board and shoved it into her coat pocket before pulling the door open.

Her hair whipped around her face as she stepped outside and was met with the cool autumn breeze that had settled in over the last month. Y/N looked both ways before stepping off of the sidewalk and hurrying across the street where her best friend, Leigha, was already waiting for her inside the small corner cafe.

“How is it that I have to drive from the other side of town and can make it on time but you literally live across the street and can’t?” Leigha teased as Y/N unraveled her scarf and took her coat off, draping both over the back of her chair before sitting down.

“Sorry! Sorry! My mother…” Y/N rolled her eyes as she recalled the phone call.

“Enough said!” Leigha laughed, she had one of those laughs that turned heads. Her laugh was always a little too loud and sometimes she would snort, it always caused Y/N to break into a fit of giggles. Leigha had been Y/N’s roommate all the way through college and they had been inseparable since the very first day they had met.

“So,” Leigha crossed her arms on top of the table,” did you work up the courage to tell her about Noah?”

Y/N shifted her gaze across the cafe and bit her lip “not exactly…”

“You are unbelievable, y/n ” Leigha sighed, exasperated.

Y/N snapped her eyes back to Leigha and held her hands up in defense “I tried! Well...I mean…I tried to try…”

“You know if you show up stag and your mother already has a place setting for a plus one, you might as well just go ahead and bury yourself, honestly” Leigha tutted.

“That’s why I have a plan!” Y/N turned around and rustled through the pockets of her peacoat before placing the crumpled flyer on the table. She smoothed her hands over the paper and pushed it towards the middle of the table.

Leigha snatched the paper up as the waitress came over and took their orders, Leigha ordered a blueberry scone with a chai tea while Y/N ordered a croissant with a side of strawberry preserves and a coffee.

“I mean…” Leigha read over the paper before sliding it back over to Y/N, “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Y/N bit her lip and stared down at the flyer, re-reading it for the fourth time before she pulled out her phone and scanned the QR code to bring up the app.

“I can’t believe I am actually this desperate to try to literally purchase a date a week before Thanksgiving.” She muttered as she began to fill out her profile.

“Wait! Thanksgiving is next week? As in a week from today? I haven’t even made my Thanksgiving Pinterest board yet!” Leigha panicked and grabbed her face.

Y/N looked up from her phone and shook her head at Leigha’s antics “why do you need a Pinterest board? You literally do the same thing every single year.”

“Yeah…” Leigha jutted her bottom lip out in a pout, “but I want people to think that I am making all of these intricate and super cute appetizers and stuff. It’s the illusion that I care about!”

Y/N looked up and thanked the waitress as she set the food and coffee down in front of her before turning her attention back to Leigha who was eagerly biting into her scone.

“Help me answer these?” She passed her phone over to the girl and picked up the knife, spreading the strawberry preserves onto her croissant.

“Beach or Mountains?” Leigha readout with her mouth half full.

“Mountains!” Both girls yelled out at the same time and burst into giggles. They continued down the row of questions, passing the phone back and forth until Y/N finally hit the submit button. Leigha practically yanked the phone from Y/N’s hand as the algorithm began to shoot out potential matches. Her thumb scrolled through the pictures at lighting speed before she stopped and slowly scrolled back up before thrusting the phone in Y/N’s face.

“This one! Oh my god, this one! And if you don’t select the platinum package so that boy can say he loves you then I will literally never speak to you again!”

Y/N wiped the jam from her chin and grabbed the phone from Leigha. He was cute, there was no doubt about that but unlike Leigha, she cared about what his profile said about him. She scrolled through his pictures, one of him playing guitar, one hiking, one surrounded by friends around a campfire. Lover of nature, endless adventure, campfire songs, and sharing the love with my friends. I’ll jump if you jump, let’s take this plunge together?

She felt her lips curl up into a soft smile as she whispered his name to herself, liking the way that it rolled so easily off of her tongue.

“I told yooouuuu!” Leigha sang out and crossed her arms over her chest, a smug look on her face.

Y/N placed the phone on the table and tried to control the blush that she could fill rising to her cheeks, “calm down,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m paying for a Thanksgiving date, not falling in love.” She selected the platinum option and typed in her credit card number before clicking the purchase open without a second hesitation.

“I better be your maid of honor!” Leigha teased as the two girls dropped the appropriate amount of money onto the table and began to layer their coats and scarves back on. Y/N pulled the girl into a hug and placed a kiss on her cheek before heading back across the street towards her apartment.

She had just placed the keys back into her catch-all bowl by the door when her phone began to ding. She felt her heart begin to race as she saw the approval message on her screen that Charlie had accepted her request to rent him as her Thanksgiving date.

“Oh my god...okay...okay, this is fine...everything is fine.” She muttered to herself as she received another notification that Charlie had messaged her. She set her phone down on the counter and peeled her coat and scarf off before slipping her feet out of her boots. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and grabbed her phone, refusing to look at it until she had settled in on her couch. She crossed her feet under her and pulled a throw pillow to her chest before finally sliding up on the notification and reading the message that he sent.

Let's get to know each other? Lunch tomorrow?

Y/N hesitated for a moment before her fingertips began to slide across the keyboard on her screen.

Sounds good! How do you feel about chicken & waffles? I know a place!

She read over what she had sent several times, worried that she sounded too eager. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waited for his response, watching as several dots appeared and disappeared several times on her screen before he finally sent his response.

A girl after my own heart! How is 12:30? Send me the address?

She felt her cheeks grow warm at his response and mentally reminded herself that he was just being kind and that she was quite literally paying for him.

500 Rue Kennedy Dieppe, NB. and 12:30 is perfect! I’ll see you then!

Y/N took a deep breath and closed the app before her thumb hovered over her mother’s contact. She quickly clicked on her number and quietly whispered to herself “please don’t answer, please don’t answer, please don’t answer.”

“Thank god!” she exclaimed as the phone sent her to voicemail. She rolled her eyes at her mother’s elaborate message before finally being told to leave her message at the sound of the beep.

“Hi, mom...it’s me...I just wanted to let you know that you will need to make sure to set an extra place setting for thanksgiving. Love you.” She rattled off, keeping the message vague but to the point.

The following day Y/N stood inside of her closet staring at her assortment of clothes trying to decide what said “I'm cool and definitely not desperate even though I paid for a date for Thanksgiving because my family is insane.”

She pulled a mustard yellow cable knit sweater from a hanger and laid it out on her bed before heading back to her closet. Her fingers sorted through the variety of skirts before settling on a silky, pleated navy skirt that was cinched at the waist. She laid the skirt out next to the sweater before moving over to her vanity.

She sat on the poof chair and stared at her reflection for a brief moment before pulling the small drawer to the left open and lining up her primers, eye palette, eyeliner, mascara, and her signature red lipstick. She grabbed the mason jar that sat on the right tableside of the vanity and grabbed the appropriate brushes, lining those up as well.

She used her middle finger of her right hand to gently swipe the eyeshadow primer onto her eyelids before dusting the brush across a shimmery gold eyeshadow. She used a maroon eyeshadow on her crease and slowly blended the colors until she achieved a golden and subtle smokey eye.Y/N shook her hands out to steady her nerves before slowly pulling the liquid eyeliner across her eyelids and flicking it softly at the end for a subtle cat-eye before she carefully built volume on her eyelashes with the mascara. Finally, she grabbed the matte red lipstick and carefully swiped it across her lips before blotting them with a tissue.

Y/N jumped at the sound of her phone vibrating on her nightstand. She moved across the room and grabbed the phone from the charger.

See you soon!

She felt the nerves settle back into her stomach and wiped her clammy hands on her pajama pants before quickly undressing. She pulled the yellow cable knit sweater over her head, careful not to let it touch her face. She followed that by pulling on the pleated navy skirt, the fabric falling just above her knee. She pulled on the fabric of the sweater at her waist so that it slightly hung over the waistband of the skirt before she slipped her feet into a pair of black pointed flats. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and pulled her curls over her shoulders before grabbing her purse and slinging it across her body.

Y/N entered the bustling restaurant and let her eyes wander across the tables trying to find Charlie. She wrung her hands together and pulled her lips into a thin line when she didn’t see him, her heart dropping at the thought that she had been stood up or even worse, that she had really fallen for a scam. She turned on her left foot and reached for the door, barely pulling it open before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She let go of the door, resulting in a soft thud as it closed.

“Y/N? You weren’t about to bail on me were you?” The soft voice teased as she turned around.

“I thought you had stood me up, actually.” She could feel the blush that dusted across her cheeks at the accusation. Her left hand fell to her right wrist, her fingers loosely wrapping around it as she looked up at Charlie through her eyelashes and offered an apologetic smile.

Charlie’s green eyes crinkled at the edges and his nose scrunched up as he laughed “take the money and run, I wish I would have thought of that!”

“Oh..” Y/N looked back at the door and then back towards Charlie, “if you don’t want to do this, it’s fi--”

Charlie smiled softly at her “I was just teasing, I didn’t want to sit at the table by myself in case you didn’t show and have to do the walk of shame, so I was at the bar.”

Charlie placed his right hand on the small of her back and guided her to a table in the middle of the bustling restaurant. He pulled her chair out for her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced at the menu, though she already knew what she was going to order. The waiter, a young kid, probably seventeen stopped by their table and quickly took their order.

Y/N finally looked up to find Charlie staring at her, his face cradled in his hands with his elbows propped up on the table.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why a very beautiful girl would need to rent a date for a Holiday.”

Y/N felt herself blush at his compliment and shrugged her left shoulder “I got dumped.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry”

She smiled and waved him off “It’s no big deal, we wanted different things out of life. He wanted marriage and I,” she hesitated, she hadn’t talked about this with anyone other than Leigha.

“You what?”

“I want adventure and I know that sounds silly. Like, of course, you can have adventure and marriage but Noah,” she paused, “that’s my ex.”

Charlie nodded and gestured for her to continue, “Noah works in the financial district and he wanted marriage and kids and stability….and I barely know what I want to eat for breakfast let alone what I want for eternity.”

“You’re a free spirit, nothing wrong with that!” Charlie interjected and Y/N felt her first genuine smile of the night spread across her face.

“You get it.”

“I do get it.”

Y/N thanked the waiter as he sat down two beers along with their orders of chicken and waffles, before turning back to Charlie.

“So, tell me about your family. What should I prepare myself for?” Charlie lifted the pint glass to his lips and took a sip of the amber-colored beer.

‘Well,” Y/N blew air into her cheeks and sighed, “my mother thinks she’s Martha Stewart. So be sure to compliment the decor as soon as you see her. You’ll win her over for sure...and maybe don’t mention the whole free spirit thing or you will definitely end up on her list of terrible suitors that I have brought home.”

“Noted.” Charlie nodded before adding, “and your dad?”

“My dad is easy going, just talk about beer and hockey and you'll be fine.”

Charlie threw his head back in laughter and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the way his whole face lit up when he laughed. She felt a flutter in her stomach as Charlie leaned forward so that his forearms rested on the table and his fingers lightly brushed across hers before he pulled back. Y/n pulled her hands off of the table and dropped them into her lap, her fingers lightly traced over the silky fabric of her skirt.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N inhaled a sharp breath and rolled her bottom lip into her mouth before exhaling, “yeah, but I should probably tell you something,” she looked up at Charlie through her eyelashes.

“Well, c’mon then..” Charlie teased after several seconds of silence.

“My folks don’t exactly know that Noah and I are….done...and I know there’s going to be a big event made of it when they find out.”

“Oof…” Charlie sighed and took a swig from his beer and a bite of his food.

Y/N felt her heart beating in her ears, “I understand if you, I mean if this is too much and you want to back out.”

Charlie looked at her with a playful smirk, “are you actually going to eat that or?” He pointed at her untouched plate of food with his fork.

“W-what?” Y/N looked down at her food and back up at Charlie before letting a smile slip onto her face. She didn’t understand how someone she had just met could put her nerves at ease without even trying.

Charlie let his fork clatter on his plate before leaning forward on his elbows. Y/N watched with furrowed brows as he grabbed the maple syrup and poured it in a circle over her chicken before he leaned back into his seat and met her eyes with a soft smile on his face.

Y/N picked up her fork and knife and cut into her maple drenched chicken before popping a small bite into her mouth, “are you happy now?” she teased Charlie before putting her fork back down.

Charlie tried to hold back the smile that threatened to take over his face as he nodded his head.

“So, what’s our story going to be? It’s gonna have to be a good one if I have to upstage Noah to win over your folks.”

The two spent the next hour concocting a believable, but very romantic story of how they met. They talked about their likes and dislikes, their quirks and habits, and all of the little things that couples are supposed to know about each other,

Y/N felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as Charlie walked her to her car, his left hand just barely brushing against hers. She mentally scolded herself for feeling jittery over a guy that was simply fulfilling his job, but she also couldn’t help but hope that maybe he was feeling their connection too.

“I’ll pick you up next Wednesday at 4 pm, yeah?” Charlie asked as they arrived at her car. Y/n tucked her hair behind her right ear and nodded.

She felt her breath hitch as Charlie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek before walking backward and sending her a wave.

A week later and Y/N found herself pulling on a green sequined, long sleeve dress, the hem set just above her knees. It was her go-to holiday dress, classic but not too formal. She painted her face with gold eyeshadow, a sharp winged eyeliner, and her classic red lips. Her hair hung over her shoulders in cascading curls. She sat on her bed, fastening a pair of strappy black heels when her phone dinged. She fastened the buckles of her heels and grabbed her phone, a smile instantly sliding onto her face at Charlie letting her know he’d be at her place in five minutes.

She stood up and checked her appearance one final time before grabbing her gold clutch handbag and shoving her phone into it, just as Charlie knocked on her door. She quickly made her way to the front door and turned the lock before pulling the door open.

“Wow…” Charlie breathed out as she came into full view.

Y/N shyly smiled back at the boy, thankful that the blush she had on her cheeks already would mask the red glow that she could feel heating up her face.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, her eyes trailing from his brown wing toed shoes up to his pristine white button-up and finally to his slightly coiffed hair.

“Shall we?” Charlie extended his arm out to Y/N after she locked her door. She looped her right arm through his left, her hand resting lightly on his forearm as they made their way through the corridor and outside to Charlie’s car.

He opened the passenger side door for her and waited for her to get situated before closing the door and running around to the other side of the car. Their forty-minute drive was mostly silent as Y/N worked to calm her nerves down. She knew that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she showed up with Charlie in place of Noah and she was trying to memorize all of the details that they had agreed on a week prior.

“Are you okay?” Charlie glanced over at her for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the road, his left hand took hold of the steering wheel as his right hand settled on her bare knee.

His hand was warm against her cold skin and Y/N wasn’t sure why but she found her left hand moving to settle on top of his hand. Without hesitation, Charlie flipped his hand over and let her palm fall into his before his fingers slid between hers and gently curled.

“Just nervous…”

Charlie lightly squeezed her hand before letting out a small chuckle “if I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re the one about to meet my family.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous about them meeting you, they’ll love you,” Y/N clarified,” I’m nervous about the terrible things that I know my mother is going to say to me about ending things with Noah.”

Charlie licked his lips as he pulled into her parents’ driveway. He pulled his right hand free from hers and put the car in park before turning slightly in his seat to face her.

“You know that nothing she says is going to be true, right? You don’t have to live by someone else's timeline for your life.”

Y/N pushed down the warming feeling in her heart and nodded her head at his words.

“Yeah, I know...are you ready?”

Charlie smiled brightly at her and pulled the keys from the ignition before getting out of the car. He double-stepped around the car to the passenger door and pulled it open for her, waiting for her to get out before closing the door.

He slid his left palm into her right hand and tangled their fingers together before placing a soft kiss on her hairline and whispered “let’s put on a show.”

Y/N could feel the nervous energy erupting in her stomach as they stood outside of her childhood home. She took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob and pushing the red front door open. They were met with the warm heat of the home and the smell of cinnamon as soon as they stepped inside. Charlie let his eyes wander across the walls of the entryway, scanning the line of pictures before tugging Y/N over to one.

“This is you, yeah?” The question was rhetorical as it had been obvious that it was her in the picture. She stood on a cliffside, at the top of a mountain with a bright smile on her face, her childhood dog, Rex, beside her and the ocean behind her.

“Yeah, I was seventeen and went backpacking by myself for the first time. My mom was so mad. This family that was passing by was kind enough to capture the moment for me and my dad insisted that it be hung on the wall of accomplishments…” Y/N rambled off the story before letting her eyes move from the picture and up to Charlie.

Charlie smiled down at her and laughed, “this is gonna sound insane, but I think that was my family that stopped and took the picture.”

Y/N pulled her brows forward so that her forehead was pinched in the middle “shut up! No it wasn’t!” she finally exclaimed.

“Rex….the dog’s name was Rex. I remember because I thought you were pretty and I got flustered and I said something dumb about Rex from Toy Story.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as Charlie recounted the story and she felt her cheeks growing red at the revelation “well, this is a weird twist in fate--”

She was cut off by the sound of her dad’s deep voice bellowing her name as he turned the corner. Charlie pulled her into his side and let his right-hand rest on her hip, while her right hand rested on his chest.

“Well, this certainly isn’t Noah!” Her father exclaimed a large smile on his face and his eyes soft. He had never been the biggest fan of Noah’s to begin with.

Charlie dropped his hand from her waist and stepped forward with it stretched out towards her dad, “Charlie Gillespie, sir.” He was taken aback when her dad threw his head back in laughter and pulled him in for a full bear hug.

“Nice to meet you, son”

Y/N giggled at her dad’s antics, he had always been the type to do things like that. He was a stout man with laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He had graying hair and a well-kept beard and he radiated kindness.

“And you, little missy, are going to have a lot of explaining to do to your mother.” Y/N pulled back from her dad's embrace and blew the air out of her cheeks.

“Yeah, I know…”

Her dad gently squeezed her arm and gave her a reassuring smile before leaving the two to grab a beer from the kitchen.

“Why do I have the overwhelming feeling to call your dad pops and ask him over to mine to watch hockey?” Charlie joked.

Y/N shrugged and tangled her fingers with his, “I told you he was the easy one. Are you ready for the rest?”

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

Y/N tugged on Charlie’s hand and he followed behind her as they made their way to the den where her brothers were corralled around and a card table, intense looks on each of their faces as they held their cards close to their bodies. Their wives were set on the opposite side of the room. Y/N could feel the three women’s eyes on her as she entered the room with Charlie and she knew their hushed whispers were aimed at her and the fact that Charlie was very much not Noah.

Her youngest brother, Josh, was the first of the three boys to look up and notice her. He dropped his cards on the table, face down, and scooted his chair back against the hardwood floors.

“Junebug!” He yelled as he practically launched himself towards her. Y/N exploded into a fit of giggles as her feet left the floor and he twirled her around in circles. Josh was three years younger than her, sitting at nineteen but she had always been the closest with him. Her giggles quieted down as he sat her back down and turned to Charlie.

“Well, you’re not Noah.” Josh quipped with a playful smirk on his face.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and laughed “I have a feeling I am going to be getting that a lot today.”

“You play poker?” Josh eyeballed him.

“I know my way around a deck of cards, yeah.” Charlie shrugged.

Josh turned to Y/N and lightly punched her shoulder, “looks like you got yourself an upgrade, Junebug!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her brother and wished Charlie luck as he was pulled over to the table and introduced to her two older brothers, Samuel and Michael. She felt her shoulders relax for a moment as the table erupted with laughter from something Charlie had said. He looked up from his cards and shot her a wink before turning his attention back to the game at hand.

Y/N glanced back at Charlie one last time before making her way over to the prying eyes of Amy and Melissa, the wives of Samuel and Michael. The two women each held a mug of her mother’s homemade cider in their manicured hands.

“Who’s the cutie?” Amy was the first to speak, her left eyebrow raised as she asked the question.

Y/N looked over her shoulder for a moment with a smile before turning back around “Charlie…”

“Oh! Well, you’ve certainly never said Noah’s name like that before!” Melissa looked at Y/N with wide eyes.

Y/N shook her head at the two gossipy women “like what?’

Amy and Melissa both shot knowing looks to each other before Amy quipped, “sweetie, that boy’s name left your lips like honey falling from a spoon.”

“It did not!’

“You can deny it all you want, but we both heard it!” Melissa declared and brought her mug up to her lips, taking a sip of the warm cider.

“Looks like I’m out boys!” Y/N heard from the other side of the room. She glanced over her shoulder to find Charlie laying his cards down on the table before he slid out of his chair. She smiled at him as he made his way over to her. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into his chest, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Charlie, these are my sister-in-laws, Amy, and Melissa.”

“Very nice to meet both of you.” Charlie beamed at the two women.

Melissa and Amy stood up at the sound of heels clicking against the tile floor of the kitchen. Melissa made her way around Y/N and she gently squeezed Charlies’s bicep, “good luck honey.”

Charlie pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek and tightened his arms around her waist as he felt her body tense in his arms.

“You’ve got this,” Charlie reassured before loosening his grip on her and letting her grab his hand.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and gently pulled Charlie behind her as she navigated through the formal dining room and towards the kitchen where her mother was sure to be found.

She stopped just inside the doorway to the kitchen and turned to face Charlie, “you can still get out of this, ya know?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Charlie placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around, nudging her into the kitchen while he followed.

Y/N stood silently for a minute as she watched her mother pull the green bean casserole from the oven and wipe her hands across her floral apron. Her mother was a thin woman with auburn hair that was almost always pulled into a chignon.

“Mom? Can I talk to you?” Y/N hesitantly asked, suddenly feeling less like a twenty-two year old woman and more like a twelve-year old child.

“What do you want to talk about, dear? Because if it’s about Noah,” her mother grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the brown gravy that was simmering on the stove, “then I frankly don’t have time to listen to your childish reasons for ending the only good thing you had.”

“You know?” Y/N choked out

Her mother grabbed the pepper grinder and began to twist the top over another pot of food, “I called Noah after we spoke last week since you couldn’t give me a straight answer when I called you.”

“Oh…” Y/N placed her hands on Charlie’s chest and gently pushed him backward. Her eyes pleading with him to give her a minute. She didn’t want him to bear witness to the reprimanding she knew was about to come. Charlie hesitantly left her side and waited on the other side of the door.

Her mother finally turned around to face Y/N. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter, her knuckles white from the tight grip.

“Honestly, y/n. I don’t know why you can’t get your life together. You graduated college just to throw away your education for this silly photography hobby of yours and now you threw away a perfectly acceptable relationship because you want to travel and have adventures? You’re not a child, anymore, y/n. When is this going to stop? When are you going to grow up?”

Y/N stood silently as the words washed over her. She could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“I…”

“What? You what, Y/N? What explanation could you possibly have this time?” Her mother cut her off.

Charlie pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning on from the other side of the door and quickly made his way back into the kitchen. He felt her mother’s eyes on him as he quickly pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek, his hand sliding across the middle of her back before he put on his best smile and made his way over to her mother.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Y/L/N. My mother would be insanely envious of the spread you’ve created, it’s magazine worthy!”

“Thank you, dear. You are much too kind! I am so sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

Y/N looked down at the floor and smiled to herself at the charm that Charlie exuded as he introduced himself to her mother and offered to help her bring the endless amounts of food to the formal dining room for her.

“I’ll go gather everyone.” Y/N shot an appreciative smile to Charlie before she made her way back to the den to gather the rest of the family into the dining room.

Y/N made her way over to the empty chair next to Charlie, the latter getting out of his own chair to pull her chair out for her before sitting back down. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh and let his thumb rub circles on the top of her leg.

Her dad stood at the top of the table and carved the turkey while small talk was exchanged between her brothers and their wives and suddenly the question finally came from her mother.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Y/N glanced over at Charlie not sure if he was going to take the lead or not and was surprised when he started spitting out a story that was definitely not the one they had agreed on during their lunch meeting,

“I met your daughter several years ago on a hiking trip with my family,” Charlie paused and looked over at her before continuing, “my older brother, Patrick actually took that photo that you have on your wall in the entryway!”

Y/N’s heart was beating erratically as Charlie squeezed her knee before turning his focus back to her mother “your daughter took my breath away that day and I kicked myself for weeks for not getting her number and just having this missed connection. I guess you could call it a twist of fate, really, that I found her again.”

Y/N’s mother smiled at the two of them and Y/N felt her body tense for just a moment before relief rushed over her at her mother’s words “that may be the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“Can we eat now or?” Josh hesitantly asked as he grabbed the plate of yams and began piling a portion onto his plate.

Y/N felt at ease for the rest of the evening as their shared meal went off without a hitch. Her family shared embarrassing stories of her with Charlie and she sipped glasses of wine as he endlessly complimented her. Her heart felt full as the night drew to a close and her dad pulled out the last Thanksgiving tradition. The wishbone was passed around the table until it landed in her hands. She turned to Charlie and gestured for him to grab the other end of the bone. They both tugged on the bone with their eyes closed until it snapped.

Y/N opened her eyes and looked down at the fractured bone in her hand and then over to Charlie who was holding the larger side.

“Make a wish,” she whispered to him with a soft smile on her face. Charlie shook his head and kissed her forehead.

“I don’t have to, I’ve got everything I want right here.”

Y/N dropped her eyes to the table and reminded herself that as much as she felt the connection between her and Charlie, that he was just playing a role.

She looked up as the sound of chairs sliding against the floor filled the room. She followed suit and slowly stood up from her chair.

“Do you need help, mom?”

“You go ahead and head out honey, I know you have a long drive.”

Y/N made her rounds of goodbye to her family before looking back at Charlie and grabbing his hand. They silently walked to his car and he opened the car door for her. Y/N hummed along to the songs that played on the radio during the drive back to her place. She tried to ignore the heat that she felt in her stomach as Charlie’s thumb ran across her knuckles every now and then. She watched the cars that passed by them, red tail lights lighting up her face as they drove on the highway. Before she knew it they were parked outside of her apartment.

“I guess this is it then…” Charlie looked over at Y/N as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“I guess so.” Y/N agreed, her right hand rested on the door handle as she looked at Charlie, her eyes searching for any indication that he didn’t want her to leave. She let her hand pull on the door handle when Charlie didn’t respond.

She swung the car door open and stepped out into the street before making her way to the sidewalk. She turned around at the sound of another car door shutting and was taken aback by Charlie running over to her side

“I should walk you to your door,” Charlie answered the silent question

Y/N smiled and led the way through the apartment corridor until they stood outside of her door, her keys dangling in her left hand. She looked up at Charlie and smiled, “you didn’t have to see me inside, ya know?”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand and shrugged, “all part of the job.”

Y/N felt her smile falter and turned around to place the key into the lock of her apartment door. She quickly turned the key and opened the door before stepping inside. She turned to look at Charlie one last time, “well, thank you for giving me my money’s worth,” she let her eyes fall from his.

“Goodbye, Charlie.” She closed the door and dropped her keys into the catch-all bowl before kicking her heels off and making her way over to the couch. She let her body slump into the soft cushions and pulled her phone out to call the only person that was going to understand.

“Tell me everything!” Leigha demanded as soon as her face appeared on the phone.

‘Well,” Y/N sighed, “I think I accidentally started to fall in love with him.”

Leigha couldn’t stop the giddy laughter that erupted from her small frame “I knew this was going to happen! I so called this!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her best friend and poked her bottom lip out in a pout “it’s not funny Lee...I’m never gonna see him again and now I have all of these feelings to deal with.”

“You don’t know that!” Leigha argued

“I appreciate that you’re a hopeless romantic, Lee, but I was nothing but a paying customer to him...he basically said so himself.” Y/N frowned, thinking back to Charlie’s words as he walked her to her door.

“Oh...hun, I’m so sorry.”

Y/N let a sad smile slip onto her face, “I’m gonna go to bed, coffee tomorrow morning?”

Y/N hung her phone up and pulled herself up from the couch. She shuffled through the apartment until she reached her room and slowly peeled the sequined dress from her body. She made her way to the vanity and grabbed a makeup wipe and slowly removed the makeup from her face before she crawled into bed and pulled the covers tight around her body.

It was 8 am when Y/N was pulled from her slumber by her phone blaring the ringtone that Leigha insisted she set for herself. She rolled over with her eyes still closed and fumbled around for her phone before slowly cracking her eyes to hit the green button.

“What?” Y/N grumpily answered

“Don’t what me!” Leigha chastised, “there’s a cute boy at the cafe and he just ordered your order! Like to the T!”

Y/N set up in her bed and pressed her fingers into her eyes, rubbing the sleep away in small circles.

“Ok? And?”

“AND?! AND!!! His name is Charlie! I swear to god if you don’t get out of bed and make yourself look decent, I will literally kill you!”

Y/N dropped her phone onto her bed and pulled the covers back. She quickly made her way to her bathroom and brushed her teeth. She stared at herself in the mirror and ran her fingers through her messy bed head, her curls tangling together between her fingers.

“Shit..okay….okay…” She muttered to herself and opted to twist her hair up into a top knot. She secured it with a hair tie and ran back to her room where she threw on a pair of black leggings and an oversized jumper. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she heard a knock on her door.

She wiped her hands on her leggings and quickly made her way to her front door. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves before reaching forward to unlock the door. Her hand shook as she turned the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open. Stood on the other side was Charlie with a small brown bag and a hot coffee extended out to her.

Y/N stepped to the side and opened the door wider, allowing Charlie to come in.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she took the bag and coffee from his hands. She sat the bag on the counter and pulled the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. She hummed to herself as the warm liquid slid down her throat.

Charlie stepped forward and hesitantly took the drink from her hands, setting it on the counter behind her. Y/N watched anxiously as Charlie’s eyes moved across her face, flickering between her eyes and lips several times before he lifted his hands and placed one on her right cheek while the other cradled her neck.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Charlie whispered into the space between them before catching her lips with his. Charlie pulled away before Y/N had a chance to react, his face glowing red as he held his bottom teeth between his top two teeth.

“Is this free of charge?” Y/N joked as she placed her hands on Charlie’s chest and leaned forward, bringing her lips back to his.

@straywonpil @siennanoelle01 @choppedhoundsludgeclod @cool-ultra-nerd @hxney-bunches-x @crybabyddl @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @dream-a-little-bigger-x @kcd15 @all-in-fangirl @ifilwtmfc @onlygetaway @iainttakingshitfromnobody @angryknightstatesmantrash @jazzyhales @bathtimejish @lanasfandoms @miranda0102 @emotionalbruv @aliandthephantoms @multifandombabies @kinda-really-lost @5sosmukefan @alexpjoyner @mo-d3ans @hannahhistorian92 @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic @sunflowerbecca @n0wornever @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fanfic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #julie and the phantoms fanfic #luke patterson fanfic

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Pretty Girl - Two

Summary: In which Flip struggles with his feelings for the reader, and his emotions hit the breaking point when she is threatened.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestion of slur (not written), masturbation, violence, angry Flip, sexism. WC- 3,030

A/N- I rewrote this chapter a few times to get it just right, I really wanted to convey the struggle Flip is having. Feedback is appreciated!

It was late October, the chill in the air crisp as the apple cider (Y/N) had brewed and brought in to the station, using a hot plate to keep it warm. It filled the whole building with the scent, which was a pleasant upgrade from the usual mix of cigarette smoke and body odour and leather. She had even commissioned the local elementary school to draw autumn-themed pictures for decoration. As a way to boost morale and community engagement, she proudly displayed them in the lobby for everyone to admire when they came to and from the station.

Flip had teased her when he found her one morning, standing on a chair to tape the photos up. Now slightly taller than him, she turned with care and playfully glared down at him.

“One more word, detective, and I’ll be assigning you to take over the job,” she threatened, then added, “I should have done that in the first place, actually. You don’t even need the chair.”

He laughed loudly, “Apologies, I know it’s not your fault you’re so-“

“Seriously, don’t finish that sentence, Flip!” She giggled, her hand reaching out and ruffling his hair. Before Flip could react fully to the sensation of it, she was shooing him away and chastising him for distracting her. She grinned as he retreated, his hands in the air in surrender.

However, he had spent the rest of that day replaying the feel of her hand on his head.

Although neither of them had discussed it, it had become a routine for Flip to give (Y/N) rides to and from work regularly. They both enjoyed each other's company, their friendship solidifying, and it wasn’t like he had to go out of his way. To thank him, (Y/N) insisted on bringing him breakfast. Fried egg sandwiches and a hot dark roast coffee were handed to him every morning. Along with her endearing ability to make him smile, Flip was more than satisfied with the arrangement.

If their colleagues at the CSPD noticed the closeness developing between Flip and (Y/N), none remarked on it initially to either of them. Secretly, many of the detectives who knew Flip were beyond grateful for the friendship, as it brought out a side of him that they would all agree, if asked, was more tolerable and likeable to his usual angry demeanour.

It wasn’t until a young rookie officer had spotted them arrive one morning a few weeks after Flip had started driving in with (Y/N), that the rest of the station came to learn the relationship was more important to him than he let on. His rare show of emotions the indication that alerted them.

The rookie had met up with Flip in the bullpen, loudly inquiring as to whether he was banging the hot new secretary, a cocky grin on his face, expecting perhaps a joking reply, or scandalous gossip.

For most of the detectives in the room that knew Flip, a collective intake of their breath and exchange of weary glances took place. They had watched apprehensively as he had turned to Caruthers, a glare that defined to term, ‘if looks could kill’ marring his handsome features. Flip then knocked the coffee out of Caruthers's hands and jabbed him in the chest as he had shouted. The rookie had nearly pissed himself, apologizing profusely before running off. Flip had then glared around the room, daring anyone else to suggest such a thing, but no one was stupid enough, and those who Flip worked closely with were better men than the likes of Caruthers.

As Flip had taken his seat, his blood boiling at the inappropriate question, he considered the reason for his over the top reaction. (Y/N) had brought a lot of happiness into his life, filling a void he hadn’t taken the time to recognize had grown over the last few years. Loneliness, the acceptance of retaining his bachelor status permanently. And the realization, when she would casually touch him, that he was touch starved. He was already comfortable with, and protective of, their friendship. The last thing he wanted at that moment was for her to overhear Caruthers suggestion, should it cause a rift between them.

And, if he was honest with himself, he recognized that his feelings for her were...complicated. If he were to see a reaction in her at the suggestion they were sleeping together, he was not sure what that could do to them. The idea that Flip could lose (Y/N) terrified him.

So he actively worked to push his feelings down, preferring the safety of friendship. The safety of routine and the expected.

Today, Flip and Jimmy returned from a successful arrest on a perp they’d been following for weeks. They had managed to nail him while he was completing a small drug shipment from his mother’s garage. The whole arrest took them only just over an hour, and it was clean-the suspect, upon seeing the two detectives, surrendered.

When they arrived back at the station, Flip lingered outside to finish his smoke, feeling pretty satisfied with how the arrest went down and looking forward to sharing the success with (Y/N). He never told her anything classified, however in her position she was privy to a lot of sensitive information. She knew the details of most of the cases the detectives worked on.

He found it effortless to share the good days straight away, enjoying the way her features lit up at his words. Regardless of what she was working on, she would give him her full attention. The bad days she coaxed out of Flip with care during the drive to her home, always ready to comfort him or offer words of encouragement.

“Did you have a rough day, detective?” She had asked him one afternoon as they walked to his truck. He had been silent when approaching her at the end of the day, giving her a brief nod as she joined his pace and they hurried out of the station.

Flip had glanced down at her, unable to keep the frown off of his face. She merely tilted her head, her eyes soft as she waited patiently for him to speak, to say whatever he needed to. He had taken a deep breath before relenting.

“Just, usual bullshit from the Chief, about a case I worked just before you joined us.” He wasn’t able to elaborate, the entire case classified. Even files had been destroyed to keep it under wraps. Which was part of the reason he was so annoyed-he felt they could have accomplished more if they’d remained undercover longer. The Chief wholly disagreed.

Part of Flip had wondered if she would tease him, or tell him off for whining; a reaction that would have been entirely unsurprising from any of his fellow detectives. “Flip, do me a favour, tough man?” She had asked instead, leaning slightly against the side of his truck and gazing up at him.

“What’s that, darling?”

(Y/N) smiled, “When you walk through those doors at the end of the day,” She gestured at the main entrance, “You leave all the bullshit behind, don’t take it home with you anymore.”

He returned her smile, shrugging, “What if it’s too much to leave behind?” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out so quietly. (Y/N) stepped closer to him, their bodies inches apart, and Flip found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her (y/e/c) eyes.

“Then let me help you carry it, at least.” She had replied, voice equally as soft.

After a pause, she had patted his arm gently before moving to climb into the truck.

“Flip,” He glanced up, pulled from his thoughts, to see Jimmy standing at the main station doors. His expression was unusually annoyed. Flip tossed his smoke, stomping it out.

“What is it?”

Jimmy shook his head, “You ain’t gonna like this.” And he pulled open the door. The sounds of a man shouting were the first thing to reach Flip’s ears, and he followed Jimmy inside, curious.

The shouting man had his finger angrily pointed at (Y/N), who was standing behind the counter. His yells echoed off the walls, a jarring contrast to the warmth and professionalism the station usually exuded. (Y/N) was positioned somewhat defensively in front of Donna-who Flip only noticed as he was approaching-her jaw set and mouth in a thin line. His eyes assessed her quickly, taking in her crossed arms and narrowed eyes, while he moved toward the scene with fast steps.

“I don’t give a god damn that he’s a police detective, I’m telling you no-” As the man uttered a slur, Flip’s frown morphed into a glare. He made his way down the hall unnoticed by everyone, all attention on the man. He hated when men cursed and uttered slurs in front of ladies. He especially hated that it was being directed at (Y/N). “-is going to be arresting my son, no sir, now you get that damn-“

“Sir, I’m not going to tell you again, your son was arrested, lawfully by a respected Detective of this station. Now lower your voice and I would be happy to take you to see your son and meet the detective.” Flip had never seen her angry-or even annoyed-but at that moment her eyes were narrowed, lips twisted in distaste as if the irritation tasted sour on her tongue. He did not like seeing (Y/N) upset, nor treated so poorly.

Her reasonable words served to merely enrage the large man further, his face reddening as he stepped closer to the counter. Flip, still unnoticed, moved to step in and lead the man away, his intention simply to diffuse the situation. However, there was a pressure building in his chest; the next few moments seemed to slow down in his red hazed vision, his willpower strong enough to remain professional, his hand reaching out to touch the man's shoulder-

Only the fucker pointed, his dirty hand inches from (Y/N)’s face, and rudely snarled, “Shut up bitch, and get me a white detective to talk to before I-“

The pressure hit a breaking point.

Flip instead seized that hand and twisted it behind the asshole’s back. A growl ripped from his chest as he used his free hand to grab the back of the man's neck and force him down, bending him over the counter. A wave of gratification swept through Flip when the man grunted in pain and surprise, his face pressed to the countertop.

“You were looking for a white Detective, I hear?” He snarled, his grip too tight for the man to struggle against. Flip was much too angry, a fact that his rational mind was concerning over-he had been fine moments before. Movement out of the corner of his eye had Flip glancing up, his eyes meeting (Y/N)’s over the desk. “You alright, darling?” His voice considerably softer as he surveyed her, concerned.

She nodded, her eyes holding his gaze steadily. “Just fine, Detective.” (Y/N) quickly assured him. Flip thought he saw something pass through her gaze, but before he could read it, it was gone. Something about that look had the thundering rage inside of him fading, which was for the best. He loosened his grip, slightly, resisting the urge to cause further harm.

Adrenaline coursed through Flip’s body, eyes never breaking away from hers. She seemed to draw him in, the look alone calming him further.

“Alright, sir, you’re coming with me, we’re going to have a little chat on how we conduct ourselves around ladies.” Jimmy stepped up, smirking, and cuffed the man. Flip looked away from (Y/N), and watched his partner and a uniformed officer lead the man away.

Flip momentarily considered following, but thought better of it. He drew a steadying breath of air, his anger dissolving as quickly as it had come on.

“Oh Donna, are you okay?”

Flip turned at the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice. Donna was visibly upset, her gentle nature affected. (Y/N), it seemed, was much less shaken. She wrapped her arms around Donna and gave her a comforting hug.

“I’m being silly, really,” Donna gulped, wiping at her eyes, “I’ve seen it all, at my age, you know. I just really worried he was going to hop the counter!”

(Y/N) patted her back, “I did too, but we’re alright, thanks to Detective Zimmerman. Why don’t you head home early?”

Flip agreed, ignoring the swell of pride at her words, “You don’t need to be worrying about us, Donna, you go ahead home and tell Carl I defended your honour on his behalf.” Flip joked, causing his matronly friend to give a shaky laugh and wipe away her tears. (Y/N) gave him a grateful look.

Flip stuck around while Donna gathered her things and bid them farewell, never taking his eyes off of (Y/N). She had walked over to the benches that lined the wall, taking a seat and letting her head fall back against the brick. Waving happily as Donna walked out, her smile dropped when she was out of sight.

She heaved a big sigh, watching as Flip joined her. His arm pressed against hers, neither of them adjusting their positions to move away. He said nothing, knowing she would speak when she was ready. They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring across at the silly pictures the kids had drawn.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Flip,” (Y/N) finally said, shaking her head sadly. Flip stared down at her a moment, raising his brow.

“There is nothing for you to be apologizing for, darling.”

“I-I know, I suppose I just...” She trailed off, glancing away. When she didn’t look like she would finish her thought, he decided to joke and change the subject, though he filed her reaction away in the part of his mind he reserved for her failings at caring for herself. It ultimately served to provide him with excuses to care for her in his own ways, as a friend would.

A friend, only.

“You want me to go in there and rough him up a bit?” Flip wished he was fully kidding, but part of him would have been happy to go and knock the asshole around if she’d asked him to.

Instead, she laughed at his words, an arguably much better result. He smiled at the melody of her voice “Flip, thanks for shutting him up.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, an almost coy expression appearing.

Giving no real thought behind the action, simply following his instincts, Flip reached out and gently tucked some loose strands of (y/h/c) hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there a moment, before dropping abruptly, “Of course.” His voice came out in a rumble, “No one will ever speak to you like that around me, darling.”

She had watched him with her wide, beautiful eyes as he’d spoken, barely moving when he’d touched her hair. She was regarding him now with affection; he could see it clearly.

“My best friend, the protector.” She teased, breaking the frisson that had built between them, much to his relief.

Flip smirked down at her, though his heart was beating tirelessly in his chest and his mind was reeling. She patted his leg before standing, thanking him again. He watched her walk back to the reception desk, his expression unreadable. While he was fairly sure he could return to his desk, Flip decided to go outside for another smoke. chastising himself for the direction his thoughts had moved; from the intensity of his anger to the guilt of imagining filthy scenarios with his best friend.

When she had teased him, it was the first time the term had been used. And he found himself torn, feeling both touched at the sentiment, yet disappointed at its platonic connotation.

Flip returned home that evening in an overwhelmed state of mind, after a quiet car ride with (Y/N). She had thanked him again before hurrying inside her home. He wanted to stop her, to ask about the look on her face earlier.

He wanted to ask her why the first word that came to mind to describe it was hungry.

Bristling, he sought release immediately, not bothering to undress beyond kicking off his boats and lowering his jeans to his thighs. He stood in his bedroom panting, one hand on his dresser to keep him steady, as he fisted his already hard length. He was desperate, sensitive from weeks of pent up sexual frustration he had pointedly ignored.

A guttural moan ripped from his chest as Flip finally allowed the thoughts of (Y/N) to the forefront of his mind; thoughts of her glowing skin, soft to his touch, her body quivering as he explored head to toe, kissing every inch. His hand moved quickly, the tension building within him swiftly. It only took a few more pumps as he imagined his name on her lips in ecstasy, pleading for him not to stop...

With a cry, he came-the wave of pleasure pulsing through his body as his cum spurted, coating his hand and dripping to the floor. "Fuck!" His head tilted back.

His legs trembled, perspiration coating his skin; he crashed from his high and quickly sat on the edge of his bed, gasping for air. After only a few moments of relief, the guilt seeped back into the front of Flip’s mind.

He sighed, “Flip, you’re a piece of garbage.” He muttered to himself, eyes closing in disgust. He fell back, now laying on his bed, chewing his lip as he considered everything that had happened. His mind was now much clearer.

And there was simply no denying, the expression on (Y/N)'s face had not been of fear or concern. It had been of arousal. Flip wasn't sure of how he would react if he ever saw that look cross her face again, and so he fretted at the best way to move forward.

Would telling her how he felt, and risking their friendship, be the right move? Or was Flip too selfish, too cowardly, to admit his feelings?

Flip didn't sleep a wink.

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Missing Pieces

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Years pass since the battle and you’ve loved and lost. But your secret isn’t forever when you encounter the one thing you’ve had to hide from.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, mentions of heartbreak, fluff, requited love and kissing

A/N: This is for @iliveiloveiwrite 3.5k song challenge! This fic is based off the song Empty Space by James Arthur, and I’ve gotten a bit carried away with the length on this one. I haven’t written angst in a while, so I hope you enjoy it! Congratulations again, Millie!

You sensed a presence near you, one that lingered behind you ever since you left the shop. One that was only further confirmed when you risked a weary glance over your shoulder, eying a darkened figure slip out of sight just as quickly as you had spotted it. It’d been foolish to be out and about at such an hour by yourself. But you became accustomed to this very feeling over the last four years, it was the only choice you had.

Each time you passed under a street lamp it became a race to get under the next pool of light, as if the glowing sphere that was cast on the cement would make you invincible. You could only hope for that to be so. Because not many people cared for a walk on a chilly evening like this, much less in the drizzling December rain. It was a small town that was rather off the grid after all, you shouldn’t even really be out if you were being honest. But you couldn’t risk being seen apparating nor did you feel like it.

The footfalls behind you were distinct, setting themselves apart against the dull tap of the raindrops on the cracked pavement and you couldn’t deny your racing heart. But you pushed on with a vigor, wanting nothing more than to reach your front door and lock out the world behind you for the night. That’s how you ended every day and every single one to come.

Another hurried glance gave way to the same shadow, a growing frustration forming in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were just seeing things. Maybe it was just a trick of the eye. The wizarding war had left you rather paranoid after all, and that was never something that’d completely go away. You tried your very hardest to convince yourself you were just tired. However, the soft metallic clinking of what had to be keys was certainly not in your imagination, you knew that for a fact.

You were quick to grip the wand tucked within the side of your boot, fed up as you turned on your heel. “Who are you?”

Your voice was firm as you held your wand tightly in front of you, knuckles white as your eyes squinted to better see in the darker alleyway. It probably wasn’t the best place to confront a stranger, but you had never been one to back down.

A tense silence settled around you, heart hammering away in your chest as your gaze bounced around the seemingly vacant street. It felt like seconds had turned to hours. You were moments away from casting a Lumos spell when the figure stepped out from the alley and revealed themselves. The breath you held now remained caught in your throat, mouth growing dry as your eyes widened a fraction. The gray eyes and platinum hair were unmistakable, the very person you longed to see but knew you couldn’t. He was now standing just a mere two feet away from you.

You were paralyzed in your own thoughts momentarily. Taking in the way his hair nearly tangled with his lashes, or the misty rain droplets that beaded across his pale skin. The forest green scarf that wrapped loosely around his neck, the one you got him for Christmas a number of years ago, now tattered and frayed. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, solemn and hopeful that it really was you. That, it was definitely that.

“Draco?” You whisper, still in disbelief. All the color drained from your cheeks and you nearly dropped your wand, a shockwave of something coursing through your body. You didn’t know if you wanted to run and never look back, or stay.

He swallowed thickly, nearly flinching at the sound of his name falling from your lips after having been deprived of it for so long. His nostrils flared, jaw clenching under the pressure of his own tears as he fought the urge to cage you in his arms and never let go. He couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t do that.

“I thought you were dead.”

The words were strained and low, spoken through gritted teeth as the pain of the last four years doused each one as they fell from quivering lips. It felt as though your heart dropped to your stomach, sitting there heavy as a boulder as tears sting in your eyes.

“How long have you been following me?” You snap defensively, tone ice cold as you try to avoid his statement, finding yourself failing miserably.

“That’s not important.”

It very much was important, though he wasn’t ready to inform you of those details. He’d first found you seven months ago. He was on a home call to the small town you currently resided in, the hospital deeming Draco to be the best fit to heal this patient in particular. Though he was regularly sought out because no other healer within the wizarding world was quite like him, no one held the astounding skills he possessed, and the consideration of that title was something he was rather proud of.

Regardless of the details or their importance, he found himself wandering through the town after he’d finished his job, feeling somewhat compelled to do so. It wasn’t a very interesting place, nothing to set it apart from the next town over or any that happened to be in the near vicinity. However, day in and day out everything had seemed mundane to him, everything blending together in a repetitive and bleak manner. His very world had seemed to have lost its spark. One thing and one thing only had put that miserable town on a pedestal to all the others. You.

He blinked a few times, feeling like his sleepless nights had conjured up the illusion that the very love of his life had been just on the other side of the street, tucked away in a cafe and seated in the picture window. He was more than tempted to cross the cracked street to get a clearer confirmation but the blaring sound of a taxi cab’s horn brought him back to reality. The car promptly swerved around him as he stepped back on the sidewalk, followed by the drivers string of curses out of the window. But he didn’t care, it was undeniably you.

First he was confused, then he was profoundly angry. So much so his skin flushed and burned and passers by had given him odd looks, making a point to avoid him on the narrow walkway. Had you really hated him so much to go so far as to create that kind of deception? One that impacted him so deeply it felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs for months on end thinking you were gone. He was beginning to think you never really loved him at all, that all the whispered promises of a better life together were tall tales spoken in vain.

He’d apparated to his home immediately, unable to bear another glance at you as nausea swirled in his stomach, abandoning the rest of his shift entirely. Resentment filled his empty heart and clouded his mind for days and weeks after that day. The empty space you left behind felt all the more daunting, your memories together no longer a bittersweet recollection as they replayed in his mind. Now they had been permanently tarnished, worsening the utter despair your absence had left him in. Dozens of letters were written in haste and either crumpled or ripped up, thrown across his room with the addition of a nearby object to shatter against the wall.

He hated you. But most of all he hated that he couldn’t move on from you, and yet still, he didn’t want to.

It took him three months to come down from his anger and try and reason with himself. There was no question you had been hit with a hex that day. He watched you writhe in agony at his very own fathers malicious and spiteful doing, those same hands holding him back from joining your side. It couldn’t have been anything but real, your screams permanently engrained in his memory as you left him in the ruins of the courtyard to face his fate alone.

The unanswered questions still fueled his frustration, however, but he found himself returning to that very town. It started as once every two weeks, and when almost four more months had passed he found himself going nearly every day. He wasn’t one to chase after the things that hurt him, but you seemed to be an exception, you always seemed to be an exception. He had been desperate to see you despite the jab he felt in his chest every single time he did.

Now it’s brought him here.

He remained stoic as he stood in front of you, the proximity making it seem as though he towered over your smaller frame. He wasn’t trying to be intimidating, not in the slightest, but it made you take a step back nonetheless. He fought against the unbearable pressure seemingly crushing his chest, weaving its way around his heart and wrapping around his throat as he concealed the tears pressing just behind his eyes. The sight had you at a loss for words.

“Draco I—”

“How could you let me think you were gone for the last four years, Y/n?” His voice was raised by this point, his hands clenching at his sides before he released them, leaving small crescent-shaped indentations of his nails behind on his palms.

This was absolutely not the conversation you were looking to have at eleven at night, certainly not one to be had in the middle of the sidewalk. But Draco had seemed insistent that this was happening right then and there whether you had liked it or not. You were beginning to feel like you never wanted to have this talk, the panic bubbling in your stomach as you scrambled to give him an answer.

“It was for your own good,” You say quietly, throat beginning to ache as you suppressed your tears, your own frustration building. It was a feat that was easier said than done. A stray passerby had looked in your general direction to discern the source of the commotion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, turning to leave.

His hand shot out and grabbed your own, the feeling nearly electric against your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat momentarily. “No, it’s not nothing. I have a right to know.”

His hand lingered in yours for a moment or two longer than it should have before it dropped back to his side, his gaze fixed on you as he waited for your explanation. Of the hundreds of ways you thought to broach this conversation in the many days and months apart, they all seemed to erase themselves from your memory now that the moment had arised. “Go on, tell me.”

You stood there hesitantly, afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he’d turn around and leave you behind much like you’d regrettably done to him all those years ago. Though at that point if he chose to do that, you knew it was something you deserved. You owed him the reason, you knew that. But it took great effort to choke out the words, scared to know what would come of the interchange.

“Your mother,” you timidly managed to get out, quiet voice trembling as you spoke your words carefully. “She saved me after I was hexed by your father. I wasn’t in the best shape but she saved me from dying that day.”

You studied his face, watching the crease between his dark brows deepen, bottom lip beginning to noticeably tremble.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His tone was angry and insistent, jaw clenching as he tried to process what you had just said.

“She told me it’d be better this way. It’d only cause trouble if they knew what she had done for me because I very clearly wasn’t going to make it, it wouldn’t have made sense if suddenly I bounced back from it. Said we were better off apart because at least we’d both make it out of there alive and in one piece, you could have the life you always wanted for yourself.”

He scoffed in disbelief, looking away from you briefly as if to gather his thoughts that rapidly bombarded him. “You really believe that?” He asks quietly.

You shrug, a tear spilling over your reddened cheek. “Look at all the heartache it’s caused, Draco. What was I supposed to do? Should I have just shown up on your doorstep and said ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I know I’ve abandoned you for a few years and made you think I was dead and left you to be heartbroken, but I’m not really.’ Is that what you wanted?”

“It would have been a start.” A humorless laugh left his lips as he shook his head.

You scoff as you narrow your eyes up at him, drawing in a shaky breath. “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco.”

“Ridiculous? You basically ripped my heart right out of my chest and stomped all over it, and I’m being ridiculous?”

He bit his tongue after that, taking a deep breath to stave off the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to say something to further create anymore regrets.

“I didn’t ask for this!” You nearly shout, his expression softening. “I didn’t want this to be our fate, I fought it as best I could because I didn’t feel right living a life without you in it. It wasn’t ever my choice to make, Draco, and I think you know that.” You manage to say, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. “You deserve better than that.”

He looked at his feet, taking a moment to gather himself as he wiped his cheek with a trembling hand. He shook his head then, lifting his eyes to meet yours again with furrowed brows. He took that moment to take you in, to really look at you, something he’s wanted to do far more often than he ever cared to admit. Your eyes still sparkled the way they always do, and it wasn’t just from the tears that glossed over them. Or the way your cheeks and the very tip of your nose reddened in the chilled winter weather, accentuating every freckle that dotted along your skin. He couldn’t bring himself to look away, nor did he want to.

He took a step closer to replace the one you had taken to widen the gap between you, taking a deep breath as he tried to properly articulate his next words.

“If you think for a second that there was any moment in any day that I haven’t thought of you, you’re wrong. You’re etched in my bones, Y/n, there’s no moving on from you. Don’t you understand the only life I’ve ever wanted is with you?”

He was pleading by this point, voice louder than before as he tried to get you to understand his words were sincere.

You wiped your cheek with your sleeve, the cold weather seeping through your jacket no longer there with the fire ablaze in your chest. “You can’t possibly mean that anymore, and there’s no way I’ll let you forgive me either,” you laugh bitterly, softly, and you shake your head again. “Not after that. That would be ridiculous and I won’t allow it.” You inhaled a quivering breath, meeting his eyes. “You’re supposed to hate me.”

He wouldn’t call it forgiveness, but the very person who left his heart in tatters was the same one who kept it beating. Seemingly the only one.

His breath caught in his throat momentarily as he listened to your words, voice wavering as he whispers, “I could never hate you.”

Those five words were enough to make your heart pound so hard it couldn’t possibly remain in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to run to his arms and pretend nothing ever happened, like you hadn’t kept yourself hidden from him for years while he suffered. But you couldn’t forget it. It wasn’t something you could brush under the rug because the guilt wasn’t quite something you could get over.

“I love you, Draco, very much. But I can’t. I can’t just let this go, and you shouldn’t want me to,” you start, tears falling freely and mixing with the rain. “For that reason, I can’t stay, I have to go.”

You could hardly get the words to fall from your mouth, and through your heartbeat pounding vigorously in your ears you weren’t entirely sure if they did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you knew he’d try and get you to stay and you didn’t know if you were strong enough to hear it. So you turned your back to the love of your life, rushing off as your face scrunched with unshed tears before disappearing around the next corner. He choked back a sob of his own as he followed after you, turning the corner and finding himself to be the only one left.

4 Months Later

Four months. It had been four months since the night that remained burned in your memory, replaying the interchange word for word every time you closed your eyes. For having gone years without seeing him you thought this would be a simple task to do it again. To rid yourself of the pain that came with loving Draco Malfoy. But really this seemed to be the hardest part of it all, the last four years had paled in comparison to this.

The hole in your chest, the one you’d created twice over was widening with each passing day. You saw him in every thing you did, perhaps you really did see him. Flashes of memories would flood your mind and taunt you. Memories of running through the gardens of the Manor like kids every time you looked at the flowers surrounding your home. Memories of nights in the astronomy tower when the moonlight trickled in your window, curtains promptly being closed. Or the pang in your chest when your fingers brushed over the fabric of his sweater that hung in the very back of your closet. The intense, all-consuming heartache was something you’d never wish on your worst enemy. To long so deeply for someone just might be the worst kind of pain.

Four more months of living in the same looping regret, guilt tightly lacing itself around your heart and constricting you more with every day that goes by. You wondered where you might currently be if you hadn’t been so stubborn, if you hadn’t sabotaged the very thing that made you feel the most alive. Or if you had defied Narcissa’s wishes and ran away with him like you always wanted.

The thought of what should have and could have been tore you up the more you paid them mind. It could have been the two of you in that house, decorated with shared books and memorabilia. You could be waking up together for the rest of your life, rather than occupying the mattress alone. But any scenario that crossed your mind always seemed like it was far out of the realm of possibility, and you were at fault for it. So, you continued on with your everyday life.

You walked up the mossy cobblestone walkway to your home with a huff, groceries tucked in the crook of your arm. You were too tired to apparate, having lacked the energy to do so long before that moment. It was proving to be a challenging task just to find the right key one-handedly, having dropped them completely when you looked up. The metal clang sounded as they hit the ground, the paper bag you held crinkling under your tightened grip, but you soon settled a bit as you sighed. You weren’t sure if you could do this again.

The same blonde that had haunted your every day stood just under your covered porch, sifting through the envelopes that carried his name across the front of each and every one.

“I see my letters have reached you,” He says upon seeing you, quiet as he takes the time to look over each one, not even having to glance inside them to know what was thoughtfully written.

You were quiet, embarrassed that he was now aware of your ignorance to them as they accumulated into a pile just outside your door. It hadn’t made matters any better. “I’ve read some.”

It was true, you had plucked a few from the growing pile and read through them, even reread multiple times. But it quickly became unbearably painful to read his words, the metaphorical blade in your heart twisting with every line your eyes skimmed across. So you let them gather—one turning to two, two turning to five, five turning to ten. They sat, weathered by the outside elements with hopes to be opened and read as intended.

You wanted to write back. You wanted desperately to fill pages detailing how much you had missed him dearly, how fully you loved him. You wanted to pour your very heart onto every piece of letterhead you could find in your house and send it to him, he deserved to know that much, he deserved much more than what you gave. Yet you still wanted to be selfish and have him all to yourself.

He laughed softly, holding no humor as he set them down carefully in a much neater pile on the old rocking chair behind him before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Why didn’t you write back?” His tone was curious rather than angry, though disappointment was still very much there.

You pushed back your truthful reasoning in favor of a simple answer. “I didn’t feel it was appropriate for me to get your hopes up.”

His brows furrowed as a bittersweet smile formed on his lips, one that hadn’t fully reached his tired eyes.

“Love, I’m afraid that’s already happened the moment I saw you again.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at the nickname, one you certainly didn’t deserve to be referred to as. It took everything in you not to crumble, not to burst into tears.

“Why are you here, Draco?” You ask, desperately wanting to change the subject to keep yourself from lingering on the way he looked at you, gingerly and full of longing.

He shifted on his feet, a brief silence settling between the two of you as he looked at his surroundings. The gray stone walls of the medium-sized cottage, the bursts of color dotting the perimeter from the blooming flowers planted in unkempt flowerbeds, the worn paint on the porch from repeated foot traffic; it was clear to see the path you walked in on a daily basis.

“Has my mother picked this place out for you?” He asks softly, seemingly avoiding your question as he lightly ran his fingertips over the dark green railing. He feels he’s certain he already knows that answer. “It’s quite beautiful.”

You sigh, cheeks burning a rosy pink when he caught your gaze again. “Draco, what are you doing here?” You repeat.

Once again he’s quiet, mulling things over as he carefully thinks about his next words. While waiting, you find yourself trying not to focus on the way the spring breeze blows his hair out of his face, or the way the tip of his nose reddened in the brisk weather. None of those details should have been important but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, not really.

“I suppose I wanted to see you.”

The hesitation in his quiet admission was indicative that there was more to it than he’d let on. And once again it felt as though your heart had been somersaulting in your chest, but you fought the warmth that blossomed in waves within your body at the short statement.

“I don’t believe that’s a very good idea for either of us.” Your words were soft and you hadn’t really believed them, not as much as you should have, but it felt like something you were supposed to say.

You could tell his anger had been rising, could tell by the way he turned his back to you and clutched the wooden railing, gathering himself. You could see the deep breaths he’d been taking, slow and steady as his knuckles turned an ivory white. Your stubbornness had always been a quality he had loved about you, but now that very trait was the thing that’s been ripping him apart.

“And just why is that, Y/n?” His frustration was beginning to become more and more apparent as he turned to face you again, cheeks flushed a pale scarlet. He threw his hands in the air to accompany his words, letting them fall back to his sides. He took another deep breath to control his emotions. “Why?”

“What do you want me to say, Draco?” You we’re defeated by this point, the emotional turmoil having stripped you of the light you once held. This very love had completed you while being your downfall all the same. You felt like you wanted to run in this very moment, as far as possible, but your feet remained planted in place just outside your front door.

He looked at you with such intensity, utterly spellbound by you, that you had to look away from him for a moment, his gaze never faltering no matter how many tears had blurred his vision. His nostrils flare as his eyes continue to gloss over.

“I want you to tell me you love me,” He starts, voice wavering though he kept going despite it. “I want you to tell me you won’t leave. Not again. I have tried and tried to rid myself of you and everything that came with loving you, to fill the gaps you left in my life but there’s far too many. I’m afraid nobody will ever hold a candle to you. So please, I want you to tell me you’ll stop running and stay with me.”

You blinked away your tears as you swallowed thickly, voice coming out in a soft whisper. “Draco, please,” you plead, “I—”

He held up his hand, silently asking to continue as he stepped closer to you cautiously, scared that if he moved too quickly you’d slip away again.

“I didn’t have a choice my entire life, and going another minute without you isn’t a choice either, not really,” he chuckles through tears, his lip trembling and he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m so tired of holding grudges. And you can try and keep yourself from me all you want, but I need you with me. I don’t know who I am without you.”

You stood there, clinging to every single word that fell from his lips as you looked up at him. Every passing second was detrimental to the wall you tried to build around yourself, diminishing piece by piece. Your heart pounded in your chest, so much so you thought it might burst then and there. You turned away from him to catch your breath, missing the way his face scrunched in a quiet sob he’d tried to keep you from bearing witness to. But you hadn’t missed the sniffles sounding just paces behind you, and it was something you knew you never wanted to hear again.

You weighed out all your options, rapidly finding yourself unable to find a reason to walk away from this, a logical reason, other than yourself and your inability to let this go. You were tired of fighting, and you were tired of living without the one person you felt you were meant to love. It was useless to do such a thing anymore because no matter how hard you could try to find love in someone else, it always circles back to him.

Against all self doubt and the crushing guilt that told you to let him go and close that chapter, you spun on your heel to find him staring as his breath caught in his throat. You crossed the porch with certainty, leaning up on your toes, fists gripping his coat tightly as you kissed him fiercely. He was knocked back a step or two but his arms were around you in an instant, pressing you as close as he could.

Something akin to electricity ignited across every inch of your skin, and you ignored the nagging thoughts that maybe you shouldn’t be doing this right now. That maybe it was too soon, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about technicalities and ‘maybe’s’. You parted and he felt it was all too brief as he chased after your lips, but you hadn’t strayed far as you released his jacket, smoothing the crinkled material. You looked up at him, his breath fanning across your face. These quiet, fleeting moments felt like they stretched into hours as you allowed yourself to bask in the moment you never thought you’d experience again.

“I love you,” you whisper, and he laughed softly in relief as a tear slips down his cheek, then another, your lips finding his again in a much softer kiss.

He still held you tightly, fingers splayed across your cheek as if to have confirmation that this was real, that it was really happening. Still to make sure you wouldn’t take off, that you were real.

It was. And he was never losing you again.

—

#iliveiloveiwrite3.5k #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff

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the-ducklingg · 3 years

Text

Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason. Those were the words whispered on the streets of Ketterdam, in the taverns and coffeehouses, in the dark and bleeding alleys of the pleasure district known as the Barrel.

Kaz Breaker didn't need a reason, but he always found one in Inej Ghafa,a girl who had a heart bigger than the entirety of Ketterdam, a girl to whom faith bowed the way greed and grudges bowed to him and a girl who, in spite of having been stripped off of her innocence in the menagerie at the age of fourteen, nurtured mercy and forgiveness in her heart and made it look like fate had never been anything but kind to her.

"I can help you"

Those were the words she had spoken the first time he met her, the words no one had dared to speak to him since Jordie. Yet, it weren't the words but her presence that surprised him- she had bells in her costume but he didn't hear her, She wore purple silk and had dots on her shoulders but he didn't see her, not until she spoke. It was as if she were a daughter of the shadows, a messenger of the West Wind, a wraith. Without responding, he stood up and left, feeling the heat of her eyes following him as he walked out of the door. The next day, he went to the Menagerie, bought her indenture and gave her the choice to join The Dregs, the option to choose freedom, although he wasn't sure if choosing between slavery and self-sufficiency was even a choice.

He got the girl her first knife, taught her how to pick locks and named her The Wraith- a name which, in the month to come, would scare the strongest of the men and make them look around twice before uttering it, lest she should come out of the shadows and slit their throats.

As time passed, Kaz found himself seeking comfort in the shadows, the same shadows in which the Wraith lurked. He found himself falling in love with everything about her, everything except her faith in her saints.

"Why do you hate the saints, Kaz?" She had asked.

"Because those saints didn't stop you from being torn away from your family, because the saints you worship are the same saints who didn't stop others from taking advantage of you…...because no saint ever watched over me, not like you have."

He had walked out of the room without uttering a single word.

"The saints may turn their backs on you but I will never." He had found himself muttering these words over and over again that night.

And surprisingly, everyday he would find himself keeping those unsaid promises, being at her side every time she needed him. Yet, he would never stop her from fighting; he would never take her weapons from her and let her rest, because that's what they do- they fight till their last breath.

Every time a man grabbed her in the Barrel, every time Tante Haleen's men jumped her and passed lewd remarks, he wouldn't run up to them to save her like the heroes in stories do. He would wait-his jaw clenching, his fingers tightening around the head of his cane until his knuckles would turn white- and watch. He would let her fight her way out of every situation, he would wait patiently as she punched and kicked them until she managed to place a knife against their throats.

Once, after finalizing a deal with a man in his office, the man had remarked "well, Mr Brekker, this calls for celebrations. Why don't you ask your whore to come in and-"

Instinctively, his hand flew to the man's collar before he got the chance to finish his sentence. As the laughter that followed the remark died out, something shone in the man's eyes as he tried to free himself from Kaz's grip- was it anger or fear that he couldn't tell for he was too busy trying to stop the darkness from taking over him and putting a bullet straight through his head.

'You have made people suffer and bleed to death for less...then why not now?' He found himself wondering.

'Because the shadows listen and the shadows will judge' he assured himself, before letting go of the man's collar and saying,

"I don't own her. No one does."

Two days later, he found the man sitting at a table with a drink in his hand and as he tilted his head, Kaz saw the angry gash that ran down the from the corner of his jaw and reached the base of his neck: made by someone who knew their knife the way one knows their hand, someone who intended to hurt but not to kill.

"Brekker sees everything" they say. Everytime someone pays for trying to double-cross Kaz even in the smallest way, the rumours rise and multiply, like the waves during a squall. Some say that Dirtyhands has eyes that can tell pollen from dust within a fraction of a second. Others say that he has spies in every crack and crevice that embellishes the city. Kaz neither confirms nor denies any, for every rumour that has ever reached his ears had been true, although up to a certain extent.

Yet there are things that he never saw. He never saw the way his Wraith would follow him down the streets every time a new death-threat knocked on his door, he never saw the way she would take the shape of his shadow and escort him to his battles even after being asked not to do so; and he never saw the way she had his back during his personal wars as well, the ones that creeped into darkness of his room and plagued his dreams while she would stand beside his sleeping body and think "just one more minute, one more second and then I'll wake him up."

Kaz Brekker saw everything but he never saw that while the silence of the night had lulled everyone else to sleep, a shadow that wasn't his own followed him up the stairs of the Slat as he rushed into bathroom where he finally undid his armour and sank to the ground before emptying his stomach in the toilet. His white shirt was speckled with the blood that trickled from his nose and his forehead but he didn't get the chance to think about it, for every time he breathed, he could think of nothing but the contact of skin with skin as the punches assaulted him until he was wrecked from within. He wasn't supposed to get into a fight, not that late at night, but as the attackers stripped him of his gloves and beat him down to dust, self-defense was the last thing on his mind.

And while he gagged and his breathing grew heavier, Inej pressed her forehead against the door of the bathroom and waited……

She waited until she couldn't hear him retching…

She waited until she couldn't hear the sound of him breathing….

And just as she was about to barge in, she heard the sound of the tap running and water splashing against skin….

And that is when she knew that he would be okay.

She pressed her ear to the door and listened until the splashing of water turned into the sound of steady breaths and then she turned away and melted into the shadows.

Just like she always had….

Just like she always will…..

Until Fate would decide to rip them apart.

P.S.: it has probabaly been eight billion years since I last wrote something, lol😛

Nevertheless, please feel free to point out typos (ya girl wrote this in a great hurry)

God I hope I won't regret this...

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sliding-into-space · 2 years

Note

"Victory Smooch" Coop -> Chip

🤭 of course!

Chip uses They/Them pronouns and belongs to Hero of Cyberspace/Moecartoons!

Coop groaned in frustration as he restarted the castle's defense system for felt like the millionth time that day. The king had complained about it getting stuck and given coop a call, did they even HAVE phones on this Cybersite???, But Coop was always appreciative of work and an excuse to get out of the house so away he had went to Happily Ever After.

Unfortunately for both Coop and the citizens of HEA, nobody had been taking proper care of the poor security system so there was corrosion, breaks, leaks, you name it, it had that problem. Multiple citizens hurried on their way as a string of loud, grumbling complaints sounded from the man leaning over the access panel up to his elbows in criss crossed wires.

"If that king comes over here and tries to tell me how to do my job one more time after he let it get this bad I'm throwing my wrench at him." Coop grumbled as he pulled at a fistful of wires wishing he had at least asked Slider to come, that would've both made the job easier and more fun to have his son around, but he hadn't thought it was going to be be this bad, so he'd turned down his son's offer for help.

"I don't believe wrenches make the best throwing weapons, but perhaps I could find you a spear?" An amused voice called out behind him, making Coop slightly startle and whirl around pointing said wrench at whoever interrupted him. The wrench was lowered and Coop's signature, relaxed, Radster grin appeared.

Turning back around and shoving his hands back into the mess of wires, Coop shook his head. "Sorry Chip, you overheard that did you? I'm just going to UGH-" He ripped out a wad of wires that were already falling apart before continuing. "Find whoever mistreated this poor piece of machinery and strangle-" he ripped out more decayed wires, "them-" another handful came out, "....just like a tiny bit." He finally retracted his hand and scratched his head looking a tad defeated before turning back towards Chip who had one eyebrow raised and an amused smile playing on their lips. Coop couldn't help but laugh and shake his head, his posture relaxing once again. "Okay so maybe that's a tad dramatic... But still. This project is going to take about three weeks because I can barely even see which wires are bad and which are good." He shared with the other, looking a tad exhausted. He always felt that nowadays, the exhaustion, just came with his magnitite poisoning but that didn't mean the man was any less annoyed by it.

Chip seemed to sense Coop's internal frustrations as they gently placed a hand on their friend's shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. "Well... I am no master toolsmith like you and the young Slider, but if almost all of the wires are bad as you say, would it not be easier to just cut the entire chunk out and replace the entire thing with good ones?" They asked carefully, wanting to ease their friend's pain and frustrations, but also knowing that they had minimum knowledge about the things Coop worked on.

Coop stared at the ground for a moment, then looked up at Chip seriously before taking the few steps between them, quickly closing the distance, grabbing their face gently and giving them a quick, passionate kiss.

Letting go, Coop whirled about with a laugh. "CHIP YOU GENIUS WE'LL MAKE A MECHANIC OUT OF YOU YET!" He practically cackled With glee before happily hacking away at the wires with much more vigor than before. It hadn't even hit him what he'd done.

Chip stared after Coop with a half startled, half amused expression, perhaps this was some Radster custom they didn't know of...? Whatever had just happened, Coop seemed to be in a much better mood then when Chip had first happened to walk past on their way to visit the market. Reaching up to touch their lips gently, Chip gave a small chuckle. Well they certainly hadn't hated it at least, what strange customs these Radsters held, that definitely hadn't made their heart jump in their chest, of course not, and they definitely didn't continue staying by Coop's side in case of the greeting happening again, of course not, that'd be silly.

#coop #chip #hero of cyberspace #my writing #cyberchase #cyberchase drabble #coop rp #cyberchase fanfiction #ship fic #i love them 💕

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coldshrugs · 3 years

Text

better than whatever i was trying to do

pairing: alma greene/mason word count: 760 rating: teen; language note: a lil post-bakery softness

Everything's fine.

The facility is bleak and chilly, familiar instead of unsettling now. She doesn’t search for signs or doors to act as landmarks. She doesn’t flinch at every groan or creak of the exposed pipes. Alma winds through the corridors with ease, on her way to an (unfortunately) unavoidable meeting; this will be the first time she’s seen Unit Bravo since she started avoiding Mason last week. There's something comforting in the way nothing seems to change here, and she could do with a little comfort right now—but really, it's fine.

She stops short. The burn of freshly lit tobacco hits her before she turns the corner to the conference room and she sighs, too loudly, too heavily not to be heard.

Of course he's waiting.

Of course he won't just let her avoid this in peace, and she wonders if he can even guess why that is. If he’s thought that far ahead.

If forced confrontation is what he wants, well, then fine.

She rounds the corner and Mason's leaning against the wall, exactly like she knew he'd be: one hand in his pocket, one boot on the wall, lazily holding onto the lit cigarette. He looks her over with narrowed eyes. Taking stock. He’s nervous, if that’s possible.

Something inside Alma twists toward him like vines stretching toward sunlight. Sunshine, she corrects herself and doesn’t bother to hide the eye roll that thought brings on.

She has no tears for him today.

"Hi."

"Hey." His voice is quiet, downright soft.

And her feet move unbidden until she's caught in his orbit, leaning against the cold brick too. They haven't spoken for a week and still, he waited for her and she can't stay five feet away from him. What a pair of fucking idiots, she thinks.

Quiet hangs heavy in the corridor, and that’s the weirdest thing about all of this. Both wanting to say something, neither wanting to touch the fragile, already-bruised tension between them. But someone has to go first.

"Are you—hm." Is he actually second-guessing himself? Hilarious. "How've you been?"

He takes a long drag and Alma waits for him to turn away from her and blow out his cloud of smoke before she lies to him.

"Fine." She crosses her arms, some attempt at protection as he rolls to face her. With total concentration, he picks her apart, eyes direct but concerned. Eyes she's not ready to meet fully, so she looks at her shoes. "You?"

"Same as always. A little surprised you came." If his voice wasn't so low, if he wasn't handling her so gently, if he hadn't waited well away from the door of the conference room she might have taken that as an insult.

"Well, here I am." When she’s ready to meet his gaze, Alma forces a smile, makes a little show of sarcastic jazz hands. "Surprise."

Mason huffs a laugh, takes another drag. "Good. I'm glad."

Goddammit. God-fucking-dammit. There's no innuendo, no sarcasm. Just the visible relief in his half-smile and a wisp of smoke ghosting from his chuckle.

It'd be so easy to leave it at that. To nod towards the door at the end of the hall and walk into the meeting in awkward silence. To grab onto the stem of whatever tiny beautiful thing is blooming between them and rip it out by the roots.

Alma is good at avoiding problems. This would hurt for a while; it’s been hurting all week anyway. She can survive a little bit (a lot) of disappointment. But that’s not what she wants.

"Can we… can we talk after this? If you want to."

Mason drops the spent cigarette to the floor and crushes it under his boot, slips his other hand into his pocket even as he leans a bit closer, and this is his version of armor. His defense against reaching out for her when touch is too tender.

But he smiles, small and restrained, something sparkling in his eyes. Warmth—not heat but soft, pleasant warmth—blossoms between them.

"Yeah, fine. I want to."

Alma gasps and he laughs again. She wants him to look this happy always.

"Fine," she says.

They push off the wall at the same time. The silence between them isn't awkward, or empty, or cold. They don't hurry their steps or stop their arms from brushing as they enter the meeting.

Mason leans against a side table, kicks out the chair in front of him. Alma takes her seat.

Things are weird. Figuring this out won't be easy.

But they're gonna be fine.

#azia writes #twc #detective x mason #twc mason #alma/mason #alma greene #i'd say 'back on my bullshit' but do i ever really leave?#have this passive-aggressive start at reconciliation #they're so dumb i love them #maybe this makes up for having nothing for wip wednesday T^T

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tothemeadow · 3 years

Text

Commissioned by @hinokami-s

Art originally done by @/n2514 on twitter

Kamado Tanjiro x OC

- It's been too long since Tanjiro and Hayami have seen each other. Tanjiro knows he's a fool in love, but there might be chance that Hayami feels the same. Together, they're meant to bring down a powerful demon with a Blood Art that neither one has seen before - the catch? It's an aphrodisiac. -

warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood and violence, oral sex, a sprinkling of praise kink, a dash of breeding kink, a good dose of creampie

words: 7.4k

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Tanjiro, focus.

Swinging his blade gracefully, Tanjiro pivots on his heel to follow up on the frontal attack with a jab of his elbow. The demon grunts as it’s knocked backwards, stumbling to catch its footing. Hissing out yet another curse, it surges toward the man, sharp claws splayed out. Tanjiro easily sidesteps it, bringing his blade in front of him in a defensive stance. Again, the demon tries to strike at him, only to get deflected.

“Damn human,” the demon spits, “stand still so I can rip your guts out!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that!” Tanjiro exclaims. “You’ve taken enough lives already – I refuse to let you take any more!”

Again, the both of them brace themselves for yet another attack; simultaneously, they leap at each other, blade and claws extending out in deadly arcs. Tanjiro grits his teeth as the claws make a pass at his shoulder, ripping through the layers of his haori and uniform and tearing into the muscle. Still, he pushes forward, cleanly bringing his blade through the demon’s neck and successfully decapitating it. A cloud of dust rises as they both unceremoniously land on the ground; the demon crumbles away instantly, leaving Tanjiro by his lonesome.

Finally.

Rolling his shoulders, Tanjiro slips his blade back into his sheath and drags a forearm over his forehead, wiping away the sweat. A sizzling heat roaring in his shoulder draws his attention; glancing at his shoulder, he’s met with the wicked sight of shredded fabrics and torn flesh. Blood steadily pours from the wound, soaking his clothes a dark red. With a sigh, Tanjiro presses a flat palm to the wound and glances toward the sky. Fortunately, bits of light break through the canopy of the forest. He shouldn’t stick around for long, though – not if he wants to fight even more demons.

Taking a step forward, he suddenly stumbles and lands on his knees. “What the-“ he begins, but he cuts himself off at the spark of pain located in his ankle. Oh, this is just wonderful. Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself on his hands and forces himself to a stand, leaning his weight on the opposite foot. There’s no other option than to hobble towards a Wisteria House; luckily, he passed by one earlier, so it shouldn’t take too long for him to arrive.

As long as he can make it back before night falls, he should be in the clear.

“A letter, yes! A letter!”

Looking to the window, Tanjiro’s greeted by his Kasugai crow. Its beady eyes stay focused on him while it hops from side to side; Tanjiro’s interest piques as he notices the little scroll of paper tied to its foot. An easy smile spreads across his face as he hobbles to the window. The letter had to be from his friend Sumiyuri Hayami – it had to be! The two usually communicate via letters sent by their crows since they’re busy dealing with their own missions to visit each other. Still, no matter how many letters he’s received, that same gentle warmth encases his heart as he slips the bit of twine off the crow’s foot.

Tanjiro’s blood practically pounds in his ears as he unravels the letter, unconsciously holding his breath while his eyes scan over Hayami’s neat handwriting.

Tanjiro,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Tanjiro pauses, smiles sheepishly.

It’s a lonely journey, the letter continues, traveling without someone. I don’t mind the quiet, but you know how much I dislike being alone. Even my crow won’t keep me company, won’t you believe that?

I miss you, Tanjiro. I can’t wait to see you again.

Forever and always,

Hayami

The bottom of the letter is covered with multiple doodles of cherry blossoms, one of Hayami’s favorite types of flowers. She always ends her letter the exact same way, and it never fails to bring Tanjiro a sense of comfort. But “I miss you”? “I can’t wait to see you again”?

That’s new.

Tanjiro can’t help the blush that spreads across his cheeks, nor can he control the rapid beating of his heart. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have special feelings for the girl; for so long, he’s been pining after her, craving to hold her hand and kiss her sweetly. He’s such a coward, though. Time after time, the confession sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble from his lips at the simplest command, but he couldn’t do it. It always felt like it wasn’t the right time to tell her his feelings, especially with how the world is.

But oh, knowing that she’s thinking of him – that she misses him – makes his heart soar. He can’t tear his eyes away from the small piece of paper, attention fixated on those two little sentences. “Oh, Hayami,” he breathes, looking away and willing his heartbeat to slow down. His crow merely cocks its head at him.

“Well?” it caws, fluttering its wings expectantly. “Return letter, yes?”

That’s right.

Hobbling over to the desk in the room, Tanjiro reaches for the inkwell and brush and carefully constructs his own letter, a dreamy smile plastered on his face.

Hayami,

I can’t wait to see you, too.

Tanjiro

Again, he crosses to wear the crow sits on the windowsill, rolling up his paper and hastily tying it around its foot. “Thank you, my friend,” he tells the crow, giving it a gentle pat on the head. With a singular squawk, the crow takes off; Tanjiro watches long after it’s turned into a black dot in the sky before turning away from the window. He truly hopes he can be graced by Hayami’s presence sometime soon. He misses her dearly, and the fact that she feels the same way makes him giggle into a hand.

What can he say? He’s in love.

Perhaps the gods are watching over him more closely than he thinks. Maybe he’s just lucky. Either way, Tanjiro is truly blessed whenever the sliding door to his room opens, revealing a familiar face. It’s a face that visits both daydreams and regular dreams alike; a masterpiece, truly, carved straight from ivory and inlaid with purple gems for eyes. Tanjiro almost can’t believe it.

“Hayami?” he breathes.

A gorgeous smile cracks her face. “Tanjiro.”

By the gods, it really is her.

Before he can even register it, he’s shooting up from his futon, hurrying to where she stands, and flinging his arms around her in a hug. His heart beats impossibly hard in his chest and his face flushes with warmth, but gods he’s really, really missed her. At first, Hayami stiffens in surprise, but it quickly melts away and there she goes, mimicking his movements and hugging him back.

When they were younger, Hayami used to be outright massive in height; Tanjiro has never been bothered by the fact (instead, he’s always found it as a part of her charm), but now… Now it’s different. Even in her infamous heeled boots, she’s still a few centimeters shorter than he. Tanjiro can see the crown of her head with ease. Has he always been this tall? Has he grown since the last time they’ve met? Peering downwards, his breath catches in his throat.

Like Mitsuri, Hayami always opted for the open-chested gakuran; and, just like Mitsuri, she’s also well endowed. Tearing his gaze away, Tanjiro pushes away the sudden spike of warmth swirling in the depths of his stomach. After all this time of being apart, their first interaction can’t be with him acting inappropriate! Besides, it’s always been more of Zenitsu’s thing to openly ogle at women, not Tanjiro’s.

A hand cups his face, forces him to look back down. “I’ve really missed you,” Hayami whispers. Her smile is pure saccharine, so delightfully wonderful and sweet. The urge to kiss her is strong, Tanjiro quickly realizes. He can’t scare her away, no, not now. But it’d just be so easy to let his feelings loose, to tell her everything she deserves to hear.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tanjiro flashes her a smile in return. She’s so soft in his arms and smells like lavender soap. It’s incredible to know that someone of this ethereal beauty exists, much less to be friends with them. Perhaps he’s being too sentimental – romantic, maybe even poetic – but he honestly cannot get enough of her.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says.

A pang of longing strikes his heart whenever Hayami pulls away. “I got your letter. I thought it was kind of odd, though – you’re usually not one for short messages, Tanjiro. I was worried that something happened.”

Yeah, he thinks, I nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He looks at her, truly looks, and it’s only then that he realizes she has light scratches on her face and a bandage wrapped around a strong thigh. Blinking owlishly, he has to recall that they’re in a Wisteria House of all places, not at some random inn or anything of the sort. A shameful blush spreads across his features. How foolish could he be not to notice her injuries right away?

“You’re hurt!” he exclaims, brows furrowing. “What happened?”

At that, Hayami merely waves a dismissive hand. It’s enough for him to want to be pissed off, but again, he knows her all too well. Hayami’s always been the type to place others before herself, always striving to become even stronger to protect everyone she cares about. It’s this ideology that’s led her to become a somewhat reckless person on almost all accounts; however, Tanjiro knows she’s a formidable opponent. He simply wishes she would take care of herself every once in a while.

“I could ask you the same,” she shoots back, gesturing to his heavily bandaged shoulder. “Tanjiro, I really wish you would be more careful. What if… What if something worse happened? What if you didn’t make it to a Wisteria House in time?”

Tanjiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m really sorry to make you worry, Hayami. I really am. It’s just… Things can get out of hand sometimes, you know? But I defeated the demon, so don’t worry! As long as I can continue to help others out, I’ll take as many hits as it takes.”

Hayami sighs. The both of them know how serious he is about dealing with demons; each little step is necessary to reach Muzan Kibutsuji, to finally put an end to his reign of terror and find a cure for his younger sister, Nezuko. He and Hayami are truly two of a kind, hopelessly selfless and always willing to help others even if it means disaster for themselves.

“Well,” Hayami starts, reaching out and clutching one of Tanjiro’s hands in both of hers, “promise me you’ll stay alive. Do it for Nezuko. Do it for me.” A pleading glint shines in the depths of her eyes. “Promise me, Tanjiro.”

At this rate, Tanjiro’s heart will burst. It swells to a near impossible size, thrumming against his ribcage and begging to be free. He doesn’t know how she does it, doesn’t know how she can be so lovely, yet here they are, hands intertwined and almost too close for comfort. If Tanjiro didn’t know any better, he’d say Hayami is purposefully trying to get a rise from him, possibly make him a melted mess on the tatami flooring.

Again, he swallows thickly. Clasping onto her hands tightly, he nods his head. “I promise.”

Things have been going… odd.

While it isn’t out of the ordinary to catch up and swap stories after being apart for so long, Tanjiro’s quickly come to notice that every time he turns around, Hayami is usually within sight. He can’t say much, though, since he’s been dealing the same treatment to her. The two have practically grown attached to the hip, nearly fawning over each other, and doing everything together.

Tanjiro can’t complain; he secretly adores the attention Hayami showers upon him, the cooing she does when she brushes his hair, or the delightful gleam in her eyes. Being in her presence is enough to have his entire being flood with warmth, to have his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Even now, in the dwindling hours of twilight, the two are cozy in Hayami’s room, surrounded by flickering lanterns. Hayami has personally taken it upon herself to mend Tanjiro’s beloved haori, to fix the dreadful hole left behind that slashing demon. Tanjiro merely watches on, relaxing on his side with his head propped in a hand. He watches as Hayami works every so diligently, her lovely features set in a focused look. Granted, he’s always thought of her as beautiful. She reminds him of the maidens in the stories his mother used to read to him when he was younger, ever so graceful and good natured.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching her. Minutes, hours, maybe days – it feels like his eyes haven’t seen her in an eternity, and he’s almost desperate to soak in the sight of her and commit it to memory.

Although Hayami hasn’t said a thing, her eyes flicker towards Tanjiro every so often. She doesn’t bother to make it a secret, either; Tanjiro swallows thickly, wonders just what exactly is going on inside her head. Like him, her wounds are healing nicely, mostly due to the care given by the members of the Wisteria House. The scratches that adorned her face are gone, leaving behind a canvas of an unblemished, creamy white.

“You’re staring,” Hayami says, still not looking up from her work. Tanjiro flushes at her comment, but he also picks up on the playful lilt to her tone.

“I’m sorry,” he half blubbers, rolling onto his back and focusing on the ceiling to calm his erratic heart. “It’s just… It’s been so long. When’s the next time we’re going to see each other like this again?”

While Tanjiro does have a point, it’s one that neither of them has decided to discuss. The ways of being a slayer can be somewhat picky – not much time can be set aside for leisurely purposes. And, taking in Tanjiro’s mission into account, he has to work harder than anyone else if he wishes to save Nezuko.

“Well,” Hayami speaks up, finally turning fully to Tanjiro. Setting down her needle and thread, she shuffles over to where Tanjiro lies on the floor, hovering in his field of vision. “We should make the most of it, huh?” With a flick of her wrists, a flash of green and black fills Tanjiro’s vision; the haori settles gently on him, the delicate smell of fresh laundry and lavender flooding his nostrils. Oh, by the gods, now his haori smells like her.

“You should consider yourself lucky that they were able to wash the blood out,” Hayami continues on, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her full mouth. “It’d be weird to see you wear anything else.”

“Maybe I’d have to wear yours,” Tanjiro says. It’s out before he says it – his eyes widen as realization dawns on him. He really said that, didn’t he?

For a moment, Hayami’s expression mimics his. She seems just as surprised as he is at the blatant comment – or was it flirting? The initial shock melts into a somewhat panicked version, then, and Tanjiro instantly regrets saying anything at all.

Shit.

Hayami looks away, and Tanjiro swears he can see the beginnings of a blush on her face. Oh.

Oh no.

“Perhaps,” she mutters, taking a strand of long hair and twirling it around her finger. “Purple would look great on you.”

Yeah, Tanjiro thinks, attention honing on her flushed cheeks, and you look great in pink.

The semi awkward behavior continues.

Well, scratch that – this weird, mustered tension continues.

While the two remain attached at the hip like usual, things feel more intimate between them, if that makes any sense. Perhaps it’s Tanjiro overthinking things (which he certainly has a habit of doing), but his heart never stops its hurried beating, nor does the warmth swirling around in his belly seize from making him feel like mush. What’s more, Hayami’s eyes seem to glitter more whenever they’re trained on Tanjiro, and her lips are usually parted, almost like she’s silently asking for a kiss.

Things are usually toned down when they’re in other people’s company – namely Nezuko, whenever she decides to awaken. It’s at very moments like this when the three are taking comfort in each other’s company; hidden in the shade on the engawa, a flower-scented breeze passes through the thin material of their yukatas, yet the mere warmth of the day is enough to keep even the slightest chills away. Nezuko sits before Hayami, legs drawn up to her chest while the latter braids the inky strands of her hair. If anything, the sight of the two of them together makes Tanjiro’s chest swell with joy.

He openly admires Hayami’s profile, at the cute little beauty mark dotted above her lips. At first, Tanjiro would always feel silly whenever he’d catch himself staring. He isn’t outrightly bold like Zenitsu or ignorant like Inosuke, so knowing that his eyes are lingering longer than they should makes him feel slightly uneasy. But now – now he doesn’t care, for Hayami will often times catch his gaze with her own.

Something wonderful is happening between them, Tanjiro knows it, but he just doesn’t know what it is yet.

“A mission for you! A mission for you!” the lone cry of Tanjiro’s Kasugai crow sounds from above.

Tanjiro’s heart plummets to his stomach. No, this can’t be happening. Not yet. He can’t say goodbye to Hayami just yet, not when things are going so well between them.

“Kamado Tanjiro! Sumiyuri Hayami!” the crow squawks, fluttering onto the end of the engawa. “A demon has been spotted in the nearby area! To the East, yes! You two are to take care of it!”

Tanjiro blinks owlishly at his crow. If that’s the case-

Both he and Hayami share a look. The break was nice while it lasted, but now it’s time to suit up.

There’s always been something so sobering about pulling on the slayer uniform. It’s a blatant sign that this day could be your last, that whatever lies ahead could be the very thing that kills you. Still, the thick fabric brings an odd sense of calmness and comfort – that everything will be alright.

“You ready, Nezuko?” Tanjiro asks, turning to his sister.

Nezuko hums her agreement, nodding her head along with it. His heart pangs once his gaze falls on the thick braid hanging down her back. It’s quite possible that that could’ve been the very last time Hayami ever does her hair like that. No, Tanjiro hastily scolds himself, never think like that. Both he and Hayami are strong fighters.

They’re going to make it out of this alive, no matter what.

Nezuko shrinks in size and crawls into her box; Tanjiro shuts the door behind her before heaving it up and slipping his arms through the straps. Once he’s sure she’s properly adjusted on his back, he picks up his blade and steps out of his room, easing the shoji door shut. He’s just in time to see Hayami do the same thing. Their eyes meet automatically, a silent message passing between them.

Be careful.

Tanjiro clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

Smoothing down her haori – yes, that one – Hayami gives a curt nod, her long ponytail bobbing with the movement. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Besides, with the both of us on the same side, this shall be easy, no?” She flashes him a reassuring smile. “It’s like the good old times, Tanjiro. We get to finally travel together again.”

Biting back a smile, Tanjiro resists the urge to giggle like some love-stricken fool. Which, if he’s being entirely honest, he is one, but he also wants to keep some sliver of dignity. “You… do have a point.”

Hayami merely waves a hand. “Of course I do. But Tanjiro,” she pauses, cocks her head, “you should really pull your hair up.”

Instinctively, a calloused hand shoots to his head, rough fingers pawing at the strands. While it’s nothing compared to Hayami’s length, the ends of his hair kiss his collarbones. “You think so?”

“Absolutely. Hang on, I’ll take care of it.”

Before he gets the chance to say anything, Hayami promptly opens the door to her room and disappears from sight. A moment later she returns, although this time with a black ribbon in her hand. If its lustrous sheen has anything to say, Tanjiro knows it’s one of her expensive ones.

“Wait,” he quickly says, eyes widening, “I don’t want to ruin one of your good ribbons-“

“Tanjiro,” Hayami cuts him off, voice soft. “Don’t worry about it. I’m giving this to you. Think of it as a good luck charm or something.” Again, she flashes him a pretty smile and Tanjiro practically melts on the spot.

Without another word, he drops down onto his knees, allowing Hayami to get a better reach for his hair. The heels of her boots clack against the floor as she steps behind him; the familiar scent of lavender fills his nostrils as she gets closer, her fingers running through his hair and combing out any potential knots. He relaxes at the contact – it feels good to have her fingers running through his hair. A sigh passes through his lips as his eyes flutter shut.

Hayami takes her time, carefully smoothing out the strands and gathering Tanjiro’s thick hair in a fist while the other quickly wraps the ribbon around the base of the ponytail. After tying a secure knot, Hayami’s fingers linger on Tanjiro’s head just a bit too long. Clearing her throat, she pulls away, leaving a pang of disappointment to stab Tanjiro in the heart.

“There,” she says, stepping around to his front, “that’s better, yes?”

A hand reaches back and smooths down the ponytail. Tanjiro’s face crinkles as he grins at Hayami. “It’s great.”

After that eventful encounter, the two take off away from the Wisteria House, heading East as the Kasugai crow had instructed them earlier. The sunlight gradually dwindles as they venture further into the forest, the thick canopy throwing a green-hued shadow over everything. It’s a beautiful day outside, the birds chirping and bugs humming as yet another breeze picks up, carrying through the woods and rustling their haoris.

“What kind of demon do you think we’re looking for?” Hayami speaks up. It never fails to take Tanjiro by surprise when her friendly demeanor drops once demons are in the question. It’s almost if she becomes an entirely new person, incredibly strong-willed and cruel; in a sense, it puts Tanjiro in mind of Sanemi.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Tanjiro says earnestly. “Since the two of us were sent after it, I have a feeling that it’s not going to be easy to deal with.”

Maybe Tanjiro should’ve placed a bet on it. Maybe he’s been around the block too many times.

Either way, he was right.

After an hour or so of walking through the woods, the shade drastically darkened as they neared an alcove; a somewhat bitter odor hangs in the air, causing Tanjiro to scrunch his nose. Immediately, he forces himself to a halt, throwing out an arm in front of Hayami to stop her as well.

“There’s something here,” he murmurs.

Both of them place a hand on their blades, eyes scanning the surrounding environment for any sign of movement. The bitter smell grows more prevalent; Tanjiro can tell by the way it seems to pressurize his nose, but even now Hayami’s scrunching her face in discomfort. If only something would make a move-

Snap.

“There,” Hayami breathes. “Breath of the Swan, Seventh Form: Feint!” At her cry, she hurls her blade in the direction of the sound before disappearing in a flash of purple, following through with her attack and keeping out of sight. Leave it to Hayami to rush into battle without analyzing the situation first.

Even so, Tanjiro draws his blade and rushes forward, following the scent to its origin. Curving around the wide trunk of a mighty maple, Tanjiro slants his feet to draw himself to an immediate stop, kicking up dirt and foliage alike. Only a couple meters away stands a demon – the demon they were hunting after.

The beast resembles a woman, although her skin is entirely a light red and four arms sprout from the sockets of her shoulders. She’s huge, easily four or five heads taller than Tanjiro himself. Despite the monstrous qualities, her face is beautiful, lips full and eyes curtained by heavy lashes. Tanjiro finds himself hesitating when she turns to look at him; her eyes are completely white, no trace of an iris or pupil anywhere. Creepy.

“Were you the one who threw this?” the demon demands, her voice commanding yet melodic.

Shifting his gaze to her hand, Tanjiro pales at the sight of Hayami’s blade clutched in a strong fist. Her breathing form didn’t land its hit, he’s quick to realize.

Shit.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tanjiro says, holding out his blade before him. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

“HYAH!” Hayami’s voice shouts. She emerges from the wall of trees, legs raised high in a lethal kick; the gleam of her bladed heels catches Tanjiro’s eye. The demon turns just in time to have its cheek sliced as Hayami’s feet fly past. Dark red pours from the cut and the demon hisses in pain, white eyes flashing angrily. Hayami gracefully falls into a tumble as she lands, rolling over her shoulder and lessening the impact.

“Hayami,” Tanjiro says urgently, “your blade didn’t land on her.”

Spitting out a curse, Hayami’s glare lands on the very hand clutching onto her blade. “Well, clearly I have to take it back from the damned thing,” she snarls. Tanjiro shudders at her tone – the venom clearly dripping from the words, the icy edge. Hell, her voice is enough to send demons running, and Tanjiro can’t blame them. “Tanjiro,” she shoots, turning her gaze to him, “let’s get rid of this bitch once and for all.”

The demon laughs, a singular had cupping her mouth while the other two brace themselves on her hips. “Oh, pathetic humans, do you really think it’d be that simple?” Reaching out a hand, she curls her fingers salaciously, her black claws wickedly sharp. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any proper fun,” she drawls, using that very hand to clutch her neck. “Do me a favor and take a deep breath.”

Tanjiro grunts as that sharp, bitter smell clogs his nose, fills his lungs. The more he breathes in, the dizzier he feels; a flush erupts on his face, paired along with beads of sweat. What the hell even is this?

“Oops, my bad,” the demon taunts. She makes a show of flinging Hayami’s blade back to her before crouching low, all four arms spread in an offensive stance. “And I’m suddenly feeling very hungry!” she booms. “Come on, come at me with all you got!”

Jaw ticking, Hayami snatches her blade off the ground and wipes the handle off with a look of disgust. “Tanjiro?”

“Already on it.”

Like the flick of a switch, the both of them spring into action, swerving around each other and taking either side of the demon. A deep growl emanates from the demon’s chest; her gaze flickers back and forth between the two as they charge at her, their movements invisible to the human eye – human eye, not demon.

This is a battle between life and death.

Maybe it lasts for seconds, minutes, hours. The constant twisting of bodies, water, and feathers create a hurricane in that small alcove; there’s an endless round of shouting and spitting curses, mixing in with the clang of metal hitting tough skin. And yet, the florally breeze still sweeps through their hair and the birds still sing – because, even where danger lurks, peace can still be found.

The demon howls as Tanjiro promptly slices off an arm, the meaty thud of it hitting the ground seemingly echoing. It disappears in a cloud of dust, leaving behind flattened grass in its shape.

That warm, dizzying feeling never recedes, either. Tanjiro figures it must be for weakening prey or something of the sort; his nose scrunches at the strong scent and he reminds himself to not breathe, but it’s also somewhat hard to do since all slayers’ fighting styles revolve around breathing. How utterly ironic and a pain to deal with.

“You bastard!” the demon screeches, baring her fangs at Tanjiro. “I’ll rip your guts out!” She swings another arm, then, landing a direct hit and sending him flying backwards. Tanjiro grunts as his side collides with the fat trunk of a tree, all wind getting knocked from his lungs.

Tanjiro groans as he forces himself to sit up, a hand clutching his ribs. Shit, he’d be lucky if he didn’t crack a rib again. The wild, howling cry of a beast rips through the air, makes Tanjiro’s blood still in his veins. Through his hazy vision, he sees Hayami successfully bring her blade down on the demon’s neck, slicing through the thick skin and decapitating the damned thing.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Tanjiro leans back against the tree, wincing at the thrum of pain in his side. He continues to watch as Hayami lands on her feet, the demon collapsing onto its stomach and screeching profanities as it disintegrates. Thank the gods, Tanjiro says to himself as he staggers to a stand, hand splayed on the trunk to keep himself steady. He and Hayami made it out alive, but…

Something’s wrong.

His heart drops to his stomach as Hayami falls onto her knees, hunching over and retching. Calling out her name, he hobbles over to where she kneels; immediately, he clamps a hand over his nose, that bitter smell the demon emanated stronger than ever before. It positively reeks where its dead body lied. Tanjiro figures it must have unleashed a huge burst of the odor before it was slain – probably in an attempt to get Hayami to back off, no doubt.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro breathes, dropping to Hayami’s height and holding her hair back, “are you alright? What happened?”

“She released a wave of her Blood Art,” Hayami grunts, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth and grimacing. “I don’t think I’ve ever smelt anything to foul in my life.”

“You killed it – that’s all that matters,” Tanjiro assures her. “You did great!”

Finally, Hayami turns to him; her fair skin is even whiter than usual, fat droplets of sweat beading at her hairline and trickling down her forehead.

Tanjiro’s jaw slackens. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

Hayami waves a dismissive hand. “I just threw up – do you really expect me to look good after that?” Despite her sickly pallor, she flashes him a tiny smile. “I’m fine, Tanjiro. Besides, you’re the one who got hurt!” She makes a desperate clutch at his hands, eyes roaming over his features for any injuries. “I just – I got so mad that she hurt you. I mean, what if it was worse?”

“Says you!” Tanjiro exclaims, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of his haori. “We should get you get to the Wisteria House before you get sick again.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“At least let me carry you! I can put Nezuko’s box on my front and you can hitch a ride on my back.”

“No need,” Hayami grunts. Turning to the side, she spits the gross taste from her mouth and hauls herself to a stand. “I’m a big girl, Tanjiro. If there’s anybody that needs to be carried, it’s you.” She holds out a hand for him to take. “You worry me too much,” she says, voice now soft. Swallowing down his unease, Tanjiro grabs onto the extended hand and allows himself to be pulled up.

Leaning into Hayami, they turn away from the alcove, letting the singing birds and humming bugs be the only noise as they head back to the Wisteria House.

It’s a miracle they both came out unscathed.

After a quick checkup at the Wisteria House, it had been deemed that the two were mostly uninjured (the term was tossed around lightly since Tanjiro managed to get a bruise on his side after the impact). Thankfully, Hayami was free of anything of the sort, but her fever remained.

It was evening time when they finally arrived back, the glowing bulb in the sky making its gradual descent. Hayami decided to call it a night and retired to her room, leaving Tanjiro and Nezuko behind in her wake. Nezuko followed suit and decided that she, too, wanted to relax, so she took off towards the bathing chamber.

Back in the comfortable silence of his own room, Tanjiro slides the shoji screen closed behind him, all the while heaving a sigh. Easing himself onto the sprawled-out futon on the far side of the room, he leisurely kicks off his seta and undoes his kyahan, his tabi quickly following suit. It’s when he’s shucking off his haori when he hears it – a light, muffled groan, almost like the kind someone makes when they’re uncomfortable. Stilling his movements, Tanjiro waits for it again.

There.

“Gods, please…”

Tanjiro’s eyebrows furrow. It’s clearly Hayami’s voice alright, but what’s going on? Is she alright? Is she in trouble?

Without another moment’s hesitation, Tanjiro grabs his blade and brings himself to a stand; hurrying out of his room and to Hayami’s, he nearly wrenches her door open in his thoughtless rush to help. Like usual, the paper lanterns in her room radiate a welcoming glow. The somewhat dim light throws shadows over the tatami mats and the rice paper walls alike, but what instantly catches Tanjiro’s attention is the human-sized lump lying on the floor.

Tossing and turning on her futon, Hayami continues to grumble to herself; an arm is thrown over her eyes, the other draped over her stomach. Her boots lay off to the side, clearly tossed away as a second thought in her rush to get comfortable. Feet planted squarely on the futon, her knees are bent, the skirt to her uniform flipped and showing off way too much skin.

At first, Tanjiro blushes at the sight of her bare legs and thighs, but then she groans again and it’s enough to snap him back to reality. Setting his blade down, he hurries to her side, kneeling down and smoothing her bangs away from her face. Keening at his touch, she tears her arm away from her face and looks to him with pleading eyes. Her skin is unbearably hot to the touch, flushed a bright pink and covered in sweat. Hell, she looks even worse now than she did so earlier.

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” Tanjiro coos.

Gods dammit, that demon’s Blood Art was still taking its toll on Hayami. While its side effects have already worn off for Tanjiro, it’s clear that it’s way worse for her. Poor girl, getting horribly sick and having to suffer like this.

“Tanjiro,” she croaks, “it hurts.”

Oh, and the tone she uses. Tanjiro’s heart aches in empathy at the pain she must be enduring. “Where does it hurt?”

Perhaps he may have given her too much of an opening for that question.

His eyes widen as the hand resting over her stomach drops downward, shamelessly clutching at her crotch through her underwear. “Right here,” she breathes. “Please, Tanjiro…”

Surprise swells in his abdomen as she lightly paws at her sex, at the noises that almost sound like whines falling from her full mouth. There’s something else – something that Tanjiro recognizes as the weighted, hot feeling in his gut that only visits him in the hours of the night, only when he has a hand wrapped around himself, pulling and flicking and-

Oh no.

Tanjiro sucks in a breath, trying to rein in his composure, but then the smell of lavender and something sweet fills his nostrils. His mouth waters at the scent and he swallows heavily.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami pleads, squirming underneath his gaze, “please, help me. Please.”

The bitter odor. The way Hayami got sick. This.

“Gods, Tanjiro, help me!” Hayami cries.

Aphrodisiac.

A surprised yelp bursts from his chest as Hayami abruptly yanks him forward, pins him to the futon, and straddles his waist. “It’s too much!” she pleads, voice shaking. “Please, please, help me.”

“Hayami-“

Before he even gets the chance to finish, Hayami ducks down, sliding her mouth against his. Tanjiro’s mind screams at him, his heart leaps to his throat, his stomach tightens into a knot – Hayami is kissing him. After all this time, it’s happening.

She tastes so sweet, her lips unbelievably soft against his. His head is spinning at the unfolding events, but then his mind goes completely blank as her lips skim over the line of his jaw and latch onto the side of his throat instead. His breath hitches as her teeth nip at the tanned skin, crawling downwards toward the edge of his uniform.

“It’s too much,” she murmurs, reaching between them and yanking the buttons to his gakuran open. “Too many layers.”

“Hayami,” Tanjiro says, catching the growing rasp in his voice, “wait a second-“

A strangled groan escapes his throat as Hayami presses into him, her clothed pussy rubbing against the obvious tent in his pants. Hands twitching at his sides, he wonders what the hell he should even do. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her like this – in fact, he doesn’t want to take advantage of her at all. It’s already bad enough that she’s told him about past bad experiences, how they’ve taken a toll on her, how far she’s come to get over the trauma. No, Tanjiro doesn’t want to put her through that again, not even if the constant friction against his cock feels heavenly.

“Tanjiro, look at me,” she says, sitting up and looking him right in the eye, “I… I don’t think the Blood Art is going to wear off by itself.” Leaning back down, she presses her luscious breasts into him, eyes catching the flickering lights of the lanterns. She looks like she’s damn close to tears. “I trust you, Tanjiro,” she confesses. “I trust you more than anybody.”

I trust you.

Heart beating a thousand shades of red, the backs of Tanjiro’s eyes sting with emotion. She trusts him. Gods, she trusts him in a time of upmost vulnerability, to take care of her and give her what she needs. No, he tells himself, I need this just as much.

Cupping her face, he pulls her into another kiss; the two of them mold perfectly together, lips slanting and tongues caressing each other in way that is utterly incredible. Together, they sit up, hands intermingling between their bodies and yanking away at Tanjiro’s uniform jacket and shirt. The air feels warm against his bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off Hayami’s. The layers of clothing seem to melt off, leaving them gasping into each other’s mouths and wandering their hands over uncovered territory.

There’s a slight quake to her movements, Tanjiro notices. If he didn’t know any better, he’d simply say it’s because of arousal, but it’s not that.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, brushing his calloused fingers down her back.

“You won’t.” She kisses him again, tongue sweeping into his mouth in a fit of passion.

It’s just so easy pressing her onto her back, kissing her sweet, sweet skin; Tanjiro makes his descent, lips brushing over her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, her tummy, all the way down to where that delicious smell comes from. He goes easy at first, his inexperience clearly showing, but Hayami doesn’t seem to mind.

The noises slipping from her mouth are otherworldly. They grace his ears, drive him to work harder, to slip his tongue further into her dripping arousal, to clutch at her strong thighs. Fuck, and he’s so hard, cock brushing against the futon and leaving a sticky mess.

“Pretty boy, so good, so fucking good,” Hayami murmurs. Tanjiro’s cock twitches at the words, causes him to shudder. “More, I need more – gods, Tanjiro, my handsome boy, give me more.” He moans into her pussy as her fingers grip onto the base of his ponytail and yank.

Everything is just so hot and it feels good and Hayami tastes as sweet as she smells and Tanjiro can’t get enough-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tanjiro grits, tongue lashing out as Hayami’s slick floods his mouth. “Sweetheart…” Propping himself up, his eyes frantically search for Hayami’s. He feels tremendously dizzy, a fog covering his mind and making him want everything he can take. “Can I – can I fuck you?” he blurts.

Hayami nods eagerly. “Yes.”

Groaning, Tanjiro pumps at his neglected cock, smearing precum over his meaty girth; leaning in, the head brushes against Hayami’s folds, gathering slick before pushing in, filling her up in a way that has them both moaning. He shudders as Hayami slings her arms and legs around him, shifting her hips and fucking herself on his cock. He doesn’t want to hurt her – he wants to go slow, show her how much she truly means to him, but fuck if he doesn’t feel like some wild animal.

He’s desperate in his movements, pumping his cock in and out of her tight heat, murmuring you’re so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, gods, you feel fucking amazing into her neck. The scent of her arousal clings to the insides of his nostrils, makes him even dizzier in the head. A little nagging thought in the back of his mind tells him that the effects spread from her to him, but he doesn’t care.

Her velvety walls suck his cock back in so easily, the lewd squelching and smacking of skin against skin making him want to fuck her even harder.

“Tanjiro, shit – your cock’s amazing,” she mutters into his ear, fingers yanking on his hair as she quickens the movements of her hips. “You trying to make me feel good, yeah? Fuck me with that thick cock of yours?”

Her words do wonders for his libido. If she continues to talk to him like that, he’s gonna cum in no time. “Can I,” he pauses, swallows thickly, “can I put a baby in you? Please, beautiful, you’d look so gorgeous being all nice and plump with my child.”

“Yes,” she purrs, digging her fingernails into the dips of his muscular shoulder blades. “Make me yours, Tanjiro. Show the world that you fucked me so good.”

It’s those words that push Tanjiro over the edge; ramming himself in deep, he releases his load, painting her insides white. He mouths at her throat, whimpering slightly as he bucks his hips a few more times, the sheer amount of cum being too much for her precious little pussy to handle.

“Good boy,” she purrs. “Now just-“ cutting herself off short, she directs his hand to her pussy, placing his rough fingers to her clit and guiding him through the movements. She cums soon after that, head lolling backward as a breath of Tanjiro’s name catches in her throat.

Tanjiro takes extra care of her after that, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear as he wipes the both of them clean. It pains him to leave her side for that short amount of time, but then he’s soon slinging his arms around her body, nestling his chin in the crook of her shoulder as they drift into a dreamless sleep.

Tanjiro wakes up to the sound of birds chirping.

With a groan, he tries to stretch, but he soon tenses up at the fact that he can’t move. Glancing downwards, his heart skips a beat as he’s met with Hayami’s pretty face; she’s still fast asleep with her arms linked around his waist and keeping him in place. Flashes of the night prior fill his vision, leave him heavily flushed and smiling sheepishly.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Tanjiro, focus.

He thinks he’s finally died and went to heaven.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x oc #kimetsu no yaiba x oc #demon slayer x oc #tanjiro kamado #kamado tanjiro #tanjiro kamado x oc #kamado tanjiro x oc #commission #hinokami-s

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kiribakuhappiness · 4 years

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I would love if you wrote that idea you had a while ago where kiri was fake dating and bakugo thought it was real

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt)

Katsuki would be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. Of course it would happen with Kirishima, too; the literal ball of sunshine who couldn’t keep his hands or his affection to himself. And it wasn’t like it was just Kirishima, either.

A shit ton of people in their classes were fucking dating. It was a totally dumb, normal thing for people to do in high school.

A totally dumb, normal thing for people to do in high school that Katsuki somehow fucking forgot was a totally dumb, normal thing for people to do in high school. So the first time he saw Kirishima walking down the hall holding Steel-Kirishima’s hand and laughing loudly in that way he did when he was pleased and flustered, he’d justified the sudden punch-like swooping of air leaving his lungs with the fact that he’d never given dating or anything similar any kind of thought until the idea of it was literally thrust in front of his face.

It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Kirishima. It didn’t. Because Kirishima was his friend, his best friend, the first one he’d ever had that wasn’t some how psychologically taxing or morally questionable. And like hell was he going to let something like Kirishima having a goddamn boyfriend get in the way of that. He’d earned that friendship, had pummeled through defense mechanisms and exterior walls he hadn’t even realized he’d been constructing until they already stood 20-feet tall just to have it.

So it was completely rational for him to burst into Kirishima’s room without knocking any time he realized Steel-Kirishima and him were alone in there, and it was completely reasonable for him to always take the middle seat on the couch between them during movie nights with the Bakusquad, and it was completely fucking appropriate for him to take Kirishima’s cellphone and lock it away in the toolbox in his closet when he’d catch Kirishima texting his boyfriend when they were supposed to be studying!

He was trying to save his friendship from being ripped apart by the ever-looming presence of another person in their two-people-comfortable space.

But when Monoma had made a big scene in Lunch Rush about how he’d yet to see Kirishima and Steel-Kirishima kiss, and when the two idiots had grown impossibly red in the face, chuckling nervously, before Kirishima had shrugged and leaned across the table to press his lips against the other’s -

There was nothing logical about the way that Katsuki had reacted to that.

He hadn’t meant to shove himself so hard out of his seat that he had knocked over several people’s trays onto the floor, though he’d hardly even registered that he’d done it at the time. He hadn’t known where his feet were taking him when he’d started across the room, straight to where Kirishima now spent most of his lunches eating with the Class B extras. He hadn’t known what he’d meant to accomplish by slamming an explosion onto the table between the two of them, successfully lurching them away from each other and startling the entire cafeteria.

He really hadn’t known what he’d been expecting when he grabbed Steel-Kirishima by the collar of his uniform, reared his right fist back, and smashed his knuckles so hard into his cheek that the resounding crack and break of flesh and bone against hardened steel had made Monoma faint on the spot.

He really hadn’t known what the fuck he’d been thinking at all, but now that he sat on the bed in Recovery Girl’s office, his newly healed knuckles wrapped in tight bandages, with Kirishima sitting uncharacteristically silent beside him, he had to finally admit to himself that maybe the ever-present crushing weight in his chest whenever he saw Kirishima with his new boyfriend didn’t have anything to do with their friendship at all.

“I- is your hand okay?” Kirishima asked, even as his grip on the sheets of the nursery bed became impossibly tighter.

Katsuki clenched his jaw and continued to glare down at the floor between his boots. He’d yet to even look at Kirishima since the redhead had hurried to usher him away from the rapidly growing chaotic scene that had burst forth as a result from his actions. He was such a fucking coward. He hated that.

“Bakugou? What... uh, what the heck, man?” Kirishima continued, sounding almost breathless.

Katsuki still didn’t say anything. If his hand wasn’t already so damn sore, he’d probably think about punching Kirishima too, for making him feel like this. Fuck.

“Listen, Tetsu -”

Katsuki snarled. “It was fucking stupid, it won’t happen again just, fuck, I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t think his shoulders had ever been this tight before. He wished Kirishima would stop fucking looking at him like that; like he was searching for something, something Katsuki didn’t know how to give him. He wasn’t fucking romantic. He wasn’t dateable, in any fucking way. This was so stupid. “I just fucking...” He waved a hand aggressively in the air, not knowing how to fucking articulate this thing that is happening that is probably the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

“I think I should tell you that -”

Oh god, a rejection, fuck, this was so damn... fuck.

“Just don’t fucking worry about it,” Katsuki spat, finally dragging his eyes away from the ground just long enough to glare. “I don’t need anything... things are just... I can fucking -”

“Bakugou!” Kirishima’s hands on his face were foreign and disarming enough to shut him up, and he instantly felt fueled with embarrassment and rage at the amusement dancing around in Kirishima’s bright eyes. “Tetsutetsu and I aren’t dating!”

Katsuki blinked at him incredulously. “What the shit are you talking about?”

Kirishima’s laugh was loud and giddy as he finally let his hands fall back into his own lap. He kicked his feet in that stupidly childish way he did and he eyed Katsuki with a look that made him think that, for the first time in all of their bickering, Kirishima had the upper hand here.

“Tetsutetsu and I aren’t actually dating, dude. He needed my help with something, and you know I’d never leave a bro hanging!” His grin grew even wider and more mischievous as he leaned into Katsuki’s shoulder with his own, but his voice was decidedly calmer and lower when he finally said, “You know you’re the only guy for me, Bakugou.”

Katsuki's palms crackled uselessly. “F-fuck you, I don’t know what... I don’t fucking - you piece of shit! Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!” He roared, and his cheeks felt impossibly hot, hotter than his hands even, when Kirishima laughed even harder, his own cheeks dusted a pink blush.

Katsuki raised his hand with every intention of slamming the most destructive blast he could possibly muster right into the center of Kirishima’s stupidly handsome face when he felt the familiar tingle of his quirk evaporating from the pores of his very being. Kirishima shot to his feet when Aizawa-sensei and Recovery Girl walked into the room, Aizawa’s scarf trailing along in the air in the tell-tale way it did when his quirk was activated.

“Sit down, Kirishima,” Aizawa instructed, exhausted with both of them already, as he closed the door behind him. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Katsuki and Kirishima groaned at the same time, but when Kirishima fell back down onto the cot, when his thigh pressed into Katsuki’s, it was hard for him to really feel that intimated by Aizawa’s reckless-problem-child-speech 2.0. He tried not to let his teacher notice how often he glanced at Kirishima out of the corner of his eye, at least.

#fake dating #drabble prompts #kiribakuhappiness drabble prompts #kiribaku fake dating #kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #bakugou x kirishima #asks

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wherearemyglassesbro · 3 years

Text

Omg omg omg omg everyone be quiet right now thank you @heyheyjay for THIS

For starters, it would absolutely have a very negative effect on Fran’s relationship with Arthur. He’s aware it’s irrational and his feelings are based on personal issues but having his rival/friend/lover defend a murderer? And have that murderer get away? Oh no, Fran would probably not talk to him for awhile after. Not because he’s mad AT Arthur, he just has to sort out his own feelings. He’s a complex guy and his feelings are like balls of colored yarn all tangled together. He has to take time to sort it all out and come to a conclusion. “I am not upset with you. I am upset with the outcome of that trial. I would like for us to go back to being friends again...If that’s alright...” he’s still closed off for awhile but eventually, he’ll open back up and go back to normal, the incident not forgotten but forgiven

The first two times Arthur saw Francis in a murder trial setting were VERY different. The first time, he was still somewhat of a rookie. He had gone up against Francis twice now in court and won both times. Now he wanted to study his way of speaking, his organization, his body language, that kind of stuff. So he sat in the crowd, off to the side out of the field of vison for the prosecutors booth.

Francis carried himself the same as usual. Confident and proud, speaking passionately on behalf of the victim, appealing to the jury. He did everything by the book and to be honest? Arthur was impressed. It was different watching him from the crowd than it was from the defense booth.

When Francis lost the trial, even Arthur was shocked. He watched him stiffly pack his papers away and leave the courtroom in a hurry. It was strange behavior for sure, something that he’d never seen before. Instead of his classic smile, he sported a frown and a look in his eyes that Arthur couldn’t place. To be nice, he caught up with him in the hallway “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to but I want to let you know, you did fantastic in there. I don’t know how on earth you lost that-“ “Leave me alone, Kirkland” Francis all but shoved past him, making a beeline for his car. Arthur could hear the squeal of his tires from inside the courthouse

That was not the loud, extravagant Francis he knew. That was someone else, someone sad and angry...Maybe Francis was more complex than he thought (Spoiler alert: Yes. He is)

The second time he witnessed a loss, he was far closer with the Frenchman. He knew his mannerisms and his body language. The two were teetering on the edge of being in a relationship or just being super close friends. Francis didn’t want Arthur to go to this trial but he insisted “It’s my day off. I’ll come support you and we can go to lunch afterwards. No big deal. I like seeing you in court” Francis was reluctant but had him sit in the second row anyways for moral support

Again, he did everything right. Arthur was criticizing the defense in his head ‘you dolt, you’re talking too much. It’s giving Francis the upper hand’. Of course he wanted Francis to win. Even as a defense attorney himself, he knows a guilty face when he sees one. He’s once again shocked when Francis loses

This time he notices how his hands shake, clenching and unclenching. There’s tension in his shoulders, the mask of confidence gone from his face. He was fighting to suppress a frown, swallowing around the lump of guilt in his throat

Francis apologized to his clients when the court was released, hugging them and shaking their hands, promising paperwork in the mail....yadda yadda. Arthur noticed how tired he looked, the way his shoulders now sagged in defeat

“You did great out there love” “I don’t need your pity, Arthur” “I’m not pitying you. You did everything right” “Apparently not”

Arthur led him to the parking lot, cupping his cheeks when they were out of the public eye “I know how it feels to lose something big like this. It stings, I know. However, it isn’t the end of the world”

“‘It isn’t the end of the world’? Are you kidding me? You’ll never-! Forget it. I’m going home” “Francis? We were-“ “I don’t care about lunch” and with that, he got in his car and sped off, tires screeching once again

Arthur is invited over for dinner later on, Francis apologizes for the way he reacted and Arthur assures him that it was no big deal. He expresses his emotions differently than Arthur does and he is still getting used to it! And this is Francis’s first relationship since Jeanne so he’s still re-learning how to open up about more serious or intense feelings. There’s a learning curve for them both.

So I also I think I’m gonna talk about Jeanne again cause I WAS gonna have a single post dedicated to her effect on Fran and Art’s relationship but I think lll....Just go over it here. There is a small fic at the end but I can’t even really call it that, it’s 2 paragraphs of text lol so yeah :)

More under the cut cause this is getting long and I feel bad clogging your dashes :0

So Art knew about Jeanne before he really knew Francis personally. Before he goes up against prosecutors, he asks Eliza about them and their argument styles, stuff like that. She advised him to stay away from murder trials if Fran managed to get his hands on one and since he didn’t know about Jeanne he was like ‘pfftt what? You think I can’t take him?’ And she was like ‘No...He can’t take you’ oh...

Eliza told him like...The bare minimum. Francis’s girlfriend was killed behind a small party store and he was the one who discovered her body. That’s all he knew about it

But when he and Fran started to get serious relationship-wise Francis decided to sit him down to have a talk with him, pouring his heart out to him after a long, draining day at the courthouse:

// Uhhhh tw for the rest for death mention and description of finding Jeanne after her death. Like...blood and all so if that makes you uncomfortable: this is your warning :0 //

“We dated for five years. From eight grade to twelfth...It was like we were joined at the hip. We were always together wether it be baking in the kitchen, studying at the library, going to the movies or attending church camp. We did it all together. Hell...In highschool, we were voted ‘cutest couple’ every year. She was my date for every school dance and she would have been my prom date too if... If she had lived” Francis choked out a sad laugh “She had the most beautiful dress picked out and I had a suit to match. She was so excited about it...”

“That day was my nightmare. I relive that day over and over again in my dreams, thinking about everything I could have done to prevent that outcome. I should have taken her to the store earlier. I should have gone in with her. I shouldn’t have answered the phone and gotten distracted when my friend called. She was in there for forty minutes just to grab some streamers and a bag of candy for a piñata... When I went in to look for her she wasn’t there. I looked around, called her name, called her phone...no answer. The cashier helped me look too as I started getting worried. In the bathrooms, the stock room, the janitors closet, behind the refrigerators...All that was left was the rear exit. She didn’t go out there right? No...that was unlike her...” tears started to slowly make their way down his cheeks “When we pushed the door open, I remember seeing the pool of blood right there on the ground and thinking it was just a puddle. How wrong was I. My legs moved on their own, I rounded the corner and there she was. Her hair was covered in blood from the gash across her temple, her favorite floral blouse ripped and dirty. Her purse was gone. She was just laying there on the dirty, cold asphalt” Francis shook his head, rubbing his face as the memory replayed once more

“Out of the corner of our eyes, the cashier and I saw the perpetrator and he chased him down, catching him and sitting on him until the police arrived. I called them...I don’t even remember making the call but I distinctly remember them telling me not to touch her- not to mess with the ‘evidence’. I didn’t listen. I sat in the pool of blood and held her until the ambulance arrived, petting her hair as she slowly went cold in my arms...Praying that just maybe she’d make it. They were too late. I was too late.”

“What was it all for, you ask? That evil son of a bitch wanted her money. She only had $10 on her that day. He killed her over $10! And after all of my pain, her family’s suffering, that fucker got to walk free after two years? Two years! It isn’t fair at all. I don’t mean to ramble too much but before you and I become anything too serious I just- I need you to know about her. She made me who I am today, she’s the reason I practice law, she’s always here with me” he clutched his cross necklace in his shaky hand “Just because I still love her does not mean I love you any less, Arthur. I will always be here for you but at the same time, I will be there for her. I’ll still visit her grave and her parents...I’ll have her picture on the mantle...”

Arthur reached out to rest a hand on the blond’s arm. This was a new side of Francis he hadn’t seen before. Sure he knew about Jeanne by now, he had seen her picture in Francis’s apartment. He knew the other took the two hour trip up north to visit Jeanne’s grave and her family every other month. He knew she was important to him but he had never heard the full story like this before. He truly didn’t know the extent of the damage that day had done “I understand, dear. If Jeanne is important to you, she’s important to me. She’ll always have a place here with us” he assured, pulling Francis in to hug him against his chest to let him cry “I don’t think I can begin to express how badly I feel for you. But you can always confide in me, I’ll be here because I lo-like you a lot. I want you to be open with me. This...is a lot to bottle up” Francis nodded and wiped his eyes as Arthur brushed his curls out of his face “If it isn’t overstepping any boundaries, maybe I could come up north with you next time you go to visit her?”

“I...I think I’d like that. I’ve already told her and her family about you. I’m sure they’d love to meet you”

———

Well I hope that wasn’t bad! I haven’t written in a fic format in uhhh hehe a year or so so...yeah! Anyways! Yup! That’s all for now :) ❤️ thanks for reading this far if y’all did!!!!

((Looking back I hate the formatting of the ficlet thingy but tbh there’s not much I can do about it now :) ))

#lawyer au :)#aph england #aph france #Fruk #I feel bad putting this in the h/talia tags so uhhh....yeah #I only used those three for blog navigation so...sorry :)#anyway!!! this was a lot of fun!!#enjoy the word vomit ❤️😄

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