#we think Bubbles scratched her eye while rough housing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Little Hope

(Platonic SBI Famliy x child reader)

Request 6: An imagine or Drabble about sbi family x reader where the reader is the newest adoptee to the family and it turns out they sleepwalk! They do random things like moving stuff around, talking to empty air, and can sometimes end up waking up nowhere near their bed. Just harmless shenanigans that might be spooky at first but are ultimately funny and endearing in a way.

Requested By: @0melodydrifter0

When Phil brought home a little girl wrapped in a blanket Wilbur was pissed, another child his father had adopted that Phil couldn’t take care of, another child that would end up being his and Techno’s duty to raise. However, something was different in his father’s eyes as he held the young girl close to his chest,

“Dad?” Wilbur murmured an eyebrow raised suspiciously high on his head, “What’s that?” He watched his father wince a little cradling the toddler closer to him,

“Wilbur...this is (Y/n). She’s going to be your new little sister.” Wilbur grits his teeth and felt rage flood through his veins again, not at the little one, no he couldn’t blame the child for his father’s savior complex. “An old friend of mine village was raided, he asked for my help but by the time I got there everyone was dead, everyone except her.” Phil moved some stray hair out from the kid’s eyes, “I couldn’t leave her for dead Wilbur.” Wilbur’s face softened a little bit, now wasn’t the time to argue with his father, especially since he had just lost a friend.

“Could I...see her?” He asked hesitantly as Phil knelt down beside one of his eldest, Wilbur noted the girl had flecks of (h/c) hair on her forehead, her face was covered in soot and ash, he noted she had the brightest (e/c) eyes he’s ever seen. She was quiet, very different from Tommy already, she reached up and touched the side of Wilbur’s cheek with a pudgy hand. The boy was done for after that, vowing up and down that he’d be the best big brother in the world to her even if it killed him.

Much better than Tommy and Techno too.

Speaking of the first time Tommy and Techno met you it was quite the experience. Tommy basked in the fact of no longer being the youngest member of the family and Techno was quick to remind him the being the middle child was far worse. Tommy had called him a bitch and Phil told him not to curse in front of his sister which he huffed at, swearing to Phil that her first word would be fuck.

He got hit on the back of his head for that comment.

Technoblade was indifferent about that situation, saying orphans were cringe and that you smelled bad, Wilbur was okay with both of these outcomes. As he stated earlier he was going to be the favorite brother whether you knew it or not.

By the time you were ten years old Wilbur’s wish had come true, you stuck by his side and were a quiet staple in his life. He also spoiled you rotten, he made you songs and snuck you cookies when Phil wasn’t looking, he’d do anything to see that smile a smile on your face. However, much to his displeasure it seemed that both Technoblade and Tommy were encroaching on his little happy bubble with his sister.

It started with Technoblade, he noticed you following him around more often than not. At first, the hybrid was annoyed, he’d lock you out of his room and force you away by threatening to cut off your fingers if you didn’t leave him alone. However, that only made you cry and it made Techno panic if Phil heard you crying he’d be a dead man, and if Wilbur heard he’d be double dead. He began to try to hush you frantically, you didn’t calm down until he stated he would hang out with you a little longer. It shut you up immediately, oh you were a sneaky little shit, he could respect that. He decided he read to you if that was alright, you nodded eagerly, and he carried you into his room. You were a kid of few words and Technoblade could respect that, he pulled out a story about some of the ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Figuring the Art of War was probably too much for a ten-year-old, surprisingly he enjoyed himself. You were eager to learn and enjoyed the stories way more than he thought you would, okay maybe you bonded just a little. He had taken to calling you Moirai the greek goddess of destiny, not only that but Technoblade had started bringing you gifts from his adventures, something he never did for anyone else.

Therefore Wilbur was feeling VERY threatened and Technoblade LOVED it.

However, while the both of them were having their little pissing contest they didn’t notice their younger brother swooping in to join the fight for your attention. As the eldest were at war with themselves, Tommy had taken to sneaking you out of the house to cause trouble by his side. After all, no sister of his was going to be boring like Wilbur and Technoblade, she was going to be as awesome as he was if he had anything to say about it. So when he snuck you out one night against their wishes when they were too busy to notice he decided to take full advantage of that opportunity. He adored hearing your enthusiastic giggles as he tore through the forest with you on his shoulders.

You were typically a very quiet child, so to hear you laugh because of him made Tommy preen with delight. Your fingers were twisted in his blonde locks as you steered him like a horse, it hurt like hell but so long as it kept you steady he really didn’t mind.

The joy didn’t last long because Wilbur and Technoblade had found them not soon after he escaped their clutches. Techno plucked you off his shoulders and held you in his arms, you let out a little whine of disappointment and Tommy frowned,

“Oh come on Technoblade don’t be an asshole!”

“Don’t curse in front of (Y/n), Tommy.” Wilbur hissed hitting him on the back of his head, “you can’t just run off with her it’s dangerous!”

“I can protect her just fine you bitch!”

“Oh please, you can barely protect yourself.” Technoblade scoffed as you began to play with his pink hair, hating the tense atmosphere. Tommy snarled at his brother and moved to punch him in the chest but Techno was quick to sidestep them, “nice one genius.”

“FUCK OFF!”

You let out a displeased whine and covered your ears at the volume Tommy shouted,

“Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur hissed “You’re way too loud and you’re upsetting her.”

“WE WERE HAVING A LOVELY TIME UNTIL YOU FUCKERS RUINED IT!”

“Tom-Tom please shush,” You pressed a finger to your mouth in distress, mimicking a hushing movement. His face faltered, his voice lowering in volume as he apologized softly towards you. “Thank you,” a big smile spread across your lips, and all three brothers visibly relaxed.

“Alright little one,” Wilbur spoke tenderly running a hand through your hair his heart-melting a little as you nuzzled against it. “Let’s get you home, it’s way past your bedtime.” You groaned in distaste falling against Techno’s shoulder with a soft thud, the man chuckled softly as all three brothers walked back home.

It was about two months after that when your happy facade came crashing down around you, it had been a particularly rough day. Everyone seemed to be busy with one thing or another and you were left to your own devices and thoughts. They all came rushing back to you, the memories of the day your village got raided and your bio parents passed away. Wilbur was the first to notice something was wrong and had asked Phil to check up on you, so when Phil finally got around to ask what was wrong you burst into tears. That’s when they discovered you apparently remembered more of the incident than you let on. It broke their hearts to see you so upset over something you had no control over, but like everyone else in their family of misfits, you blamed yourself for simply surviving the tragedy.

They had made sure to coddle you the rest of the day, Technoblade had made sure to make you your favorite food for dinner. Phil and Wilbur tried to keep you busy with music and potion brewing and Tommy played some discs to help you fall asleep. You did so smiling and his heart soared, point to Tommy for getting you to fall asleep with a smile.

Your found family had gathered that night to discuss what they should do with you moving forward. Phil had declared they all do their best to keep you distracted the next few days, preferably in shifts if that was needed. Wilbur offered to spend the morning with you, he wanted to visit Niki and Sally and both of them loved you if anyone would cheer you up they would. Tommy offered the afternoon and he could bring Tubbo over and you all could play soldiers, Techno said he’d handle the nights with Phil.

Everyone settled into bed to get a much-needed rest, out of all the brothers Technoblade was the lightest sleeper. So when he woke up in a cold sweat with you standing over his bed he almost shit himself. You had a glassy look in your (e/c) eyes,

“(Y/n)? What are you doing? Do you know how late it is?” Technoblade scolded reaching out to grab his glasses, you didn’t respond to him which made his nose scrunch up. “Did you have a nightmare?” His voice got quieter as he reached out to cup your cheek, still no response from you. “Kid?” He sat up as you turned away from him to wander back out the door, “what just happened?” He murmured scratching under his chin, he’d have to bring this up tomorrow.

Wilbur was concerned and immediately wanted to seek a doctor, especially because you had no remembrance of the event. Phil ran a hand through his hair in thought, “could it be sleepwalking?”

“(Y/n)’s too cool to sleepwalk. What the fuck do you mean?” Tommy scoffed and you frowned eyebrows furrowing together.

“Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? She doesn’t remember walking around but it clearly happened. Hopefully, it was only a one-off occurrence and she’ll never do it again.”

“Is it bad if I do?” You whispered shuffling on your feet suddenly self-conscious, “Tommy doesn’t seem to think it’s good.” They all glared at the teenager who winced and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Phil knelt down in front of you and cupped your cheeks with his hands,

“It’s not bad. We just have to take some extra precautions for you is all, it’s perfectly normal especially after the trauma you went through.” You bit your lip and nodded within his hands, “Tommy’s an idiot-”

“Hey!-

“That doesn’t make you any less of a person and it doesn’t make you any more abnormal either,” Phil assured as Techno began snickering behind him, he turned his head to shoot him a look.

“What? It’s just funny assuring her she’s normal when no one in this house is normal.” Technoblade waved his hand, “we’re all a bunch of misfits- don’t give me that look you know it’s true. Half of us are hybrids and the other half are gremlins,” He motioned to Tommy again who made an indigent sound tired of being the butt of everyone’s teasing. “So she’s never gonna be normal, but she’s always gonna be one of us and we’ll kill anyone who even thinks about teasing her.”

Phil smiled sheepishly sweat gathering on his brow, “Let’s not kill anyone Techno at least not now. Especially if they’re children.”

“Now, now dad, Technoblade has a point.”

“Wilbur.” Phil scolded as Tommy’s face lit up,

“Can I punch a child?” You burst into laughter at Phil’s horrified expression,

“No Tommy. No, you cannot!”

“It’s okay papa I give them explicit permission to beat anyone up who fucks with me!” You shouted and Tommy’s face once again lit up, he grabbed you out of Phil’s arms and held you close.

“You said Fuck! I’m so proud I’m teaching you so well!” He spun you around only causing you to laugh harder as the older members of your family glared at Tommy, “Now say it again!”

Wilbur plucked you from Tommy’s arms glaring at his brother, “No. No, she won’t say it again. That’s a bad word you can’t say it till you’re older.” A pout settled on your lips as you crossed your arms in frustration.

“But Tommy gets to say it all the time.”

“And he’s older.” Phil let out a chuckle at Wilbur's response watching you slump forward with a loud groan of absolute torment.

You didn’t sleepwalk again until a few months later, everyone had relatively assumed it was a one-off occurrence and their watchful eye was lifted. In the meantime Tommy had started to maybe sort of sneak out; he had his bag all packed and planned to meet Tubbo in the park. They both wanted to go monster hunting on their own, it wasn’t their first rodeo but it still wasn’t something he was supposed to do without his dad's permission.

Tommy didn’t give a shit about permission though.

Obviously.

He grabbed his sword from its place in the living room, Tommy held it up with a wicked smile. It shone in the dim light and he could see the reflection of his face inside it, it must’ve been freshly polished. Tommy put his sword in its holster and turned around, immediately letting out a startled yelp slapping his hands over his mouth. You were standing behind him eyes glassy as you blinked blearily at him,

“(Y/n)?” Tommy whisper hissed glaring at you harshly, “What the fuck are you doing awake?” You didn’t respond, only walking past him reaching for a sword of your own, his eyes widened frantically and steered you away from the sharp weaponry. “Are you sleepwalking?” Tommy asked in mild concern before a smirk came across his face, “Guess I don’t have to worry about you snitching huh?” He slowly led you into Phil’s room opening the door and shoving you in before shutting the door. Tommy made quick work of grabbing everything else needed before heading out of the house to meet up with Tubbo.

Phil woke up to you standing over him, looming, and it almost sent him into a heart attack. He knew immediately you were sleepwalking, “Oh honey...come ‘ere.” He pulled you into bed with him and watched your eyes drift close and snuggle up to him. At least you were safe with him, so long as you didn’t start unlocking doors and injuring yourself they could handle this.

After telling the other brothers about the incident last night Wilbur was only growing more concerned about your sleep state. He offered to take you to the doctor but Phil brushed him off, saying that normally this thing sorts themself out on their own. Since he was feeling rather protective Wilbur slept in the living room the next few nights just to make sure you didn’t go wandering off. Plus, Phil seemed to not only approve of but also grateful for the idea; so long as the old man could get much-needed rest he didn’t seem to care. Another week flew by with no problems, and he decided to spend one last night in the living room just to triple-check you weren’t going to sleepwalk.

He woke up to the sound of a hooting owl and soft banging against the wall, he tossed his hand over the back of the couch and he blinked blearily. Unlike his twin, he didn’t exactly have the razor-sharp reflexes that Technoblade was gifted with. Wilbur grabbed his glasses from the coffee table and shoved them on his face haphazardly.

What was that noise? Did Tommy sneak out again? He turned towards the opened door and it took a few moments to process why the door was open. Wilbur scratched the top of his head in confusion before his eyes snapped open in blatant realization. He tossed the blankets off the couch and scrambled out the door. Bare footprints were made in the mud leading away from your house, tiny you sized footprints.

Oh, he was so fucked. How long ago did you leave? Are you alright? It’s so cold and you weren’t wearing shoes.

Wilbur made sure to grab both of your jackets and shoved his feet in his boots before heading out the door. He saw his breath out in front of him and winced you must be so cold, hopefully, you weren’t dead if you were he was totally in big trouble. He followed your footprints until they stopped at the edge of the woods, he looked around frantically and anxiety prickled at his skin. If the trail went cold here there was no way he would be able to find you, what if you woke up in a completely different part of the SMP. Or worse yet what if someone kidnaps you and takes you away from them?

He entered the woods calling out your name desperately even though you wouldn’t respond if you were still asleep. Wilbur adjusted his glasses noticing a soft trail of broken leaves, he decided it was his best bet to follow them. Eventually, he came to a bit of a clearing in the woods that led up to a large cliff, Wilbur’s heart sunk. He felt his breathing stop as he walked towards the edge of the cliff, slowly like he didn’t want to know if he thinks what happened to you, happened to you. At the very top of the cliff is when he saw it, the bracelet you always wore on your wrist it was made of gold and Technoblade had gifted it to you after an adventure he had with Phil. He pulled the jewelry close to his chest and let out a shaky breath, tears swelled in his eyes as he peeked over the edge of the cliff. The poor boy couldn’t even see the bottom, Phil would have to fly down and search it, he was going to throw up.

“Wilby…?”

Oh god, he could still hear your sweet, little voice.

“What are you doing? Are you crying?”

Wait, that was your voice!

He whipped around to find you rubbing your tired eyes, your feet were bare and you were shivering. Wilbur tore through the bush and scooped you up in his arms, cuddling you close to him as he peppered kisses all over your face. “Ewww Wilby stop!” You said through giggles pushing his face away from your own,

“I’m so glad you’re alright. You were sleepwalking again, I thought…” His voice cracked a little as you tilted your head. You looked around his shoulder and eyed the cliff wearily, you nuzzled against his neck and squeezed him tightly.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.” He whispered against you, “let's get you home though alright? Want to have a sleepover with me?”

“Please. I’m scared I’ll wander off if I sleep alone again.” Wilbur nodded, running his fingers through your messy hair. For a girl your age, it was important to make sure you get a good night's sleep. As he carried you back home you ended up falling back asleep in his arms, he had a lot of time to think. He couldn’t believe that a few years ago he had despised the girl in his arms, thought of you as just another stowaway Phil brought home. You had managed to melt his heart and worm your way into not just his brain but his other brother’s brains as well. You had brought so much joy and happiness into their lives. Before you entered their lives there was arguing every night. Tommy and Techno were always at each other’s throats, Wilbur wasn’t any better, to be honest, but then you were there and everything changed. They had to get along and watch their language around you, you weirdly brought them together. Made them better and he couldn’t imagine what their lives would be like without their little hope.

2K notes · View notes

imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Text

Bubble Baths

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton X Reader (girlband!fem) (littlemix!reader x lewis)

Fandom - F1

Theme - It's been a stressful day, and your lover is there to make it better.

Another long day at a meeting with the girls had you tired and desperate for some serious relaxation. It had been a rough couple of weeks, since Jesy had announced that she was leaving, and the tabloids had begun to publish all sorts of rumors and stories about you girls. It had taken a toll on all of you, and it had never fully hit you how much you relied on each other until you were talking to each other every night to deal with the mess that was the tabloids. This particular meeting had been rough, as your managers brought up a certain article that had written that you girls had fought with Jesy and she had left, which had been the last straw for you.

That how you found yourself in the conference room of your management building, tears of frustration streaming down your cheeks as Perrie squeezed your hand that was enclosed within her palms, as Leigh-Anne rested her hand on your thigh, eyes shining with tears. Jade was sat opposite, jaw clenched and eyes focused on a spot on the wall behind your manager's head.

"And that's all for today girls. I know its tough, but.. all I can say is I'm sorry" Sam (your manager) said, pity filled eyes sweeping over the 4 faces in front of her, and the sadness and tiredness that seemed to hang over them like a cloud since the announcement. "Thanks Sam. We'll be fine" Jade said, in a voice that sounded nothing like her usual soft, chirpy voice, while Leigh Anne flashed her a tight lipped smile and Perrie nodded. You couldn't even look at her, vision clouded and head heavy with exhaustion.

As soon as everyone left the room, Jade was up, and walked over to the the side of the room where you guys where, settling down onto a chair next to Perrie with a sigh. "That was one hell of a meeting, right?" Perrie said, trying to ease the tension in the room. "One hell of a meeting sums it up" Leigh Anne said, rubbing her temples. "You okay babe?" Jade asked, looking at you with concern in her warm brown eyes. "I'm just exhausted, and sleepy. I just want to go home" you replied, voice cracking on the final word. "Oh hun, I know" Leigh Anne said, leaning forward to wrap your body in a hug. Perrie joined in too, resting her head on top of yours, as Jade moved to Leigh Anne, to rest her head on her shoulder.

"As lovely as this is, I think I'll head home now" you said, exhaustion detectable with each syllable that left your mouth, and the girls nodded understandingly." I think we should all go home and rest, and come back tomorrow feeling refreshed" Leigh Anne said, standing up and reaching for her handbag, and picking up her car keys. Slowly, the 4 of you left the room to make your way back home

~♡~ (lewis, Y/N)

Bubs - Are you on your way home ?

You - Yeah, the meeting just got over

Bubs - Good. Want me to run a bath, love?

You - Yes please.

Bubs - Alright then, I'll see you soon. Love you ❤❤

You - Love you ❤❤

~♡~

After what felt like an hour of driving, the sight of your home was pleasant enough to etch a smile onto your face. You couldn't wait to see Lewis and Roscoe and Luna, your bichon frise even though you had seen them before leaving for the meeting. The thought of relaxing in a bath was lovely, and you hurriedly parked your car, and ran up to the door. To say you had a big house was an understatement, but since you always had family members or friends or meetings going on at your house, you weren't complaining. As you unlocked the door with your keys, the sound of pawsteps became more and more prominent, and soon Roscoe's body appeared in the hallway, tail wagging as he saw you standing near the door.

Bending down, you scratched his ears and cuddled him, before taking off your shoes and coat, and walking in to find your boyfriend. Roscoe trotted along behind you, close to your feet, happy to have you back after 5 whole hours. That was a long time in doggyland ! "Luna! Come here girl!" You called, trying to find the pooch, and in reply, you received a little "wuff" from the kitchen. Smiling, the two of you walked into the kitchen, where Luna was sat near Lewis's feet, with her bowl near her paws. Lewis was pouring out some wine into glasses on a tray, and was talking to the doggo sat beside. He looked up as you entered, eyes lighting up immediately.

"Hi baby, I missed you"

"I missed you too"

Bending down, he pressed his lips to yours, as you melted into the kiss, hands coming up to hold his jaw, as your thumbs ran along his cheekbone. He rested his palm on your waist, fingers splayed out and tracing a pattern, as his other hand reached up to caress your face. Pulling away, you rested your head on his chest, eyes shutting as the exhaustion seemed to creep back into your body, and you wrapped your arms around him to keep steady. "Long day?" "You wouldn't believe it" "I ran you a bath" he mumbled, lips tracing the outer shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Thank you bubs" "Come on, it'll get cold"

Pulling away softly, you turned towards the door, turning to look at Lewis. "I'm coming, go on" Nodding your head softly, you slowly made your way up the stairs,until you reached the door of the master bedroom you shared. It was a big room, and it had an adjoining bathroom that overlooked a vineyard surrounding your property. It was beautiful, especially at this time of day. Walking into the bathroom, you shed your clothes and dropped them into the laundry basket, and pulled on a bathrobe. The bathtub was full, and Lewis had evidently gone all out for a romantic bath.

There were scented candles on the table you had across the tub, and on the floor, with rose petals floating in the tub. The bubbles had bubbled up as well, forming a little bubble hill. There was a wine cooler on the table as well, which was currently empty. As you took in the sight, Lewis came into the bathroom as well, a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild in his hands, on a tray with two wine glasses. Smiling at you, he put the bottle into the cooler, and set the tray onto the table, stripping off his clothes once he was done. Your eyes ran along his body, the tattoos coming into view one by one, his heavily toned body a sight for sore eyes. "As much as I love the way your looking at me, its not fair that only I get naked" he said, looking at you with a smirk. "Shut up, its not my fault you're built like a damn Greek God" you replied, untying your robe and letting it fall to the floor.

You didn't miss the way his eyes darkened slightly, eyes running along your body, lingering on your curves a second longer than necessary, trailing down to your stomach, thighs, and your legs. "Whose looking at who now?" You said ,smirking back at him. He simply rolled his eyes at you, before walking over to the table to pour wine into both glasses, and then, he climbed into the tub. As his body disappeared momentarily under the bubbles, you couldn't help but whine, losing temporary sight of his toned body. Lewis laughed and shook his head, motioning for you to join him

Picking up your glass as well, you stepped into the tub, propping your feet up on the end of the tub, while your back pressed against his chest. His leg intertwined with yours, as he pressed a kiss to your head, and his free hand rested on yours, fingers interlacing at once, as he played a song on his playlist, on the speakers in the bathroom.

~♡~

As the warm water washed over your body, a sense of calm and relaxation sunk into you, as you let your head drop down onto Lewis's shoulder. Taking a sip of his wine, Lewis set his glass down on the floor, so both of his hands were free, and pressed his hands to your shoulders, squeezing down on them. He massaged your shoulders, trying to relieve the tension from your body, as you visibly relaxed against him. His hands trailed down towards your back, kneading away the knots, as you let out a soft moan at the feeling. "Feeling better baby?" He asked, dropping a kiss onto your neck. "Mmhmm" you replied basking in the relief.

As his hands trailed down towards your back, his lips explored a different path. He pressed them back to your neck, kissing different parts of your neck, until he found a pulse point. He sucked softly, and then suddenly bit down on the skin, while his tongue ran over the spot, soothing the bite. He sucked the spot until a mark appeared onto your skin, a purple mark you'd have to conceal before work tomorrow. His hands moved up from your back to caress your neck, before pressing down slightly, his thumb pressing the spot where he had given you a hickey.

His hands traveled further, ghosting over your collarbone, causing goosebumps to break across your body, before he caressed your chest, and cupped your bare torso. Shifting so he had better access to your front, he kissed down your chest, to the valley between your breasts, and then down to your stomach. He pushed his tongue out on your tummy, swirling patterns onto the skin. You couldn't help but release a moan again, hand reaching down to cup his jaw and lead him up to your face level, pressing your mouth to his in a open mouthed kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, one hand reaching to find your hand, and interlace your fingers once again, as Heaven by Julia Michaels played in the background.

Breaking away to catch your breath, you leaned back against his chest, panting softly with the tension that had built in the past 10 minutes. "I love you" you whispered, looking into his eyes, seeing the love you felt for him mirrored in his own eyes, as they swept your face, before his lips formed the same words and were pressed to yours again. This was bliss.

This was what you wanted, for the rest of your life. Someone who would be there for you on the rough days. Someone who would be there on the bad days, and love you through them. Someone who would kiss away the pain, and love you through it all. And as the song switched to 'Hero' by Enrique Iglesias, Lewis kissed you one more time, and let your body relax against his once again, fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin, yours tracing the various tattoos that were splayed along his body.

~♡~

A/N - ngl, this might be my favourite fic ever 🥺

Thank you so much for reading ❤❤

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagines #f1 imagines #lewis hamilton smut #f1 2021 #littlemix #littlemix!reader #perrie edwards #leighanne pinnock #jade thirlwall #enrique iglesias #julia michaels #Spotify #imthebadguyyyfics

343 notes · View notes

heisenbergresimp · 3 years

Text

Little Mouse

A karl heisenberg X fem! Reader fanfic

NSFW Do not interact if you are under 18.

TW: Non-Con Play (but is in fact consensual), rough sex, degredation, bondage.

it was a chilly spring evening. the snow had just melted but the earth was still frozen under your feet. you had been late at a friend’s house, sipping tea and talking. so, you had failed to notice as the sun began to drop in the sky.

once you had seen what time it was you had grabbed your shawl, thrown it over your shoulders and headed out.

you lived on the outskirts of the village with your lover. it had made you a bit of an outcast in the village. some people looked upon you with disgust, while other looked at you with pity. but your friends and remaning family seemed to understand your choices.

you didn’t care, you were happy with your beau.

to get home you had to head over to the ceremony site. moving the large stone chalice -hidden nearby - over the Dias to take you down to where the bridge was. from the bridge it was just a short walk home.

Normally the bridge was empty, very few people had a way to get to the bridge, which meant the walk was quiet and peaceful.

except today. today a large man was leaning against the crumbling stone on the bridge smoking a cigarette. the village knew him as one of mother Mirandas four lords, her lieutenant. Lord Heisenberg.

you felt yourself talked a big gulp of air before deciding to scurry over the bridge.

"Now, now, now little mouse. where do you think your going, not even going to say hello" the man said, taking a drag on his cigarette.

"s-sorry lord Heisenberg, I’m just heading home"

"Home? oh you’re that girl who lives near here. going home to your lover aren’t you, surprised he isn’t here to make sure you get home safely. lot of bad men in these areas"

by now he had dropped the cigarettes, extinguishing the bud underneath his boot. you could see his eyes behind his glasses, predatory, like a wolf stumbling upon a rabbit.

"Thank you for your concern lord Heisenberg, but I’ll be fine"

you tried to turn away, to get away from the dangerous wolf but he stood to his full height and walked in front of you, blocking your exit. you couldn’t help but o looks up and see his smirk. "Oh, don’t leave yet, little mouse. not before the fun has begun"

you raised your knee into his crotch. oh, you were going to pay for that later, but no one could blame your gut reaction. he took a s step or two back his eyes wide, wondering if you had actually just tried to kick him in the nuts.

he chuckled "you didn’t think that would work, did you little mouse. you’re going to pay for that"

you tried to run past him, but he grabbed you and threw you to the ground. while getting on top making sure to pin you down by your hips. "Stop wriggling or 'ill tie you up"

you don’t listen, just try to scramble away. you can see him grow more frustrated as he keeps having to pull you back. eventually he grabbed your hands and pinned them over your head while a piece of metal flew overhead. the metal wrapped around your hands and dug into the ground.

now you were truly trapped to this beast of a man.

he leaned down, warmth breath sliding over your air. the cold spring air mixed with the warm breath made you shiver "Guess you’re all mine now pet, I wouldn’t try to yell. even if anyone could hear you, they wouldn’t save you"

he bit your ear, nibbling it for a second before moving down to your neck and then your shoulder taking bites and leaving bruises. you could feel a moan bubble up in the back of your throat and bit your lip to keep it in.

"Oh no, little mouse. don’t keep those moans in" he grabbed your bottom lip and pulled it out from your teeth.

eventually he got to your chest. instead of unbuttoning all of the little buttons he simply grabbed the collar and yanked. buttons flew everywhere while your breast became exposed to the cold air.

Normally he would have a smart-ass quip but instead he just leaned down taking one nipple into his mouth while using a gloved hand to manipulate the other before switching, making sure both stood to full attention.

"Mmm, stop, someone might see" You beg, its pathetic but you have to at least try

"Who cares, worry they'll see what a whore you are, writhing under me"

he doesn’t bother to take off of the rest of your clothes, just lift up your skirt and pull down your underwear. you can see the wet spot on your panties.

"Wet for me? I knew you were a slut"

you try to disagree but he grabs you thighs and pulls them apart so he can have an uninterrupted view of your rosebud before going down on you. his tongue circles your clit sucking and nipping while your hips buck.

despite the cold whether sweat begins to form as you push your pussy closer to his face. Like a man starved he dives in, his tongue circling your clit. He knows exactly how to manipulate the little pearl till you’re a moaning mess

just as you begin to see stars, he pulls away. but its too late, your orgasm still happens and he watches as your hole contracts around nothing.

" I think your pussy needs something to fill it pet. I got just the tool."

he's taking off his clothes, letting you see the dozens of scares that mar his skin, the salt and pepper body hair that trails over his chest and from his navel to his rod which is engorged.

"You- you can’t, Lord Heinsberg" you pant "My partner, he's expecting me home soon"

"Oh, but he can’t make you feel this good, can he? now be a good slut and take me in."

he's on top of you now, lining up and entering you. you feel the metal binds on your arms fall away allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "Hold tight doll" is the last thing he says.

your sex turns animalistic, grunts and pants and moans as he pulls in and out of you, the occasional swear from his lips. you feel him move in and out of you, finding rhythm. in your ecstasy you indent your nails on his back and scratch.

at one point he flips you till you on your hands and knees and he behind. then he thrusts again taking you like a bitch in heat. he gets rougher and rougher, pulling your hair and forcing your head up so he can give you a bruising kiss.

his movement gets jerky but he reaches round and plays with your clit again so that you can cum.

his hips are moving frantically and every nerve in your body is alight with pleasure.

you come first milking his rod. he swears before giving you every last drop of his cum.

you collapse to the ground, feeling the cold stone underneath your face while he sits on his ass behind you.

a few moments passes and you feel him drape his trench coat over you. "Good girl, didn’t even use the safe word once" he says, wrapping his coat around you and lifting you up and on his lap.

"You okay, I didn’t mean to kneel you in the balls"

he chuckles "I’m fine, hot damn you were amazing. you played the helpless village girl to a tee"

"wasn’t hard, I played her for years before coming here"

sure, you had not one but two intense orgasms, and normally you wouldn’t want to get up from Heisenberg’s embrace, but today you were covered in dirt from the bridge.

"We should go home; I need a shower"

"Well let’s head back" he said lifting you up, bot even caring he was buck naked. "Keep this party going somewhere a bit warmer".

#karl heisenburg x reader #re8 karl heisenberg #re village #resident evil 8 #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil #karl heisenberg x reader headcannons #karl x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg headcanon

195 notes · View notes

vidalinav · 3 years

Note

im so happy you’re accepting prompts!! just know that there’s no pressure at all, and that we love your writing🤍 prompt: cassian and nesta talk about whether they’d still inevitably end up together if they weren’t mates and just alot of fluffy sweet banter

I did yours first because I really appreciated you saying that there was no pressure in completing it. I felt that and I thought it was the nicest thing in the world.

BUT It came out really stupid sorry so... I'm not going to tag anyone. However I will own my shame so here you go.

It's banter in the form of pillow talk, where Cassian constantly keeps Nesta up by asking her questions. In my brain, he goes on tangents and Nesta is the pragmatic one. That's like... okay Cassian. But again. STUPID!!!!!

“Do you think it would have been me?” Cassian asks as he tries to count constellations in fresh paint. “If we didn’t have the bond... would it have been us? I guess the real question is did the bond choose us from the start--our relationship destined? Or did the bond see us... how we acted and felt about each other, and some cosmic force recognized our love?

Nesta shifts in the bed, her eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Cassian these are not the type of questions you ask right before bed.”

But he has to ask, he always has to ask. There’s something about the darkness that has these questions bubbling out of his throat. “But think about it Nesta, don’t you think we’re sort of... odd.”

Cassian thinks about it all the time. There's no one more perfect for him then her and yet, he sees the way people look at them. His hands will always be stained with blood and Nesta is more fitted for white gloves and lace. And he knows she can hold a sword and fight with the best of them, but Nesta can fit anywhere and Cassian can’t fit.

“I mean I understand opposites attract,” he rambles on, “and we do have similarities, but we mostly fought in the beginning and yet I still wanted you even then. Was my want for you a part of the bond? Or was the bond part of wanting you? And if it’s the first, in another universe, in another time, would it have been me? And if it’s the second what if you hadn’t wanted me, too.”

Cassian turns to face her, the bed creaking as he moves. He watches as she frowns, her lashes casting shadows on her cheek. “I promised we’d have that time, but I never considered that in another life it might not have been me at all.”

It's not the first time he keeps her awake with some question or another.

Usually, she merely sighs exhausted at what do you think the meaning of life is? Does time even exist if we really think about it... Do you ever think about how you can know a person you’re entire life and only scratch the surface of who they are? Does that mean you can never really know a person truly in the first place and if that’s the case aren’t we all living with practical strangers?

More often than not Nesta’s covering her ears with the pillow, groaning while Cassian tries to pull it from her face. They’ve had a hundred and one nights like this. He wants a million more.

Cassian tries to catch his breath, almost wishing she’d groan or sigh or roll her eyes, play it off like it’s a stupid question because it is. he knows it is.

“So tell me,” he says, his words a whisper of worry, “what do you think? Was it always going to be us?

Nesta's brows furrow quizzically and she purses her lips. “I don’t know if you can tell this about me Cassian, but I don’t like many people.”

Cassian frowns at the words, “Is that an answer?”

Nesta shrugs, “I find it hard to believe I would have loved anyone else.”

“So you’re with me... by process of elimination?”

“Or...” She offers, her gaze alight with mirth, “you’re the exception.”

Hmm.

Cassian needs to think on that one.

“But hypothetically, what would you have done if it wasn’t me?” he goads. “We only exist because you turned fae, what if you hadn’t? There may or may not be a bond but the relationship is impractical if you’re human and I’m fae. You’d just get married to some poor bloke who gives you this large diamond ring and you have 12 children?”

Nesta scoffs, “Twelve?”

“Whatever number,” Cassian dismisses.

Nesta raises her hands to stop him, “we are not having twelve children.”

“That’s... a topic for another day,” Cassian waves off.

“No,” Nesta sings, “that’s a topic I will resolve now. We are not having twelve kids.”

“But I want a big family,” Cassian pleads, grabbing her hands and giving her that look that he knows makes her take pity on him.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “You’re head is big enough to fill up the entire house. We have no room for that many people. No. No!”

“The House is four stories. What are we suppose to do with all those rooms?”

“Cassian unless you are birthing these babies yourself in which I will fully support you emotionally, spiritually, and financially, we are not having twelve children. End of discussion.”

Cassian only grumbles out a response.

“And regarding your other question, I don’t know what I would’ve done. That scenario doesn’t exist. I’m fae, you’re fae. That’s it and unless we plan on dying tomorrow, I don’t know if we’d end up together in the next life. I don’t know if the bond keeps us coming back to each other. I don’t care. I want this life with you. I chose you and you chose me and we’re here together. And I guess, if the bond, or what I deem as love, means I’m going to have to answer these questions every night, then I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”

Nesta reaches for him, and Cassian shifts to make room for her. She settles her head on his outstretched arm. It tickles at his skin, but he can’t believe she’s just satisfied enough with that answer.

“Would you have married someone else though?”

Nesta sighs, but Cassian waits for the answer. She groans, mumbling about not getting any sleep.

“Probably,” she says at last. “Yes. If you want that answer, then yes. But quite honestly knowing my character and knowing the males in my town, we probably wouldn’t have lasted long. I would have killed him long before we ever reached twelve.”

Cassian laughs and Nesta brightens at the sound.

“Or he might have run head first into a moving carriage on his own accord. I wouldn’t have judged him.”

“How would you kill him?”

Nesta smirks, her eyes maliciously bright. “Poison... knives... a trip down the stairs.”

“Make it look like an accident.”

“Of course,” Nesta beams.

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Cassian says, noting his mate’s excitement.

Nesta sets her hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the rough stubble of his chin. “Murder is always on my mind.”

“I should probably stop keeping you up with my questions, then.”

Her lips are impossibly close to his, and he can feel her breath on his skin. “Maybe you should. I’m sure the House knows how to hide a body.”

Cassian laughs, the sound bright in the shadowed room. He’s sure that’s true and her lips raise at his calm shrug of acceptance. His eyes dart to her mouth.

Cassian wants to kiss her, but he has to tell her first.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she says, her lips nearly touching his.

Being near her is a relief. But hearing her speak is something else entirely. Maybe he asks her these questions because he wants to hear her voice into the last moments of the day. At all hours of the night.

Nesta wraps her hand around his hair and tugs.

But another question forms in his mind. “Would you’re family have approved of me?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, pulling away from him. Cassian grasps her arms, pulling her back. “Hey, come on now. You’ve indulged me this far.”

Nesta pretends to think about her answer, and as he waits she looks to the ceiling as if she’s actually thinking about it. Cassian can practically hear crickets.

“It’s taking you this long!”

“Well... I’m trying to be accurate!” She throws up her hands. “You know maybe they wouldn’t, because you’re not... princely. No offense.”

“None taken,” He remarks. Because he knows all too well the differences between them. Cassian doesn’t mind. She’ll be his queen. He can be her guard. Her knight. Whatever keeps her next to him.

“But then again, maybe they would because you are rich--hey!”

Nesta catches the pillow he throws and she throws it back at him. He catches it easily before it hits his face.

“Who hits their mate upside the head?” She yells.

Cassian rolls his eyes, “You hit me all the time.”

“I smack your butt. That is not the same.”

Cassian scoffs, “You won’t let me smack your butt.”

“That’s because you try to do it in public places!”

“Oh, so you’re okay if I tap your ass in private. You trying to tell me something Nes? Who knew you'd like to be spanked?”

Her cheeks redden and Cassian shrugs, thinking about it. "Actually I should've known that."

“I change my mind," She announces, grabbing his pillow, "they’d hate you and you know what? I would marry that man and I’d have twelve beautiful children!”

Then Nesta simply turns away from him and pulls the blanket over her head.

Cassian tries to pull the blanket down, but she doesn't loosen her grip. “Take that back! Nesta, take that back. I’m serious.”

“Nesta!” He hisses. “Nes, I’m not going to stop bothering you. Nesta!”

But Cassian slumps as the lump of blankets stays still. Nesta doesn’t even make a sound.

“How about I pretend you didn’t just tell me about one of your fantasies and I'll bring it back up later. I’ll even pretend I found it in one of your books."

He rubs at what he thinks is her ass and Nesta shoves down the blankets with a flourish. Her hair is a mess of tangles all over the pillow.

“I hate you,” she says.

Cassian grins, setting his palms on her reddened cheeks.

“I love you,” He says softly, lightly tracing her soft skin with his thumb. It’s a privilege to be near her, to touch her, to be loved by her. To laugh and laugh and laugh. It doesn’t matter how, when, what, or why. “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you.”

Cassian kisses her lightly, “I still think we should talk about those children though.”

He merely gets smacked in the face with a pillow.

Fin.

I keep reading this and I can't make it better, so.... you win some, you lose some, you know.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #oy vey did not want to post this one #but... you know exposure therapy #got to get used to ugly #I will not put my name on this #though #author unknown writes

117 notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

Text

Call Me When You’re Sober - George Weasley

Title: Call Me When You’re Sober Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, George x Angelina Johnson (kinda, sorta, not really) Warning: mentions of drug use!! Also some mentions of sexual things like sexting/sending nudes and one mention of a boner. I also use the word tits a few times. Summary: George only seems to have the time for Y/N when he’s high, and that’s just not enough for her anymore. (This is also a modern au where they have cell phones and social media bc why not) A/N: this is for an anon that wanted a fic based off of a tiktok POV they saw and funnily enough that POV ended up on my fyp last week so you can find that here if you want. The only part I was inspired by was Angelina being present, but that part was specifically mentioned in the request everything else is purely from my own brain!! This also includes a bit of Angelina Johnson slander but it does not represent my actual views. Angelina slander is not welcome in this house. Feedback is always welcome and requests are open! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27

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

The first time it happens Y/N answers the phone right away.

“George? What’s wrong?” she asks frantically, already getting out of bed. It’s three am and George never calls even at a decent hour, so she assumes that something has gone wrong and he needs help.

“Hey, Y/N,” George drawls slowly, like his mouth is moving in slow motion.

Y/N pauses in the middle of her bedroom, her hand hovering above her car keys. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” George certainly sounds off, but he doesn’t necessarily sound like he’s in need of her rescuing. When all George does is giggle in response, Y/N groans. “Are you high?”

“High on life!” George responds, prompting Y/N to roll her eyes. She shuffles back over to her bed and climbs back in, snuggling under the covers. “And maybe a little bit of weed,” he adds with a laugh.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile on her face. George is one of her favorite people in the world, and it’s hard for her to stay mad at him. “A little bit?” she teases. “You sound baked out of your mind.”

George lets out a throaty laugh, and Y/N closes her eyes, making it seem like he’s there in the room with her. They don’t get to see each other often now that they’re both out of school and busy with their lives, and George’s aversion to phone calls means all she has to get her through their periods of time apart are short text messages and stupid memes. Hearing his voice sends shivers down her spine, and if it wasn’t so late she’d be driving to wherever he is to climb into his arms.

“What can I say? Freddie got the good stuff now that we can afford it.” Y/N can hear some rustling, and she figures that he’s laying back onto his bed. “Not like back when we were at Hoggywarts. Remember those days?”

Y/N hums as she lets her mind wander back to their school days. It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while Fred or George would sneak out of the castle down to Hogsmeade to buy off of a guy that works at the Hogshead Inn. They would settle into their dorm along with Lee and after placing some spells on the room and throwing the windows open they’d light up and pass the joint around until nothing was left. The weed was cheap and burned their lungs, but none of them cared. It left them all feeling like they were floating, and they would talk for hours about nothing in particular.

George always got handsy when he was high, and Y/N supposes this is where her feelings for him started. Once the joint burned out George would pull her body close and let his hands roam all over it as he talked with the boys idly. Y/N would run her hands through his hair and scratch at his scalp, her face pressed tightly to his neck. They often ended up falling asleep together wherever they had landed, sometimes it was George’s bed, but it was usually the floor, swaddled in some random blankets and pillows from the common room. Y/N was always the first to wake up, and she’d hug George tightly for one more fleeting moment before sneaking out and back into her own dorm.

“You roll the best joints, Y/N,” George continues when Y/N doesn’t say anything. “Fred is so shit at it. No matter how many times you showed him how to do it.”

“Very sweet of you to say, Georgie,” Y/N laughs. She yawns a moment later, desperately trying to fight off sleep. “Though you were always more fond of smoking from a bowl if I remember correctly.

George yawns too and Y/N can hear him climbing under the covers of his bed. “I am. But smoking joints reminds me of you.”

“George,” Y/N says softly, sitting up in bed. She waits for him to say something, but all she’s met with are his light snores. She rolls her eyes, settling back down into her pillows. “Goodnight, George.” Y/N hangs up her phone and places it on her nightstand before letting memories of George lull her back to sleep.

The next time it happens Y/N doesn’t hear her phone the first time. She’s out of town for work, and after a long day she’d collapsed right onto the bed in her hotel room, formal clothes still on and everything. Y/N had ignored her phone the first time, hoping to fall back asleep. But when it started to ring again only seconds after it stopped she picks up her phone and answers the call without bothering to see who it is.

“Hullo?” she answers sleepily, her eyes barely open. She glances at the clock, noting that it’s only 10 pm and figures that it’s one of her coworkers inviting her to go out with them.

“You sound sleepy,” George responds softly, his voice deep and languid. “Did I wake you up?”

Y/N sits up in bed, rubbing some of the sleep from her eyes. “George?”

George laughs. “Who else would it be?”

“Considering the fact that this is literally the second time you’ve ever called me I figured it would be anyone else besides you,” Y/N teases, shrugging out of her suit jacket.

“Hey,” George whines, and Y/N can practically hear the pout on his face. “I called you on your birthday.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Oh, you’re right, my mistake.” She pauses as she walks over to the dresser in the room, starting to take off her jewelry. “How baked are you this time?” she asks playfully.

“What makes you think I’m high?” George laughs.

“For one the sound of your voice,” Y/N explains as she kicks off her heels. “And you only call me when you’re high. Oh, and on my birthday,” she adds when George makes a noise of disapproval.

Y/N hears George shuffle around, and she takes the opportunity to put him on speaker so she can put her phone down and start getting rid of the rest of her clothes. “You can tell by my voice?”

“Mhm,” Y/N hums, fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. “It gets deeper and slower.”

“Really?” George asks, sounding surprised. “Does it sound sexy?”

Y/N laughs as she heads over towards her suitcase, taking off her bra as she goes. She starts to dig through the mess, trying to find her pajamas. “Super sexy,” she responds, hoping George is too high to notice how serious she is.

“What are you doing? You sound too far away.”

Y/N chuckles at George’s dramatics as her hands finally land on her sleep shirt. It’s an old t-shirt of George’s that she stole sometime during their last year and never gave back. Whenever Y/N travels for work she brings it with her as a reminder of home. “I’m putting my pajamas on.”

“So, you’re naked right now?” George’s voice is rough, and it sends a shiver right down her spine.

“Practically,” Y/N responds, pulling the shirt over her head. It’s far too large for her so the hem barely brushes the tops of her thighs, but it reminds her of George, and that’s what matters.

George groans, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up as she crawls back into bed. “Wish I was there to see.” Y/N can feel butterflies erupt in her stomach and she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to conceal the noise that bubbles out of her throat. “Send me a pic of your tits,” he continues bluntly when Y/N doesn’t say anything.

“George!” Y/N says, the surprise in her tone evident. The butterflies in her stomach are going wild, and Y/N has to remind herself that it’s the weed talking, not George. “I’m not going to do that George.” Although Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted to. “Besides I’m already dressed and in bed.”

“What a party pooper,” George grumbles. “Got me all hard for nothing.” Y/N’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. George has never been this lewd with her in all the times they’ve been high together, and she wonders if it’s because of whatever he smoked or because this is one of the only times they’ve been alone while one of them was baked. “What are you wearing then? A sexy little nighty?”

Y/N has to take a few deep breaths, hardly able to believe what she’s hearing. Part of her wants to tell George to knock it off and hang up on him. But the other part has wanted to hear George talk to her like this since their Hogwarts days and she doesn’t know which part should win.

“One of your old t-shirts, actually,” Y/N responds quietly, giving in to her desires.

George groans, and it takes everything in Y/N’s power not to shove a hand down her panties. “That red one? That I let you borrow and never saw again?”

“You remember that?” Y/N asks softly.

“Of course,” George answers. His voice is slower now and Y/N can tell he’s going to fall asleep any second. Smoking always makes him tired and he was often the target of a few pranks since he would be the first to nod off. “That’s like a guys wet dream. Seeing a girl that’s as pretty and sexy as you are in his clothes.”

Y/N bites her tongue as to not say anything, just listening to George through the phone. His breathing starts to slow down, and within a few seconds Y/N can tell he’s fallen into a deep sleep. She listens to him breathe for a moment, before hanging up and tossing her phone down. She cuddles up in the unfamiliar bed, desperately trying to fall asleep.

Every few weeks George’s name pops up on Y/N’s phone usually late at night and he’s always baked out of his mind. Y/N finds it nice the first half dozen times, George’s voice is always calming to her and she basks in the opportunity to get to speak with him. They haven’t seen each other in months, despite the fact that Y/N has tried to catch up with him several times. But he’s always got an excuse ready. At first Y/N understood, the joke shop is his number one priority, but after a while it gets insulting. When George is sober he can barely be bothered to send her a text message but the second he lights up he’s dialing her phone number.

One night when he calls she asks him why he doesn’t just invite her over to smoke. Her flat is only 30 minutes outside of London and he knows that she’d drive to the ends of the earth to see him. But of course he has an excuse. He says that it’s something just for him and Fred, a way to wind down together after a hectic workday. Which makes sense to Y/N, and as much as she wants to push it she doesn’t. If it were any other person she would have given up on their friendship by now. But George isn’t just any average person. He’s the person she cares most about in this world, and Y/N doesn’t want to live without him. So as shitty as it makes her feel to just be someone he calls when he’s too baked to care who he talks to, she puts up with it.

That is until she reaches her breaking point.

The last time it happens Y/N doesn’t answer her phone the first time it rings. Or the second time. She’s just gotten home from having a few drinks with friends and the alcohol has made her brave. She puts her phone on vibrate mode and leaves it on her bed as she gets ready to go to sleep. It takes her 20 minutes to get ready and once she’s finally in bed under the covers she picks up her phone to assess the damage.

“What the fuck George?” she whispers to herself, scrolling through the notifications on her phone. She has 15 missed calls from him and a litany of text messages.

Answer ur phone Y/N Y/N I called again Pls Answer me Y R u ignoring me Need to hear your voice Baby Y/N Im gonna call until u pick up Ill keep txtin 2 Baby please Y/N I need to talk to you I miss u Pls

When George’s name and the stupid photo of him Y/N set as his contact picture pop again Y/N sighs and she reluctantly answers. “What?”

“Oh my god finally,” George groans in his usual slow voice. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Because, George. I was busy. I have a life outside of you and your stupid little phone calls.” Her tone is harsh, and George is so quiet for a moment that Y/N has to check to make sure that he hasn’t hung up on her.

“Why are you so angry?” he asks a second later, and Y/N can tell he’s upset. Normally she would just drop the subject, but there’s alcohol thrumming through her veins and she’s tired of keeping it all in.

“Because, George,” Y/N sneers. “You only call me when you’re high. You dodge every attempt I make at seeing you and you barely even text me anymore. I thought we were friends George. But in reality you treat me like dirt. You use me whenever you want and then you cast me aside without another thought until you’re high again.”

“Y/N,” George starts, but he gets distracted when someone in the background starts to giggle wildly.

Y/N’s blood runs cold, immediately recognizing that laugh. “I thought smoking was something for only you and Fred, George?” Y/N asks accusatorily, sadness and hurt starting to mix with her anger. “I can’t believe you. Not only did you lie to me, but you can find the time to hang out with Angelina Johnson and not your best friend?”

“I-I’m here all alone, Y/N. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George stutters. But before Y/N can say anything, the same voice says something.

“Georgie,” Angelina whines. “You’re too far away, get back over here.”

“Y/N, I can explain,” George starts, but she cuts him off.

“Fuck you, George Weasley.” Y/N spits, before hanging up on him. She turns her phone off and slams it down, before burying her head in her pillow and crying herself to sleep.

When Y/N wakes up the next morning her head is pounding and her throat is dry, and it’s not just from the alcohol she drank. George broke her heart last night, and she has the dry tear tracks on her cheeks to prove it. Y/N avoids her phone, deciding she’s not quite ready for whatever is going to pop up when she turns it back on.

She gets ready for the day slowly, thankful that it’s still the weekend. Y/N stands in the shower for nearly an hour, just letting the hot water sting her skin. When she gets out she brushes her hair slowly, just looking at herself in the mirror. She can’t help but be as mad at herself as she is at George. George may have treated her like shit, but Y/N let him. She let herself become so desperate for his attention that she played right into his stupid game. And as much as Y/N hates to admit it, she doesn’t regret it for a second. All she’s ever craved was George’s undivided attention, and finally getting it felt so good, even if George was higher than a kite each time. Seeing his name pop up on her phone gave Y/N a thrill each time, even though she wanted more – deserved more. Y/N has always been there for George and all she wanted was for him to be there for her too.

Y/N picks out her comfiest lounging outfit, forcing herself not to automatically reach for the old shirt of George’s hanging in her closet. She’s been wearing it more often these days, craving the comfort of his embrace but settling for the cloth of his shirt instead. But now the sight of it makes her want to throw up.

She’s been up for nearly two hours when she settles back into bed, a hot cup of tea in her hands. Y/N’s not sure if she’s actually ready to face whatever mess George put them in last night, but sooner is better than later. She places her mug on her bedside table, reaching over to flip the framed photo she has of her and George over so she can’t see their smiling faces. When her phone finally boots up the screen shows just her background for a moment, before a barrage of texts, missed calls and voicemails show up. George has called nearly 100 times, with almost as many voicemails accompanying them and he’s texted over 200 times to boot.

Y/N scrolls through them, surprised to find that the most recent call and voicemail are from Fred. She can’t remember the last time Fred initiated a phone call with her, since he’s just as hard to get on the phone as George. Fred prefers to communicate through snapchats and tweets, so Y/N knows something big has gone on if Fred bothered to pick up his phone and make a call.

“Uh hey, Y/N. It’s me. Fred. But you probably already know that. Or maybe you don’t. Whatever, not important. I know this is probably the last thing you wanna hear since he’s left you like a thousand messages, but will you please call George? Or text him. Hell send him an email. He’s sorry for whatever it is he did. I’m not really sure what, he was crying a lot when he barged into my room and I was zooted as hell. But what matters is he’s sorry and he really wants to talk to you. So call him, please. Do it for me, at least even if you don’t do it for him. Okay anyway. Bye.”

Y/N sighs, running a hand through her hair. As pissed as she is, she hates to hear that George is upset. She chooses to ignore George’s voicemails for now, since they’re probably a mishmash of words and sobs considering how messy Fred said he was. She clicks on her text message app, scrolling through the messages George had sent, stopping every once and a while to read a few.

Y/N please Im srry Its sending me to voicemail Did u turn ur phone off Talk 2 me Pls y/n pls baby baby baby im sorry I need you to talk to me I need to hear ur voice Pls Let me explain I dnt care abt angie Not like how I care abt u Y/N please. Don’t do this I fucked up I knw I fucked up Let me make it right Please I love you, please

The last text message shocks Y/N, and she rereads it over and over again until its image is imprinted in her brain. George has only ever told her he loves her one other time. It was the last time they got high together, the night before he and Fred left to start the joke shop. Fred, George, Lee and her were all fairly baked, and after Fred and Lee left to sneak down to the kitchens for snacks, George had turned to Y/N and pulled her right into his lap. He had grabbed her face with both of his hands and looked deep into her eyes. I love you, you know that right? His tone was firm and when Y/N nodded he used his grip on her face to pull her into a kiss. It was uncoordinated and messy, but she didn’t care. He had mumbled the word ‘good’ when he pulled away and in a blink of an eye he’d drifted off to sleep. Y/N had snuck back into her own bed, figuring it was best to ignore it, since George surely wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.

A knock at her door brings Y/N out of her thoughts and she tosses her phone on the bed to go and answer it. She’s been expecting a package, so when Y/N reaches the door she doesn’t bother to check to see who it is, and just throws it open.

“You look like hell,” Y/N says when her eyes land on George. She certainly wasn’t expecting it to be him, but she’s truly not surprised. His text messages had sounded desperate and it’s very like George to just show up at her doorstep when she doesn’t want him to after he refused to come over for months. Y/N looks him over as he fidgets, taking in his disheveled appearance. His eyes are sullen and dull, his hair is sticking out in a million directions and his skin is ever paler than normal.

“Suppose I deserve that,” George responds, his voice raspy. He lets his eyes rake over Y/N, dumbfounded by how beautiful she looks even in her lounge wear. It’s the first time he’s seen her in person in over half a year and even though he’s spent much of his free time staring at her Instagram photos, she still takes his breath away. “You look good though.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and goes to slam the door, but George puts his hand up to stop it. “What do you want, George?”

“Just let me explain,” he pleads. “Just let me explain everything and then if you want I’ll go. I’ll leave and you’ll never have to talk to me or see me again. You can delete me from your life. But I can’t let you go without explaining myself.”

“Fine,” Y/N resolves, stepping aside and opening the door so George can come in. She leads him over to her couch and motions for him to sit down. Y/N resists her urge to sit next to him, instead choosing to stand in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. “Talk.”

George clears his throat and starts to fiddle with his thumbs. “I like calling you when I’m high because I say whatever comes to my mind. When I’m sober I think too much about what I’m going to say, and I never end up saying what I want. But when I’m high the words just fly out of my mouth without me thinking about the consequences and I like that. Because there’s so many things I want to say to you that I don’t have the balls to say when I’m sober.”

“Like asking me for tit pics?” Y/N asks with a curt laugh.

“Honestly, yes,” he answers, a blush forming on his cheeks. “But it’s more than that. Like telling you I smoke joints even though I despise them, and Fred can’t roll to save his life because it reminds me of you. Or that just the thought of you not wearing any clothes drives me wild. Or that I find you so ungodly beautiful and so damn sexy, Y/N. And that I love you.” George pauses for a moment so he can just watch Y/N. “Because I do love you, Y/N. So much more and in so many different ways than a best friend should.”

Y/N bites her lip to keep herself from sharing the same sentiment as George. Because holy hell does she love him with every fiber of her being, but he’s fucked up and hurt her in more ways than just his inability to admit his feelings. “Then why keep me at arm’s length, George? You avoid all my attempts to see you, you only ever bother talking to me when you’re baked out of your mind and you lie to me. Out of all the people in the world you had to smoke with it had to be her. You know how I feel about Angelina.”

Despite being roommates and pretty similar personality wise, Y/N and Angelina never really got along. They were always competing with each other, for the best grades in their year, for prefect and head girl, and Y/N is ashamed to admit that they’d fought over a boy or two in their early years at Hogwarts. But by far their biggest competition was for George’s attention. George couldn’t care less about girls during his time at Hogwarts, Fred didn’t either but at least he would sleep with some of the girls that threw themselves at him. George on the other hand didn’t seem to care. The only girl he ever bothered to spend meaningful time with was Y/N, and it drove Angelina up the wall. Angelina did everything she could to vie for George’s attention, including spreading a nasty rumor about Y/N during their 5th year. Much to Angelina’s disappointment it failed miserably, and they pretty much ignored each other from that day on.

“The Angelina thing is not my fault,” George insists. “She came into the shop just before we closed, and Fred invited her up and she accepted. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not let her in your room!” Y/N answers as if it’s obvious. “But this isn’t just about Angelina, I don’t want to talk about her. It’s about the fact that you’ve been treating me like shit, George. I’ve been trying so hard to get through to you and you stop me every time.”

“Because being around you and having to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you is too painful,” George admits honestly. “The only time I’m brave enough to be with you the way I want to is when I’m high. Why do you think I was always grabbing your ass after we smoked? Why I always made you cuddle me? Why I kissed you that night?”

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, clearly shocked. George had never mentioned it again and Y/N figured he was too high to remember what he said and did. It had upset her to no end that George returning her feelings was only a side effect of the weed, but she never brought it up to him in fear of ruining their relationship.

George scoffs. “Of course I do. When I woke up the next morning and you weren’t there I figured you didn’t feel the same way. So, I just never mentioned it, and when you didn’t either I figured you thought I was just being a high idiot like always and brushed it off. I never invited you to smoke after that because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you. And kissing you once is easy to explain away but kissing you every time we get high pretty obviously means something more. So, I would call you instead. And I’d lay in my bed high as hell pretending that you were there next to me until I fell asleep with you on the phone.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Y/N mutters. Before she has a chance to regret her actions, Y/N is throwing herself at George. She straddles his waist and kisses him hard, moaning when his hands land on her bum and give it a squeeze. “You’re such a fucking idiot,” she pants, starting to trail kisses across George’s jaw and down his neck. “But you’re my idiot.”

George chuckles before he grabs Y/N’s face so that he can kiss her again. Their lips move together slowly, and George starts to rub Y/N’s back lightly. “I love you,” he murmurs as their kiss breaks.

“I love you too,” Y/N responds, her head dizzy.

“Does this mean I get tit pics whenever I want?” George asks cheekily, laughing when Y/N slaps his chest.

“Only if you promise to only call me when you’re sober from now on,” Y/N bargains.

George grins at Y/N before leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Deal.”

#George Weasley #George Weasley imagine #gw #golden

984 notes · View notes

fandomness--randomness · 3 years

Text

Nerves {Jean Kirschtein x Fem!Reader} Modern/Highschool AU!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Jean's nervous to tell you about his feelings, but after a stressful day of nagging from his friends - he finally gets the courage to confess.

Playlist: Him and Hym (from banana fish)

Tags: @coltsbitch I hope you like it uwu

“You’re staring Jean-booooy!” Sasha teased, dragging an elbow into Jean’s ribs.

The brunette let out a grunt at the sudden intrusion and sent a glare towards the girl. “The fuck was that for?” He complained. Jean lightly shoved Sasha away as he rubbed at his now sore torso.

Sasha chuckled. Rolling her eyes as she put her head in her hands, she said, “you were staring at (Y/N). Again.” Across the table, Connie snickered into his hand.

Jean’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “No, I wasn’t. I just happened to be looking in her direction. That’s all.” Pushing away the lunch his mother had made him - which Sasha and Connie also made fun of - Jean leaned back in his chair.

Marco, the last and most sensible person of their friend group, cleared his throat. “Ah come on Jean,” he chastised, “they mean well. It’s just... well…” Marco trailed off for a second, a nervous hand coming up scratch at his freckled face. Jean raised an eyebrow at his longtime friend. “Well, you can be a bit obvious. And it hurts to watch sometimes.”

Much to the chagrin of Jean, Sasha and Connie were quick to join in once again.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Sasha exclaimed with a mouthful of fries. “We’re just trying to kick you into high gear and get you to finally ask (Y/N) out!”

Connie leaned forward onto the table. “Haven’t you been madly in love with her since you were like, what - 12?” He waved a lazy hand in the air.

A dark hue spread across Jean’s cheeks, which he quickly hid behind his hand. “Oh shut up ya baldy!” Jean yelled back. He groaned. “I’ve just known her since we were 12. As if I could fall in love with her at that age.”

Sasha let out a triumphant shriek. She practically climbed on top of the poor soccer player in her excitement. “You didn’t deny you love her!” She practically exclaimed to the entire cafeteria. Nearby tables went quiet and glanced their way.

“Shut up Sasha!” Jean retaliated, pushing her off of him. His blush had now reached far past his cheeks, decorating his ears in a pink hue.

Despite the anger radiating off of him, Sasha seemed unperturbed by her friend’s actions. Rather she seemed to get even happier. “Just go talk to her and ask her on a date already!” She said matter of factly before chomping on her slice of pizza.

Jean looked to Marco and Connie for help. As he expected, Connie agreed, saying something along the lines of finally getting with her and to stop acting like a lost puppy. But Marco! Instead of coming to his rescue, Marco simply nodded and agreed.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, Jean was the first to stand up and leave. In his anger and embarrassment he nearly forgot his lunchbox. He swiped it from Marco’s grasp without thanking him before stomping his way to his next class.

By the time he walked through the doorway of the chemistry class, his anger had dissipated and morphed into a mix of embarrassment and guilt at his actions.

“Stupid Sasha and Connie, trying to meddle in with my damn business. Damn Marco for not backing me up.” Jean grumbled as he sat on the stool.

A soft giggle to his left made him jump.

“Oh (Y/N)!” He said, his voice jumping an octave. He hadn’t even seen you as he ranted and raved under his breath.

“Hey Jean. It looks like you’ve had a bit of a rough day. Sasha and Connie being overbearing again?” You asked, moving a stray lock of hair from your face.

Jean gulped as your curious eyes stared up at him. He was always taller than most people his age, yet you made him feel like the smallest person in the world. You were - as cheesy as it was - different from the other girls in the school. At least to Jean. All the other girls at Paradis High, whether they were friends or strangers to Jean, had a level of unattainability. Some of them were for obvious reasons, such as Historia who practically had a bodyguard in the form of her butch girlfriend, but other reasons were much more transparent. Even if Jean did fantasize about bringing a girl on a date and being in a relationship - it always felt like some wacky dream.

But never with you. You always felt just a bit more physical, a bit more real to Jean. Maybe it was because of how comfortable you were with him or your constant curiosity that led to you getting into trouble that would have been easily avoidable (and sometimes dragging Jean down with you).

You were always just an arm’s distance away. A distance Jean didn’t dare cross, not at 12 years old and not at 17.

“Uh yeah, they were just getting on my ass about a girl. Marco wasn’t any help either, so I’m just a bit annoyed at them.” He finally responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blinked up at him for a moment before an expression of realization spread across your features like a wave. Excitedly, you grabbed onto his upper arm and pulled him down closer to you.

“Do you like a girl, Jean?!”

Jean thanked whatever mystical being out there that you had enough sense to whisper your conclusion to him, but then promptly cursed them out as you stared at him face to face. He could smell the mint you had after lunch fanning over his face.

Jean opened and closed his mouth quickly, unsure of how to respond, scared that if he spoke his voice would croak and falter.

Thankfully the chemistry teacher Dr. Hange walked in, earning everyone’s attention with a loud clap.

Letting go of Jean’s arm, you stood straight up in your chair and listened as Dr. Hange reviewed what today’s class would cover; but not before sending Jean a smirk.

Fidgeting with his fingers under the desk, Jean did his best to ignore your glances and overall presence, intent on willing the whole discussion about his crush out of existence. That is until you slid a small note to Jean’s side of the black desk. Scribbled in your clean handwriting was a request - no - an order.

You’re totally filling me in on this girl after school! I’m not taking no for an answer!

Jean sighed to himself, grimacing as your playful grin appeared at the edge of his vision.

“Jeeeaaan! Come on!” You whined, bouncing on his bed. “Why won’t you tell me who your crush is!”

Said boy let out a sigh as he dropped his book bag onto the floor next to his desk and all but collapsed into the gaming chair. Leaning his head back on the headrest, he answered in a taut voice. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Totally not because it’s you.” He thought.

You groaned in frustration, tossing and turning on his bed, inevitably ruining the nicely folded blankets. “Come on! I’ve known you since we were in middle school!”

Jean chuckled. “Yeah sure, if you count two kids bored out of their minds on family trips to the mountains only to never see each other until high school as knowing each other since middle school.”

Sitting up on the bed, you pouted at the brunette. “Damn. You really didn’t have to get specific about it.”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jean’s chest was uncontrollable. Doubling over in his chair, Jean finally looked at you for the first time since getting to his house. “Why shouldn’t I? When you showed up in the middle of last year and latched yourself onto me - everyone thought you were my secret girlfriend! Hell, even I was confused as to why you were practically glued to my arm.”

Jean continued to laugh, more to himself now. When his laughter finally fizzled away and his eyes were no longer clouded by tears, he sat back up in his chair - only to go rigid again.

You had pulled your legs into your chest and were staring away from Jean. The sharp glint of your eyes told Jean that he had pissed you off.

“A shit (Y/N), I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Taking a deep breath, your body relaxed against itself.

“I know, you big idiot. It’s just… you were my first real friend. Of course I got excited when we reunited years later.” You chuckled to yourself at the memory of spotting him in the middle of homeroom. The joy and relief you felt that day was tremendous.

Standing up, Jean walked over to the bed and sat next to you before falling against his plush covers with a dulled thump. He patted the bed. A silent invitation for you to lay next to him. You took it and laid next to him, staring at the ceiling in silence.

No words were spoken between the two of you for some time. This is how it went sometimes. The two of you didn’t need to talk constantly to keep the energy comfortable and flowing. Comforting silences were a rare thing to have.

The soft breathing and heat radiating off of Jean nearly had you falling asleep. That is until he spoke up, startling you awake.

“She’s really sweet ya know.” Jean could see you turn to him with a raised eyebrow out of his peripheral. “The girl I like. She’s really sweet. A little overbearing with her physical affection, but nothing crazy. She’s… people-smart. She knows when to start and stop.” Jean could feel you shift on the bed so that your head was level with his. He continued talking without thinking of the consequences. “She’s got a few unconventional hobbies and does stupid shit all the time. Had to stitch up her pinkie finger once because she cut it while exploring an abandoned house.” Jean’s own pinkie moved towards your hand, making contact with your own pinkie finger. He traced the raised scar. “She’s super smart too and is always working to get better for herself. And… well I’ve liked her for a while but I was always scared to face the feelings she gave me whenever we hang out. I didn’t want to accept them. It was odd. I was used to never having a shot with the people I liked. But you… you just seemed to shoot right into me without me even realizing it.”

Finally, Jean had the courage to look at you. Your cheeks were darkened with a deep blush and your eyes twinkled. Jean didn’t say anything. He waited for your response with bated breath. The two of you laid there on dark covers for what felt like an eternity.

“For fucks sake (Y/N). Ya gotta respond to me.” Jean choked out in a harsh whisper. His hand was trembling from the nerves.

“I can play a 2 hour soccer game without issue, but I can’t make a simple confession without shaking? What the hell Jean.” He thought bitterly.

As though life was breathed back into you - you took a deep breath.

Quick and sudden nods.

Jean furrowed his eyebrows.

Your hand inched its way into his.

Jean pushed himself up onto his elbow and leaned over you

Your gleaming eyes flashed to his lips and back up to his eyes.

A silent exchange of words.

Leaning forward, Jean let his forehead lightly knock against yours. “Can I kiss you.”

“Please.”

Slowly, Jean let his lips ghost over yours. Just barely touching. As though Jean was scared any harsh movements would make you break. You surged into the kiss, squeezing onto his hand still interlocked with yours.

Jean internally groaned, the taste of your minty tongue invading his senses. If he didn’t stop kissing you now he was going to go crazy.

Pulling back from your lips, he stared down at you. You chuckled nervously, fingers twitching.

“What? Am I that bad of a kisser?”

Jean shook his head quickly. “No way. You’re amazing. Just… just fucking relieved you feel the same way.”

You smiled up at him. “I mean, of course. You were my first friend. Only makes sense that you were my first love too.”

Bonus:

“Jean-boy, I made some sandwiches for you and (Y/N) to e- OH!”

“Ma! It’s not what it looks like!”

“I’m so sorry! I’ll leave you two alone. Make sure to use protection!”

A pillow thudded against the freshly closed door and fell to the floor in a sad lump.

“SHUT UP MA!”

#jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein scenarios #jean kirschtein x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #jean kirschtein fluff

101 notes · View notes

me-and-your-husband · 3 years

Text

together || a. barber

Summary: You and Andy spend your Valentine’s Day together, basking in the glow of each other.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I wrote this for @drabblewithfrannybarnes @chrissquares and @amythedvdhoarder 's Hoelentine’s fic swap! This is a gift for the extremely deserving @trashywritestrash !

The blinding sunlight peeked through the translucent white curtains and brought life into the room. The warm glow on your skin roused you, and your eyes fluttered open to look at the man beside you who was radiating such an ethereal energy that he was almost glowing. The golden light shone on his bare chest and highlighted the few grays in his beard and hair. The rhythmic rising of his chest up and down as he breathed was rather calming, and the faintest creases showed at the corners of his eyes, evidence of many years of laughter.

While you were busy memorizing his every feature, the hand that wrapped around you subconsciously pulled you closer, burying your face in his neck. He still smelled of his cologne even after he showered last night. You smiled softly against his neck when you realized that even in his sleep, his subconscious knew that he wanted you close.

Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, brightening the room further. It was a Sunday, and Andy had the weekend off. He knew he wanted to spend the day with his girl on Valentine’s Day. When the birds stopped chirping and the streets became busy with a Sunday morning buzz, Andy stirred. Lifting your head from his neck, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes.

Resting a hand on the side of his cheek and softly scratching his beard, you took a moment to admire him further as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light.

“Morning, honey,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. “How did you sleep?”

His hands moved to rest on your hips. “You know I always sleep perfectly next to you,” you hummed. He huffed out a small laugh, before pulling you back into his chest.

“Y’know what day it is?” He teased.

“Of course I do, it’s National Organ Donor Day,” you smirked, lifting your head off his chest.

He chuckled, “Very funny, Y/N.” He pushed you off his chest playfully.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s Valentine’s Day,” you laughed.

“Oh really?” He said, words dripping in sarcasm. Leaning down, he brought his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, only parting when air became insufficient.

You groaned, though the dazed smile on your face contradicted you. “We should probably get out of bed. It’s almost ten thirty,” you gestured towards the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“Right. Wouldn’t wanna waste such a special day. We’ve gotta give thanks to the organ donors of America.”

The day continued as normal. Andy believed that spoiling his girl and showing her an abundance of affection shouldn’t be a one day a year thing. You and Andy ran a few errands and did a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon you slumped onto your couch after helping Andy carry the grocery bags through the door.

Finding your exhaustion quite amusing, Andy chuckled. “If you’re tired, you can go have a nap, honey.”

You let out a noise in between a whine and a groan. “No, it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to spend it together. Besides, we’ve got that reservation-”

“Forget the reservation,” Andy professed. Feeling the couch dip with his weight, you felt his large hand rub soothingly up and down your back. “I’m happy wherever you are. And it’ll be way better if you aren’t exhausted. Go sleep, I’ll make dinner.”

“Ngh, are you sure?” You asked him softly, to which he nodded his head solemnly.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up and threw yourself into your bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the kitchen, Andy was busy trying to boil pasta, cook chicken, cut vegetables and make sauce all at once, all while trying to be quiet as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber. Of course he succeeded, because it was Andy.

An hour and a half later, Andy scribbled on a bright green sticky note and placed it right on the screen of your phone so that you couldn’t miss it when you checked the time. Taking a moment to admire your sleeping state before creeping back out of the room, Andy couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. What if you said no? What would he do without you? It was so unhealthy to live for another person other than yourself, it was unhealthy to be so obsessed with someone else’s love that you wanted to be in their immediate vicinity at all times, and it was unhealthy to give your entire self solely to someone else. Andy knew it was unhealthy, and before you he reminded himself of that every day. But then you came along, with your glowing smile and radiance, and Andy couldn’t help but follow you like a lost puppy and bend his morals to fit you into his life completely.

It wasn’t like you did it on purpose. It wasn’t like you pranced into Andy’s life, took his whole heart in your hands, and forced him to trust you with it. No, he did that willingly. Who wouldn’t, though? You were anything but malicious with his soul. You guarded his heart like it belonged to the best man in the universe. Which to you, it did.

Andy was the person who you wanted to shield from everything wrong and harmful in the world. Together, the two of you could create a little opaque protective bubble in which you could dwell in together, blocking out the rest of the world and the world not bothering you. Loving Andy was not a decision you made, but it was one you were thankful for nonetheless.

The ringing of your alarm sounded, pulling you from your sleep. Stretching momentarily, you picked up your phone and aggressively tapped it to get it to stop ringing. When it didn’t, you opened up your eyes and after they adjusted to the light, you were met with the presence of a neon sticky note on your screen. You recognized Andy’s cursive:

Put something nice on, and come out when you’re ready.

You had to admit that you were curious, but you rolled out of bed and ruffled through your closet. After some indecisiveness, you settled on an outfit that you knew was Andy;s favorite. You put your hair up neatly and put any makeup you wished to wear on. It wasn’t long until you were ready, and when you were you opened your bedroom door and your ears were met with the soft hum of classical music. Walking down the hallway, you could tell that the house was dimly light, likely by candles.

You finally stood before Andy at the kitchen table, who was pouring a glass of wine for you and placing it next to your plate. It was filled with all sorts of foods, and your mouth watered at the display. Andy gestured for you to sit, so you did so. He had changed since earlier, he now wore his usual slacks and a dress shirt, but no tie this time.

“Andy,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” You gawked as you looked around. Grabbing your hands from across the table, Andy assured you that he did, that he needs to show you how much he loves you.

“Andy, you show me that every day. It’s laced in the little things you do like a drug.”

“And you’re addicted?” He asked smugly.

“And I’m addicted,” you confirmed.

Andy took a deep breath as his mind wandered to the small velvet box in his back pocket. Looking at you, he realized that he wanted to do this now. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the back door.

“Andy, where are we going?” You laughed.

“You’ll see.”

Sliding open the back door, Andy led you out and shut it again. He let go of your hand when you spun around to take in the scene. Strings of lights were strung across the yard, illuminating the area. They created a box around you. You looked up towards the sky. The stars were almost clear tonight, the city’s pollution making them harder to see, but they were still as clear as always.

Looking back down, you saw the man who held your heart in his hands, now holding a velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat and you let out a sob, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“Andy…” you choked out. He only let out a shaky breath.

“Y/N,” he began before he cleared his throat. “God, I pretty much recite speeches for a living and now I’m blanking on everything I practiced. Alright, I’m going to wing it,” he announced and you laughed with watery eyes.

“Y/N, darling, love of my life, it’s quite a ridiculous notion that someone would follow another person to the ends of the earth, but here we are. I would travel anywhere just to keep you within my reach. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Barber, to wear your wedding band and for you to wear this ring. I want to grow and have a family with you and grow old with you. You’re like my air. I need you. And I know you don’t need me, because you’re the most independent woman I know, but even thinking about you makes my chest hurt. So please, Y/N, before this kills me, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy! Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot! I love you, I love you, I love you!” You gushed, hurling yourself into his arms. Burying his face in your neck, his beard felt scratchy against your skin. You could feel the hot tears on his cheeks, as you were sure he could feel yours.

And the two of you stayed like that for a while. Just holding on to each other. You relished in the confirmation of your everlasting bond and the next step you’d be taking together. But really, you two just revelled in the notion of feeling so safe in your lover’s arms, knowing you’d protect each other from the world. Together.

TAGLIST:

@ilovemarvel-andcats

my other taglist members have been deactivated :(

#happyhoelentinesday2021 #happyhoelentine’schallenge2021 #andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #cevans x reader #cevans x you #cevans x y/n

193 notes · View notes

yejiroh · 3 years

Text

Runaway Bride

Yandere! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

Part 3

Authors note: Hello everyone! Thank you for being here for the (most likely) final part of the Runaway Bride story!

Tag list: @yanderes-are-the-best @ejeeart @misskuudere-chan @fatherrrora

***

It was a race against time. As the news reported false information, Chrollo and his subordinates continued to search for the Nen user they needed. Meanwhile, Y/n continued to change her appearance, running farther and farther away.

A rough hand slammed against the table, a chewed bullet resting beside it.

Gripping his hair, Uvo screamed in frustration as they had lost another person. It was amazing how many people had such a good sense of smell, yet died the second they smelled Y/n’s belongings.

“How many does that make?”

“I think that was the 19th person. “

“You’re kidding.”

“Uvo, there’s literally bodies behind your chair. “

Kortopi walked in, messy hair hiding his face like usual. He did not say anything, but a curt nod to the two made them stand up and follow him out of the hotel room.

Feitan stood in the hallway, knife in hand.

“Anything new?”

Shalnark shook his head ‘no’ with a sigh.

“The boss isn’t going to like this…”

Scratching his chin, Uvo pondered aloud “Why doesn’t he just take their Nen and use that? Doesn’t he take Nen abilities that he likes?”

“Doesn’t work like that, and Uvo, how come you’re the one coming up with all the ideas?”

‘I’m not sure. All I did was drink a case of beer this morning.”

“What are we gonna tell the boss? It’s already been some time- oh god, what if Y/n, you know- committed-”

“She wouldn’t do that unless it would be fun. It’s not fun when you’re scared.”

“Maybe she’s not scared? Huh, what about then, Uvo?”

“Would you two please shut u-”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT!”

“Hm?”

“Call the boss now, I just figured it out! Ooh, Y/n is smart!”

“No shit Shalnark.”

“Just call Chrollo.”

***

Dark eyes stared back at each other, the only thing separating the pur reflection was the spider web cracks of the glass mirror. Phone ringing, a gloved hand went to pick it it up, pressing the speaker icon.

“Any new-”

“BOSS! IT’S INTOXICATION! EVERYONE’S DYING BECAUSE OF INTOXICATION-”

“Explain Shalnark.”

A deep breath was heard in the other side of the phone, and the younger man began to speak rapidly.

“Okay, so basically, everyone- besides us, or people who have generally been close to Y/n for a while, are either passing out or dropping dead like flies right? It’s her! A part of her Nen- I think. Some sort of precaution since she was always on the move, ya know?”

“How does that help us find her?”

“Well, we just need someone who can sniff her out without any damage- so back to our original idea, we just need to smell her out! We had the wrong scent cause we were tracking her by her stuff, not her!”

Chrollo looked at himself, mouth slightly open. Of course! How had he not seen it before? Hadn’t Y/n mentioned something like that before? Smacking his head, he began to laugh, a wicked smile plastered on his face.

“Oh god, thank you Shalnark, I can do this on my own now- let everyone know to return to the hotel, and clean up the mess. My runaway bride is coming back.”

“Understood.”

Hanging up, the man hurried out of the bathroom, grabbing a black bag, laughing maniacally.

Now all Chrollo had to do was get ready.

***

Sweat dripped down the side of her nose, hitting the countertop. It was to be expected that running from Chrollo of all people would be difficult. Y/n shook her head, refusing to think of why it was a bad idea to run. The bastard had too much control over her already. A hand in her hair, Y/n looked up, having forgotten that she had cut quite a bit off earlier. Eyes on her hair, Y/n inhaled deeply, calming herself as she tried to stop the tears before they could come.

Gray eyes shone like jewels, boring into her own, soft strands of ebony hair framed his face beautifully as he looked down on Y/n, arms around her, a smile on his face.

“You’re so beautiful love, smile for me?”

“Chrollo, I’m nothing special- we both know that.”

“Ah, but you are; to me, you always look like you’ve just fallen from the heavens, just for me!”

A playful chuckle from Chrollo as he blushed. It was a cold night, and the secret visits he would make just for Y/n were treasured. Holding her closer, he moved a stray strand of hair from her face, pecking Y/n’s nose. Ticklish as it was, she let out a giggle.

“Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you love.”

“WHAT THE HELL! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ASSHOLE!”

Y/n hit the table, grabbing her keys. If she was going to dream about the man, it wasn't going to be now.

***

Various parts of red roses lay scattered on the floor thorns, petals, leaves, and if you looked very closely, pollen. Various gifts lined the walls, all wrapped up nicely. Soon, guests would be filling the seats, and Chrollo would once again stand at the altar, and once again he would expect Y/n too walk out those doors oh so bashfully. But this time he would take her hands into his own, tell her how utterly beautiful she looked, and skip the vows- the faster, the better.

Why was he even going through with marriage if he already had Y/n tightly wrapped around his finger, under lock and key? It’s not like they pay taxes, and he never wanted to marry- and Y/n didn’t care for it.

‘Because it’s poetic you fool.’

This whole ordeal, just to add another story to his vast collection? Chrollo let out a laugh; to think that he had wasted precious months for the sake of poetry amused him.

Sliding off one of the silver bands off his ring finger, he set it on the pedestal, messing up his silky black hair.

“Why waste time slicking your hair back if you have such pretty locks?” Y/n looked up, eyes wide as her hands raked through his just washed hair.

“Gets in my face too much. And it gives me a cool vibe when I slick it back.”

Y/n stopped, bursting into laughter as she uncoiled the hair dryer’s wire. Plugging it in, she sat on the couch, grabbing a comb.

“Let me dry it properly- you're gonna get sick!”

“If you insist- there’s no need to though.”

“Sure there is! Now come on, sit here.”

Between her legs, Chrollo hummed in content as the hair dryer blew hot air all around and the comb’s teeth raked through all the little knots.

“I seriously can’t believe you're this pretty, Chrollo. I feel like seeing you like this is illegal!”

“Well, thank you.”

Chrollo leaned back, head hitting the couch cushion. Grabbing Y/n’s thighs, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders, basking in the soft warmth.

Heaving a sigh, Chrollo adjusted his tie, and headed out to retrieve his bride.

***

The T.V. blared as the flashy icon of the station appeared, the host and hostess of the night smiling proudly as they set their papers down on the prop desk.

“It’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?”

“Hello everyone, I’m Raiyah Ourani,”

“And I’m Bobby McOkazawoo.”

“It has now been 4 months since the disappearance of Y/n L/n. In that time authorities have been conducting investigation after investigation, but no new news has yet to be released. However, the Grungingham Ball House assures the people of Yorknew that their organization is completely safe, and for any future customers to not be shy as they have updated the security, granting the safety they desire as well as the fun time they want.”

“Coming up: Are DonaldMc’s really everywhere within 5 miles? Now, a word from our sponsors.”

“NEW! Scrubbing bubbles foam tastic-super mega ultra is THE cleaning solution to all of your dirty needs! Skin safe to use as a lubricant, and a natural cleanser! You can use it on windows, counters, and so much more!”

Y/n turned the T.V. off, rubbing her temples. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was now 0:45 p.m. Who knew so much time would pass by just from a commercial? About to grab her phone, Y/n suddenly froze; her phone was on, a text notification on the screen.

‘Where are you, darling?’

A hand on her mouth, she quickly grabbed her jacket. There was no time, she'd have to leave everything behind now or never. It’d be too risky to go out the door- there could well be innocents or perhaps Chrollo himself.

“Please tell me he sent Uvo…”

After the first escape, she couldn’t possibly go out the window; they’d expect that. The door, or the window?

She looked around the room: too big to go into the vents, too risky to go out the window or door. So how do you escape?

Another ping from the phone, but Y/n didn’t dare look at it. Paranoid, she steadied her breathing; can’t have them sniff her out too easily.

But…

If Chrollo wasn’t at the door, then she could use her Nen...everyone would either die or pass out, but it would be a better fate then having to deal with Chrollo’s or any of the spider’s blood lust.

A deep breath, she released her ability, and opened the door, running as fast as she could, not bothering to see who would have been near the door. She could hear laughter, crunches, dancing feet- all innocents, but there had to be someone, anyone. There was no way Chrollo wouldn’t have sent someone.

‘It’s like last time…’

Pulling her hoodie over her face, she scanned the crowd before turning around. About to scream, she covered her mouth, looking up at the man who she had bumped into.

Chrollo smiled kindly.

“Nice hair. Where have you been?”

"Chrollo, please n-"

With a flick of his wrist, he had knocked his former fiance unconscious, putting her on his back as if she had just fallen asleep- not like the locals would know. It wouldn’t matter anyways.

He had gotten his runaway bride back, and this time, he would have his wedding and poem complete.

#yandere chrollo #meena #x reader #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #fem reader #hxh chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo #hxh #fanfiction

127 notes · View notes

poptod · 3 years

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 19

Description:

Notes: WC: 4.5k

They had yet to tell you the master's name.

You weren't allowed to stand next to Ahkmen in line, either. They wanted you lined up by size, leaving you at the smaller end, and Ahk at the taller. After scanning the new recruits––of which there were only six new people––the estate's stewardess assigned you to gardening, and Ahk to patrol.

"Okay," you said with a nod despite no one else in line saying anything in response to their assignment. "I also do clean good."

The stewardess cocked a single brow.

"You can do that as well then. Share shifts with Zakiti," she said, pointing to a young girl digging into the loose dirt of the garden.

You bowed your head deeply before the six of you were set loose on the property, your slots established. Ahkmen followed you into the sun for a moment before someone caught him, bringing him back to the small hut he'd just been in, and where the tools were kept. He was handed a guard's outfit––long, white robes, unflattering, and reaching all the way to his ankles and wrists. An instant distaste grew on Ahk.

"I have to wear this?" Ahk asked the man, but fortunately he was speaking Egyptian, and the stranger could not understand him.

The job did, to your great comfort, afford you food that was given out in plentiful rations, and despite the dull taste, Ahk found himself enjoying beer and bread in the beating afternoon sun, though he wasn't allowed much due to time constraints. He'd been working throughout the whole day, circling the whole of the property in search of any trespassers. Lean muscles were now strained beneath the weight of his body and of the strange clothes, though certainly no more than his backpack was, and he often found himself rubbing his aching shoulders. He couldn't see his skin there properly, but he was half convinced he was genuinely bruised.

What was hardest about the job didn't end up being the heat, the strain on his muscles, or the overstimulation of long skirts and sleeves––it was the absence of you that he noticed above anything else. No one to listen to the strange comments during the day, a slot that had, for a while, been filled by Piye, and then more recently by you.

You always had something more fun to say. Sometimes way out of range from his own thought process, and sometimes reading his mind exactly.

And he wasn't there to hear what you had to say, either, in those random moments when deep thoughts blurted out in rough translations.

Later in the afternoon––bordering on evening––you were called back to the servant's quarters to be dismissed. The stewardess gave the six of you a rough look at your future schedules, revealing your hours to be lax and concentrated to only three or four days in the ten day week. You and Ahk side-eyed each other, ready to jump out of line at any moment with excitement as you bit back a grin.

The moment she said 'dismissed' you flocked to one another, automatically heading towards your quarters without word.

"I have been with thoughts, all day," you began, moving your hands animatedly. "We need to go to the beer house, like," you pointed over your shoulder, "you know?"

"The one from yesterday?" He asked in mild confusion.

"Yes!"

"Well I haven't got anything else to do," he said, looking to you with a lop-sided grin that you eagerly returned.

Even in the increasingly late hours of the day the market was aflame with life, filled with open carts and tables now half-empty after a long day of business. Ahkmen never had a job before––at least, not one that didn't have to do with politics or, very rarely, singing. Neither of those were any bit like the job he now had, standing on his feet for hours on end, watchful eyes patrolling a property that didn't and never would belong to him.

That ache continued in his chest, a feeling of tiredness that attempted to lag him down as he followed your excited steps. Unlike him, you were accustomed to physical labor, and retained much of your energy despite the hours of cleaning.

Orange and yellow tarps still hung above the darkened market, now blocking nothing more than the stars that shone a little dimmer than the two of you were used to. The small, red flags fluttered high above you in the gentle breeze coming off the Euphrates, twinned by the still fresh scents of baking bread and cooking beer. You needed only to follow the scent and the crowds that grew larger the further you got down the wide, stone street, coalescing into a large city center built by shops, bakeries, breweries, and glassmakers surrounding a pyre of white stone.

Winged creatures on four feet and bearing a man's head were carved into the large pillar, mounted by a disc resembling the light of the sun. Other such decorations trailed all the way down to the base, where lax soldiers lay among the ascending steps, their spears and swords at their side, and their mouths occupied by a stew whose scent tantalized the both of you.

"Did you eat today?" Ahkmen asked, unable to stop staring at the clay bowls steaming with the soup.

"I had a bread, in the - the kitchen," you said quietly.

"Hungry?"

"Yes, yes, we will eat?" You asked as you turned to him.

"I'd like to, considering I didn't really eat anything today," he said with a frown.

"What?? They did not let you eat?"

"More of I didn't have the chance," he said as he scratched the back of his neck, scanning the city square.

"I say we do get beer," you said, speaking slowly so as to fully think through your plan, "then we go to the house, and take their food. It is their job to feed you, yes? We work for them, they give food."

"Ah, Yogi," he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a side hug, "I knew there was a reason I followed you to the end of the earth."

"We are not at the end of the earth now, not yet," you said with a chuckle.

"I will follow you there," he said in a sudden, sincere softness.

You looked up at him and said, "I know," though you chuckled and gave him a funny look.

Thick, warm, and sweet––the beer of Babylon was more similar to porridge than it was to the almost juice-like qualities of Egypt, and by extension your, brewing. You both held one of the large mugs given to you, sitting on the raised half-wall between the public center and the roofless brewery establishment. Below you, women and men churned the alcoholic mixture, and across from you wandered older shoppers and off-guard soldiers.

Both of you raised your cups at the same time, taking a long, slurping gulp as you looked each other directly in the eye. Laughs bubbled in the beer, forcing you to lower the cup and wipe your chin on your sleeve as you giggled. He chuckled as he lowered his mug in a more graceful manner than you had.

"Hey, weren't you here yesterday?" A woman asked in Akkadian. It caught your attention, but to Ahk, it was just part of the conversations he couldn't understand, so he didn't notice until you responded to her.

"Yes I was here," you said grinning, offering a small wave to what Ahkmen now saw to be one of the brewers, her skin glowing in the firelights beneath the churners.

Her skirt was long, the frail edge of it dragging along the ground over neat, red fabric shoes. Despite the modest skirt, she had no sleeves, and the white linen veiled her muscled body, smooth dips and veins built from the nature of her work. Long, curly black hair was pinned in a bun, with neat strands hanging from the pins like vines from a tree. Even with her dark skin he could see a blush on her flushed cheeks.

"Ah," she huffed, wiping her brow, "I thought you looked a little odd."

"Odd?" You questioned with a laugh.

"Well your friend is dressed very... um, different," she said as she gestured to Ahk, who was back in his Egyptian skirt. "You from Egypt, sir?"

"Oh, he does not speak Akkadian," you said.

At this point, Ahk knew you were talking about him, since the lady gestured to him and you brushed him off. The two of you continued for a moment more, the stranger's gaze switching between you and him as incomprehensible words flooded from her mouth before she finally said something he understood.

"You, uh, you speak Sumerian?" She said, and Ahk perked up.

"Yes, I do," he said, glancing between you two. "Yogi doesn't, though. How do you know Sumerian? I thought it was a... a dead language."

"I could ask you for the same," she chuckled, "but my brother is a priest. I live with him, he shows me much of what he does."

"Ah, alright," he said with a nod. "I learned from school in Egypt, trained in the temples to be a priest."

How easily the lie came to him now. Why wouldn't it? No one was around to know any different.

She nodded with him, but before she could reply, you were interrupting and her focus was back on you. You said something followed by your name, and with her reply you muttered to Ahk her name––Tiamat.

Ahkmen managed to finish his beer while you two were still speaking in tongues. Not too great a task for a man of his stomach, but the entire time he was sipping away he could think of nothing more than the feeling of alienation. The languages of the three of you were all mixed up, meaning he couldn't talk to her without excluding you, and you couldn't talk to her without ignoring him, a predicament with ended in the latter's solution.

In the meantime, you were hitting it off rather well with Tiamat; you got to tell her that you'd experimented with your own types of beer, and she was interested––at least mildly so––in your foreign recipes. It wasn't long until she noticed Ahk's silent eyes staring at you, and suggested something you translated to Ahk.

"There is a... a house of books and scrolls near to here," you said. "If you are tired to being here."

A black hole swelled in the pit of his stomach, instilling a sick feeling where his beer once was. He glanced between you.

It would be the first time he was willingly parted from you in months.

"Sure," he said slowly, repeating the word in Sumerian to Tiamat.

She gave him the directions and he left in a fluster, confused and somewhat disappointed in himself. He was a little confused as to the actual directions to the library, but the large building stuck out sorely amongst the middle and lower class homes, tiled in dark blue and having much of a stature of a temple rather than a library. No one came and went from the door, but the scent of searing meat was suddenly overpowered by burning incense. The mark of an inhabited and frequently prayed in temple.

Arches led to extensive gardens, held alight by the glowing moon shining above. There were few clouds out tonight, allowing a better view of the sky––a view reflected in the patterns of the gardens. Riverwater flowed through the terrace as the Milky Way split the sky, the stars marked by flowering trees that bloomed in deep red and a pure, clean white. Beyond the garden stood the temple itself, once more the center of his attention, and once more rising beyond the walls that encircled it.

Stairs led up into the heavens and towards the first door, a strong, metal gate left unprotected.

He slowly entered, passing through the open doors and into a dark threshold. Ripples and veins of wood ran beneath his fingertips, trailing across the large doors, their bolts hanging open and unlocked. His mouth went dry as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Despite the grand stature and preparations for the temple, the first room there was very little––containing not much more than a strange candle sat in front of a small idol representing a bloodied man. Red paint, or perhaps actual blood, was smeared across his face, leading down in claw marks to the offerings at his feet. Ahk's jaw gritted tight as he attempted to swallow through a tight throat.

Two doors flanked the wall behind the statuette. Light flooded suddenly in the pitch black room, only to disappear, the subtle roar of torchlight moving with it. In that single moment, within which the light appeared, Ahkmen's mouth fell open as writings were revealed upon the walls, carved in every available surface, their depths sharpened by harsh light.

Like Egypt, the comings and goings of rituals for the Gods overpowered any prayers citizens might have, leaving only the small entrance room for people to pray at. From there Ahk could safely assume that he would not be allowed in the inner temples, especially since he was a foreigner. Whatever scrolls or tablets Tiamat knew about were inaccessible to him, leaving him alone and directionless in the Babylonian temple, separated from everything comfortably familiar.

He knelt, though he wasn't sure why, and looked the statue straight on. At the stone base was script, cuneiform pressed into clay and announcing the God's name.

"Utu Shamash," he mumbled, reading the words aloud. The Sun God of Babylonian myth.

It made sense, considering the offerings of gold beads and wine in golden chalices––Utu was known as a lover of gold, as it was the lifeblood of the sun. And even though Utu Shamash was the God of the sun, his equal was the presence of Ma'at––the Goddess of truth and justice––instead of Ra, a more widely known God of Egypt.

He took advantage of the rarity of such quiet moments, and delved back into the studies he left behind in Osiris' temple, namely the study of cuneiform writing. The temple must've been an older one––which would explain the somewhat smaller size––as the words in the walls were a script he could recognize, the familiar Sumerian of thousands of years ago. Whoever took power in Mesopotamia could never outrule the hidden language, and thus the words persisted even into modern day. Singing and glowing off the stone.

You suspend from the heavens the circle of the lands

And everything that Ea, King of the counsellors, had created is entrusted to you.

Whatever has breath you shepherd without exception,

You are their keeper in upper and lower regions.

Regularly and without cease you traverse the heavens,

Every day you pass over the broad earth. . . .

Shepherd of that beneath, keeper of that above,

You, Shamash, direct, you are the light of everything.

His gaze fell from the blurry words to the small statue. At some point he had fallen to his knees in front of the altar, his chin resting on the surface holding up the offerings of the people. Staring into its' eyes brought recollection to him, and he remembered the wooden totem he had worked on throughout the Shamiyah desert, how avidly he hid it in hopes of surprising you. He shoved it in his bag somewhere around Rapiqum for the last time, and since then it was hidden beneath his belongings.

There was little else he could think to do in the small praying room, so he left on quiet footsteps, retreating away from manmade majesty and back into the natural flora scattered along the path back to main streets. Chirping crickets digressed into quiet conversation, leather sandals walking across brick stone streets, and the ever-present sound of crackling fires.

He returned to the small circle in which he'd left you, as he only remembered the path back to the estate from that single spot. When he crossed the plaza, he spotted the open-roofed brewer, and made his way across to inform you on his future whereabouts.

Peering over the ledge, he found you still enraptured in your conversation with the brewer. She appeared to be showing you the mixing process required for the porridge-type beer. Ahk jogged down the stairs and over to you.

"Aganu!" You said brightly, a very sudden smile overtaking your earlier seriousness. "How is the books?"

"Couldn't, uh, get inside. It's alright. They had writings on the walls, um – I'm headed back to the estate," he set a hand on your shoulder, "so shall I meet you there?"

"Yes, yes, I will come back close to now," you said with a nod.

"Alright," he said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before he bid a hasty good-bye, waving himself out of the brewery. Your giggle followed him.

Things got quieter and less crowded the closer he got to the estate––whose owner he still didn't know––and by the time he stood before the servant's entrance, most of the lights in houses had gone out. The small, hostel-like accommodations for the servants still had a burning rushlight within, dimly illuminating the filled and empty bunks.

He squinted slightly to see through the wooden gate, his brow furrowing. There were very few beds left unoccupied.

With a long sigh he unlatched the gate in the way the stewardess taught him, quietly closing it behind him when he padded through with careful steps. His gaze was drawn to the small patio outside the hut––where you and him were assigned to your respective jobs––and there he spotted the bags the two of you left behind. He knelt and dug into his pack, drawing out his knife and the wooden totem that had been chipped into a much smaller size.

A whiff of the air from inside the bunk revealed to him that they weren't burning a rushlight; they were burning incense, drifting out in gentle smoke that pooled beneath the patio roof. He looked up, chuckling as he ran his hand through the thick clouds.

He took a seat on the dusty earth, his raised knees supporting his elbows that allowed for the proper movement of carving. The knife in his hand had dulled over time, matching to fit the refining scrapes Ahk was now using, smoothing out the harsher edges of the image within. Every now and then he glanced upwards, and each time he found the stars still veiled past the light of the city. He sighed, looked to the gate in hopes of seeing you, and returned to his wood carving after two minutes of silence.

Snoring hummed quietly from inside the servant's quarters, followed by rustling sheets and a smack of skin against skin. Ahk's eyes widened as he heard someone curse in Akkadian. Another slap and then silence.

A little while later, clinking metal and swinging hinges had his head shooting up to see you. A grin split across his face and he stood, abandoning his wood and knife on the ground in favor of jogging over to you.

"Aganu," you said in a giggle, gladly returning his hug when he scooped you up into his arms.

He picked you up easily, spinning you around in slow circles across the garden as your laughter followed in twirls. He chuckled as he set you down, his hands remaining on your waist, and his heart thumping like thunder.

"How was brewing?" He asked.

"So good," you giggled. "I did miss it for more than I think."

"Understandable. You do know a lot about it, after all," he said with a shrug.

"A little. We should eat now," you said, walking past him and leading him to follow you without word or gesture.

The main house of the estate wasn't an especially large house, but it was tall. Three different floors rose out of the ground like pikes, the edges rimmed with decorated shards of cutting stone, and the stairs guarded by figures of Lamassu, though they were much smaller than some of the statues he'd seen in other parts of Babylon.

Of course, that wasn't the wisest entry point. On the back side of the house, opposite of the street-facing side, a doorway led in to the kitchens illuminated by the windows built into the thick, stone walls.

Large domed brick furnaces were built into the home, but the storage cases were all made of wood and completely moveable. None of that mattered, however, because all of the food itself was kept in a storeroom below the ground, a fact you found out after speaking with Zakiti, your coworker. Long accustomed to the art of sneaking, the two of you easily snuck down the stairs and into the underground storage. basement.

A chill set over your skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Every tiny scrape of your shoes against the dirty floor had tiny specks of dirt grinding against each other, producing an unpleasant sound that nearly woke the landowners.

You picked a variety of things, too scared of taking multiples of one object and getting caught by the missing evidence. Once everything was chosen, you and Ahk hid the food in the folds of your clothes, and ran back across the estate to the servant's house.

He barely caught his breath before you were climbing up the stone walls of the bunk, using the wooden pegs to left yourself up to the roof. Ahkmen chuckled, but something else came to mind, and he rushed off to grab something else before he joined you in the midnight stillness. In the end, however, he required your help in lifting everything up, and that left nothing to surprise you with but the totem he could carry in his hand while he climbed.

He huffed as he landed beside you. While waiting for him you'd set out the blanket he fetched, the length of it laying flat on the mud roof baked in the sun. You already had your lute in hand, small fingers tapping thoughtlessly over the strings as he revealed what he'd hidden from you for a good while now; an object of his vigilant attention.

Your mouth fell open when you saw it, drawing a breath between your lips that caught in your throat.

It wasn't of anyone distinctive. Technically. The proportions gave away far more than he was comfortable with, but you'd already seen it now, and there was no taking that back. For weeks he'd been carving the image of two people embracing, one much taller than the other, who pulled the smaller's head into its' chest, an abstract hand petting the absent hair. The only features actually shown on the two were their eyes––closed, and quietly so, with no strain or note of fear.

He let you stare until he grew uncomfortable with your silence, which ended up happening rather quickly as he boiled in his own blushing.

"What do you think of it?" He asked in a voice that nearly cracked.

"I... it is beautiful," you murmured, your hands going lax around the instrument.

You reached forward as he handed it to you, and you held it with such a tender, careful touch that Ahk wished for a moment he was the statue instead. It was a very long moment that stretched into near painful yearning.

"This is what you made in the Shamiyah?" You said, tearing your eyes away from the figures to meet his gaze.

"Yes, well.. I... I had a lot of time," he partway mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious about his gift to you. There were edges and areas he could've added better detail.

"And I had a lot of time," you said with a chuckle. "But I did not make any thing. It is beautiful, Aganu."

Burning desire to hear his name. His true name. Not once had you uttered it in any way not befitting a stranger.

"Thank you," he choked out after forcing down the words you're beautiful.

How pathetically cliche, how his cheeks burned even brighter yet, his imagination just barely reigned in by his common sense. He couldn't just kiss you––you depended on him for safety to get to a new home after your last became intolerable, and breeching that trust wasn't something he was so readily prepared to do.

So instead he looked at you, ignoring how his gaze always fell to your lips, ignoring how he leant into you without ever having to feel your touch. Pathetic, he thought, and drew himself back, restraining his rampant thoughts. It all faded as you plucked at the strings, the hum of it filling up the space between you with warmth. Stars that crested your face fell to the earth in the form of fireflies that floated around you.

But you wouldn't sing. You looked to him, waiting for him to start, and giggling when he remained in his strange trance.

"You are the singing, yes?" You said quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping servants below the rooftop.

"Oh," he said, his back straightening. "Um, alright."

He recalled many of the poems and songs he'd heard at festivals, as well as the more popular ones sung in the house of life. His eyes flickered up to the red dot on your forehead above your brow.

"My love is one and only, without peer, lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls," he began to sing, keeping as quiet as you kept your playing. "On the horizon of my seeing, see her rising, glistening Goddess of the sunrise star; bright in the forehead of a lucky year. So there she stands, epitome of shining, shedding light, her eyebrows gleaming darkly, marking eyes which dance and wander."

He let out a long sigh as he lay down, stretching his arms above his head before he released them, one falling on his stomach, and the other extended to you. You chuckled at his sleepy mannerisms, continuing to pluck thoughtlessly.

"Tired?" You asked.

"Yes," he mumbled, his eyes falling blissfully shut.

The wooden lute clattered against the mud roof before fabric shifted and you were lying next to him, balanced on your side to face him. He turned to you and opened his eyes. You were much closer than he thought.

Neither of you said a word; silence in the hazy stare between you. Ahk only noticed his brow was knotted when it began to ache, at which point he also realized he'd raised his hand, and the back of his fingers were tracing down your cheek. No going back now––you still stared at him head-on, blinking slowly as he drew in a shaky breath.

His fingers drew the rest of the way down to your jaw, melting him at the soft warmth of your skin.

You're going to drive me mad.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

23 notes · View notes

journalxxx · 3 years

Text

By Hook or by Crook (6)

Hey kid. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’re up to it. Would you be free this afternoon?

Izuku idly reread the text and the brief exchange that followed as he whiled away the few minutes left before the agreed time for the meeting.

Just a little over twenty-four hours before, Izuku had had a minor stroke at the mere thought of All Might texting him about a trip to the police station. Just a little over twenty-four hours before, he would have soared straight to cloud nine at the thought of All Might texting him ‘to have a chat’. It was a pity that the only emotion he could muster at the moment was a vague sense of stunned apathy.

“I’ll get that.” He informed no one in particular when the bell rang. The man installing what probably were legalized viruses on his laptop gave him an odd look, and his mother replied something indistinguishable from the bathroom. Izuku shuffled out of his room and unlocked the front door.

“Young Midoriya. Good afternoon.” All Might had reverted to his laid-back cargo pants and t-shirt attire. He seemed more tired and subdued as well, more like on the day Izuku had met him.

“Good afternoon.” Izuku gestured at him to come inside, which he did with a quiet thanks. He did not remove his shoes though, and he stopped only few steps in upon spotting the second man fiddling with the landline in the living room.

“Ah. Busy day, is it?” All Might acknowledged the technician with a knowing nod. He then turned towards Izuku and tilted his head towards the front door. “Say, how about we take a walk? I bet your house feels crowded enough without me imposing as well.”

His mother’s head peeked into the hallway. All Might greeted her with a little wave and a weirdly embarrassed grin.

“I’m going for a walk.” Izuku announced as he slipped his shoes on.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Her eyes shifted between All Might and him with ill-concealed unease.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Izuku cut short. He wasn’t in the mood for another discussion. “See you later.”

He strode out of the building without hesitation. He made his way down the stairs, through the parking lot, all the way to the sidewalk before stopping. All Might caught up with him a minute later, after lingering on the threshold to exchange a few words with his mother that Izuku decided he did not care about. He also decided to ignore the pointed stare the hero aimed at him when he finally reached him.

“Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?” All Might asked after a beat, gazing up and down the small road.

“Not really. You?”

“Any place is fine by me. I need to get reacquainted with this city, its layout is quite different from how I remember it.”

Right, All Might had just moved in. And Musutafu had likely changed a lot since his U.A. days… That would have been a tremendously interesting topic for a chat, Izuku could feel the questions popping up in his head in droves, despite everything. Unfortunately, he was under no illusion that what All Might wanted from him could be that kind of casual conversation.

They picked a random direction and started walking. For almost five minutes, they strolled without breathing a word. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been under any normal circumstances.

“Had another rough night?” All Might said eventually.

“Mh.” Easy guess. The bags under Izuku’s eyes would soon rival the fixed shadows circling the hero’s if he didn’t manage to rein in his sleeping schedule soon. The nightmares had ceased, thankfully, but his head had been so full of disjointed and clashing thoughts and memories that he hadn’t managed to catch some shut eye until so late that it had become early.

Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. In hindsight, it felt strange that Izuku had never contemplated the possibility himself. It also felt absurd that it could be true though, instead of some sort of huge misunderstanding. That his father could be-

“Oh, before I forget. The villain is faring much better.”

“Uh? What?” Izuku blinked.

“The sludge villain whose quirk you returned.” All Might graced him with a gentle smile. “I heard he was already mostly coherent by last night, and as of few hours ago he was firmly denying ever bearing any ‘serious’ ill intent towards you and your friend, demanding to see his lawyer and complaining about the quality of the lunch he was served.”

Guilt needled Izuku’s stomach upon realizing that the villain’s plight had completely escaped his mind since his return home from the police station. How poorly committed his sympathy was. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess?”

“We guess.” All Might chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with another incident that badly in years, but I’m glad that no one suffered any permanent damage, at least. And thank you again for bringing the matter to a close in my stead.”

“It’s hardly your fault if things went the way they did. But… yeah, I’m glad he’s okay and that it’s over.” Now if only that hadn’t sparked a much worse and much more scarring mishap, at least for Izuku… “Are you all right, by the way?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Have you managed to see a doctor yet? About, uh…” Izuku pointed at his own mouth, unsure how to describe the attack the man had suffered the day before, the likes of which Izuku had only seen in movies and cartoons, usually from people sporting deadly and gory upper body wounds.

All Might laughed with inexplicable, genuine mirth. “Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t playing it cool when I said I was fine. It’s just a thing that happens. Usually it isn’t quite as, uh, dramatic, but it really is nothing concerning.”

“But… you hadn’t even used your quirk…” Izuku could not fathom how spraying blood like a fountain on a presumably regular basis couldn’t warrant seeking any kind of medical attention, but the hero waved off his objection with finality.

“Trust me, it’s fine. More importantly...“ All Might wasn’t looking at him. He seemed deeply focused in memorizing as much as he could of his surroundings, peering here and there at street nameplates, buildings, alleys… manholes too, amusingly. But the low and soft quality of his tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking just out of politeness. “What about you, kid? How are you?”

Izuku dropped his gaze to his feet and shrugged. It was an accurate answer, actually. He’d spent so many hours torturing himself with doubts and grief and confusion that at some point his brain had sort of… ran out of energy to spare for emotions. He supposed it wasn’t the worst response he could have had. Stolid empty-headedness was largely preferable to the scorching waves of betrayal, impending doom and overbearing dismay he’d sampled the day before.

“I imagine how difficult all this must be for you.“ All Might went on, just as tactfully. “Have you talked with your mother?”

Oh, scratch that. He was still capable of feeling something. His mother was enough of a sore topic to make him clench his fists. “...Yeah. I have.”

“...I don’t think-”

“She knew.” Yeah, he was still angry. It bubbled in his chest like boiling tar, thick and sticky and suffocating.

“She told you that?”

“I heard you three talking about it last night. I was listening from outside the living room.”

“What?!” All Might seemed genuinely shocked. It hadn’t been Izuku’s proudest moment, admittedly, but let’s be honest, what else was he supposed to do? Pretend that they weren’t discussing life-changing revelations just few meters away from his bed? He was only human. All Might slapped a large hand on his face and dragged it down alongside his pointy features with a groan. “Oh, come on…”

“She knew, and she never told me.” His nails were digging painfully in his palms and- oh great, now he was getting teary again. He’d held it together for the whole day and now he was going to lose it five minutes after All Might had showed up. For the third or fourth time in as many days. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he’d managed to retain any sort of dignity since the very moment he’d met his idol. Why bother now? “S-She’s known since- since before marrying him- however that happened… I j-just...”

All Might regarded him silently for a moment. “...Things like these look very different from an outside perspective. Especially to someone as young as you are. It’s very easy to judge, and even easier to misjudge.”

“But she knew he was a criminal - one who would not even consider changing his ways for his family - and she… wanted him around anyway? Why would she do that?! It’s- I wouldn’t want an unrepentant villain still involved in illegal business around my son! He’d be... a bad influence, at the very least!”

“Before yesterday, have you ever thought that he could be having a bad influence on you?”

“Uh? No, I… I didn’t know that he was… I never… questioned...”

All Might sighed deeply. “Your father is a notoriously charismatic man. He’s always been particularly adept at coaxing people to his side without open coercion, but with simple, well-aimed words. You never suspected that he may have been acting in his own best interest while offering or withholding certain information from you, although it may seem obvious in hindsight. I bet he managed to instil the same trust in your mother, despite what she knew about him.”

“I…” Izuku rubbed away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t. And it tore at him. “W-Was it because of the money? She never... I-I thought we were good, she n-never said anything… I-If I’d known, I would have… I wouldn’t have asked for… s-so many things, I-”

“I highly doubt that a few toys and games could have had that big of an impact on the family budget. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over anything.” All Might slipped his hands in his pockets, sympathy plain in his sunken eyes. “Your mother found herself in a very tricky situation, through no real fault of her own. She navigated it as best as she could, and I’m sure your well-being was her top priority. Seeing the healthy and upright young man you’ve grown into, I’d say she handled it admirably.”

“...I know.” Izuku knew it, really, he understood that. But… he’d always seen his mother as just about the most transparent, honest, sensible and sensitive person on Earth. And it turned out she didn't… exactly… meet that standard, however idealistic. It had been a blow, on top of everything else, one that had left him without a real, fully trustworthy figure when he most needed it. “I know that, but… she should have told me. At some point. There’s no excuse for not doing that.”

“Perhaps. It’s hard to predict the negative impact that such a confession may have on a younger child, but perhaps she should have.” The hero conceded. “I’d refrain from handing down verdicts though. You kept some secrets of your own from her. You hid your quirk-”

“But that’s not the same thing! Not even close! A quirk isn’t as big an omission as your father being a criminal!” Izuku snapped, then immediately hunched his back in regret, his tone losing some volume but not its bitterness. “And, you know, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have listened to him so readily if someone had warned me that he isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen!”

“Look, it isn’t my place to comment on how things stand or should stand between you and your mother, or how you should behave, but… if there’s one thing you need to keep in mind - and please do keep it in mind, at all times - is that the one person who bears absolute and doubtless blame is your father. That’s the source of all the lies that have been fed to you. Lies and deception are… what he does, really. What he’s always done. You and your mother are both victims in all this.”

Izuku sniffed and wiped some tears and snot on his sleeve. It was gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a logic to All Might’s words, but no logic justified the staggering duplicity that had just turned his life upside down. The unfairness of it all was simply too much to accept.

The boy looked up when All Might poked him on the shoulder to catch his attention.

“Speaking of which…” All Might swerved to the left, entering a smaller and more secluded lane leading away from the more trafficked routes. He had resumed his perusal of the area, and his expression had regained a firm, almost steely edge. Izuku followed him. “What I wanted to talk to you about concerns what transpired about your father, and how it will affect your life going forwards.”

No surprise there. The two plain-clothes agents that had shown up that morning, no doubt mourning the loss of their well-deserved Sunday rest, had been clear enough of a warning of some upheaval to the Midoriyas’ routine. All Might’s vague text had only cemented Izuku’s expectations of further disruptions.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it is imperative for you to understand the gravity of your father’s position… especially to prevent him from enacting any sort of manipulation or control on you in the future.” The hero began. “The man you know as ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ goes under many aliases, so much so that we are still unaware of his real name. He has committed an astounding variety of serious crimes, over the course of decades. Even if your mother claims to be aware of his background, I assure you she doesn’t know the half of it.”

Izuku physically curled up under the weight of those words. It was… even worse than they thought? His father sounded more and more like some obscenely powerful yakuza boss or something, which was just… just...

“The police will be gathering and analyzing as much evidence as possible to find clues leading to his current location and activities. All possible forms of communications between you and him will be monitored. Your phones will be bugged, and any electronic devices you own will be fitted with tracking software. Your mail will be examined before delivery.” All Might paused, assessing Izuku’s lack of a reaction to his speech. “Did they tell you about this already?”

“S-Some of it, yeah.” Izuku’s gaze dropped to the asphalt again. The dried tears made the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes itch. “Will there be cameras too? Inside the house?”

“I haven’t heard about cameras. I don’t think so. Seeing as your father never set foot in your house, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to surveil it that closely from the inside. The outside will be watched, so we’d notice anyway if he tried to approach it.”

“...Okay.”

“...I know it’s an oppressive situation. No one likes having their privacy invaded. But know that the professionals in charge of monitoring you are utterly uninterested in you specifically, or in whatever you do with your free time, as long as it isn’t anything outrageously illegal.” All Might’s voice softened again, although not enough for Izuku to dare raise his eyes from the ground. “I hear they are especially unconcerned about peculiar web searches and piracy perpetrated by bored adolescents, and some such things. Anything that isn’t strictly related to the case at hand won’t ever make it into any reports.”

“Mh.” A couple of small mercies were better than none, Izuku guessed. He really couldn’t muster neither enthusiasm nor gratitude for them at the moment though.

“Ah, about this… Those monthly phone calls your mother mentioned are particularly relevant for the police. They are likely their best bet in pinpointing your father’s position.” All Might paused. “For that reason, we would appreciate your cooperation on that front.”

Izuku’s brain suddenly jolted into activity, a myriad of spy movies and comics coming to his mind and offering plenty of distressing scenarios he could be potentially thrusted into. “You mean like… you want me to help you find him? Get him to drop hints about where he is, or- or asking him to go somewhere where you can set up a trap, or-” Izuku looked back up at the man, without bothering to conceal the pure terror that such prospects filled him with.

“What? No, of course not!” All Might exclaimed, surprised. “I mean, it isn’t out of discussion that we may try to actively lure him out at some point, but that would take extensive preparations and precautions on our part. We’d need to gather more intel and agents, recruit other heroes first… We definitely aren’t considering taking any such steps yet.”

“O-Oh… okay…” He let out the tiniest sigh of relief. No wild capers… for now...

“Besides, even if we were, we wouldn’t use a child as bait! Your mother would be much more suited to assist us. Any request from her would have more sway on your father, and she would handle the pressure much better.”

“So… what do you want me to do then?”

All Might shrugged. “Just keep up appearances. Continue having your monthly calls with him as if nothing happened, so as not to alert him that something might be wrong.”

That wasn’t that big of a demand, objectively speaking, but... it didn’t seem feasible either. Izuku’s grasp on his own emotions was tenuous at best at the moment, and his father had always been exceptionally perceptive to his state. He really didn’t think he could endure up to two hours of small talk about heroes, quirks, school and assorted pleasantries without having some sort of breakdown halfway through. Izuku gulped, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding of his cowardice.

“...I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Surprisingly, All Might wasn’t put off in the slightest. “In that case, you could ask your mother to pretend you got hurt in some way that prevents you from speaking. Bad tooth, removed tonsils, broken jaw, you name it. That would earn you at least another month of silence and… hopefully the investigation will make some progress in that time, or you’ll grow used enough to the situation to face him with a cool head.”

That was a reasonable approach to the issue. It was a relief to know that someone else was putting some thinking into all this in Izuku’s place, now that his already flimsy decisional autonomy had stumbled into the metaphorical equivalent of a bear trap. “...I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” All Might nodded, strangely unperturbed by Izuku's less than proactive attitude. “Other than what I’ve mentioned, you will also be followed wherever you go whenever you aren’t at home or at school-”

“W-What?” Izuku instinctively glanced around, envisioning slow-moving cars or shady individuals with sunglasses and holed newspapers observing him from bushes.

The corners of All Might’s mouth twitched upwards. “You will not be aware of it, nor will anyone else, of course. It will have no actual impact on your daily life, like all the other measures we’ve already covered.”

“But why?” Izuku griped, his heart sinking so deep that it would soon pierce through the Earth’s mantle. “My father isn’t going to suddenly drop by to say hello, you just said so yourself!”

“It’s for your own protection too.” All traces of humor vanished instantly from the hero’s demeanor. “Your father is no stranger to violence. In the past, he has resorted to brutal and immoral means to dispose of his enemies, and... I’m sorry to say that he would not hesitate to employ such methods against his own family, if he deemed it a danger to his own safety.”

Izuku couldn’t hold back a little hysterical chuckle that sounded pitiful to his own ears. “That… sounds a bit exaggerated, doesn’t it? I-I get that he’s a bad guy, but… I really don’t think he’d do something like that to us. H-He’s never even raised his voice with me, never...”

“Midoriya. I beg you to believe me when I say that you can’t trust anything of what you think you know about your father.” All Might stopped to glare intently at a narrow, dingy alley littered with trash bags. “He is dangerous. Extraordinarily so. Tsukauchi is pushing for having further safety measures enforced for your family, and until those have been granted, please be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Refrain from taking unfamiliar routes, and stick to crowded areas whenever you can. I don’t want to scare you, but even having eyes on you at all times is no guarantee of a timely intervention, under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Is it… really that bad?” Izuku breathed, gutted by the unexpected harshness of the picture painted by All Might’s words. It was… inconceivable, still. His father, deliberately hurting him? His father, whose cutting sarcasm was just about the only vaguely hurtful trait Izuku had ever witnessed? His father, a hardened, soulless criminal averse to puns and All Might trivia, and yet always so willing to let Izuku torture him with both? His father, ambushing him from dark corners? “Is he really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“What did he…” Izuku started asking, only to trail off. It was a pointless question, with a clear answer. It had been buzzing in his head for the whole night, blindingly obvious by now. “...He steals quirks, doesn't he? That’s what he does. He... maims people for…”

“I’m afraid he isn’t nearly as conscientious as you in regards to-” All Might cut himself off with a visible flinch. “Wait, he told you about his quirk? You know it’s the same as yours?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You didn’t mention that to us.” Bright pinpricks of blue were suddenly trained on Izuku with piercing intensity. It kept catching him off guard, how both of the Symbol of Peace’s towering forms could switch from amicable to intimidating at the drop of a dime.

“I-I thought… He said it was a secret- one of his confidential matters. I’ve always thought he was some sort of… prison guard or undercover agent…” God, how unbelievably stupid it all sounded now. Izuku had never felt more childish.

“...That goes to show…” All Might mumbled, barely audibly. It unsettled Izuku. It went to show what? His father’s cunning? Izuku’s naivety? Or… surely not that he could be hiding something on purpose...

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I had no idea how- how serious- I’d never-”

“Mh?” The hero blinked at him, as if emerging from a private musing. “Ah, I mean… There could be some merit to the other thing I wanted to ask of you.”

Izuku just waited, barely able to withstand the acuity of the hero’s gaze without shrinking. After a few tense moments, All Might let out a sigh and resumed walking, his eyes wandering back to the street ahead.

“To be frank… Personally, I don’t think we’re going to achieve much from all these investigations.” He grimaced, as if regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. “Not for lack of trying, mind you. Tsukauchi is an immensely capable and dedicated officer, he’ll pursue each lead as thoroughly as humanly possible, but… Your father knows how to cover his tracks. Phone calls, payments, mail, blatant cues like those have never brought us close to him in the past, not once. To his associates, yes, to his… ‘aftermaths’, yes. But never to him personally. His circumstances were always shrouded in impenetrable security. I doubt this case will be any different.”

Buildings gave way to the open horizon. They had reached the end of the street, which merged into a largest road running along the coast. They crossed it, and kept going on the opposite sidewalk, looking down on a thin stretch of sand separating them from the sea.

“That said… he did leave one huge trail for us to find this time. A whole family, out in the open.” All Might’s eyes returned to the boy pensively. “A breakthrough like this, if you’ll pass me the term, is unprecedented. The most obvious leads could turn out to be dead ends, but maybe there is something to be found in the smaller things.”

“The smaller things?”

The man gestured vaguely. “He’s been talking to you, has he not? To you and your mother both, for over a decade. Not that often, but… hell, he even told you about his quirk, and one would expect him to be very tight-lipped about that. There might be more to dig up. Details he may have deemed unimportant, or accidentally let slip. Hints. Small things.”

Izuku was finally catching the drift. “I’m really sorry, but… I know you probably can’t take my word for it, but I really don’t know anything about what he does, or ever did. He never let anything slip about his… his ‘job’...”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m referring to. The thing is…” The hero clucked his tongue in frustration. “We know so little about the man himself as well. His identity, his background, his history… We know next to nothing about him, and what little we do know, we were only able to discover through very unconventional means. If there’s a chance to glean one more shred of information hidden among the fabrications, I think it’s worth pursuing it.”

“So the police are going to question us about… fourteen years’ worth of chit-chats?” That seemed like a disproportionate endeavor for something as volatile as the possibility of parsing an ounce of truth. Exactly how desperate were they to catch this increasingly perplexing father of his?

“That’s the gist of it, yes. And ideally, we would like to interview you separately, to avoid that either of you could, ehr… inadvertently censor yourselves about information not known by the other-”

“Like my quirk. Or dad’s ‘activities’.“ Izuku muttered.

“...Yes. Things like those.” All Might paused, then cleared his throat. “Well… given the delicate nature of the case, we are trying to keep the workforce to a minimum, and involve as few people as possible. This ought to speed up coordination and briefing, as well reduce the risk of information leaks. Tsukauchi will be personally questioning your mother… as well as direct the entire operation. He’s quite the multitasker. And, well… since technically I’m already involved and up to speed and I won’t be contributing to the proper detective work in any capacity… we thought I might take care of hearing your side of the story.”

A little Oh was the whole extent of Izuku’s reaction as the hero’s words washed over him. All Might seemed a little discouraged by that.

“We figured it might put you a little more at ease… Talking with someone you’re already familiar with, instead of a brand new face. And, ehr… well, you mentioned being a fan, so…” He elaborated, his hands drawing half-formed shapes in the air to underline his words. He looked… almost nervous? “It’s just a possibility, of course. If you’d rather be entrusted to a proper member of the force, it’s well within your rights to request that.”

Izuku did not miss the underlying meaning of that winding speech. It was within his rights to request who he wanted to be interviewed by, not if.

“Do I even have a choice?” All Might’s guilty grimace was all the reply Izuku needed. “...No, sorry, I… That’s a stupid question. I’ve no reason to refuse either.” Surely not the faint sense of betrayal knocking on his conscience at that very moment. Could he even feel bad about betraying someone who’d never been honest with him in the first place?

“...I know it’s far from an enticing perspective.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It’s going to eat up a lot of your time, and people are never exactly eager to ‘snitch’ on relatives, even when they’re criminals. But I really think it could be of great help to us.”

So that was the role Izuku was going to have in this whole mess, that of a very oddly-shaped piece in a very complicated puzzle. It could be worse, he supposed. Being stuck in a room talking with the number one hero for hours could hardly be considered a real punishment. Were the topic of the conversation literally anything else, it’d be a dream coming true, even. He should push that angle on himself, Izuku pondered. Maybe he could talk himself into enjoying the whole thing, in some way.

“Since I’m no policeman, I’m amenable to reward you for the time and effort you’ll generously dedicate to the task with suitable bribing. I was thinking snacks, if that doesn’t come off as too cheap.” All Might continued with a tentative grin, although his attempt at levity didn’t stick the landing. “No? How about, ehr… All Might merch?” For some reason, his face scrunched up as if the suggestion physically pained him.

Izuku sighed. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, was there? “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you, that is very good to hear.” All Might smiled with evident relief. He patted Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll say, you’re taking all this a lot better than I was expecting. For all the crying, you have quite the resilient attitude. Heroic, even!”

Izuku let out a half-choked sob. Oh. Oh, wow, that realization hurt. He hadn’t thought about that since… had it really only been a couple of days since making it into U.A. had been his biggest concern in life? And now…

“Ehr… Sorry, did I say something wrong?” All Might asked when faced with the new bout of tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. Izuku shook his head.

“S-Sorry, it’s just… I-I guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to becoming a hero now, uh?”

“What?”

“There’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near a hero course now, is there? My father told me it was basically impossible before, and now...”

“Your father told you that you couldn’t be a hero? Your father who is a villain?” All Might gave him a pointed look. “You may want to start reevaluating some of the nuggets of wisdom he’s been imparting on you in light of the new revelations, kid.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Izuku griped. “It’s even worse now that he turned out to be a villain! A bad one too! Abusing the same overpowered quirk I have, it’s just… too great a bias, isn’t it?”

All Might seemed caught off guard, then he frowned and looked away without replying. There it was, the naked truth. Not even an attempt at a rebuttal. Out of discussion. Izuku’s dreams scattered to the wind, without hope of salvation.

“Y-You know, I actually thought… I could work my way around it.” Izuku continued among the sniffles, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I thought I could just pretend to be quirkless. F-For a while. Pass the test like that, make some friends, get… get trusted as a hero because of my work. A-and then, then one day, just… after everyone trusted me, I thought I could come out clean. And start using my quirk for good. I thought it could work. Get others to know me before my quirk. B-But it’s never going to happen now. The police know, the school will know.”

“...I must say that building your budding hero career on a lie isn’t the most solid plan I’ve ever heard.” There was no accusation in All Might’s tone, but his words still cut deep.

“I know…” Izuku bit his lip. He’d known, but what alternatives did he have?

“But I guess we can’t all carelessly parade our true selves before public scrutiny, can we?” The man sighed, scratching his own head. “You are right about one thing though. Actions do speak louder than words. You might not be able to talk your way out of your… delicate circumstances, but factual demonstrations of good intentions can go a long way.”

“That’s… That’s all I’m asking for!” Izuku’s head snapped up, desperately latching onto that single lifeline. “I would do whatever it takes to be allowed to try!”

“Well, I’d say you’re already on the right path then. Cooperating with the police is definitely a good step to establish good faith.” All Might flashed him a sheepish smile. ”...I’m not saying that just to grind my own axe, I swear.”

“Do you think it would be enough for U.A. to let me attempt the test?”

“You want to apply to U.A?” The hero seemed strangely surprised.

“Yeah. Is it… not a good idea?”

All Might took a few moments to reply. “...It might work in your favor, actually. U.A. is famous for the degree of self-determination afforded to its management by the government. If you’re worried about external interference, U.A. is your best bet to avoid it.”

A tiny, shy flicker of hope ignited in Izuku’s chest.

“...I’ve known the principal of U.A High School for a long time. He’s a bit of an eccentric, but one with an impeccable work ethic.” All Might resumed after a moment. “He’s not the kind of person to let unfair judgement undermine his institute. Especially if it prevented an aspiring hero he deems worthy from being appointed his student.”

“You mean that…?”

“I mean that if you do plan to apply to U.A. you could have a chance of making it in, regardless of your unfavorable background. If you pass the admission test, that is.” All Might suddenly stopped walking. “...What is this?”

Izuku blinked, ripped out of his thoughts, and took in the portion of the seafront they had reached. Wow, he really hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, had he? “...Oh. It’s, ehr… an illegal dumping site, I guess.”

“Really?” All Might commented, eyeing the sad, disregarded No Dumping sign welcoming its disobedient visitors.

“Yeah. The currents always bring flotsam to this area, so it was never clean in the first place. And then people started taking advantage of it…”

“And no one ever comes here to pick up any of this?” Strangely, the sight and the slight stench of mounds of rusting metal and assorted junk didn’t bother All Might, who climbed down the few steps separating the sidewalk from the beach.

“No, the city administration never took an interest. Everyone else just avoids this spot altogether. It’s been getting worse over the years.” Izuku had no idea why All Might was studying the piles of dismissed appliances as if they might hold some hidden treasures within, but he felt rather dumb for accidentally introducing this to the hero, of all places in Musutafu, as his first sightseeing landmark. “Sorry, I should have brought us somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Undaunted, All Might wandered deeply into the maze of refuse, with Izuku ruefully tagging along. “A safe, handy spot where a passing criminal in a hurry could stash some loot, don’t you think? Good to know.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Right. That was what it meant for a hero to know his turf, right? It went beyond street names and layouts. It meant to be aware of how each location could lend itself to certain criminal activities, what places could make for good improvised hideouts, where civilians were more or less likely to be gathered...

“How were you planning on passing the admission test?” All Might asked when they reached the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the waves crashing on the sand.

“Uhm. Well, I’ve already started reviewing the subjects listed in the syllabus…”

“I was referring to the practical session, actually.”

“Oh, uhm… Well, I tried looking for information about it online, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Apparently it’s U.A.’s policy to bind all participants to non-disclosure. They say that observing how potential candidates react to unexpected situations is part of the evaluation process, so…”

All Might looked at Izuku, his expression blank. “Yes. So?”

“Ehr.” Suddenly Izuku felt extremely on the spot. “W-Well, without knowing what I’m getting into, I don’t really have any specific strategies in mind.”

All Might cocked his head with a slight frown. “What about generic strategies? What skills were you going to capitalize on?”

“I… Well… I thought I’d just… try my best. Improvise and use my head.”

All Might blinked. “...That is what everyone else is going to do too. Except everyone else will also have a quirk to rely on, while you weren’t going to use yours. That’s a massive disadvantage right there.”

“Yes, I know.” Izuku clasped his hand behind his back in shame. That was an excellent point, one that somehow no one had ever raised with him. Everyone, including his father, instantly shot down his idea as soon it left his mouth. No one had ever asked him to elaborate on the practical details. Which he had sort of… failed to sort out so far.

“And you have no notion as to how to bridge that gap.”

“Not… not yet.”

All Might crossed his arms, sporting possibly the harshest expression Izuku had seen on him yet. It made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “...Are you serious about this hero thing? Are you sure it isn’t just a passing fancy?”

“It isn’t! It absolutely isn’t!” Izuku answered immediately. “I just… I don’t even know if I’m allowed to bring any tools, or-”

“Tools?” All Might scoffed as he walked back to him and gave him a critical once-over. “Looks to me you already have all the tools you need, if you deigned to consider them.”

“Uh?”

“You have arms, don’t you? Hands. Legs. Arguably a head.” All Might poked at each listed limb with a bony finger as he started circling him like a starved shark. “All in working order, yes?”

“Y-Yes- I mean, I’m not ill or anything, but-”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capitalize on those? A quirk is an important part of a person, but it’s not the only one! You have a body, use it!”

“Ah, yes, I…” Izuku gulped. “It would make sense to, uh, try to get a little stronger, I guess…”

“You guess? ” All Might was reaching yet unexplored levels of visible exasperation, which was saying something considering the whole secret-villainous-father debacle. Izuku didn’t know if getting the number one hero so worked up about his little pipe dream should be considered flattering or shameful. “Being a hero isn’t a desk job! Running fast, lifting heavy weights, enduring fatigue are not optional skills! No matter what quirk they have, no hero worth their salt can neglect to keep in excellent shape!”

“R-Right. Of course. It’s just that, uh…” Izuku fidgeted. “I’m not really good at that sort of… physical stuff. I’ve always been a bit on the scrawny side, and I get tired easily, and I’m no good at brawling-”

“Despite training?”

“...I’ve never followed a proper training regimen, but…”

All Might rubbed his hands on his face. “Kid, unless they have a physical-enhancing quirk, people aren’t just born strong. They get strong by training - do I really have this state this out loud?”

Izuku was fairly sure his face was about to spontaneously combust. Of all the things he’d expected to happen in his near future, being scolded by All Might in person for his lack of commitment to physical activity was not one of them. “Y-You are right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to disrespect you or your profession…”

“You didn’t, I was just… You seemed passionate about this two days ago...” All Might trailed off. “My point is that all the equity in the world won’t net you a place in U.A. if you don’t pass that test. And if you really are serious about raising your chances of becoming a hero, you have to give this some serious thought, and soon. You can cram months of study into weeks if you have the brains for it, but you cannot do the same with workouts.”

Izuku willed himself to hold his head up straighter. “I-I will. Thank you for your advice, it makes a lot of sense.”

The silence that descended between them was more than a little awkward.

“I’ve pestered you enough for today, haven’t I?” All Might eventually said as he took off towards the sidewalk. “Let’s go back.”

Izuku trailed behind the hero as they made their way among the waste, and almost bumped on him when he slowed to a stop to stare at a particularly high pile of contorted, rusty scraps.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking that… What I need is a quiet, lonely place to have some private chats with you, and what you need is a way to work up some muscle and rack up some good karma, right?” All Might scratched his chin as he scanned the heaps of trash hiding the rest of the city from view. “...Say, how do you feel about community service?”

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #deku #izuku midoriya

18 notes · View notes

passivenovember · 3 years

Text

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going.

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face.

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door.

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

It keeps snowing.

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound.

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that.

Wide eyed. Free.

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar.

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle."

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away."

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before.

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out.

Just like that.

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not.

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985.

"Billy?"

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket.

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge."

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year.

It's sweet.

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck.

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says.

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real.

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.

#harringrove #jaz speaks #it feels good to be writing this one again #I love writing things that have callbacks to weather #it's such an important #often overlooked part of our daily lives #anyway #i hope you enjoy this part!!!

22 notes · View notes

socalwriterbee · 3 years

Text

Confessions Part 4

Catch up on Confessions

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Marie Castro x Sam Dalton, Jordan Le, Jenny

Rating/Warning: Teen+, Some Adult Language

Word Count: 2,339 +

Song Mention:

You Oughta Know By Alanis Morissette

Si Una Vez By Selena

Summary: After a breakup, Marie seeks her best friend out.

A/N: Songs that were mentioned are in italic. Tried to my best to translate the part of Si Una Vez as best I could.

Tag: @thenannyaffair-fanfics

Characters belong to Pixelberry

********

Marie patiently waited for her friend to respond to her message. If anyone can help make things better it was her best friend.

Jenny squeals as soon as she swings the door open, really finding her best friend standing before her with a new look.

“Marie, how is it possible for you to look like a thousand times better in person?” Jenny hugs her tightly, gently pulling at the ends of her hair, not knowing if she really just a chopped off a good amount of her hair.

“You can stop pulling my hair. I really did cut it.” She laughs at her friend. “Are you gonna let me in? The champagne is waiting.”

Jenny releases her, pushing her to arms length, really taking in her friends new look. Skin tight black pleather pants paired with black Louboutin pumps, a revenge red colored crop top and her newly cut hair.

Jenny drags her by the hand and leads them into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“Don’t kill me Marie, but you didn’t happen to bring any orange juice?” Jenny asks, making her way across the island.

Marie shakes her head at her best friend, she wasn’t surprised Jenny didn’t have anything in her apartment. She had been the one who would stock up the fridge and cabinets with food. If it had been up to Jenny, they would only have vodka in the freezer. One she would bet a good amount of money on that being the only thing in the freezer right now.

“Jenny, do you at least have something to nibble on while we drink?” Marie asks.

She places the two bottles of champagne down on the counter, watching Jenny open and close the cabinets, then moves to the fridge.

“Here put this one in the fridge while I open this one. We’ll just order something to be delivered.” She tells Jenny, handing her one of the bottles.

“I have apples.. well an apple.” Jenny points to her sad looking fruit basket.

“One that seems to be well past being edible. it’s beginning to shrivel up.”

The popping sound of the cork makes Jenny jump, pulling out two glasses and handing them to Marie. After pouring and ordering some food, Marie kicks off her heels and takes her usual spot on the sofa, when one of them is going through a breakup, tucking one leg under the other. Jenny takes the opposite side of the sofa.

“What do we toast too?” Jenny asks.

“The future.”

Marie raises her glass to meet her friends, clinking their glasses together. Jenny eyes her with some concern, wondering what her friend had been through in the last twelve hours or so.

“To the future.”

Jenny takes a good drink of the champagne, while Marie tosses her full glass back, the bubbles tickling the back of her throat, leaving it empty and reaching for the bottle to pour more.

“So Marie, what the hell happened? Wasn’t everything going well between you two?” Jenny asks while tapping her well manicured nails on the fluted glass, impatiently waiting for her to answer.

“Is this situation fit for just drinking champagne? Or do I pull out the Vodka from the freezer?”

“It’s a start. It’ll get the job done.” She gives Jenny a wide grin. “Like I told you, it’s over between me and Sam.”

“How? Why?” Jenny sits up a bit straighter, again waiting for an explanation.

“Sam caught me kissing Jordan.” Marie tosses another glass back. “No.. No..” She wiggles her finger at Jenny “Sam walked in on Jordan kissing me.”

“Why would Jordan do that?”

“He confessed he has feeling for me.”

“No!” Jenny mouths drops open at the revelation.

Marie just nods her head. Last night coming back to her, making her head spin. “That’s not all, he told me Sam was seeing Lana behind my back.”

“That uptight blonde from the house warming party, the mother of one of Mason’s friends?” Jenny asks.

“The one and the same.”

“I’m gonna need you to start from the beginning and everything in between that led you to..to this new look and you chugging champagne like its grape juice.” Her friend said.

Taking a deep breath, Marie began the events of last night from Jordan surprising her at work to him telling her how he feels about her. The moment Sam walked in on them, him storming out, not waiting to hear an explanation of what he saw. It felt like she had been talking for hours, the one break Marie took was to get the other bottle of champagne while Jenny got the food they ordered.

“You need to try this hash..it's amazing.” Jenny hands her the container, as she takes the one Marie had in her hands.

“He just walked away. Left me there standing like a fool. All because he wants space. Because I believe or believed he would cheat on me. But look at how we started, Jen. He was engaged.” Taking a spoonful of the corned beef hash, the different textures from soft to crispy pieces to the exploding flavors of the salty, spiced and sour make her moan in agreement with Jenny.

“Sweetie, don’t get mad at me but.. are you sure he wanted to end things?”

Marie notices a shift in her friend, shaking her head at Jenny. She played Sam’s words again and again last night.

“I’m positive. He wanted to slow things down, wanted space. As far as I know we’re done.”

Jenny stayed silent.

“You don’t understand, wanting to slow things down from a relationship in the dark, a relationship a handful of people knew about. That’s what he meant Jen.” Marie snaps at her.

“Ok.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to..” Marie trails off.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides I got something, that always works.”

The look that appeared on Jenny’s face was a mischievous one, one she knew all too familiar, it was the same one she would give her when Jenny was going through a rough time with a guy.

Getting up from the sofa she walks away, coming back in a few seconds with a full bottle of vodka. She grabs her phone, connecting it to the sound system.

Marie hid her face in the palms of the hands, knowing what was about to come. “Oh no!! no..no..no!” She shook her head.

“yes…yes.. yes” Jenny begins to dance before the music starts. “Come on Marie, this song has gotten us..ok mostly me through breakups.”

The beat of Alanis Morissette’s ‘You oughta Know’ fills the apartment..

An older version of me

Is she perverted like me

Would she go down on you in a theater

Marie began bobbing her head to the beat as the song went on, until she jumps up and stands on top of the couch with Jenny, the both of them singing at the top of their lungs.

And every time I scratch

My nails down someone else’s

Back I hope you feel it

Well can you feel it

Well I’m here to remind you

Of the mess you left when

You went away…You

You..oughta know

As the song comes to an end, adrenaline runs through Marie, ok mostly the alcohol they had been drinking. But at this point it’s what she needed to get every feeling out of her system. Jenny’s breakup playlist continues to play and after finishing the second bottle of champagne, they made it to the bottle of vodka

They didn’t care how loud they were singing or the noise they made from dancing and the things that hit the floor after bumping into them. It was something they did, two best friends trying to help the other navigate through this moment in life.

“There’s a song.. a song.. I want to add..add..yeah” The words coming out of Marie’s mouth a bit slurred.

She grabbed the phone from the coffee table, trying to focus on searching for the song. Swaying back and forth, she jumped with drunken glee once having found it. The Marachi/Cumbia infused ballad came through the speakers, her hips moving to the Cumbia beat.

“Yass.. Get it girl.” Jenny encouraged her as she sat down, taking a little breather.

Marie did her best Selena impression, twisting and doing flamenco moves. She began singing.

Yo, Te di todo mi amor y más

(I gave you all my love and more)

Y tú, No reconoces ni lo que es amar

(And you won’t recognize what it is to love)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, hoy me arrepiento

(If I told you once that I loved you. Today, I regret it)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no sé lo que pensé, estaba loca

(If I told you once that I loved you. I don’t know what I was thinking, I must’ve been crazy)

Si una vez dije que te amaba

(If I told you that I loved you)

Y que por ti la vida daba

(And that I’d give my life for you)

Si una vez dije que te amaba, no lo vuelvo a hacer

(If I told you that I’d loved you. I won’t do it again)

Ese error es cosa de ayer

(It was an error that was made in the past)

Jenny cheered her on until the end, not knowing what her best friend just sang and danced her heart out too.

After a moment of trying to catch her breath, she watched as Marie fell to her knees and began crying, her body shaking as it released every emotion she had bottled up. The act of trying to be strong came crashing down around her. She went to her and hugged her, whispering that it’ll all be ok.

******

Once she had sobered up somewhat, Marie called an Uber to take her back home, against Jenny’s best efforts to try and make her stay. They had come to an agreement of her moving back in. She wasn’t going to live in a place Sam was paying for besides she couldn’t afford the rent on her salary.

Making her way to her apartment, her vision a bit impaired, she fumbled through her bag for the keys, jingling as they fell to the floor.

“Shit.”

Bending down to get them, she stumbles a bit to the side, balancing herself against the wall before she could trip and fall over her own feet. The vodka and champagne still running through her system, she could make it, once she got up it was only a few more steps, she told herself.

Marie noticed a pair of shoes making their way towards her, her gaze began to travel until they stopped on grey eyes, his lips a thin line. He was reaching down to help her.

“I don’t need your help!” She put a hand out, stopping him before he could touch her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Come on Marie, let me help you up.” Sam voiced calmly but filled with a bit of concern for her well being. “How did you get here? How much have you had to drink? And your hair, it looks..”

“What’s it to you? I’m a bit more sober then I was earlier. I’m perfectly..perfectly fine.”

Marie stood up too quickly and stumbled, she felt Sam wrap an arm around her waist, supporting her weight against his body. Grabbing her keys, he leads them into her apartment.

“Just stand there for a moment while I lock the door. I’ll take you to bed..I mean..uh help you into bed.”

“I’m fine Sam, I’m inside this beautiful penthouse you got for your mistress.” She twirls around, showing him the space around her. “So, you can see your way out. You can stand on the other side of the door to make sure it gets locks.” Marie hiccups, maybe she wasn’t as sober as she thought.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re ok.”

Sam makes his way past her, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her towards the bedroom. Letting her go, he begins tossing pillows off the bed keeping just two. He pulls back the comforter to allow her to crawl in.

“Oh that’s real nice of you Mr. Dalton. Do you do that for all your employees?” Marie asked staring at him as he reaches for her.

“Get into bed, you need to sleep your over-indulgence off. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Marie starts to undress, pulling her top over her head.

“What are you doing?” The words coming out as a raspy whisper from Sam.

Marie stares at the man that left her. She was going to show him what he was going to miss. She began by taking off the heels that had been killing her since putting them back on. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, slowly lowering them and stepping out of them. Marie stood there in a see through black lace bralette and matching thong.

She could feel Sam’s burning gaze taking her in. She heard his breathing hitch and a smile came across her lips.

“I’m just getting ready for bed, Mr. Dalton. Just like you said.” She says coyly.

Walking pass him, running her finger tips across his chest. She climbs into bed, the softness of her sheets envelope her semi-naked body.

As she begins to doze off, the side of the bed shifts under her. “What are you doing here?�� She asked him again.

She didn’t hear Sam respond, so she kept going.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s over between us.” She yawns as her eyes begin too close. “Sam? Are you still here?”

Marie could feel her back pressing against the side of his leg. Sam caresses the newly cut strands of her hair.

“I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere..” He whispered.

“Can you do one last thing for me?”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it Marie..I’m sorr..”

“Don’t fire Jordan.” She said before her eyelids became too heavy to keep open and slips into a deep slumber.

#the nanny affair choices #choices sam dalton #sam dalton x mc #tna sam #tna fanfic #choices tna #the nanny affair fanfiction #choices stories you play #fanfiction music #the nanny affair 2

10 notes · View notes

adurowrites · 3 years

Text

A Percy Weasley Snippet

The lecture hall was quiet, but not perfectly silent. Percy could hear the scratching of quill on parchment, the creak of wooden chairs, and every now and again, a hard exhale as someone met a question they weren’t prepared to answer.

There were twenty test-takers in the room, Percy included. One proctor sat at the front of the room, the other took slow laps about the room, sometimes muttering revealing charms to ensure no one was cheating. The soft footfalls paused somewhere in the back of the room. To the left, a witch coughed, hoarse and rough and momentarily distracting. Some of the test-takers had put silencing bubbles around their desks, wanting absolute quiet to focus on the exam. Percy preferred the ambient noise of the room. It made him think of Hogwarts, of taking his NEWTs in the Great Hall with the rest of his year.

For as much as he hadn’t been particularly popular, or even well-liked, Percy had enjoyed his time at Hogwarts. He’d gotten along well-enough with his housemates, but he had found true camaraderie in the Ravenclaws of his year. He’d often wondered why the Hat hadn’t put him in Ravenclaw. He’d asked for it at his Sorting, even though he’d be breaking a family tradition and the thought of disappointing his parents terrified him. But it was the logical choice, and so he’d politely asked to be sorted into Ravenclaw. Apparently it was that request, and his bravery to buck tradition, that had the Hat put him into Gryffindor instead.

But he was too studious for most of his house, and he’d spent most of his time studying with the Ravenclaws. There wasn’t much conversation, just quiet focus and the sense of belonging. Percy had missed that comfortable atmosphere as he’d been studying for the barrister’s exam. His flat, as cozy as it was, had the tendency to make him feel lonely. He enjoyed peace and quiet, but he also enjoyed company. Rather than sit alone, he’d done most of his studying in the Ministry library, keeping company with the various interns, undersecretaries, and paralegals.

He came to the end of the exam and glanced at the clock. There were four hours allowed for completion, and he’d hoped to save an hour and a half for review. He was behind by fifteen minutes. He grimaced and turned back to the start of the test.

Just before the three-hour mark, a wizard got up and strode towards the proctor at the front. He handed his parchment over and left with a self-satisfied smile. A witch followed a few minutes later, looking a bit disgruntled. Percy figured she had wanted to be the first to complete the exam. He used play such games with his classmates at Hogwarts. Who was the first to finish? Who could write a paper the fastest? He used to think that finishing first was a sign of intelligence. But as he’d gotten older, he’d realized that taking his time with his work was a sign of maturity and wisdom. After all, the quality of the work was far more important than winning a silly race.

So Percy stayed in his seat and reviewed his answers with the time remaining. There were only a few others that stayed to the end with him, although they appeared to have lingered out of necessity rather than patience. One witch looked disheveled, her hands twisting at her hair, and another wizard appeared damp with sweat. Or tears, Percy couldn’t tell. They filtered out into the hall where the other test-takers were waiting. The two who had finished first were arguing over a couple of questions, and they’d created quite a debate.

Percy didn’t join. Instead he grabbed his portfolio from the locker and checked it for any messages. The Ministry knew he was taking his test today, but there were still a couple of work-related messages that had appeared inside - questions about the Minister’s meeting with the court, a few requests for paperwork, and a couple of messages wishing him luck, including one from Minister Fudge himself.

Percy felt a flush of pleasure at the notice. (Yes, his name was spelled wrong, but Fudge was notoriously bad at names.) The personal note meant that Fudge was indeed considering him for position of Assistant. Now, all Percy needed, was just to have passed the bar.

He took a seat on the benches along the wall and responded to what questions he could while he waited for the proctors to tally the scores. it only took half-an-hour, and then the door to the lecture hall opened. There was a rush and a minor traffic jam as the other test-takers raced inside. The results would be posted on the blackboard, and Percy felt a wave of nervousness. What if he hadn’t passed? What if the Minister had wished him well, only for Percy to have to re-take it? There was no harm in retaking the exam, of course. Plenty of barristers and government officials did. But Percy had never failed a test in his life.

....Divination didn’t count.

He got up, hands clutching his portfolio to his chest and slowly walked into the room. He logically understood that he hadn’t failed. He logically knew he’d done well, very well in fact. But what if he’d somehow mixed up his answers? What if he’d forgotten to put his name on the test? What if - ?

The other wizards and witches were crowded around the parchment posted on the board. Some of them were celebrating. Some of them were swearing. All of them turned as he approached, and he saw a myriad of emotions cross their faces as they looked at him. Some were openly envious. Others looked impressed. Some gave him congratulatory smiles.

“There he is!” the proctor said, stepping forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s not every year we have someone achieve a perfect score. Congratulations, Mr. Weasley.”

Percy automatically shook his hand, his eyes going to the parchment, and there it was. His name at the top, and beside it, a 500, a perfect score. He felt a relieved, incredulous, proud smile spread over his face.

“With that score, you’ll have your pick of law firms,” the proctor said. “Might you consider Bolgers and Fawcett?” A card was slipped into his hand.

“He’s not going into law,” one of the test-takers said. “He’s in government. Senior Assistant to the Secretary.”

“I know,” said the proctor. He gave Percy a sly sort of smile. “Just in case you’re looking for something more lucrative.”

Bolgers and Fawcett was one of the wealthiest, most powerful law firms in the Wizarding UK. Percy knew the starting salary was easily triple what he was making now.

He shook his head. “I’m quite satisfied with my current position, thank you.”

“Not if you’re taking the bar,” the proctor said. “You’ve got your sights set a bit higher. Well, when you tire of life as a public servant, let us know.”

“Thank you.”

The proctor left and Percy accepted more congratulations from the test-takers, some given more graciously than others. He responded with his own, and then once he was able, he slipped away, back to the Ministry. He still had work to do.

He did divert by the Ministry’s owlry to jot down a quick message. I passed the barrister’s. A perfect score!

At another time he might have written more. He might have written about how rare a perfect score was, and that less than a hundred people had ever achieved a perfect 500 in the history of the exam. He might have written about the proctor trying to poach him for Bolgers and Fawcett, or about the test-takers recognizing him. But he knew by now that such additions would only be taken as arrogance. It seemed unfair to him, that only his boastings were considered prideful. In truth, Percy may have been boastful as a child, but he’d been forced to speak out about his achievements because no one else seemed to recognize them, or understand how significant they were. He’d grown up insisting on his own merit, celebrating his own accomplishments, and because of it, he’d been labeled prideful. He’d tried to be quieter about it lately, but it seemed even small comments on his success was enough to considered bragging.

“Where shall I send it, sir?” the postmaster asked.

“The Bur -,” Percy cut himself off. He remembered the last time he shared such news with his parents. They ignored the message. They were unimpressed. No, worse than unimpressed. They were disapproving.

His siblings had been happy for him though - they’d gotten him a gift for his office. And his parents had seemed apologetic over Christmas. He could try to reach out again, see if the fences had been mended.

But if they hadn’t... Percy swallowed hard. It had hurt, when no one knew about his promotion, when his mother and father had kept it secret, like they were ashamed of him. It had felt like he’d done something wrong. It had felt like he didn’t belong. If it happened again... Percy didn’t think he could bear it.

“Charles Weasley,” Percy said instead. “The Dragon’s Repast, Romania.”

“Very good, sir.”

Percy left, feeling slightly easier at his decision. Charlie wouldn’t ignore the missive. Charlie wouldn’t disapprove. Percy could imagine him, getting the owl and reading the message, and letting out a big whoop of joy for him. Charlie might even tell his friends about it - how his younger brother had gotten a perfect score on the bar exam. And the next time he came to visit, he’d insist on taking Percy out to celebrate.

Percy nodded. That was enough. As long as he had Charlie, it would be enough.

-----

(So, I have more head-canon about Percy, but it doesn’t really fit into my fic. I thought I’d plot a bit here on tumblr because I didn’t think it was hefty enough for Ao3, and it was just meant to be a little drabble, a tidbit, a snippet. But it doubled in length and then turned a little angsty at the end. So I may have to put it up on Ao3.

For those folks confused, this is my interpretation of Percy Weasley from my fanfic series The Code, found on Ao3 and FFN. It’s not really about Percy, but Draco Malfoy and Bill Weasley.)

#percy weasley #hp fanfic #the code #harry potter #head canon #fic #it was really supposed to be short #drabble #not a drabble #charlie weasley is the best

37 notes · View notes

stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

what i want.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: takes place in s1 of hemlock grove just after roman’s coma and the aftermath.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: yeaaahhhh so i know this is st related but it felt more right to post this here over my marvel account? anyways, i just really really wanted to write for roman and this poured out of me yesterday (which is surprising bc i can’t remember the last time i wrote a fic all in one day) but even though i already know this is gonna flop, i wanted to post it anyway just for fun (: i hope you enjoy and if you do read, please let me know that you think!!!!

With an ear pressed to his chest and a hand cradling his neck, you counted the rhythmic beats of his frail heart.

He looked the same, felt the same, smelt the same; but the man we lay still below you wasn’t Roman. Not in the metaphorical sense at least. This man who’s lashes lay gently against the apples of his cheeks obscuring his large doe eyes, wasn’t your love. He was still and quiet and lacked the emotion of your Roman. Your Roman who could never hide how he really felt, who wore every feeling on his sleeve, unable to mask his emotion.

At least, always around you.

A soft french ballad played in the background as you hunched over his hospital bed in the attic of the Godfrey home. You could hear the faint scratch of the needle against the vinyl, more so when there was a lull between songs.

Heavy footsteps entered from your right and you knew before they reached you that it was Shelly to fetch you for school.

“I know, Shell.” You said quietly, like you might wake Roman from his restless sleep if you spoke any louder, “I just need a few more minutes with him.”

The tall girl loomed over you both, watching you stroke Roman’s cheek lovingly with your thumb, the rest of your nimble fingers still holding his thin neck.

She had never experienced the kind of unequivocal and palpable love that she did when she observed you and Roman together. She often wondered if all the tales of true love and soulmates that were regaled in some of her favorite novels were actually true? Because the way you looked at Roman, and the way Roman looked at you, could not be fabricated or faked.

After a long beat of silence, Shelly gripped her phone and typed out a simple message to you.

“I miss him, too.”

She could see tears forming in your eyes once more. Your eyes that seemed to have not ceased their perpetual filming for the last two weeks Roman had been under.

All you could was nod in response. When Shelly placed a dense hand on your shoulder, you silently wept.

It all felt so surreal. But Roman was always larger than life, you probably should have prepared for something like this. You were just so scared.

That night two weeks before, when he had come to you in the pouring rain, drenched to the bone, you had been scared then, too. Roman was dramatic, yes. But never anything like this. He trembled fiercely and his fingers twitched and his muscles rippled with fear.

He didn’t seem himself as you wrapped him in blankets and placed him in your bed to warm his icy bones. You had wound your arms around him as he cried into your neck, tears and snot streaking your skin as you soothed him the best you could.

“I’m ugly, I’m a monster, I am unlovable and disgusting.” He chanted between hiccups and deep intakes of breath, like he was under a spell.

“Please stop, please don’t say that. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. I love you, I always will.” You whispered sincerely to him, beginning to shutter yourself at the uncharatieric behavior he was displaying.

He startled you even more when he grasped your wrists together with one hand and flipped you onto your back, meeting you with a fierce kiss before you could comprehend his actions.

It was all teeth and tongue and labored breathing as Roman pulled your strings in only the way that he could. Once he was inside you, he only became more brutal. It was more pain than pleasure as he looked at you with soulless eyes and his mouth agape. But everything Roman was, was good. Even now he felt like heaven.

When he had finished and pulled two orgasms from your body, he collapsed on top of you. You cocooned him with your limbs, whispering loving words and frightened questions as his body seemed to pass out from sheer emotional exhaustion, anchoring you beneath him.

The next morning, you were dressed in nothing but Roman’s cardigan and tucked underneath your duvet with no knowledge of his departure the night before.

It was only minutes after you woke that Olivia called to curtly inform you of Roman’s condition.

You placed your own hand, the one not holding Roman, over Shelly’s and squeezed it.

“He is so lucky to have you.” You said, swallowing thickly to look up and give Shelly a smile, “He loves you so much, I know he’ll wake just for you.”

Shelly knew you were trying to soothe her as well, something you had a knack for since you came into the two Godfrey’s lives. She appreciated it greatly, but wished you would let yourself swim and stop trying to make sure she stayed afloat.

“You, as well. He will wake for us.” Shelly typed and you squeezed her hand in a tight pulse.

“We can only hope.”

You dropped Shelly’s hand as she went to turn the music off while you kissed Roman goodbye.

“Where, today?” Came Shelly’s mechanical voice as the music ceased.

“His left eyelid.” You replied, standing up and stroking Roman’s porecelain cheek.

You had taken to kissing a new part of Roman each day as you left him. To cherish him even while his mind was missing. You were saving his lips for when he woke, hoping his subconscious would crave your mouth on his enough to jar him from his slumber. Roman was never quiet about his appreciation for your lips.

“And tomorrow?” She asked.

“The other.”

As you sat in english class, you couldn’t help but feel Peter’s absence in the seat next to yours. With neither him nor Roman around, you felt off kilter. The boys had been going through a rough patch lately, but Peter was still your friend when Roman wasn’t looking. Giving you winks that would reply with an eye roll, and chatting between classes. You believed you could mend the fence between the two men by simply being Switzerland, but after the police incident, Peter wasn’t so sure.

But you and Roman were alike in many ways, you told Peter as much.

“You two will work this out. Even if it gets hard.” You say flippantly one day as you rummaged through your purse for a tube of lipgloss.

“Yeah? And how do you know? Are you an oracle and just haven’t told me?” Peter jokes as you take the cosmetic from your bag.

You remove the fuzzy doe-foot applicator from the pink make up with a loud squelch and smirk at him.

“Because not only do I know everything,” a swipe of the goods on your lips, “But, I always get what I want.”

Now, his absence along with Roman’s seemed to be significant. Connected.

And then you got a call.

And the ID almost gave you a heart attack.

You fled the classroom without the formality of an excuse. It wasn’t any secret that you and Roman were a couple, so some teachers had been far more lenient with you since he had fallen under. Thankfully, Ms. Day was one of them.

You ran from the class and around the corner for the veil of privacy before you picked up the call.

“Roman?”

“God, how I’ve missed your voice.” He said, punctuated with his melodic laugh.

You burst into tears, clenching your phone tightly in your sweating palm as Roman cooed to you.

“Hey, hey, no. No tears, baby. Too fucking hot to be sad, you know that?”

“I’m not sad, God no! These are tears of joy, of fucking relief.” You felt suddenly very fatigued from the worry and dread escaping your body at the sound of Roman’s voice, and slid down the wall to the grey linoleum below.

“Good, hate to think you’d forget about me after two weeks out of commission.” You could see his smile in your minds eye and your stomach twinge with love.

“You know I could never forget about you.” You replied, whipping your damp cheeks on the back of your hand.

“I’m glad. I was counting on it.” You can see his smirk now.

“Dick.” You laughed and he did as well.

“Eh, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

There was a silence and you wished so helplessly that he was in your arms. Your Roman. Not the still and sterile one. The one with a wicked tongue and a beautiful smile that he offered to you so freely.

It was in this silence though, that you heard the purr of an engine.

“Baby, are you in a car? Are you with Olivia?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly.” And the bubble of joy popped just as it had formed.

“Roman, where are you? Why are you in a car?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, my love.” He hummed quietly his adoration and immediately you knew what was happening.

“Put Peter on the phone.”

“How did you-”

“Just fucking do it, Roman.”

You could hear him curse, then the shuffle of the phone being passed between hands.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), how’ya doin’?” Peter asked, faking a calm tone.

“Let’s forget the goddamn pleasantries, Peter. What in the living fuck are you doing trying to track this wolf when Roman just rose from the dead?”

“Rose from the dead sounds a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Does it sound like I give a shit?”

“Frankly, no. It doesn’t.”

“And what does it sound like I give a shit about?”

“Probably Roman not doing this right now.”

“Bingo, Fiddo. Now you either take him back to his house or I am coming to find you two and I promise you, I can be scarier than Olivia.” You hissed into the receiver, looking around to make sure no rouge students in the halls were hearing your conversation.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But this was his choice, (Y/N). Nothing neither of us can do anything to change his mind.”

“Peter, I swear to-” This time, you were the one cut short.

“Baby, listen,” Roman said after commandeering his phone back.

“No, Roman, you listen! I know you have some attachment to helping kill this thing, but now isn’t the time.”

“But it is. It’s complicated, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“I do trust you, Ro. I do. But I don’t trust whatever this thing is.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, “Unfortunately I do trust what it is capable of. Which is a fuck tone pain.”

“I’ll be safe. I have Peter, Peter’s got me. I got this. We know what we’re doing.”

“Wish I could believe that.”

“Baby, I promise. I swear, even. We are gonna find some answers and then I’ll be home to you in one piece.”

You pause and Roman calls your name from the phone, his voice vulnerable.

“It’s funny. This morning you were in a coma and you were more safe then than you are right now.”

“I love you.” Roman says firmly.

“I know.”

Another pause and you know you can’t scold your way out of this one.

“Just… please call me when you get back. I don’t think I can take another minute of being away from you.” Your tears were beginning again.

“Me too. You’re all I can think about,” Roman sniffles, “I need you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both sit in silence on the line before Roman tells you he needs to go.

“Ok… but hey, Turner?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Hooch to be careful. Both of you just… be careful.”

“Always.”

And the line goes dead.

After school you debated going straight to the Godfrey residence to wait for Roman to return, but decided against it. You weren’t sure exactly what Olivia knew and didn’t know, and didn’t feel like being alone with her while you figured it out.

So, you waited anxiously in your bedroom, doing everything possible to quell your shaking nerves. You had a perpetual tremor in your body as fiddled with your phone to try and distract yourself. Which was partly true, the other reason your phone was glued to your palm was so you would know the second Roman contacted you.

Though, as the sun descended in the sky and the night sky spanned for hours, you were becoming more restless. Whatever Peter and Roman were doing was no doubt dangerous and time sensitive, and it made you sick that it was nearing midnight without any word from either boy.

As the night continued to wear on and your mind ran away from rationality into an amalgamation of pure fear and absurdity, you decided you couldn’t sit around anymore. You weren’t going to wait for Roman to call and tell you he was home safe. You were going to drive to his house and wait for him there, and if he wasn’t back in an hour, you’d go out looking for him yourself.

As you put on a pair of house slippers and a sweatshirt over your nightgown, your phone vibrated on your vanity. Your heart began to speed up in your chest as you rushed over to the table and picked up your buzzing phone. On the screen was a text alert from Roman, with only one word present:

Come.

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the Godfrey’s, you fled your car so quickly you almost forget the keys in the ignition. You ran up the front steps and banged both fists on the door needing to use your excess anxiety and adrenaline for something. And while you didn’t want to face Olivia’s wrath, your judgment was clouded by the chance of seeing Roman, alive and well.

When Roman finally opened the door, you wasted no time throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled at the impact of your embrace, but was quick to remedy his shock by wrapping his arms around you. The feeling of this made your throat constrict.

“Jesus fucking Christ I missed you.” Roman all but growled as he firmly smoothed flyaways from your hair and placed his strong hand on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you, Ro.” You said, voice thick with tears as you began to pepper kisses anywhere you could reach.

Neck, jaw, ear, temple, cheek, shoulder, trap, clavicle, repeat.

Roman groaned appreciatively in your ear as you covered him in your lips.

“You scared me half to death you know?” You said between kisses.

“I know, I’m sorry. Things have been… odd. I still can’t remember it all.” Roman says, his tone confused.

“Well, Olivia said-”

“I know what she said. I just don’t know if I believe it.”

You furrowed your brows and tried to wiggle in his hold, silently signaling for Roman to place you back on your feet, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Not yet. Just, stay a while.” His voice wavered.

You finally pulled back to look at him, his eyes red from tears and shadowed. Sometimes it was difficult to look at him, his beauty and pain were just too much.

“I’m staying, Roman. You couldn’t get me to leave if you wanted to.” You reply.

A wash of emotion washes over his features as his lip quivers and his eyes attempt to blink back tears. You opened your mouth to try and alleviate him of whatever he was feeling when his mouth crashed to yours.

You forgot how good his lips felt against yours as your mouths meshed together. The velvet of his tongue and the mint and smoke on his breath. His hands gripping you everywhere as he pressed you impossibly close, moaning into you with deep primal noises sounding from his chest.

“Roman, baby,” You pulled away for air and Roman promptly moved his attention to your neck and clavicle. “I need you. Take me upstairs, I can’t wait any longer.”

Roman groaned and bit you hard on the shoulder before hitching your legs higher on his hips and running you both up the winding staircase behind him.

Bruises, at the behest of his mouth and fingers, littered your body as you lay on Roman’s chest as you both still reeled in the blissful aftermath of your climaxes. Roman’s fingers idled along and spine while his unoccupied hand rested behind his head.

He had begun to tell the tale of his night, of Peter and the turn and Chasseur and his mother. He told you Peter was upstairs unconscious and that he was unsure what was going to happen when he woke.

“So, after all this, everything’s still shitty? Is that what you’re saying?” You muttered.

“Essentially. But I have hope… we’re going to figure this out. I know it.” Roman nodded, like he is reassuring himself more than you.

“Me too. You two are smart,”

“You flatter me.” Roman chuckles and looks down at you.

“Just trying to butter you up to get into your pants.” He laughs again and slaps your ass.

“Clearly it’s working.” He replies.

“Well that, and I always get what I want.” You say with a content smile.

Roman hums, “Don’t I know it.”

“You enable it.”

“Again, I know.” He kisses your forehead and you burrow closer to him.

You two lay in silence a bit longer before he sighs.

“I think we should move to sleep in the attic. Just in case something happens with Peter and he needs us.”

We. Us.

The small implication in his word choice makes you smile and once again fall under a wave of emotion, just so happy that your Roman was back to you.

You don’t know what you had done if there was no we or us with Roman any longer. But you choose to not fixate on the past.

You just nod and kiss the underside of his chin. Roman gives you a small grin and begins to get up. As you do the same, Roman throws you one of his white button downs, giving you a stern look as you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just put it on. I got two weeks to make up for, baby. It started with reuniting, then fucking, and now you in my shirt.”

You try to hold off the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face and put on the shirt, buttoning it to just above your cleavage.

“Yeah? And what’s next?” You ask, watching Roman round the bed toward you.

“Sleep.”

Now in a pair of threadbare silk pajama pants and nothing more, Roman extends his hand to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” You reply, taking his hand, weaving your fingers as he led you to the attic.

i hope you enjoyed even though it was for a different show!! and if you did, pls i’d love some feedback (:::: also let me know if you would possibly want another roman fic bc i have other ideas lol

339 notes · View notes

thewatermelloncat · 3 years

Note

It was the wrong number I meant 4 TuT

Rosénali

4. “You lied” “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth.”

Got carried away with this one in multiple ways. I’ll probably turn it into its own fic on AO3 when I figure out a title, and it also got a lot darker than I was meaning for it to. If that’s a problem I can write you another one if you want.

But I really enjoyed doing this one, so thanks for the prompt

WARNINGS: MILD DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE, AND INJURY

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

Had a rough night. Skipping school today.

When Denali had got Rosé’s text the day before she hadn’t hesitated before calling back. It wasn’t a surprise that Rosé had dodged most of her questions, saying that she would explain the next time they see each other face to face. In the meantime, promising her that she was fine but just needed to take a day for herself.

As soon as they’d hung up, Denali began the process of impatiently waiting for the time when Rosé would give her answers. After school that day she had been tempted to go over to Rosé’s house to check in on her, but she rationalised against it. If Rosé was taking a day to be alone, she didn’t need Denali getting in the way of that.

So, she’d gone home and done her homework. Losing count of the times she pulled up and got lost in the words of Rosé’s text message as if it would tell her more than it already had.

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

Denali was usually an early riser but the next morning she woke up before the sun had breached the horizon line. Unable to get back to sleep she reached over and grabbed her phone from her bedside table.

Are you up?

She sent the text to Rosé, not expecting the immediate reply that she got.

Yeah

Do you want to get to school early? Assuming you’re coming…

She sends back before impatiently waiting for Rosé’s typing bubble to turn into text.

Sure, meet behind the science block.

Worry sinks into Denali’s stomach as she types back a quick confirmation, knowing that as the spot Rosé takes her to when she wants to tell her something that she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. Then her worry turns into a sense of urgency and she shoves off her covers and sets about readying herself for school.

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

Denali had been surprised that Rosé had beaten her to the spot. Finding her sitting on the concrete, leaning against the wall of the building.

All up she had looked normal until she’d told Denali about what had happened two nights before and then more things stood out to her: the cuts that grazed her knuckles; broken fingernails; and she just had to trust that she had a few bruises on her arms which her leather jacket is hiding. Also, the tired lines under her eyes that kept avoiding Denali’s gaze while she finally explained what had happened.

It had been around 11:00 at night and Rosé had been home alone when she heard a knock at the door. She hadn’t thought much of it since her parents had been out and she just assumed they had forgotten their key. When she’d opened the door she’d seen her uncle on the other side, and recognising the familiar face she’d undone the safety latch to let him in.

Long story short, her father owed his brother some money that Rosé had no idea about. She’d tried to ease the situation but he was out of patience and had grabbed her and tossed her to the floor.

She’d counted herself lucky that her parents had got back at that time and her dad had been able to pay his brother off. But Denali struggled to see the positive side.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be here?” Denali asks, still holding onto Rosé’s hand that she had gently taken in her own.

Rosé hums assuredly as she nods. “Kind of just want to get out of the house, you know?”

“Guess that makes sense” Denali finds reason before she asks, “how did you manage staying there all yesterday?”

“Well, I slept for most of it” Rosé admits.

“I don’t think you slept enough” Denali looks back to the lines beneath her eyes.

“In my mind, you can never sleep enough” Rosé smirks at her as the bell rings. “We should get going.”

Denali hums in agreement as she stands, Rosé stiffly pushing herself up to follow after her with a limp.

About three steps in Denali slows her pace to a stop. “How else did you get hurt?”

“Just pulled a muscle in my leg or something. It’s nothing” Rosé dismisses easily and being the talented actor that she is, Denali stupidly believes her.

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

Denali had strategically chosen her position on the field, not for any game plan but specifically because it was close to where Rosé was sitting on the side line.

After she’d come out of the changing shed, she’d seen Rosé talking to their P.E teacher before they had directed her over to the area where she now sits. Then she knew she needed to talk to her because a few things were no longer lining up for her. Only she couldn’t figure out what they are.

“I thought you liked P.E” Denali ribs at her as she comes to stand in her position.

“I can’t say sport is my true passion, but it does get me out from behind a desk” Rosé answers casually.

Okay. She didn’t get far in gathering information from that line of conversation.

“Didn’t know that a pulled muscle was enough to get you out” Denali tries again. “When Kandy complained to Mr Sims about one the other week, he just told her to stretch it out.”

At this Rosé shifts uncomfortably and Denali knows she’s getting somewhere. So, she prods again.

“Or was it the grazed knuckles that pushed it over the edge?”

For a few seconds Denali watches as Rosé plays out different ways the situation could go in her head before she sighs, giving in.

“Metaphorically speaking” - Rosé says slowly, avoiding Denali’s gaze before she cuts her off.

“Rosé, I really doubt that there is going to be a metaphor in this.”

“Okay, fine” she huffs out a breath, closing her eyes helplessly. “What would you say if I told you I had stitches in my leg?”

“Well, I guess I would ask how many” Denali says slowly and unsurely as her mind processes the words said.

“There’s three.”

“Wait – but, what?” like a record scratch in Denali’s brain the pieces all fit together. “You lied.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell the whole truth” Rosé defends hesitantly.

“So, there is no pulled muscle?”

“Okay, so maybe I used that as a cover” Rosé admits, running a hand down her face.

“Rosie, I honestly don’t know if I believe you” Denali confesses, the information all coming too fast for her to keep up.

“I wish I was lying” Rosé says as she reaches down to the zip at the hem of her pants. Knowing that Denali isn’t going to believe her without evidence.

Curiously, Denali steps forward, guessing that there is an advantage to Rosé having edgy clothing as she pulls up the zip in the side seam of her pantleg to reveal a bandage wrapped around her calf.

“That enough for you to believe me? Cut it on the corner of the shelf when he threw me down. In the grand scheme of things, it’s shallow.”

“Yeah” Denali breathes out as she begins to shake her head, unable to tell if she’s annoyed or not. “But why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Save you worrying, I guess” Rosé reasons as she pulls the zip down again.

“How is this supposed to keep me from worrying?” Denali raises her hands before she lets them fall back to her sides. “Now I’m going to constantly worry that you’re hiding things from me.”

“Well, in fairness, you weren’t supposed to find out” Rosé sighs.

Denali pulls in a breath to argue back but the sound of her name has the words caught in her throat.

“Foxx, get in the game!” Mr Sims calls out across the field.

After one last look between Rosé and the game around her, she starts to run backwards as she fixes Rosé with a warning look and points a finger toward her. “This is not over.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rosénali #rosenali

9 notes · View notes