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animatedrapture · 3 years

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"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

#sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #;commish

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

A Game of Cat and Mouse ||Demetri Volturi x Witch!Reader||

Warnings: Some swearing towards the end and angst

Words: 4939

Taglist: @thelastemzy @volturidoll13 @raindancer2004 @ferb13 @alecvolturiswifeforever @college-is-coming @a-avaunce @broskibowser @perfectcolortreestudent @royalvolturisblog @kpopgirlbtssvt @vamp-army

Summary:

Part 1:A Little Magic

Part 3: A Book and A Bargain

Part 4: A Moment Made For Us

Part 5: A Spindle Prick

Part 6: A Witch’s Wrath

Part 7: A Revelation

Part 8: A Message In A Bottle

After being cast out by the Grand Magister a game of survival ensues, one pitting tracker against witch in a race to reach each other.

Standing atop the stairs that led to your crafting room, you felt your heart hang heavy in your chest. For once, Castor remained quiet as you both stared down into the warm, welcoming room where so much magic had taken place. The crafting room was a safe haven, a place where you no longer had to pretend to be normal and could let the full scope of your power run free. It was a place you could create, manifest, morph, divinate and more. It was in the crafting room your bond with Castor had been cemented when you performed your very first spell together.

It was time to close the door.

“I can do it, if you prefer.” Castor said quietly. With a deep breath, you shook your head.

“It needs to be me.” you said, reaching for the handle and pulling the door closed. Castor sat on his back legs, his front paws clutching the drawstring pouch he had packed. You were both ready to leave, your home no longer surrounded by the protective charms and spells that had once kept it safe and off the radar. Placing your palm flat against the wooden door, you closed your eyes, feeling the magic behind it. With a whispered incantation, you pulled away and turned your back on the room, not wanting to feel it collapse in on itself. It would be destroyed within the hour and nothing but an ordinary cupboard under the stairs would remain in its place. Castor’s feet thumped the floor as he waddled towards your backpack, putting his drawstring pouch inside first and hopping in second. He turned in a circle once or twice before he had trampled down enough of your clothes he could sit comfortably, head poking out of the top of your backpack. You zipped it up just enough it would keep him secure but left him enough room to poke his head through the gap whenever he so wanted.

For a moment, his paw lingered on your own hand, but before you could scratch his ears to offer some comfort his nose twitched, lips curling back over sharp little teeth as he hissed.

“He’s here.”

The backpack was slightly heavy on your shoulders but once it was in place you turned towards the living room archway and lifted your hand, gathering as much of the energy in the room into your palm as you could while your brain scrambled to think of somewhere you knew well, a place that wasn’t a sacred space you were no longer allowed in or involved another witch who would not be able to shelter you. The ripping sound as you tore a hole in reality was loud, enough to alarm the tracker you could sense now just outside your door. He burst in without hesitation.

Your head snapped to the left, your eyes meeting the enthralling red irises of this mysterious vampire. He stood tall, his chin lifting and expression shifting to one of concern as he took in the sight of your backpack on your back. Then he saw the portal before you, a shimmering city bathed in sunlight sitting right in your living room archway, your sofa and TV just beyond it like there wasn’t a whole other world between you and them.

“Wait!”

“Never!” you snapped. The hostility in your voice seemed to startle him, freezing him long enough for you to leap through the portal and shut it behind you. The sunlight was warm against your skin, a light breeze caressing your face. Wheat swished against your legs and you heaved a sigh as you glanced about the field you had landed in. It was definitely not the exact spot you had intended on landing, but you were ashamedly rather distracted by the handsome vampire until you saw him start reaching for you. Something about his aura was welcoming, even if it was freezing cold, but your job now was to run, to protect your secret for as long as you were able. He could never be allowed to get you.

“Well, at least we won’t run out of bread here.” Castor snarked. Eyes rolling skyward, you puffed out your cheeks and counted to ten, electing to ignore the haughty little racoon in your backpack and begin your trek through the wheat towards what you hoped would be civilisation. Castor wasn’t the only one confused by your whereabouts either.

“Who are you?” Demetri murmured to the space where you once stood. He remained in your house, alone and really feeling lonely for the first time in forever. His single status had never bothered him before, his off and on again relationships not fulfilling perhaps but certainly satiating him to a degree that left him content with his bachelor status. Then you came along, quite literally blowing him away. Demetri had never cared before but now he was desperate to know you, because he wouldn’t get another chance. There was no more time to be a bachelor, no amount of casual sex or fun, one time dates he could while away an evening with, that would ever replace you. Your presence was meant to be permanent fixture in his life yet you’d disappeared right in front of him.

A quick search of the house found it entirely bare, no clothes in the wardrobe and no food in the cupboards. Wherever you had gone to you clearly had no intention of coming back. Demetri frowned, slowly making his way back to the living room archway you had disappeared through. How? How was it possible? There had been some sort of field beyond, one with bright sunshine he could most certainly not follow you into, and yet now…the archway was empty. There was no shimmering green ring around a sunlight field, just the empty living room beyond. He could imagine you curled up on the sofa before the TV, cosied up in a blanket perhaps, maybe reading one of the books you had taken that had left behind gaps on your bookshelf. Did you like to read? It seemed a trivial question now, but he longed to ask you yourself…when he found you again, that is.

Demetri inhaled deeply. The house was saturated with your scent and he committed it to memory willingly. Your natural smell was warm and inviting, something like sandalwood and lavender, all comforting smells he could indulge in all day. It wasn’t your scent he needed though. He focused more on the beautiful, soft features of your face – even if they had been contorted in sheer disgust at the sight of him. He focused on the melodic notes of your voice – even if you had been snarling in contempt. He focused on the only tenor in his repertoire that thrummed and pulsed in a way so unlike the others. Human tenors were distinguishable for their rope like quality, easily frayed and broken as human beings were themselves. Vampire tenors were sturdier, like a length of reinforced cable that was colder to the touch and far more durable. Yours…yours was some strange mix of both, not delicate but also not immortal. It thrummed with power, a low-level vibration that buzzed through him anytime he caught hold of it.

How on earth had you gotten to France?

He blinked, searching for your tenor and following it a second time just to be sure, but still he got the same answer, the very essence of France coming through it. Demetri was not startled by much but his phone ringing in the silence made him tense, every muscle going rigid before he fished it from his pocket with a huff.

“You never called to say you landed.”

“Forgive me, mother, I was busy.” He answered wryly.

“I worry.” Felix retorted. Demetri could almost hear the pout in his voice and despite the situation at hand, he cracked a smile.

“Fear not darling, I shall be home before you gave chance to miss me too much.” He assured him, placing a hand on his hip. There was a strange churning sound coming from his left and Demetri stared at the wood with a frown. He could feel the energy behind it to, something radiating power coming from the cupboard under the stairs. It was a similar feeling like the one he got when he ran too close to Chernobyl that one time – post 1986 of course.

“Home with your charming mate I hope.” Felix hinted. He sighed, turning to face the cupboard and running his hand over the wood. He could feel his palm vibrating slightly and slid his hands towards the latch to investigate.

“There were…complications.” He answered. Once the latch was free it began to rattle slightly against the wood, and with no warning whatsoever the door burst open and drowned out anything Felix had replied with. Demetri grunted as he was smacked full force in the chest by a tidal wave of soil. It gushed from the open doorway like a tsunami and he tumbled back into the living room before he could regain his balance. When the rumbling and gushing stopped, he was flat on his back and covered in soil, blinking dirt from his eyes so he could stare at the ceiling. Dumbfounded didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling in that moment as Felix’s voice came through his phone, buried somewhere in the earth he was surrounded by.

As he sat up, dirt rained down around him, but it didn’t take him long to find his phone. The gritty taste of soil in his mouth made him growl as he sputtered to rid himself of it.

“Demetri? Demetri are you there?” Felix demanded. Grimacing slightly, Demetri huffed.

“I am, there was a…” he cast his eye to the mountain of dirt that sat between him and the very ordinary looking cupboard. He could see a shelf of cleaning products atop it. How had she managed that?

“A what?” Felix pressed. How was he supposed to explain to Felix he’d been knocked off of his feet by dirt? Simple. He wouldn’t.

“A complication! I need to find her again!” he snapped. Demetri hung up before Felix could question him further. He was still brushing dirt off of himself when he arrived at the airport for a late-night flight to France. You were still travelling west towards La Rochelle and once he had managed to rent a car it was no trouble at all to come after you. He only had to pause to eat and that didn’t take him long, not if he wasn’t playing with his food. It took him only a day to catch up to you but the sun was still shining brilliantly when he did, forcing him to stay in the car at the roadside and watch from afar as you had a picnic with a…racoon? You were ethereal. The sun was reflected beautifully in your Y/H/C hair, your skin glowing in the sun in an oh so tempting way until venom was pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it down. As if you had felt his eyes on you your head turned, and you stared right at him for a moment.

He was sure you couldn’t actually see him given the distance, but in the blink of an eye your raccoon had scampered to your side and you were on your feet, flipping him your middle finger as the picnic blanket and the contents spread on it began to twist like a tornado. It curved graciously and disappeared into your backpack like it had never been out in the first place. The raccoon jumped in next while you opened another shimmering hole. Demetri’s eyes flitted left and right in a panic, and when he was sure there were no cars coming or humans about, he launched himself out of the car towards you.

“Leave me alone!” you yelled. His fingertips graced the edges of the hole once more, something he could only assume was some sort of window perhaps, as it snapped closed. He let loose a hiss of frustration, lashing out at the air that had once held a window to a place with snow-capped mountains. He had lost you again.

He lost you when he finally made it to Alaska.

He couldn’t get close to you in Madrid either.

He was close to you in the bazaar’s of Egypt before you burned a stall so badly he almost set ablaze and was forced to retreat. Then he lost you again.

His fingertips just about grazed your backpack in Mexico before you hopped through another of those windows.

He finally, finally grasped your arm for the first time in Atlanta, and you blew him backwards without a second glance before disappearing again.

Every phone call back to Volterra was getting more and more painful. The Masters were impatient and Demetri had no answers despite months of chasing you about. He couldn't safely say what your gift was to appease Aro, or that you weren’t dangerous to Caius, nor could he tell any of his friends that he was any closer to securing his mate. Misery wasn’t even close to the way the pit in his stomach felt. The chasm there grew wider every time he failed to catch you. He couldn’t bring himself to run after you, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop either. You were the one who could fix the broken parts of his soul, the shattered pieces of him that had began to grow numb without you. The mate pull was strong, your tenor all but throbbing these days in an effort to drag you to him. Of all the places for you to end up he really hadn’t expected to find you back at your old house.

He stood on the porch, palm pressed flat to the plastic doorframe. Demetri couldn’t bring himself to move for a little while, his eyes closed as he strained his ears to try and listen inside. He was sure you were in there, it was where your tenor led after all, but there was no sound at all from inside, not even your heartbeat. You had to be here, you just had to! The door swung open without warning.

“Do you plan on standing outside our door for the rest of the night or will you barge in like last time?” the haughty voice came from no one he could see, at least, not until he glanced downwards. The racoon he had seen you with so often was stood on his hind legs, front paws folded over his chest and his sharp little teeth bared in what might have been a sneer. Demetri could only stare at him for a moment, sure he was going mad. Had he really spent so long suffering this separation anxiety that he was finally going round the bend? Losing his marbles and imagining talking animals was a sure sign he should probably go home, right?

“Odd…animals usually scatter.” He murmured. His eyes widened when the racoon rolled his eyes, paws uncrossing and moving to his hips.

“I am no animal. Do you see me scavenging in the bins? Y/N! He’s here! And he’s rude!” the racoon called over his shoulder, dropping to all fours to scamper from the doorway. Demetri couldn’t quite keep the shock off of his face as you appeared at the end of the corridor from him. You looked so tired, exhausted even, skin a little pale and eyes heavy with sorrow. Clearly the time spent apart had affected you as much as it had him. He tried to straighten his spine, carry himself with strength and purpose, but it had all been sapped from him little by little whenever he had been forced to let you go. With a quiet sigh, you inclined your head in an invitation to follow you, and Demetri stepped over the threshold with a quiet gulp. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush, his nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He glanced about as he walked down the corridor, noting that the books were not back on the shelf again but there was a blanket on the sofa, a half-open book laying beside it. Crockery had been piled up, the scents of something spicy and earthy mixing in the air of the kitchen. You sat at the table with a mostly eaten bowl of what appeared to be curry in front of you, your fork lifting another load of vegetables and rice coated in sauce towards your mouth. He heard every bite of course but quickly tuned out the repetitive crunch of your chewing, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he took in the rustic feel of your kitchen in an otherwise modern house. Lots of natural wood on the countertops and kitchen island, making up the seat of the bar stools placed around and the cupboards that lined the walls. Terracotta tile lined the floor. It all looked so normal, but you were far from that.

“You keep odd pets.” He said finally, desperate to chase away the silence plaguing him. There was nothing but the eerie quiet until you finished the last few bites, moving your bowl to the sink and filling it with water before you set it on the side near the other washing up to be done. For a moment, you simply gripped the edge of the countertop and leaned over the sink. You didn’t look at him, nor speak to him, but your heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he could feel such tangible energy radiating from you it took all his willpower not to go to you. It would be as natural and as instinctual as breathing, to wrap his arms around your waist and breathe in your scent.

“Castor isn’t my pet.” Your answer was quiet yet so deafeningly loud when it shattered the silence. Demetri wasn’t sure what to say and he hated it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It wasn’t supposed to be so stilted and awkward. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to land on a topic of conversation that seemed safe, but nothing came to mind. With a heavy sigh, you finally turned to face him and clicked your fingers. His head snapped towards the kettle when it began to boil without you touching it, his eyes widening slightly. A teacup flew right past his head, hovering before a box of tea leaves before a pinch of the leaves hopped obediently into the cup like a rabbit.

“What the…” he breathed, eyes snapping back towards you. You were watching him carefully, evaluating his reaction. Demetri quickly snapped his jaw closed and wiped his face of any and all emotion, but he was sure you had seen it all anyway.

“Sit. I think we need to talk.” You pointed to the chair opposite you and it pulled out for him. Warily, he approached to settle himself on the barstool opposite you, his spine stiff and the leather of his jacket squeaking as it was forced to bend at the elbows, his hands resting neatly on the wooden surface of the island you sat at. A freshly brewed cup of tea moved in front of you, the water not so much as rippling as it set itself down. You immediately curled your hands around it, the sleeves of your jumper half-covering your hands. Cosy, they like cosy he thought absent-mindedly.

“Y/N! The signal’s gone again!” that same voice, the racoon. Demetri couldn’t help but slouch now, holding his head in his hands as he tried to make something make sense. Your pet racoon (an odd choice in itself) could talk, you could apparently move things with your mind, and teleport from place to place, and set things on fire, and now…now…

“Of course its gone! We don’t technically live here anymore remember?” you called back with an irritated eye roll.

“Well how am I supposed to watch Judge Judy?” the racoon - Castor, he reminded himself – whined.

“Go on the roof and fix the aerial then, I’m busy!” the irritation in your tone was obvious and he fell silent at that. Demetri lifted his head, looking at you honestly and openly for the first time since you met. He was confused, and desperate, and the one thing he wanted more than anything else right now was you. Your life story, your deepest fears, your passions, he wanted everything you were willing to give. None of the dizzying nonsense he was faced with.

“I have to understand,” he pleaded, “I have to understand you, please. Please, help me, understand you.” For a second, your eyes flashed. Regret, indignation, anger, defeat, hopelessness. Then your shoulders sagged, and your gaze turned to the depths of your teacup, watching the steam dance and dissipate.

“I can’t really help you. I don’t understand me either.” You answered. Demetri’s frown deepened, his desperation swelling into anger that he couldn’t suppress.

“No. No you do not get to sit there after this futile game of chase and-“

“Futile?” you snapped your eyes to him again.

“Was it not? I found you anyway. We are where we were always destined to end up.” He pointed out, lifting a hand to gesture between you both across the table from each other. He pressed his palms into the surface of the island, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath.

“Nothing in this life is inevitable.” Your voice was cold as an arctic wind. Demetri counted to ten before he opened his eyes to try again.

“What did you mean? What do you not understand? Your gift?” he questioned. A mirthless laugh escaped you, your smile entirely false as you appraised him with so much condescension and loathing in your stare it made his heart sink. You hated him. You hated him and you had no idea how much that killed him inside.

“My gift? My power. Whatever your aim was in coming here you won’t confuse me, tempt me away with you like I’m some simple, gifted child that needs a tutor. I know and understand what I am fully. I have honed my craft and my identity for 260 years and then you come along-“ you inhaled sharply, looking at your teacup once more before blowing on it once and downing it in one quick gulp. You hadn’t drained it all, and the remainder of the water was swirled from left to right three times over before a saucer appeared in front of you, and you slowly began to invert the cup. Demetri realised he had lost your attention as you slowly completed this ritual, and only when your cup was sitting upside down on the saucer did you move your eyes back to him.

“Your craft?” he asked finally.

“Yes, my craft. Witchcraft, to be precise.” You huffed. Demetri could only stare at you, dumbfounded by the answer. Witchcraft? Witches didn’t exist he was sure, and yet…werewolves had, vampires did, and the things you could do had to come from somewhere. Nobody in the world he knew of had more than one gift. And 260 years? You were barely a day over twenty surely! The youthful glow of your skin, the speed and agility you possessed…you could not have been older than 25 he was sure.

"How do you-"

"Sh." you rotated the upside-down teacup three times and flipped it upright once more, pointing the handle due south if he had guessed correctly. With a flick of your wrist the saucer full of remaining tea moved to the washing up pile and you leaned over the cup to stare at the contents within. Demetri didn’t want to admit to you just how sceptical he was, but he had seen plenty of people ‘tell the future’ with tea leaves, and not a single one of them had ever been right in his experience.

“You do not need to divine how this conversation-“

“It’s not this conversation I want to know about,” you said sharply, casting him an irritated glare before moving the cup towards him, “I asked for what might happen to us now. The rim is the near future and the dog symbolises faithful friends.”

“So you may yet grow to like me, wonderful.” He murmured with a sigh.

“Or it could mean Castor. I very much like him.” you returned. Demetri shot you an exasperated look.

“Fine, if that is the near future than what about the future further away?” he questioned, unable to fight his rising curiosity and not wanting to start an argument with you again when you finally seemed to be open to talking to him. Your finger pointed to a line of tea leaves that looked indistinguishable from the rest to him.

“In the middle of the cup, the horse’s mane. There will be a prosperous journey where desires will be fulfilled.” You informed him. Demetri raised an eyebrow. You would have to come back to Volterra with him at some point surely? If he could win your favour you would eventually move in with him since he couldn’t just quit the guard, didn’t want to either. Did it mean that? The prospect gave him more hope than he dared to admit.

“Where will this journey lead to?” he asked.

“It doesn’t work that way. This is divination, not a bullet point plan.” You reprimanded. Demetri had been so lost in your teacup he startled when the racoon jumped up beside him, a snicker escaping the little bastard. He fought the urge to swat at him, knowing it wouldn’t help him win you over if he tried to assault your friend. Your racoon friend…who could talk…good lord what had he gotten himself into?

“Fine, so we have one ambiguous teacup telling us our future holds faithful friends and a prosperous journey, but we do not know who these friends are or where this journey will take us, so we are no further forward than we were when we started.” Demetri pointed out, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyebrows rose.

“There happens to be a serpent’s fork tongued in the bottom of the cup, in the distant future.” You said, your tone ominously dark now. The racoon stiffened a bit, hopping forward to peer inside, nose twitching at the pungent smell of tea leaves. Demetri could sympathise with the thing on that account at least.

“And?” he prompted.

“Serpents signify spiteful enemies,” Castor sniffed, sitting on his hind legs again and scratching at his head. “Distant is good though, we can plan for distant.”

“Forgive me but how is that racoon talking?” Demetri demanded, slowly losing his mind with every word that slipped from his mouth.

“That racoon? That racoon! Does he want to test whose teeth are sharper? I have a name you loathsome little leech!” he squeaked indignantly.

Demetri hissed slightly. “Then have it engraved on a collar.”

“Oh you – take that – the impertinence!” he could barely squeeze out a sentence, hissing and squeaking in between words as his lips trembled in a snarl, beady little eyes narrowed in the most vicious glare Demetri had ever seen on a racoon. If his skin wasn’t as impenetrable as it was he would actually be afraid of the feral little shit.

“Enough!” you cried, “Castor happens to be my familiar and you will treat him with the respect he deserves while you’re in my house and you! You stop antagonising him!” Demetri looked at you incredulously, Castor giving another annoyed little squeak before he scurried away, grumbling about rude vampires and ungrateful witches. Dropping your head in your hands you took a few deep breaths, and Demetri finally saw just how exhausted you were for the first time that night. He had been getting closer every time he tracked you, a brush of his fingers on your backpack and his hand actually around your arm once, but he had never once caught you until now. He was starting to suspect it wasn’t by accident either.

“Y/N…why now?” Demetri asked quietly. His eyes searched your face, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, head hung low and fingers tightening in the roots of your hair.

“Because I am so tired of running from you. I am so, so tired…and I have nothing else,” you looked up, eyes swimming with emotions he couldn’t quite define just yet, “I have no final destination. Not even this house is mine anymore so tell my why exactly should I keep running? What am I running towards? Where do I run to?” Demetri stared you down, unsure what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, knew that he wanted to tell you you had been running from fate all along, from the very future your teacup told you you could have with prosperity and faithful relationships abundant. He sensed you weren’t ready for that yet, he had barely managed one civil conversation with you.

“Y/N, the signals back but Judge Judy’s finished! Can we get back deleted recordings from the box?” Castor yelled through. Y/N glanced briefly at the living room and shook her head. He had the most uncanny habit of interrupting for the most unimportant things at the most important moments.

“Stay, or don’t. Just don’t kill my familiar, or anyone else for that matter.” You said. With that, you left him in the kitchen trying to digest exactly what he had seen and heard that evening.

He also really needed to figure out a way to coexist with that racoon.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #the volturi #demetri volturi #x witch reader #a little magic #demetri volturi x witch!reader #castor the racoon #best character I ever did make #divination #witchcraft

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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

Text

Mine

so i did another fic, based on mine by Taylor swift. Two fics in one day,crazy, but I haven’t posted in so long and I missed cressworth.

I rush down the stairs, wincing at the pain in my leg but I ignore it. I need air, I need to get out even if it is 2:30 am and potentially dangerous for me to roam the streets. Thomas shouts my name but I ignore him. I block out his voice as I fling open the door and exit, cool air immediately cooling me.

My life consists of unknown variables, a constant state of unknown except Thomas and my family. However, it seems now Thomas may be out of the equation. My stomach churns with nausea, the only thought pounding in my head is how much I hate this. We don't fight, we discuss, debate, but never fight. Yet, here we are, me storming along, Thomas doing whatever. It is absurd, that even mad at him, he is the person i want to go to to let my feelings out, I want him to hold me tight and tell me it will be okay. Yet, that can’t happen if he is the reason I feel this way.

Tears stain my cheeks, I wipe them away furiously as I stop walking and lean on the bridge. I must have been walking for at least ten minutes if I've reached the river. The cold now bites at my skin but I can't seem to care about it. My leg throbs, bringing another set of tears. I hurt all over but it does not compare to my heart.

Thomas made me the promise, vowed, to not cage me in this marriage, to not control me but that is exactly what he has done. I watch the water, my breathing returning to normal slowly. The silence around me settles me, letting my mind calm itself enough to think. I need to think with my head and not my heart. Thomas has his reasons for being an ass, but surely he would have thought this through. He would have realised how his words are a cage closing me, trapping me. Breaking me just like his promises. My head drops into my hands, I run my hand through my hair, tangled by the wind and my haste to be alone. What are we going to do? How can I look at him again without thinking about this, about him holding a key, always ready to lock me away?

“Audrey Rose!” Thomas shouts and I jump up. He slows his run and stops next to me, keeping a distance we have not needed before. I so desperately want to close the distance and forget about this but I can't. Thomas is panting hard, his hands grip the wall and his other reaches out, handing me my cane. We both stare at it for a second. Of course he would think to bring it, even fighting he is a gentleman.

No, if he was a real gentleman we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

I take the cane from him, leaning heavily on it. I can see relief flood his face slightly, but he turns and faces the water, his head dropping in his hands just like mine had. I hear him curse, he is still out of breath. I wait, having nothing to say to him. Instead I try to focus on the water, the waves lapping over each other, and trying to ignore my pounding heart.

“Audrey Rose,” he says, coming back up and facing me. He is pale, hair dishevelled but his breathing has evened out. I hate that his dishevelled state is my favourite. Thomas always seems put together, never anything out of place, and even though I know that is not true, that his mind is constantly messy like mine, it is hard to believe sometimes. So seeing him like this reminds me of the fact he is not perfect. “I- I don’t know where to start.” he mutters the last to himself. An apology would be good, but i don’t say anything, i let him sort through his mind.

“Are you okay?” he asks. It takes me by surprise. I expected an argument, for him to tell me how stupid it was to storm out here, or an apology, backtracking his thoughts. I glance at him for a second, his gaze keeps flicking to my leg, to the fact I am leaning on the cane so much. “You’re shivering,” he states, he observes me like he would if we were looking at a body, or the crime scene. Working out everything that is wrong and how to help it. He is thinking with his mind as I should be doing yet I can't.

“Yes,” I lied and he knew it. He takes off his jacket, the one he threw on the edge of our bed earlier today. He holds it out to me, giving me the choice to take it. I release this as a part of his apology, knowing that I would notice the fact this is a choice and be thankful for it rather than him placing it on me as he would normally do if i wasn’t mad at him. So I take the jacket and place it around my shoulders. I am tired, I want to be in bed, settled under Thomas's arm, stealing his warmth as he kisses me and tells me how enamoured he is with me. I don't want to fight any more, or be angry. If Thomas is trying to mend this bridge, so can I. I take a small step closer to him, he notices and gives me a small smile. It is gone before I can truly cherish it.

He clears his throat and looks back at the water. “I'm a fool.”

“Agreed.”

“I overstepped, I didn't articulate what I was thinking and I got caught up in it all- I- this case is dangerous and it seemed like a bad plan.” his eyes find my leg again and memories of Eurita come flooding back. “My love, the last thing I want, any of us want, is you getting hurt again. Or worse.”

I close the distance and lean on the wall alongside him, letting the silence, his words, fill me. I knew Thomas would tell me the plan was risky, but I couldn't think of anything else.

“We’ve both come a long way since the boat ride, Thomas. The plan may be dangerous, but every plan we have will put us in danger, we hunt killers. I don’t like this either, but we can go through it more, unlike how we handle Eurita.”

“I still don’t think it is the only way.”

“That doesn’t mean you can cage me, trap me and prevent me from helping.”

He looks up at me, regret framing his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I rest my head on his shoulders and he takes my hand. We stare at the water, both of us lost in thought. When I came up with the plan, I was sure it was the only way, but I was also sure Thomas would add his input, tell me things I hadn't noticed in order to make the plan better, not just stop me from doing anything.

“Let's go home before we both catch hypothermia. We can discuss it in the morning with your uncle. I never meant for you to feel caged it just- I just remembered what happened on the boat, you said the same things, how it was the only way, and I thought, I thought somehow this would go wrong. I can’t lose you Wadsworth. You are the best thing that's ever been mine.”

“I can’t lose you, I didn’t explain it well either. I don’t see any other option.” his words fill me, calming me as much as the river had. I smile at the fact he called me Wadsworth. He rarely says it, often saying it from habit or when teasing me.

We stand and Thomas's hand immediately wraps around my waist, taking my weight to help support me. My leg aches and I am sure Thomas will make us stay in bed longer than necessary so I can rest more. Normally I'd complain and get up anyway, but looking at Thomas, his tired eyes and shivering state, I think it's best if we do rest. Running out into the cold night was not my best choice. At the time it felt like my only choice, I had to get out and put distance from him but it was not my only option. Perhaps my plan is one of many and there is another way around it. A safer way that puts neither of us in danger.

We walk back slowly. Sir Isaac is waiting at the door when we enter, and begin circling us. Thomas picks him up and nudges his head against his, scratching behind his ears. Calming the cat. I put my cane against the wall and make the trek up the stairs, Thomas and sir Isaac behind me. Thomas sets him down at the top of the stairs and he darts into our room and I feel Thomas's arm fold under mine, gently tugging me close. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“Always. I hadn't realised you were going to leave till the door slammed, I panicked and knew you didn't take your cane, so I had to rush to find it as well as a jacket and keep sir Isaac from following me.”

He takes the jacket from me now, setting it back on the edge of the bed. Sir Isaac is already curled up in the middle waiting for us. Thomas helps me into the bed and then walks to his side. His arms fold around me, and our cat who nuzzles against me, content in taking up the gap between Thomas and I. Warmth fills me and Thomas looks more relaxed, I lean over our cat to kiss his forehead and he gives me a tired smile. We fall asleep wrapped in each other, warm and no longer angry. Thomas’s words repeat in my mind.

You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

Once that claim would have suffocated me, but now I see it as endearing, my darling husband would do anything for me, as I would do anything for him. No matter what happens, however many fights or disagreements we have, we will both still love each other, and that love will triumph over our anger, as it had today, because we can’t stand harming each other in any way. I reach out and wrap my arm around him and agree with him. He is the best thing that has ever been mine.

@fangirling-again @ink-insomnia @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc @the-hoofflepooff

#sjtr #ctd #efh #hpd #cressworth #thomas cresswell #audrey rose wadsworth #cresswell #wadsworth #kerri maniscalco #taylor swift #mine

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elianamarie-blog · 3 years

Text

The Things You Give Pt 13

AN: Another part is up! Let me know what you’re thinking of the series so far because I’m thinking of ending it soon because I’d hate for it to go on longer than needed. But I am having a lot of fun writing it and love hearing back from you guys! Thank you all for those that have been reading since the beginning and if you’re just finding the series, welcome! Enjoy!

Steven Hyde x Reader

October 15, 1978

The Forman Kitchen

Point Place, Wisconsin

The morning at the breakfast table, things still hadn’t changed between the three teenagers, but they were at least able to be around each other without fists flying, so y/n took that as a plus. Y/n could barley eat though. She had woken up feeling sick to her stomach; the thought of food repulsing her. She nibbled on her toast and couldn’t even sip on her orange juice without wanting to vomit.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Kitty asked concerned. “You’ve barley touched your breakfast.”

Y/n groaned. “Just feeling a little sick is all.”

Kitty hummed and pressed the back of her hand to y/n’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Maybe it was something you ate.”

Y/n groaned again and put her head down. “Maybe.”

“Hey Dad, can you pass the bacon?” Eric asked, stretching arm out.

Y/n gagged and groaned. “Please don’t say bacon.”

Eric smirked and grabbed a piece, biting into it. “Mhmmmm…bacόn.”

“Please stop,” she grumbled, her stomach churning.

“It’s so juicy and chewy and the fat at the end is the best part,” Eric continued, laughing.

“Oh, God! Did you have to say that?!” she screeched as she made haste to the nearest bathroom. She could feel the contents of her stomach rising before she made it to the bathroom.

“Did you really have to do that?” Kitty asked, disappointed.

“Yes,” Eric responded. “Yes, I did.”

Kitty shook her head in disapproval and brought her fork of food to her mouth.

Red glared at his son before returning his attention to the newspaper.

“What?!” Eric asked. “She started it!”

“Oh, boo hoo, she broke your dolls,” Red mocked.

“G.I Joes,” Eric corrected.

“Whatever,” his father answered. “Whatever she did isn’t worth making her throw up over.”

Yes, it is, Eric thought.

Y/n returned to the kitchen, her skin ashen and her eyes sunken. “I think I’m going to go back to bed so I don’t barf all over the table.”

“Well, okay honey,” Kitty said getting up and taking her plate to the sink. “I’ll bring you some soup later, okay?”

Y/n shook her head, making a face of disgust. “Please, Mom. I can’t even think about food right now.”

“Well, you have to get some food in you,” Kitty responded. “Otherwise you’ll get even more sick.”

Y/n nodded. “Okay. I just really want to go back to bed.”

“Okay sweetie,” Kitty responded, rubbing her daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll see you later.”

Y/n nodded and stole a glance at Hyde before she made her way upstairs.

“Eric, I need you to mow the lawn later,” Red demanded as he finished his breakfast.

“What? Why can’t Hyde do it?”

“Because unlike your sorry ass, I actually have work,” Hyde replied.

Eric glared at him before turning back to Red. “Why do I always have to do it?”

“Because I said so!” Red barked.

--Time Skip—

“So, you think you got food poisoning, huh?” Donna asked that night over the phone.

Y/n nodded before she realized she was talking over the phone. “Yeah, I do. Every time I move, my body screams at me. My back is hurting so much. And my stupid cramps aren’t helping any either.”

“Have you been throwing up that much?”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, wiping her sweaty and oily hair out of her face. “I think I pulled a muscle in my back or something because of it. Even my boobs hurt.”

“Nausea, back aches, and tender breasts,” Donna counted off. “Hey, you may be pregnant.” Donna chuckled at her own joke.

“Ha ha,” Y/n chortled. “You’re funny. Definitely not pregnant.”

“Yeah? And how do you know?”

“Because I’m supposed to be getting my period in a few days. These could be symptoms of PMS. Or maybe both.”

“Supposed to,” Donna pushed, putting emphasis on her words.

“Shut up,” Elena laughed. “Stop saying that. I’m not pregnant. Eric would throw himself off a cliff if that happened. Or Hyde. Or Eric would push Hyde off a cliff. One of the three.”

Donna chuckled. “But seriously, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t do much for a couple of days.”

“Okay, well if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks Donna,” Y/n said. “I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.” “Alright, rest easy. Talk to you later.”

Y/n hung up the phone before turning back around and falling back asleep, feeling her stomach churning. Pregnant.

The word echoed in her head as sleep quickly enveloped her. --Time Skip—

“Guys!” Kelso called as he barged through the door in the basement. “The Omen is on TV right now!” He hurriedly made his way over to the television set, switching on the movie.

“Kelso, what the hell, man? We were watching that!” Hyde piped up. “C’mon, it’s Halloween season!” Kelso argued. “Tis the season to be jolly!”

“That’s Christmas, moron,” Jackie said from behind him.

“Well, whatever! I think we should get in the spirit.”

The gang groaned as they leaned back into their seats.

“Hey, where’s y/n?” Hyde asked.

“Oh, she’s upstairs sleeping,” Donna answered nonchalantly.

“Still? It’s six o’ clock,” he responded. “She’s been upstairs since this morning.”

“Well, food poisoning is a real bitch,” she replied. “And so is PMS.”

“Alright, TMI,” Eric said and got up to turn up the volume on the TV.

“Oh, Eric, don’t be such a prude,” Fez said. “It’s completely natural. In my culture, we honor women whenever they go through their monthly ordeal. It’s kind of a big deal. We thank the gods and celebrate their womanhood. Then, we bring them flowers and chocolates and some candy too. Or whatever else they’re craving. They get a week off and can stay at home in bed while their husbands, brothers, fathers, or sons take care of everything.”

“Wow…can I join your culture?” Donna asked.

Fez chuckled. “Sure, if you feel like eating bugs for breakfast.”

Donna grimaced. “Never mind.” She turned to Eric. “Why don’t you do that for me?”

“Because a woman shouldn’t bleed for seven days straight and still live,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah, I don’t trust anything that can bleed for that long and not die,” Kelso said.

Hyde looked at him amused. “You can’t even be with a woman for seven days straight, let alone be there for her during her monthly problem.”

“Not true! I was with Jackie for three years!”

“And you cheated on me at least once a month!” Jackie responded. “Hey…wait a minute!”

“You guys, women are sacred. They need to be honored and cherished during this time because the pain they go through, we will never understand,” Fez said gently.

“We don’t understand?” Hyde said. “Have you ever been kicked in the nads?”

“Okay, sure, but imagine getting kicked in the nads for at least 3 days straight,” Donna responded.

“Oh, God!” Eric said, squirming in his seat. “I can’t even imagine that!”

“Well, sometimes, it’s even more painful,” Jackie added.

“What does it feel like?” Kelso asked, staring at her.

“Well, it can feel like someone is taking a knife to your pelvis and slowly twisting it,” Jackie responded causing all the men in the room to squirm, except for Fez.

“Fez, man, how are you not effected by this?” Kelso asked.

“I grew up with five sisters,” he responded, shrugging. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Are you guys seriously talking about periods?” Y/n asked as she slowly made her way down the stairs.

“Hey, you’re up,” Donna stated. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty lousy,” Y/n said. “But I’d rather be miserable with company than go through it alone.” She plopped down on the couch next to where Hyde was sitting.

“Are you going through your…girl problem?” Kelso asked nervously.

“What? No,” Y/n replied. “I mean, I could be, but it could also be food poisoning.”

“Well, what did you eat?” Hyde asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that you guys didn’t eat,” she replied.

“Must be the PMS thing then,” Donna said, laughing when Eric shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Can we please stop talking about my sister’s cycle? It’s giving me a very vivid image that I’d rather not have.”

“Y/n, do you need anything?” Fez asked sweetly. “Chocolate? Water? A hot water bottle?”

Y/n smiled at him. “Why, yes, Fez. That would be lovely.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” Fez beamed and hopped out the chair to run out the door.

“Hey, man, why are you taking care of my chick?” Hyde asked, stopping Fez at the door. “That’s my job.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” Fez shot back.

Y/n’s mouth fell open in a laugh as she covered it with her hand. Donna and Jackie tightened their lips to keep themselves for laughing.

“’Cause she didn’t ask,” he responded.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Fez said calmly. “You should just do it for her. That’s how you keep your woman happy.”

“Then why couldn’t you keep Jackie happy?” Hyde quipped.

Y/n gasped. “Steven!”

“No, no it’s okay,” Fez said, oddly calm. “You know, Hyde, normally that would bother me, but not today because I’m not the one having another man making my woman happy.”

Hyde grabbed the nearest object—a magazine—and threw it at Fez, but before it could hit him, he slammed the door shut; the magazine hitting the door with a thud.

“He’s right, you know,” Y/n responded with a smile.

“Do you really feel that way?” Hyde asked her.

Y/n shrugged. “Not really. It would be nice though.”

“I see,” Hyde said and stood from his chair, stalking his way to his room.

“Steven, wait!” she called after him. “I wasn’t being serious!”

He flapped a hand at her without turning to look at her and slammed his door.

“Wow,” Jackie said, puffing out her cheeks. “That escaladed quickly.”

Y/n shrunk down in her seat, feeling guilty. “What else is new with this group?”

“This is great!” Eric beamed, causing everyone to stare at him in confusion. “Now Hyde is mad at you too! Not just me.”

Y/n groaned and stood up slowly. “You’re an immature dillhole. I’m going back to bed.”

“What should I tell Fez when he gets back?” Donna asked.

“That I’m upstairs and he can come up.”

“I don’t think Hyde will like that very much,” Kelso mentioned.

“Who cares?” Eric griped.

“Look, I’ll deal with Hyde later,” Y/n responded, ignoring her twin. “Right now, I just want to feel better.” She trudged up the stairs, leaving the group alone.

“What a mess,” Donna said.

“Tell me about it,” Jackie responded. “Eric, are you still mad at them?”

“Of course, I am!” he responded, surprised that Jackie would ask him such a question. “How can I not be?”

“Well, you can try not being mad,” Jackie suggested sarcastically.

“Eric, give it a rest, yeah?” Donna said. “It’s been over a week.”

Eric growled and leaned back in his seat.

“He was supposed to be moved out by now,” he mumbled.

“Shut. Up. Please,” Donna snapped. “He literally has nowhere to go. You have to be a real prick to throw him out on the streets. It’s not like he murdered your sister.”

“You just don’t get it, Donna!” he whined. The whole group groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah we don’t get it because it’s not our sister and we would be pissed too if Hyde was nailing her, blah blah blah. Seriously, Eric, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’re sick of hearing about it,” Kelso said, irritated. He just wanted to watch the movie. Why wasn’t anybody respecting that?

Eric furrowed his brows at his friends. “You guys really feel this way?”

“YES!” Jackie, Donna, and Kelso said in unison.

“Oh. Well, then, fine,” Eric grumbled and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Donna asked.

“Since you guys are tired of hearing about it, I’m going to go somewhere else.”

“Oh my God, you are such a drama queen,” Donna groaned. “Just sit back down and watch the movie with us.”

“Nah, I’m good. See you guys later.” With that, he grabbed his coat and shut the door, leaving the three teenagers left to watch the movie.

“He’s gotten more annoying than usual,” Jackie commented.

“You know, Jackie, normally I would be offended by that, but this time I have to agree with you,” Donna responded.

“Well, now we can watch the movie,” Kelso said.

The three sat in silence on the couch until Kelso tried to sneak his hand up Donna’s leg.

“Kelso!” Donna screeched as she slapped his hand away.

“Damn, Donna! I was just looking for the remote!”

“The remote is on the table, you idiot,” Jackie pointed out.

Kelso looked between the two girls with a hurt look. “Women are mean!” He stomped out the basement, forgetting the movie.

The girls looked at each other and shrugged, returning their attention to the TV before Donna got up to change it back to the channel they were watching.

--Time Skip—

Y/n stared down at the home pregnancy test, shock filling her. Positive. The test was freaking positive. She was going to be a mother. Oh God, how would everyone else react? What kind of mother was she going to be?

“Oh, Y/n, how could you?” Kitty asked from behind her, hurt playing on her face.

“Wait, Mom--!” Y/n tried to call after her mother before Red showed up at her side.

“How could you be such a disgrace to the family?!” Red shouted, his face turning pink. Kitty turned to her husband’s side and started sobbing. “Look what you’re doing to your mother!”

“No, but Daddy—” Y/n said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Wow, you’re such a whore!” Eric laughed as he suddenly appeared by their parents’ side. “And here I thought Laurie would be the one to get knocked up from some rando.”

“What?” she asked her twin, tears cascading down her pale cheeks.

“Wow, little sister, you certainly top me,” Laurie said, smirking.

“Laurie?” Y/n questioned.

“I’m leaving you,” Steven said coldly, appearing in front of her. “You were just a fling. You knew this from the start. I can’t have a baby with a loser.”

“You said you loved me!” Y/n screamed.

“I lied,” Steven said and smirked. “I only strung you along so that I could nail you. Now, look at you. You’re fat and alone.”

Y/n looked down and saw that her stomach had enlarged. “What?” she whispered.

“We can’t have you in the family,” Kitty suddenly said. “We can’t have a whore in the family.”

“You have Laurie!”

“At least she didn’t get pregnant!” her mother shot back. “You and your mistake can get out of our house, out of our lives. You’re no longer welcome!”

“No, Mom! Please, I need you. I need Daddy and Steven, please. I can’t do this alone. I need you more than ever.”

She went to grab his hands, but he jerked away from her. “Well, you’re gonna have to do it alone.”

Tears cascaded down her face as she tried to blink them away, but as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Suddenly, Y/n found herself sitting alone in a total darkness, a single light shining above her.

“No,” she whimpered, looking around. “No. No. NO!”

Y/n jerked awake, sweat coating her forehead. Her breathing was slightly heavy as she glanced at the clock. 2:08AM. She sighed and fell back onto her pillow, fingers threading through her sweaty and knotted hair. She couldn’t believe she’d been asleep for eight hours.

Her room suddenly flooded with light as Kitty, dressed in her pink robe, hair a rat’s nest, stood in her cracked door. “Y/n, honey, are you alright? I heard you yelling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Y/n replied. “Just had a nightmare.”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Kitty replied and moved closer to adjust herself on the bed. “You know, when you were little, you would get nightmares all the time. And the only thing that would soothe you and get you to go back to sleep is when I would gently caress your hair until you fell back asleep.”

Y/n smiled softly. “Too bad I’m older now, huh?”

“Oh, nonsense,” Kitty said and leaned over, caressing her hair back. “You’re never too old for your mother’s love.”

Y/n smiled and turned on her side, facing Kitty.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked her daughter after a moment of silence.

Y/n thought about it for a minute. She actually wanted to talk to her about it, but she knew if she did, she could open up something that she really didn’t want to. Even if it were just a dream, Kitty would know that it was something much deeper than that.

“No,” she responded after a beat. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Of course sweetheart,” Kitty cooed. She continued to smooth Y/n’s hair, effectively calming her down. Fifteen years later and it still works.

Y/n could already feel sleep overcoming her again. “Thank you, Mommy,” she mumbled as her eyelids grew heavier.

“You’re absolutely welcome,” Kitty responded and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/n whispered before falling asleep once more.

⧝⧝⧝

Y/n woke up the next day, just as horrible as the day before. She dragged herself out of bed and trudged downstairs to see her family eating lunch.

“Morning Sunshine,” Kitty cheerfully greeted her. “You must be really sick to sleep in till noon.”

Y/n grunted back and grabbed some orange juice and sat down. The smell of their lunch making her nose curl, repulsing her.

“How’re you feeling, kitten?” Red asked.

“I’m okay,” Y/n responded. “Could be better. Still feel kinda nauseas and tired.”

“You want some dry toast?” Kitty asked. “You haven’t eaten much.”

Y/n nodded tiredly and put her head on the table. “I’d love some actually.”

Kitty smiled and got up, popping bread in the toaster. “Oh, your foreign friend dropped off some stuff for you. I left it here on the counter.”

“Hm?” Y/n hummed, looking at Kitty.

“He said something to do with your menstrual cycle, so he dropped off a hot water bottle, some midol, and a box of chocolate.”

“Oh, come on, Kitty, not while we’re eating!” Red exclaimed, disgusted.

The whole time, Eric and Steven had been quiet. Steven glared at the gifts through his aviators. Eric rolled his eyes and continued to eat his lunch.

“What a sweet boy!” Kitty laughed. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind if you ended up with him.”

Y/n smiled as Kitty set a plate of two slices of dry toast in front of her.

“I’m going to make you some tea as well. You gotta get some liquids in you,” Kitty stated.

“Kitty, don’t put ideas in her head!” Red said, throwing down the paper he was reading.

“What do you mean by that?” Y/n asked, offended. “Is it because of his skin color?”

“What?” Red asked, scrunching up his face. “God, no! I don’t want you dating anybody. You’re too young.”

“Dad, I’m eighteen,” Y/n deadpanned as she nibbled at her toast. “Eric and Donna have been dating since they were, like, eight.”

“No, we haven’t,” Eric argued.

“Shut up, yes you have,” Y/n said.

“Eric’s different,” Red continued. “Eric is a man, or as close of a man as he can get. Besides, Donna is the best he’s ever going to do.” He started laughing, but he was the only one who found that funny.

“Thanks Dad,” Eric deadpanned.

“Red Forman!” Kitty exclaimed.

“What? It’s funny!” Kitty gave him a hard look making him shut up. “Fine, it’s not.”

Y/n managed a small smile before bringing a piece of toast to her lips. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not even seeing anyone.”

Eric stopped mid-bite to give side eye to his twin sister. Y/n returned a hard, cold stare to her brother as if to say don’t you freaking dare.

“So, Fez gave you those huh?” Steven asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Y/n replied. “That was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, real nice,” he responded slowly.

“It was,” Y/n replied, staring at her boyfriend in suspicion. “You got something to say?”

“No, why would I?” he responded. “Why would I have anything to say that my best friend is flirting with my…other best friend?”

Kitty stood at the stove as she waited for the tea to heat up and squinted her eyes at Steven before looking to her husband who was giving him the same look.

“What’s your deal, Hyde?” Y/n asked him, growing annoyed with him.

“Oh, nothing,” he responded. “I’m just saying that he’s never done this for another girl before unless it was Jackie.”

“Steven, what’re you getting at?” Red asked him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Y/n?” Hyde said, staring coldly at her.

Y/n returned the glare. “If you’re insinuating that Fez likes me, you are terribly, terribly wrong.”

“Then why would he do it for you?” he asked impatiently.

“I don’t know!” Y/n responded, flabbergasted. “Because he wants to be nice?”

“Nice, ha!” Steven hollered, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. “Guys don’t do things just to be nice.”

Y/n gave him a look. “Why do you care so much what he does?”

“Yeah, Hyde. Why do you care?” Eric asked with a smirk.

Steven realized what he was doing and looked at everyone who was looking at him with furrowed brows. He straightened his posture and looked down at his lunch, clearing his throat. “I don’t. I just find it rather odd.”

“And if Fez does like me, what’s it to ya?” Y/n asked, cocking her head to the side.

“It doesn’t,” Hyde replied coldly, taking a sip from his iced tea.

Y/n lifted an eyebrow at him before finishing off her toast.

“Is there something going on between you two?” Red asked.

The couple stole a glance at each other before looking to Red.

“No, not at all,” Y/n replied casually.

“Why would there be?” Steven asked.

“I don’t know. You’re acting weird,” Red commented. “Stop it.”

Steven grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”

“Here’s your tea, sweetheart,” Kitty said, bringing over a mug of tea. “And I put in some honey, Honey.” She laughed at her own joke.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, by the way, Sasha called for you yesterday,” Kitty said, sitting back down.

Y/n perked up. “She did? Why?”

“I’m not too sure. She wanted to talk to you about something, but I told her you weren’t feeling well. So, I took down her number and told her you’d give her a call back when you feel better.”

“Yeah, I’ll call her back once I can stop vomiting.”

“And yet, you’ve been able to achieve that this whole time,” Eric said sarcastically. “Must feel nice to finally be able to achieve something for once. Congrats, sis.”

Y/n glared at him. “If I could control it, I’d do it on you right now.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Kitty cut in. “Finish your lunches.”

“I can’t. I’m going downstairs to watch TV,” Y/n whimpered.

“Okay. Don’t forget your tea!” Kitty called out.

Y/n turned back around and grabbed the warm mug between her cold hands and made her way downstairs. On her way, she grabbed the midol and the hot water bottle.

At this point, Steven was seething as he watched his girlfriend take Fez’s gifts.

“Alright, well, I’m heading out for a few,” Steven announced, quickly getting up. “Thanks for the lunch, Mrs. Forman.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, dear,” she responded.

“Wanna come?” Hyde asked Eric.

Eric looked up at him. “What for?”

“Just come on,” Hyde pushed and grabbed Eric by the shirt, tugging him out the door. ��

“But I’m not finished!” Eric whined.

“You are now,” Hyde said before closing the sliding door.

“What’s with them?” Red asked.

“I have no clue,” Kitty responded, not caring. “They’re always up to something.”

Outside, Eric shoved himself out of Hyde’s grasp. “What the hell, man?”

“Get in the car,” Hyde ordered, unlocking the El Camino.

“What? No,” Eric said, standing in his place.

“Get in. We have to talk.”

Eric crossed his arms. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Great. Then you can just listen,” Hyde responded standing in front of the driver’s side door, waiting for Eric to get in. His arm rested on top of the car casually as if not a care in the world. “You going to get in?”

“Why should I?”

Hyde groaned. “Just get in the car, man!”

“Are you kidnapping me?” Eric asked as he slowly made his way to the passenger’s side.

“Of course not.”

“You gonna take me to the middle of nowhere, take my clothes after you convince met to skinny dip in the lake, and abandon me while I walk around naked and afraid like last time?”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “I came back for you, didn’t I?”

“Three hours later!”

“For the love of God, just shut up and get in the car!”

“It was so cold,” Eric whimpered as he slid in the front seat and shut the door. “Where are we going?”

“For a drive,” Hyde responded and backed out the driveway. Once they were on the road, Hyde broke the silence. “Listen, man. This whole thing between you, me, and Y/n has gotten way out of hand.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“What happened to you shuttin’ up and letting me talk?”

Eric sighed, making a face. “Fine.”

“Look,” Hyde began. “I know you’re pissed off at us for dating and going behind your back—”

“And lying.”

“…Yeah, and lying about it. But I need you to know that everything I said is true. Y/n is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and when I say that I will do whatever I can to make her happy, I mean it. And this whole ending a friendship over it is stupid.”

Eric stared at Hyde in disbelief. “You’re serious about this? About my sister?”

“Yeah, man. That’s why I’m here talking to you,” he responded and turned onto the main road. “I know we could’ve gone around it differently, but come on man, what would you have done? You’ve been saying that we need to put ourselves in your shoes, well put yourself in our shoes. Imagine if Donna was my sister, but you really liked her. What would you have done?”

Eric was silent for a minute. “Well, we probably wouldn’t be friends considering you kissed her and tried to get with her.”

Hyde gave an exasperated sigh. “Man, will you focus?”

Eric thought about it for a second. “I guess I can understand that.”

“And I want you to know that I won’t disappoint her. I will take care of her and make sure she gets everything she wants and needs. I’m not going to be like the rest of my family and be a deadbeat and end up in prison. I will do good for her.”

Eric turned his gaze to him and suddenly felt an anchor of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. “Oh, man. Look, Hyde when I said that…I didn’t mean it. I was angry and—”

“It’s fine,” Hyde said, cutting in.

“No, no it’s not,” Eric turned to face him. “It was wrong of me to say that to you. It’s just that…she’s my sister, man. My twin, you know? My favorite sister. I can’t help but feel, you know, maybe a little overprotective of her.”

“No, but you were right,” Hyde confessed and turned onto the highway. “I probably was headed down that path anyway. But being with her has actually made me want to be better.”

Eric looked at Hyde like he had two heads. “You look like my friend, but you don’t sound like him. Where’s Hyde?!”

Hyde chuckled and turned off the highway, noticing Eric calling him his friend. “I know. It’s sickening.”

Eric laughed and turned back around, facing the front. He noticed they were entering downtown. “Hyde…where are we going? This isn’t just a drive anymore.”

“You’ll see in a minute,” he said and continued down a narrow road before stopping in front of a super store. He turned the car off and sat back quietly. “Just so you know, this wasn’t easy for me to talk about it. So, if you tell anyone, I’ll deny the whole thing.”

Eric nodded and looked at Hyde seriously. “I’m still not happy about it, but I guess I don’t have a choice but to accept it. You two really do seem happy.”

Hyde nodded and looked down. “We are, man.”

“Just…don’t hurt her,” Eric said. “Then I’d have to kick your ass and then I’d end up getting my ass kicked and then Red will kick my ass for getting my ass kicked and then he’d hunt you down like a dog and then he’d kick your ass.”

Hyde sat there in stunned silence. “Wow…that’s…detailed. How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Pretty much since I found out.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Eric replied. “Also, one more thing. I don’t wanna hear or see you and my sister doing anything. The image of you two doing anything makes me want to hurl.”

“Deal,” Hyde chucked. “So, are we good?”

Eric looked at him for a moment and grinned. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

Hyde nodded and the two boys lifted their hands, bringing each other in for bro-hug.

“Can I just ask you one question, though?” he asked.

Hyde hummed.

“Why her? Why Y/n?”

Hyde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. She’s different. She’s smart and actually funny, interesting, and genuine. Really sweet and cares about others beside herself. Besides, she’s smoking hot.”

“Well, I’d never thought I’d hear my best friend put my sister and ‘smoking hot’ in the same sentence,” Eric retorted and pretended to gag. “Really, really unpleasant.”

“I know. I just said that because I think it’s funny,” Hyde laughed.

Eric slugged him in the shoulder. “And every time you say stuff like that, you’ll get hit.”

They laughed lightly together before Eric slapped a hand on Hyde’s shoulder. “And, uh, don’t worry about my parents. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, man,” Hyde replied. “Well, let’s go inside.”

“Why are we at this one?” Eric asked, joining Hyde outside the car. “You know there’s like three different stores in town. Why this one?”

“Because this is the biggest one in Point Place and they have everything I want.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll see.”

As they entered the store, Hyde went for the first thing he saw: flowers. Specifically, half a dozen red roses. Then he went towards the freezer section, grabbing a pint of her favorite ice cream: mint chocolate chip.

“Ice cream?” Eric questioned.

“I heard chicks really dig ice cream during their…problem time.”

“Yeah, Donna eats like four of those.”

“Damn,” Hyde sighed. “I’m, uh, I’m not very good at this. All I know is I want Y/n to feel better and I was kind of a jerk earlier.”

“Yeah, about that,” Eric piped up, browsing the ice cream flavors. “Why were reacting that way?” Eric’s eyes grew a fraction wider. “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“What? No. I don’t get jealous.”

“You so did!” Eric laughed. “You hated that Fez bought all that stuff for her because you felt like a bad boyfriend for not thinking about it earlier!”

“You wanna get your ass kicked this early in the day?” Hyde threatened.

Eric continued to laugh at him. “Just admit it. You totally did.”

Hyde rolled his eyes as he found his way to the soft drink section and grabbed a few bottles of ginger ale. “Okay, fine, maybe a little. But he shouldn’t have been hitting on her. She’s my chick. I should be the one getting all the stuff she needs.”

“And that’s what you’re doing now,” Eric stated, looking around. “Is that why you brought me here? To help you find stuff that she would like?”

“No,” Hyde answered as they entered another aisle. He found a tin box of saltines and bent down to grab them. “I know what she likes; I don’t need you for that. I mainly brought you here so that we could sort crap out.” He picked up a box of assorted chocolates, something he knew she’d like.

“You trying to tell me something?” Eric smirked, causing Hyde to chuckle. “Don’t you think you maybe going a little overboard?” He asked when he noticed Hyde putting everything in the basket.

“Maybe,” he answered honestly and led Eric away from the grocery section. “I just want her to know that I care.”

“Well, she’ll definitely get that message,” the twin responded and noticed where Hyde was leading them. “Seriously? Condoms?”

“You don’t want me to knock her up, do you?”

“I’m still trying to accept you two and by you doing this in front of me is really bumming me out.”

Hyde laughed cruelly. “That’s kind of funny.” He quickly grabbed a pack and threw it in the cart. “Just don’t look at ‘em.”

Eric sighed and looked away. “What else are you giving her?”

“Besides a good time?”

Eric dramatically screeched and squirmed. “Please. Stop. Saying. That.”

Hyde burst into laughter, laughing at his friend’s discomfort. “That will never get old.”

“You’re a sadistic son of a bitch, you know that?”

—Time Skip—

Y/n laid on the couch in the basement, wrapped up in a blanket, mindlessly watching tv. She was in and out of consciousness for the good part of the afternoon. Even though she was sick, she was still upset about her little dispute with Hyde.

When did he become so jealous? Why would he think that of Fez? And worse of all, why didn’t he trust her enough? It hurt, but she was more curious as of why. She could feel her stomach beginning to churn again as it was ready to bring back up what she brought down earlier.

Please, God, no. She quickly sat up, the room spinning for a minute, before she ran back to the bathroom and found herself with her head in the toilet. This had to be the forty-fifth time in the last couple of days of her spending time kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the light green basin.

She held her hair back as tears pricked the corner of her eyes. It hurt so much and all she wanted in that moment was just to stop. What in the hell did she catch that made her feel this violently ill? After she was sure she was done, except from the dry heaving, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. She sat against it for a little while longer, wishing her stomach would calm down enough for her to get a good sleep in. She couldn’t help but let a few tears escape. Her back was hurting, her body was aching, and her throat was burning. And on top of all that, she started cramping earlier in the day and the pain hadn’t subsided.

“Y/n?” she heard from the basement living room.

She groaned in response and heard footsteps approach the door to the tiny bathroom. She twisted her face in pain as another surge of nausea reared its ugly head. Hyde appeared in the doorway just as he saw her turn her pale and tortured face into the basin once again. He could hear her whimpers through each retched gag.

“Awe, Doll,” he cooed and knelt down beside her, rubbing her back. He gathered her long hair in his hands and tried to look anywhere besides the toilet. He gently shushed her and reassured her that he was there now for her.

Once she was finished, she fumbled for the handle, and pulled down. Hyde handed her some tissues to wipe her mouth. She gratefully accepted it and sat up fully, leaning against the wall.

“What’re you doing here?” she croaked. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” he responded and helped her off the floor. He wrapped a protective arm around her waist and guided her back to the couch where Eric also sat.

“Are you here to fight? Because this isn’t how I envisioned our first fight.”

He gently sat her on the couch, handing her the blanket and chuckled. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what?”

“Mainly to give you these,” he responded and handed her the roses.

Y/n’s face softened as she weakly grasped the flowers in her fists. “What’s this for?”

“An apology,” Hyde responded and took a deep breath. “I know I was a jealous jerk earlier and…I’m sorry, okay?”

She looked at him in the eye. “Why were you?”

“I don’t know,” he responded and rubbed his neck. “I just…I just didn’t like seeing some other guy bring you things that I should be bringing.”

She meekly set the flowers down on the coffee table in front of her. “Steven, do you not trust me?”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Then why did you act like Fez was going to hook up with me and I wouldn’t be able to say no?”

“No, it’s not that. I…I—can you hang on a second?” he turned around to look at Eric. “Can we get a minute?” he asked impatiently.

Eric’s smug look never left his face. “Sure. Doll.”

Hyde stood abruptly, intimidatingly. Eric laughed and ran upstairs.

Y/n knit her eyebrows together. “You guys are okay now or something?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and sat back down. “That’s another story.”

Y/n nodded. “You were saying?”

“Look, Y/n, when I saw Fez jumping in to immediately take care of you, I guess it felt like I…wasn’t doing my job as your boyfriend. And then when you said it did bother you, I knew I wasn’t. And…that maybe what everyone thinks is true.”

“Which is what?” she pressed.

“C’mon, you’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” she responded sternly.

Hyde sighed and tore his eyes away from hers. “That…I’m not good enough…for you. There. Ya happy?”

Y/n sighed, giving him a sad look. “No,” she responded gently and grabbed his hand. “No, I’m not happy. You can’t think that. You can’t let Fez get to you like that and it really didn’t bother me that you didn’t jump up to help me either. I’m a big girl. I can very well go get the stuff myself.”

“So, you don’t mind?”

She smiled gently. “No. Yes, it’s nice if you did that stuff for me and trust me, I’d love it, but I’m not going to make you do it for me. I want you to want to do it for me.”

He smiled at her and kissed the side of her head. “I did get you some things though.” He leaned down and grabbed the white bag, laying out the contents on the table. “I got you some ginger ale and saltines to help you with the nausea and then when it passes, I got you some chocolates and ice cream to satisfy your cravings.”

The look of sweets made her stomach churn, but she smiled through it and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” he said quietly and kissed her head once more. He noticed that she was shivering and gently stood. “I’ll be right back.” He high tailed it to his room and brought back a sweater. “Here.”

She grabbed it gratefully and threw it over her head, inhaling his scent: musk and woodsy. He settled on the couch next to her as she cuddled his side. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of them.

“So, how was your day?” he asked her.

“Fantastic,” she responded. “I spent the day throwing up my body weight and writhing in pain.”

“Sounds like a blast,” he chucked.

“Oh, yeah, it was like a party in the toilet,” Y/n responded and chuckled when Hyde made a face. “How was yours?”

“Well, you know, it was fine,” he responded.

“You and Eric work things out?”

“Yeah. He’s still not happy about it, but he seems to—or trying to at least—accept it. I made him see the bigger picture here.”

“Which is?”

“Us doing it.”

“Steven!”

He threw his head back laughing. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be,” she said and reached over, grabbing the ginger ale. She laid back into his side and took a sip. She hummed and set it in her lap. “Thank you, Steven. This is probably the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He smiled at her gently. “Anything for you, doll.”

“Awe that’s so cute,” Eric called from the staircase. “It makes me want to vomit.”

Y/n scowled at him. “What do you want?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you,” he said and sat down in the opposite chair.

“You want to yell at me again?”

“No,” he responded and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. I know I was an ass and I should’ve handled it better, but c’mon, my best friend and my sister, hooking up. I never thought that this would happen and to say I was shocked is an understatement.”

“I know,” she responded. “But you still said some pretty hurtful things, Eric, and you can’t take that back.”

“I know and I wish I could. You’re my sister, the best one at that, and Hyde, you’re like a brother to me and I just…it hurt, okay? I can understand not wanting to tell anyone else, but to hide it from me? I felt like you couldn’t trust me.”

Y/n cast her eyes down, feeling guilt. “I’m so sorry, Eric. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Lying to you wasn’t easy for me.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“How would you take it if we just straight up told you?” “

Yeah, Forman, what would you have said if I straight up said, ‘I’m nailing your sister.’ I bet you still wouldn’t have taken that lightly.”

Eric shuttered at the thought. “Yeah, definitely wouldn’t have. But it still wouldn’t have been as bad as me catching you.”

Y/n looked at her twin for a moment before letting out a groan. “Dammit, I hate it when you’re right.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like I’m not going to kill you or anything.”

“Well, to be fair you did try to disown us,” Hyde defended.

“Okay, yeah, but I just didn’t want to look at you guys at the moment,” Eric said.

“But kicking us out of the group and the house was the logical answer?” Y/n squinted at him.

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” he agreed and sat down next to Y/n, causing her to shift over. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I hope you can forgive me.”

Y/n looked at her brother, eyes getting all misty. “Only if you can forgive me.”

Eric smiled at her. “C’mere little sister.” He brought her in and hugged her tight.

Y/n reciprocated by wrapping her arms tightly. “I’m only two minutes younger.”

“Still,” he chuckled. “Besides, if I don’t forgive you, then I won’t have a sister anymore.”

“We have Laurie,” Y/n responded, pulling away.

“Do you really want her close?”

Y/n paused, pretending to think it over. “No, I really don’t.”

Eric chuckled. “Look, Y/n. I know I was a jerk, but you’re not only my sister, you’re my best friend and I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Y/n nodded, smiling and wiped at her eyes. “Me too.”

“I’m still not entirely happy about you two and to be honest, I’m not sure if I ever will be, but I want you two to be happy and if it’s you two that make each other happy, then so be it. I just don’t want to see any of it.”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, feeling lighter about the situation.

“I’m going to give you the same speech I gave Hyde,” Eric continued as Y/n’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’d never thought I’d have to say this to my sister about my best friend, but don’t hurt him. I may not be able to kick his ass, but I can for sure…try to kick yours.” As he was saying it, he knew it wasn’t true. Even if it was, he wasn’t going to do it anyway.

Y/n cracked a wide smile, a smile that she hadn’t been able to muster for the last couple of days, and nodded. “Okay, bro. That sounds fair.”

He turned to Hyde. “Just so you know, if you get her pregnant, I will have to find a new and interesting way to kick your ass.”

“Trust me, man, that ain’t gonna happen,” Hyde responded.

“Yeah, we’re careful,” Y/n responded, adjusting herself to be laying against Hyde. Her stomach and back were starting hurt again and she was desperate to find some relief. Hyde threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her closer. “Besides, Dad would literally stick his foot in both of our asses.”

“And somehow, he’d still find a way to blame me,” Eric said.

“Hey, Y/n baby,” Fez called out, entering the basement. “How’re you feeling? You get my gifts?”

“Hi Fez,” Y/n greeted with a tiny smile. “I did, thank you. It was very nice of you, but I’m not feeling too much better.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he responded.

Y/n shrugged and snuggled deeper into Hyde’s side. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Just wanted to come by and see how you were feeling,” he responded.

“No, you didn’t,” Hyde spit. “You came here to see if she was alone, didn’t you?”

Fez made a face at him. “What’re you talking about? No, I’m not!”

“Yes you are!” he said and stood up. “Now, knock it off before I make you the first person to touch his chin to ass!”

Fez looked offended, placing his hand on his chest. “Have you been spying on me?!”

“Steven, honey, it’s not that big of deal,” Y/n said, trying to calm down the situation.

“Yeah, honey, listen to your lady,” Fez said, starting to get nervous.

“No, Y/n, he needs to understand respect,” he replied.

“I’m sure he gets it now,” Y/n said, signaling Fez to run now.

“No, he doesn’t,” he responded. “If he—”

He was cut off by the slamming of the door as Fez ran outside, away from him.

“He’s not getting away that easily,” Hyde commented before darting to the door.

“Hyde, no!” Y/n called after him. She jumped up from her seat, despite her stomach and head screaming at her.

Hyde ran out the door, causing it to slam against the wall. Y/n followed him out the door, ignoring the sudden faint feeling she had.

“Steven, stop!” she called again, her voice weakened and wavering. She could see Hyde quickly gaining speed on Fez.

Fez screamed as Hyde tackled him to the ground on the Forman’s front lawn. Eric was behind Y/n in a flash, watching the scene in front of him unfold. Hyde struggling to get Fez in a choke hold, Fez fighting to get out of his grip, and Y/n yelling at him to stop.

“Steven, enough!” Y/n shrieked weakly, her voice quieting as the world started to spin, the edges of her vision darkening. “Steven, please…”

Her vision darkened as she hit the ground, making the two boys suddenly stop to jerk their attention towards her. Eric dropped to the ground next to her.

“Y/n!” Steven shouted, letting Fez go and running over to her. “Y/n!”

And that was the last thing she heard before she was swallowed by darkness.

Tags: @lieswithoutfairytales @mdittyz123 @n-dg-wm @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-003 @taysirene

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #jackie burkhart #fez #Michael Kelso #red forman #kitty forman

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Here’s an angsty DH tent fic I wrote for @voldemorts-tap-shoes! Enjoy some passive-aggressive romione flirting! And special thanks to @remedial-potions for organizing the 2020 HPRomione Discord Secret Santa Exchange! (And for writing my summary!)

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Summary: Ron's journey as he seeks forgiveness from Hermione upon returning to the horcrux hunt, and how a certain maroon jumper brings them together.

******

-December 26th, 1997-

Ron was almost to his bed when he nearly tripped, but luckily he steadied himself against the frame before he could actually fall. Thank Merlin he did, because he could sense her watching him from her position on the sofa, and there was no need for her to see him making a fool of himself— again. He crouched down to see what his foot had caught on, only to discover his old, worn-out jumper.

The tent could only block so much of the icy wind from outside, so stumbling upon his warm jumper was a relief. He was anxious for a change of clothes, but most of his warmer things were still in Hermione's bag, and there was no way she would let him dig around in it just yet. Ron was quickly coming down from the adrenaline rush of destroying the locket, and his awareness of the cold grew stronger with every misty breath he could see leaving his lips. He pulled the jumper over his head just as his teeth started to chatter.

There was something peculiar about the jumper. Not only did it appear to have been recently washed, but it also smelled different than he remembered. Although distinct, it was still familiar enough that he could name it— oak and vanilla. Easy, and not because he was particularly gifted at identifying scents, but because he had already spent significant effort trying to decipher that exact aromatic component in Slughorn's Potions class last year. The Hermione-ness of Amortentia— and now his jumper— was what confirmed his attraction to her— it was warm, cozy, and inviting. The irony of that was not lost on Ron, considering Hermione's current position on the sofa, looking as frigid and inhospitable as the winter storm outside.

The only reason he didn't bring the jumper with him when he left was that Hermione had been wearing it. When they were first on the run, he would offer it to her whenever she looked cold, and by the time he left, she was accustomed to borrowing it on her own. She sat bundled up with a blanket and The Tales of Beedle The Bard, and the jumper she wore instead of his didn't look nearly as warm. Compared to his, it looked awkwardly small on her, which gave her the appearance of a disgruntled goldfish angrily bobbing inside her too-small fishbowl. Clearly, Hermione had worn his jumper much more recently than the night he left, and the thought filled Ron with hope. Maybe there was still a part of her that didn't want to be angry. Maybe he was wrong to assume they'd never recover from this.

That hope helped keep him warm when he stumbled into bed, cold and hungry, but more content than he'd been in a while.

-January 1st, 1998-

The harsh cold persisted over the next few days, effectively undermining any allusions of the tent's hospitality. Unwilling to expose his skin to winter's aggression for more than a few seconds, Ron rarely took off his jumper, and it's comforting warmth was starting to fade into something strictly physical. He should have been sleeping in preparation for his own watch shift, but he couldn't— so he sat on his bed where he could see Hermione bundled up at the tent entrance, keeping watch and looking miserable. She was shivering underneath a heavy pile of blankets and conjuring up her bluebell flames for warmth. Like it did from her body, the icy air greedily extracted any heat from the mug of tea that sat beside her, its contents escaping into a thick ribbon of steam.

He was still enduring Hermione's silent treatment, and he expected he would have to for a while longer. This particular method of punishment was all too familiar to him, and he knew he'd have to ride it out, but in order to respect her boundaries, he had to figure out where they were. He slid off of his bed and grabbed an extra blanket from his bunk before making his way toward the opening of the tent, determined to uncover exactly where Hermione had drawn the line.

If she heard him approaching she didn't show it. Instead, she kept an intense owl-like focus on the woods outside. He laid the blanket next to her and carefully sat down, making sure to set a respectable distance between them, to avoid earning himself an extension of her silent treatment.

"Hi," he said brightly.

She didn't answer, but he saw her eyebrows knit together slightly, and that counted as an acknowledgment for him.

"I've always loved those flames," he continued. "You're good at them."

Silence.

"I could never get them right," he pressed on, hoping a little bit of flattery would soften her up. "And they don't stay warm when I do it."

Hermione sighed and turned to look at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Talking to you."

"Yeah, well. Please don't," she said before turning away again.

"I really missed you," he said, a little more earnestly this time. With Hermione, honesty was a great choice when it flattered her.

Hermione shrugged. "Good."

Ron couldn't help but chuckle at her nonchalant answer. To him, it was a clear confession that her silent treatment was intentional, which meant it required effort to keep up. Hermione's scowl that she hadn't been expecting him to laugh.

"You should really be in bed," she said.

"I know," he said. "I can't sleep. And you looked like you could use some company—."

She groaned, dropping her face to her hands in frustration. "You're infuriating. I'm trying really hard not to talk to you. Can you please just give me some space?"

Her clear confession wasn't nearly as satisfying as her accidental one. He had already given her weeks of space, and never wanted to let that happen again, but he held his tongue. A line had been drawn. "I'm sorry. I can leave you alone. If that's what you really want."

"It is," she said.

Ron's heart sank— talking to her was the only way he could confidently win her forgiveness. Her attention turned back to the woods, and Ron could almost feel the wall she had built restraining him. "Is that really what you want?"

"Oh my God, Ron," she said exasperatedly. "Stop talking to me."

"Ok, ok," he said as he stood up. Then he reached for the hem of his jumper and pulled it off.

"Now what are you doing?" she asked.

"You seem cold. I'm giving you my jumper."

"I don't want it."

Ron held it out to her anyway, but she shook her head. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Ok then. I'm off to get some beauty sleep," he joked, tucking the jumper under his arm.

"Like you need it," he heard her grumble.

He whipped back around to face her, his face brightening into a smile. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," she stammered. "Just that you said you couldn't sleep, and that's probably because you got more than enough rest at Bill's. Unlike Harry and I."

Ron grinned at her infuriating redirection— she was always an expert at churning his own words around to remind him of his wrongdoings. It kept him on his toes, pissed him the hell off, and was one of his favorite things about her. "Well, that's disappointing. For a moment I thought you were calling me beautiful."

She turned away from him, and Ron thought he caught a reluctant smile on her face. He had his own version of her little game.

"Goodnight Hermione," he said as he turned back toward the bedroom.

She didn't respond, but that's ok. He didn't expect her to.

-January 15th, 1998-

Ron awoke in the middle of the night to a crisp and howling wind. He opened his eyes to see a shivering Hermione sitting up in bed, digging around in her bag. She huffed when she couldn't find anything warmer, and dropped her bag to the floor. Ron's stomach sank, knowing she was so cold, but he also knew that she'd most likely reject his offer to wear his jumper, so he remained silent. She gathered her blanket around her and stumbled off her bed toward the loo, dragging the billowing bedding behind her like a cloak.

Ron figured that Hermione rejecting his jumper was just spiteful stubbornness, and she'd happily wear it against his knowledge. Now alone in the room, he sat up, removed it, then tossed it casually on the floor somewhere between his bed and hers. When he heard the bathroom door open, he quickly dove back underneath his covers, hiked the blankets up to his neck, and assumed a credible sleeping position.

She reentered the room, tugging her blanket along, and nearly tripped when she stumbled into the jumper.

He heard her groan before muttering, "lumos."

Ron cracked his eyes open to observe, making sure to keep the rest of his body perfectly still.

"Ronald," she whispered to herself. "He never puts his stuff away." She crouched down to pick it up and glanced cautiously in his direction.

Ron closed his eyes when she turned to him, this time letting out a muffled— hopefully convincing— snore.

When he heard Hermione crawl back into her bed, he opened one eye to observe again. Luckily, she wasn't even paying attention to him. She sat in her bed, bundled her blanket, holding Ron's jumper in her hands. It looked like she was considering putting it on, and Ron couldn't help but picture her making a pro and con list in her mind about wearing it.

Pro: It smelled like him. Or was that a con?

Con: He might see her wearing it. But maybe that was a pro?

She shook her head as if to erase any hesitations, and slipped the jumper over her bushy hair, which erupted through the neck hole like a volcano. The oversized sleeves dangled lazily off her hands, reminding Ron of the time Harry had lost all of the bones in his arm. The hem bundled and bunched at her hips, and the waist was big enough to hide a second Hermione, yet for some odd reason, it still appeared to fit her better than her own jumper. No longer shivering, she settled back into her blanket, closed her eyes, and smiled softly. He turned onto his side, the same grin etched across his face, and settled back into sleep.

-January 30th, 1998-

The following morning, Ron had discovered his jumper crumpled up on the floor near his bed. Hermione had never returned something unfolded before, and Ron smiled at her attempt to make it seem like she never wore it. He imagined her precariously placing his jumper on the floor so that it looked just careless enough to throw Ron off her scent.

It became their new routine. Every night he would place his jumper somewhere on the floor between their beds, and every morning he would find it again, somewhere else but nearby. And every morning, without fail, he'd put it on and catch a hint of his amortentia, which was growing stronger by the day.

On this particular morning, Ron left the bedroom to find Hermione reading on the sofa, buried in her blanket.

"Morning," he said softly.

She didn't answer, but that was ok. He still didn't expect her to. She did, however, look up from her book momentarily to acknowledge him. Progress.

"I'm making tea. Would you like some?"

Again she was silent, but she smiled and nodded.

With two swift flicks of his wand, Ron conjured up some water in the kettle, and ignited a fire on the stove. Hermione had turned her attention back to her book, content to ignore him, as was their routine. This time her expression remained friendly, and the wall between them felt a little less icy.

It had been just over a month since his return, and although they rarely spoke, he had learned that they didn't really need to speak to communicate. He knew her facial expressions and could read her emotional state with ease. He could tell if she wanted space by the way her eyes focused intently on her book, his greeting eliciting no reaction whatsoever. Recently it didn't seem intentional or pointed, but any attempts to pull her out of that collie-like focus would fail. He knew she was open to an interaction when she placed herself on the edge of the sofa, making room for him, and read distractedly with a bookmark in hand, ready to be used should Ron have something more interesting to talk about. And sometimes, her exaggerated yawns and pointed looks before she went to bed hinted that she wanted him to leave his jumper on the bedroom floor. Accidentally, of course.

The climate between them had improved in more ways than one. They were short on space, and they couldn't avoid close contact. Sometimes they'd touch each other when passing, or rummaging around in the kitchen. At first, she would whip her hand away if it unexpectedly brushed his, but recently, if they made contact she'd linger. It happened more frequently too, but just like leaving his jumper out for her, he didn't dare make those moments look intentional. Every touch was an accident, and they were very clumsy.

But of course, he wanted more. Every morning when he put that jumper back on, it felt almost like a hug. He couldn't just hug her, so instead he looked forward to the closest thing he could get, and wondered if she felt the same when she stole his jumper every night.

When the water boiled, he poured two cups of tea. One with cream and two sugars, and one black. Hermione looked up when he approached and smiled warmly as he handed her the tea.

"Did I get it right?" he asked hopefully, even though he knew he did.

"Yes," she said. "Thank you."

They settled back into a comfortable silence. The blistering cold of the last few weeks had finally loosened its grip. Ron was sitting directly in a sunbeam, and his jumper suddenly felt unnecessary.

He caught Hermione's attention when he sat up abruptly, and pulled it over his head. "What?" he asked.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, tightening the blankets around her.

"Nah, it's quite warm in the sun, actually," he said, playfully toying with his jumper. "Why, are you cold?"

Sighing, she leaned back and crossed her arms. Ron had to resist laughing at her adorably forced scowl. "Yeah, I am quite cold."

"That's too bad," he said, as he dropped his jumper on the floor between them.

Hermione pursed her lips together as if trying to prevent a smile. "Ron," she asked hesitantly. "If you're not going to wear it, can I borrow your jumper?"

Ron beamed at her. "Thought you'd never ask."

Her smile broke as she leaned forward and grabbed his jumper off the ground. "I thought I'd never have to," she said with a blush before putting it on.

-February 14th, 1998-

Harry had just gone to bed, and Ron was due to take over watch from Hermione in two hours. He had tried to pass the time by reading her copy of Beedle The Bard, but there were only so many times one could read A Warlock's Hairy Heart and still be entertained by it. He put the book back down on the coffee table, before standing, stretching, and making his way toward the kitchen to make tea.

He made the usual, two cups of tea, one with cream and two sugars, and one black.

"Tea?" he called to Hermione. It was just a formality at this point, a warning that he was coming over to bring her tea and invade her space. Lately, she didn't seem to mind.

"You don't have to be out here for two more hours," she said.

He grinned, set the tea down between them, and took a seat across from her. "You're welcome for the tea."

She smiled. "Thank you."

They sat quietly for a few moments, before Ron took a chance, and inched himself closer to Hermione so that he was sitting next to her. She didn't move away from him at all.

"Is this ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "Of course."

"It's kind of cold though," he said. "Don't you think?"

He didn't need to see her face to know that he had earned an eye-roll. With an exaggerated sigh, she shifted her blanket so it now covered them both, and moved closer so their legs pressed together. "Better?"

"Much better." It was the most physical contact they'd shared since before he left. "This is perfect, actually."

He felt her head rest on his shoulder, and she didn't even flinch when he accidentally brushed her hand underneath the blanket. They paused, as if daring each other to make the next advance, before he slipped his hand over hers and their fingers intertwined.

He could have stayed like that all night, gently rubbing his thumb across her hand and listening to her breath in his ear. Two hours felt like two minutes, and when his time to take over watch came, he considered not saying anything at all, but that would have been selfish.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she asked into his shoulder.

"It's my turn. You can go to bed, if you want to." He tried to emphasize that last part. Maybe she didn't want to.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. "It'll be cold."

Ron didn't want to press his luck by asking her to say, so he tugged at the hem of his jumper, and gave it to Hermione.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

She turned toward the bedroom, running a hand through his hair as she entered the tent. "Ron?" she asked when she was halfway there.

"Yeah?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Ron smiled. He was wondering if she had realized the date. "Happy Valentine's day, Hermione."

-March 1st, 1998-

After that night, Hermione never gave him back his jumper, and he didn't mind one bit. It was getting warmer every day, so he didn't need it anymore, and it looked better on her anyway. Additionally, Valentine's Day turned out not to be an isolated event. At this point, Ron could generally expect their watch shifts to overlap for some time, while they held hands under a blanket, and their tea turned cold.

It was Harry's night for watch, which meant that Hermione and Ron were alone in the bedroom. She was bundled up in multiple blankets, and his jumper, and appeared to be pretending to sleep. He was quite warm, so he wore a simple vest, one blanket, and he was absolutely pretending to sleep.

"Ron?"

He smiled at her voice in the dark. "Yes, Hermione?"

"I'm cold," she whined.

Ron laughed and flopped back onto his pillow. "Well, I'd give you my jumper, but you haven't taken it off for two weeks."

She buried her face into her pillow. "I know,' she groaned.

"And I'd give you my blanket, but then I'd be cold."

Hermione turned to face Ron, eyes narrowed as if sizing him up. "Maybe we could share?" she asked tentatively.

Ron's eyebrows shot up his forehead. She wanted to share. "You won't hex me if I come over there?"

She shook her head, before inching toward the far edge of her bed.

Ron felt his ears turn pink as he slipped out of his bed, and approached hers. It was the first time they'd ever shared a bed, and Ron had always imagined it would happen differently. In his envisioned future, this moment would take place after a first kiss, but he wasn't about to complain. He slid under the covers almost too eagerly, then momentarily froze, unsure where to put his arms and legs. He wanted to pull her close and wrap his arms around her, heck he wanted to do much more than that. What he really wanted to do might provoke another silent treatment, a hex, or worse— flock of canaries. What exactly was she expecting?

She answered his question when she took his hand, interlacing their fingers, and turned to her side, facing her back to him. She pulled his arm along so he had no choice but to settle in behind her. She fit perfectly, as he'd always imagined she would, and he hoped she felt the same way too.

"Still cold?"

She laughed. "Nope."

Ron had lost all desire to sleep. He could have laid there all night, his head in her hair, holding her hand, savoring every minute.

"Ron?"

"Hmm."

"Happy Birthday."

He hadn't even realized the date. "Is it really—?"

She nodded. "What do you want for your birthday?"

From his current place— in bed with Hermione, he honestly couldn't think of anything more, or at least anything more he was willing to tell her. "Could I have my jumper back?"

Hermione laughed. "No."

"Oh," he said, trying to feign disappointment. "Worst birthday ever, then."

"You don't mean that."

He smiled as he slipped his arms tighter around her. "I don't."

And he didn't. In fact, he'd be more than fine if he never got his jumper back. Brilliant, even.

#hpromione #hp ficlet #hp fanfic #romione fanfic #2020 hpromione discord secret santa #ronweasley #ron weasley #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #romione fanfiction #deathly hallows #horcrux hunt

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter One

Summary: You(nin) wakes up, finding that things at the Vegelbud wedding didn’t go according to plan, but questions quickly rise about what exactly happened.

Word Count: 2558

Warnings: Spoilers for Witcher 3 DLC

A/N: Sorry this is a little longer than normal. It hasn’t been beta-ed, so all the mistakes are my own. This is the new series in the Witcher series I am writing. It follows We Meet Again and Running With The Wolf. If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek @djinny-djin-djin @seanh-boredom

Chapter One

Pain. That’s the first thing you noticed when you started to come to. Pain in your wrists that were lashed together behind your back by rope that was much too tight. Pain throbbing in your head where the hilt of the dagger had hit you, knocking you out when you put up too much of a fight. The last thing you remember was trying to call on your magic to get away from the man with the dagger pressed to your throat as Geralt came back around the corner of the hedge, alerted by your struggles.

That’s when your captor had opened a portal. You remember feeling the power vacuum form behind you as it yawned wide open. Geralt didn’t reach you in time as the man with his arms around you stepped through, closing the portal quickly behind him. A deepening fury flared through Geralt’s golden eyes as the last shred of portal closed.

Slitting your eyes open, you didn’t dare lift your head in case you weren’t alone. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. The pounding headache was certainly making any movement harder. The room was dimly lit, and you realized that the rocking you felt wasn’t because of the swimming fog in your head. You were on a boat. Now that you knew, the creaking and groaning of the timber made more sense. A lamp swung on a post nearby, causing the fire inside to flicker intensely which didn’t work well with your headache.

The good news was you were alone. The bad news was that you seemed to be in the brig, tied to a post in the middle of the cell. The stench wafting from the corner caused your stomach to churn unfavourably, and you fought hard to keep the contents down. Breathing through your mouth, you lifted your head to look around as best you could from your vantage point.

“Ah, you awaken.” A voice to your left drew your attention. Fighting off another wave of nausea at the pain in your head, you turned to investigate the darkened cell next to yours. An Ofieri slave sat, tied similarly to you to the post in the middle of the cell, but unlike you, he seemed to be fairing better. “I was wondering how long it would be.”

“How long have I been out?” You didn’t want to think about how many days had passed. Based on how cramped your muscles felt, and how raw your wrists seemed to be, it had been at least a couple of days. You ached to rub your head, wanting to ease at least some of the pain bouncing around in your skull.

“It has been 5 days. I didn’t think you would ever wake up.” The man informed you, the last part of what he said concerning you the most. He must have seen the question form on your face, because he continued. “You were bleeding a lot from your head. Eventually the guard brought you the ship’s healer. It seems that they want to keep you alive.”

“Though not comfortable.” You quip, testing your bonds, wincing at the pain that shoots up your arms from your open wounds from the ropes.

“Where would the fun be in that?” The man laughed. You squinted into the darkness, trying to see him better. The lamp light didn’t seem to touch his cell as much as yours, and you could only see a vague outline of his face. If it wasn’t for his legs sticking out into the pool of light, you would have been convinced that you were talking to yourself.

“Why are they keeping you here?” You ask, groaning as you shift, stretching your stiff legs out to sit in a similar fashion to your new companion. You were careful not to move your arms too much, not wanting to cause further damage to your wrists.

“I stole from the King.” Your ears perked up at the mention of a king. He didn’t specify which one, but not many used that title lightly. And if he was Ofieri, perhaps it was a hint at what was in store for you.

“Which king would that be?” You hesitated before asking, not wanting to seem too eager. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t fight off the suspicion that this was a trap to get more information out of you.

“The King of Beggars.” The man offered as though it was obvious.

It was as though all the air was sucked from your lungs. A man you had trusted on more than a few occasions had effectively kidnapped you after screwing over a mission he had set you and Geralt on the path to. Something wasn’t adding up for you, but your head was still foggy with pain, and you felt like you couldn’t see all the pieces laid out in front of you. There was some else at work here, but it lay just outside of what you could see.

“Do you happen to know where we are heading?” Still trying to piece together what you knew already with all sorts of possibilities, you decided it was best to gather as much information as you could from someone who might be willing to provide answers. It was unlikely you would have another opportunity like this one.

“Until you were brought in, I assumed I was being taken back to Ofir to face the crimes I committed there.” The man shrugged as best he could. “Now it is anyone’s guess.”

Ofir. That was beyond the sea. Without the help from a Sorceress, Geralt would never find you. Unless he was willing to take down one of the crime bosses of Novigrad to get answers. And that was if that was where you were even heading. As your fellow captive pointed out, neither of you could really know where you were heading. You needed to convince a guard to give you the answers, but it wasn’t like you could enchant him to do it.

The fog in your head suddenly cleared. Magic. The fools had tied you up with rope. There wasn’t a single piece of Dimeritium on you. Nothing was binding your magic. They didn’t know who or what you were. They simply thought you were important to the Witcher and to the King of Beggars, but the latter hadn’t offered up any information about you to your captors before they got their hands on you. You held in the laughter that threatened to bubble up as relief flooded you.

“What did you steal?” You weren’t about to let a known criminal walk free. Not unless the punishment outweighed the crime. “What crimes are you facing back in Ofir?”

“Horse theft.” The man stated simply. You had to assume that he had committed that crime in both Velen and in Ofir. In Ofir, where they valued horses above most else, that was a serious crime. The punishment was death. In Velen, they punished it with death, but horses were viewed more as property than as a way of life. Velen had some harsh laws involving property.

“I’m going to get us out of here, but I suggest you find somewhere other than Novigrad and Velen to make a home for yourself. The King won’t let you live if he sees you again.” You smiled at him, already drawing on the wealth of power from the water surrounding the ship you were housed in. The look of awe that spread across the man’s face was worth the nosebleed this was probably going to cost you. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise where we will land, but it will be on land and out of captivity.”

Your portalling wasn’t as precise as Yennefer’s, and you were vastly out of practice. Just yet another thing that you needed to work on, stretch that metaphorical muscle. First things first though, you had to make your bonds disappear. Not the easiest task as there was always the risk of burning the person. At this point, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t feel it if you burned yourself, but you didn’t want to burn your companion.

“This may sting.” You offered a mild warning as you pulled the magic together to create your spell. You winced as your hands relaxed apart, the tension leaving your shoulders. You were pleased to see the man in the cell next to you not show any pain as the spell displaced the ropes binding his hands.

You jumped to your feet, adrenaline taking over as you felt the vacuum of a portal you weren’t creating. You watched warily as a hole was ripped, spinning, in the space in front of your cell. Then you felt it. The signature of the Sorceress creating the portal. Every spell left a signature, but not all signatures could be traced. Only the strongest among the Lodge could do that. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t recognize it.

You immediately set to work on melting down the hinges of your cell door. It would be one last thing you needed to worry about once the portal was fully formed. There was no way the crew on the ship didn’t feel the power amassing below deck in the brig. You split your power between your door and your neighbour’s, knowing that as soon as the iron doors fell, the crew would definitely know something was going on with the prisoners.

“Younin!” Geralt rushed through the portal just as the doors fell. He pulled you to him in a tight hug, relief flooding both of you now that you were in each other’s arms again.

“We have to move. Now.” Your voice dripped with urgency as you pulled out of the all too brief hug, wishing you could do more than that. There was no time though.

“Well, if you hadn’t created such a cacophony of noise, we could have just slipped you back out.” The voice of the signature floated through the portal. You stiffened, hoping you could have avoided this encounter a little longer.

“Thank you, Yenn.” Your voice was tight as you turn to your fellow Sorceress. A slither of jealousy snaked around your spine, settling in your gut. You hated that Geralt had to turn to his old lover, even though you knew she was basically the only one who could do what he needed.

Reaching for your cell mate, you pulled him through the portal as you heard shouting and boots on the stairs leading into the brig. Geralt drew his sword but followed behind you through the portal. Yennefer quickly slammed the portal shut before anyone could follow you. As much as you didn’t like it, you knew you could never have pulled off the portal as smoothly as Yennefer did.

The danger had passed for now. There was still the issue of the King of Beggars botching the mission on purpose, but you were safe. That seemed to be all that mattered to the otherwise stoic Witcher. Geralt pulled you in for a fierce kiss, not caring about the company you were in. You clung to his armour, wishing it wasn’t in your way. After the close call you just had, you needed to feel alive, and the only way that was going to happen was if you were alone and there was nothing between you. You needed to feel his body stretched out above yours, skin to skin.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but where are we?” The Ofieri interjected. Pulling away from Geralt, making sure to check your anger at having been interrupted, you turned to look at your surroundings.

“Good question. Yennefer?” You frowned when you didn’t recognize the room you were in. A quick glance out the window didn’t offer you an answer either. Turning to the other Sorceress, you caught the look of displeasure that flitted across her face at realizing how deeply Geralt felt for you.

“Geralt wanted me to bring you to his house in Toussaint in case you were injured.” Yennefer offered, her face becoming a perfected mask of indifference. She examined her nails as though trying to prove how little interest she had in your feelings for the Witcher who once warmed her bed.

“You have a house in Toussaint?” You ignored Yenn’s antics, looking up at Geralt. The land filled with Knights-errant seemed like the last place Geralt would want to settle down.

“It was a reward for helping the Duchess. And with Kaer Morhen in ruin, it seemed as good as any place to set some roots.” Geralt guided you closer to the window with a hand on your lower back. You smiled up at him, leaning into his hold as you took in the sun dappled scene beyond the glass.

“Come, Ofieri, I think there is food in the kitchen for us.” Yennefer couldn’t stomach anymore of seeing you two together and fled the room. The man who you realized you still didn’t know his name followed quickly after her, leaving you and the Witcher alone.

“How are you really?” Geralt turned you with his hands on your shoulders. His gold eyes flicked over your body, assessing all your injuries.

He guided you to the bed, squatting in front of you when you sat down. He carefully lifted your hands up when he noticed how bad your wrists were. At the slight movement, however, the wounds opened again and began bleeding freely. You winced as sharp pain travelled up your arms again. Geralt caught the look on your face, cupping your cheek as he looked deep into your eyes. He didn’t have to say anything, you could see the concern and worry darkening his hypnotic cat eyes. His hand travelled to the back of your head, wanting to draw you to him for a kiss, but he felt the congealed blood in your hair.

“How is your head?” He asked quietly, sure your headache was pounding especially after using magic to free yourself. As uncomfortable as Yennefer’s presence was making you, you had to admit you didn’t think you could have pulled off the portal in your condition.

“It hurts.” You admitted unnecessarily. You knew he understood what a head injury felt like. One of the perks of his job. You leaned into his hand when he cupped your cheek again. “For now, I just think I need rest. I can work on healing later.”

Geralt nodded, helping you get into the decadently decorated bed. Even through your pain, you had to almost laugh at how out of place this bed seemed in Geralt’s life. The rich colours and immense comfort were a far cry from the places the Path normally took him. As your head hit the down filled pillow, all the questions you had been asking yourself came flooding back to you.

“Sleep.” Geralt gently said, his hand making the motion you had come to recognize as the Axii sign. Your questions were probably written all over your face, and he was compelling you to sleep instead of laying awake as your mind ran wild.

Your eyes slid closed shortly after. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Geralt’s warm callused hand on your forehead, followed by the soft press of his lips. And then sleep overtook you.

#Witcher Fanfic #Geralt of Rivia fanfic #Geralt x reader #Geralt Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfic

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hankwritten · 3 years

Text

Disapprobation

Demoman/Soldier, 3k Warnings: Mild Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia

n. Moral disapproval; condemnation. Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

For instance, he really shouldn’t be risking life and limb to meet up and have drinks with some barmy American he met at a projectile weapons convention. He shouldn’t be breaching contract over a bloke who’s got so many screws loose he could open up a hardware store, shouldn’t be sneaking around when the best case scenario is a few good laughs and the worst case scenario is losing a multi-million dollar salary.

He shouldn’t keep his lunch in the same place he keeps his potassium chloride. He shouldn’t drink so much, but he’s heard that one so many times anyway it’s hard to pay attention to. The voice of self-preservation is constant and buzzing, putting a churning in his gut, reminding him that he could be making friends with folks who aren’t a walking death sentence. He shouldn’t be going out for ribs. He shouldn’t be accepting invites to Las Vegas for the furlough.

He definitely shouldn’t be pressed into the mattress, another man’s tongue in his mouth.

The hotel bed creaks as Jane kisses him harder, and he thinks, oh god he wishes he could just not think. Their bodies are hot pressed against each other, their fancy jackets gone for the evening as they’re down to their undershirts as insubstantial barriers between skin on skin. Jane is heavy on top of him, and he shouldn’t like how that feels, to be held down while he and his best friend suck the air out of each other’s lungs. Jane has each of his wrists pinned to the sheets, and he shouldn’t like that either, how Jane’s taken control, how Tavish is slowly letting himself come undone.

There’s this plop at the loss of suction as Jane lifts his lips off Tavish’s and onto the Demoman’s neck, whisper-hissing, begging, praying, “Tav, Tavish. Oh god Tav.”

It’s slippery where time is now and where it was minutes ago before he was like this, before he was craving Jane's everything. It happened because they were laughing or maybe fighting or maybe…no they just tripped. They tripped and Jane landed on Tavish, and it wasn’t different at first. It just knocked the wind out of him. It wasn’t until Jane was chuckling and trying to push himself up that they had stopped, that they’d locked eyes and Jane’s smile had slowly fallen away, a mask lifted to something underneath. It was hunger, small and fiery at first when Jane’s eyes openly raked Tavish’s body, not disguising the fact as they took in his state of undress since—unlike Jane—Tavish had been successful at getting out of his dress pants. The hunger had grown hotter, burned brighter, a bonfire as someone kept shoveling more on, and Tavish drank in being looked at like a dying man in the desert. He’d never been desired like that, not in his entire life, and when Jane finished his tour of Tavish’s body he couldn’t suppress the hitch in his breath when their eyes finally met again.

He’d swallowed when Jane leaned closer. He’d closed his eye as Jane had pressed that first, tentative kiss against him.

Now his back arches, shoving his stomach up into the human canopy above him. His nipples are hard and he didn’t know they were so damn sensitive until they scrape against the solid plane of Jane’s chest and he whimpers. He shouldn’t be doing that either. He’s a damn mercenary, a Demoman, and he shouldn’t...

“God Tavish,” Jane’s muttering in his mouth in-between rough kisses. “I fucking. I love you. Want you so damn bad.”

And Jane must be a fucking mind reader because those words are a switch in Tavish’s brain. He can’t censor the moan that comes out of him, no matter how weak, how pathetic he sounds as his hips jerk upwards. Jane is moving his arms, and it takes him a second to notice that Jane is taking time to pin down both his hands with one of his own, and his free one now slides down until it can toy with the edge of Tavish’s undershirt.

“Jane…”

It’s the only thing he’s said in ages. He shouldn’t be saying anything at all, let alone confessing what’s coursing through his system, revealing how I want you isn’t quite right but I want you to want me is just so damn conceited. So the only thing he can do is breathe Jane’s name in a plea.

The roaming hand snakes up under his tank, the pretense of attire gone as the too-cold fingers press against unbearably hot flesh. Jane further displays his mind reading powers tweaking Tavish’s nipple with his thumb, clawing out another gurgle from the Demoman.

It’s so dangerously similar now, edging so close to fear, the shouldn’ts piling in his head as his breath increases. He tries to lift his arms and can’t. He tries clear his mind and can’t. He tries to make his voice behave where his body will not, as Jane’s knee begins to move up-

“Jane,” he yelps, only this time he says it in panic as his eye snaps open and he jerks upward. “Shit Jane- shit we need to stop. We’ll- shit.”

Jane freezes. The constriction around Tavish’s wrists lessons, and then disappears entirely and Jane rears back onto his haunches. Tavish wriggles until he’s against the headboard, panting heavily.

“Holy shit,” he coughs.

“You alright Tav?” Jane is looking sideways at him, but not in the way Tavish is expecting. The expression on his face is inscrutable.

“No. No! Of course not, we almost just-” The ghost of Jane’s body is on him, the memory of seconds ago where his hand was so close to Tavish’s waistband. He tries to shake it away. “If I hadn’t said something just now, we would have both crossed some damn lines.”

“Uh. Yeah. Probably.”

Tavish looks up and is bludgeoned upside the head with understanding. He realizes why Jane’s expression is so damn weird: he’s not ashamed. He’s not ashamed in the slightest.

“Jane,” Tavish says cautiously. “You know why we can’t do this, right?”

This when they’re still half-undressed on the bed together, breathless and sweating and the only thing keeping them back is Tavish’s self control. No one else’s. He’s alone at the wheel and Jane’s only refraining out of personal respect, not any sense of how screwed they are.

Jane squints at him. Thinking hard, peering deep into the soul he sometimes claims a RED can’t have, (and at the next drunken moment declaring that if it existed, it would be the purest, bravest soul in the damn world.) “Because you are…no longer in the mood?”

“Because we’re in enough trouble as it is!” Tavish throws up his hands. “Do you know how bloody condemned we are? Already RED and BLU can catch wind of us at any moment, I can’t go into half the places you can in this blasted country, and we want to add shagging each other in our Vegas hotel room to that bloody list?”

Jane’s forehead wrinkles, his features that Tavish has only ever seen go soft in the past few minutes now toughening up again. “Were you not…wanting that?”

“Fuck, Jane of course I wanted it,” the admission falls out too quickly. Too late to grab back and saying it aloud is its own line crossed. Having already failed to keep it packed down, he tries to at least get to his point. “I just shouldn’t.”

Jane stares at him blankly.

“Right. Of course.” Tavish presses the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Look at who I’m talking to here. Man who’s never suppressed an impulsive urge in his life.”

“It is not an impulse Tav.” Jane almost sounds…offended. Or something like it, as though he's irritated he has to make such an obvious correction. “It’s not an impulse if I’ve thought about doing it nearly every day since I’ve met you.”

That desire, that hunger Tavish had seen. He knows Jane has looked at him before, can now recognize it for what it was, those eyes flickering at him sometimes with the smolder beneath. It feels unwarranted. He feels undeserving, that Jane has been fancying him for months, and he diverts, “if that’s what you want, there’s a lot better sheep in the field.”

Jane narrows his eyes. “Gross.”

“Ach it’s an expression-” Tavish huffs. “Look, if men are to your tastes, you can find a hookup that’s a lot less dangerous. You don’t have to lower your standards just because I’m…around.”

“My tastes?” Jane scoffs. “What do you know about my tastes, DeGroot? Every time we go to the pier, you get me the wrong flavor of ice cream—even when I tell you exactly what kind to get.”

“I told you lad, they were out of ro-”

“My tastes,” Jane carries on, “are rocky road and handsome Scotsmen. So you can take that to the bank and sign it.” Jane crosses his arms.

A new, cool feeling runs down Tavish’s spine, the freezer-burn of fluster. “Jane,” he groans, running his hands over his scalp, craning his neck backwards until Jane finally falls out of his vision. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I don’t understand why it’s can’t be easy. I love you. You, uh…” Jane trails off. “Like me. I think.”

Not since they stopped groping each other has Tavish wanted to touch him this bad, to assure him that he wants what Jane had given him, wants his hands, his mouth, to feel him again-

Tavish lets out a strangled cough, hard minutes of trying to cool off down the drain. Jane notices his state, the dilatation in his eye, and that only adds to his embarrassment. “Ach, please Jane. It’s not that simple. I just need you to listen, just a few minutes.”

“Fine. I will listen. But then you have to listen while I tell you what I think.”

Tavish allows it. He starts, “doing...” He waves his hand, disturbing the humid air between their still cooling bodies. “This, would be risky. More dangerous than anything we’ve ever done.”

“Un. Like. Ly,” Jane scoffs. “We’ve been sneaking around for ages by this point, and we’re damn good at it. Face it maggot, you didn’t want retreat with your tail between your legs until sloppy makeouts came into the picture.”

Tavish folds his arms. “I was thinking about it before then too. That we should break it off.”

“Ah bub bub bub!” Jane points out gleefully.

“It’s ‘bup bup bup’.”

“Quiet. You thought about it, but you didn’t actually do anything. So what is it Tavish? What’s the difference between then and now?”

An awkward silence hangs between them.

“…C’mon lad, don’t make me say it.” Tavish tries to look away, but he can still feel the solar rays of Jane’s glare socking him in the jaw. “Ach, it’s- what we got here isn’t right Jane. It’s not a natural thing for a pair of mates to do.”

“Ha! Natural?” Jane laughs. “I don’t buy that ‘natural’ crap from hippies and I certainly don’t buy it from you. I do not care about how natural the devil’s lettuce is! I do not care how much natural they cram into those granola bars, or how much fiber will help my bowel movements! Natural is for suckers.”

Tavish stares at him, long and hard, and finally, finally something small and brittle inside him crumbles away just enough that he’s hit with a weak chuckle. “You know, sometimes I don’t know how crazy you really are, and how much is just insight disguised as malarkey.”

“Good,” Jane smirks. “Keep it that way.”

“But still we need to-” Tavish rubbed his eye. “We need to think about this. It feels like I’m the only one here who’s trying to keep us both from getting killed.”

“Why?”

“Well someone has to, and it certainly isn’t going to be you.”

“Why?” Jane is angry now. “Why does one of us have to be holding the goddamn reigns? I didn’t ask you for ribs because I thought you would keep me back, I asked you for ribs because you broke that cop’s back and it was the most glorious display of patriotic strength I have ever seen!”

“Patriotism for where, exactly?” Tavish asks tiredly.

“You damn know well where. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

So Tavish doesn’t deign him with anything, just sits there massaging his head. He knows his rationality is eroding. That Jane is sitting here chipping away with his donkey’s indifference, his stupid, (literally) hardheaded attitude that Tavish can’t just turn away from.

“So,” Jane says. “I listened. Now you listen.”

“I barely got a word in edgewise,” Tavish complains.

“And they were all bad words. Now,” Jane sits crosslegged, stripped in the half-light coming in from the window, painting him radiant. “It’s clear you have some hangups about your latent bisexuality.”

Tavish puts all the power of a two-eyed stare out the focus of his singular optic, hoping the pure concentration gets his disdain though.

Jane carries on. “It is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Ach, it's just that...I shouldn’t have wanted…shouldn’t have even…”

“You and your damn shouldn’ts,” Jane frowns.

The frustration, the embarrassment, all the waves of different emotions Tavish has been put though are washed away in the new torrent of shame. “Ah fuck.”

“Tavish,” Jane says sternly as Tavish begins to clutch his head. “I have been dying to put you in a supportive yet comforting hug for the past twenty minutes. Permission to embrace you?”

Fuck he could use a hug right now. He could use Jane right now. He nods.

He leans in to the enveloping warmth as Jane holds him in a touch that is scored all different than before, yet the same strange intimacy he’s starting to suspect relates to what Jane said before that knee-shaking I want you so damn bad. That he didn't say that in the heat of the moment or because he feels sorry for the sad Cyclops that happens to be his friend, but because he genuinely wants this as much as Tavish does.

Oh god does Tavish want this.

“Tav, has that stupid voice in the back of your head telling you not to do things ever made you happy?” Jane asks the back wall over Tavish’s shoulder.

“Kept me safe,” Tavish sighs.

“That’s not what I asked, private,” Jane reiterates. “Has it made you happy? Has it ever actually helped you find the man you’re supposed to be?”

Tavish thinks long and hard, bringing his hands up run shaky fingers through Jane’s hair. “No,” he admits. “I don’t think it has. You?”

“Me? I crushed that voice years ago under the heel of my American-made double buckle combat boots. Like a goddamn ant.”

Tavish snorts. “Figures.”

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long time. They stay like that until the neon pizza sign across the street winks off, until the digital clocks on the matching nightstands read long past 4am.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Tavish admits finally.

“Fair. Even if you did, I wouldn’t listen. You’ve changed your mind so many goddamn times tonight I’d tell you you’d have to sleep on it first before I believed you.”

“I have not,” Tavish laughs. “Just…there’s a lot. And I’m scared. I’m scared every day RED or BLU’ll find out and we’ll be…” He sighs. “I guess it wouldn’t matter at that point if we were friends or…anything else. We’d be dead either way.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Tavish leans back and finds it in him to grin at this stupid, crazy, reckless man that is certainly going to get them both killed. No, no he’s not going to think like that anymore. They’re in this together, and they’d share the blame just as much as they shared each other.

He squeezes both hands to the side of Jane’s face and says, “I love you too, you crazy, crazy Soldier.”

It’s worth it to see the light flare up in Jane’s eyes, the dopey grin that springs to his face. “Well, then that makes you just as crazy as me.”

“Aye, I suppose it does.” He presses his forehead to Jane’s. “We’re already doing a spicy shimmy on what’s taboo and what isn’t. I suppose we shouldn’t give a damn what’s considered crazy.”

Jane’s face is so beautiful, the only shame being how long shouldn’t has kept that realization at bay. But Tavish quashes it, watching as a new question forms in Jane’s brow.

“I know I told you to sleep on it but,” Jane bites his lip. “Can I stay here? While you do that.”

Tavish likes Jane's warmth against him. He likes him here, where their atoms are pressing out against each other in the closest the universe can approximate as touch.

“Aye. Come here.”

They lay down on Tavish’s bed, and Jane rolls around until he’s nestled in Tavish’s arms. As their breathing slows, in sync then out of sync then back again, Jane says, “even if you weren’t freaking out, it’s a good thing you stopped us when you did. We don’t exactly have any condoms.”

Tavish’s jaw locks, and he quickly scoots his pelvis back a few inches. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he snarls into the nape flush with his nose.

“Maybe. I’m craaaaazy, remember.”

Tavish hates him, and loves him more in that moment than he ever has. If this is the night where he’s cut everything off, where he’s chosen this Soldier over the world’s approval, then so be it. He makes a little mental image of an ant, and steps down.

#tf2 fanfiction #demosolly #boots n bombs

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trahottie · 3 years

Text

Trahearne x F!Commander

(Ao3) Ch 2 / ? - It is the eve of the Pact’s final assault against Zhaitan. A morning unlike any other awaited them all and unspoken truths must be shared before it is too late. Marshal Trahearne and Commander Rhea struggle to reconcile with the meaning of their friendship as they realize they might never see each other ever again.

---

Commander Rhea couldn’t tell how long she had been staring at the starlit sky. Once again, her thoughts drifted towards the person she considered her closest friend.

Upon leaving the briefing room, General Soulkeeper had mentioned she had further meetings to attend to with the Marshal and the rest of the Pact’s administrative leadership, despite the already late hour.

He must be so tired, she thought.

Growing weary of her own fatigue, Rhea shook herself out of her reverie and refocused on the task at hand. She leaned forward and scribbled away:

Dear Marshal,

Rhea paused, her quill tip lingering over the parchment.

So formal. This won’t do, She thought. Not for something like this. She crumpled the sheet and threw it aside, before pulling another from the corner of her work desk.

The room was nearly pitch black, if not for the lit candle that stood by her writing materials, and the moonlight peering through her window. She leaned back in her chair and let her gaze drift over the ocean’s horizon for the umpteenth time as if it would offer a final boon of inspiration.

As what may be expected in an old, dilapidated fort quickly made over into a fully functional military stronghold in a matter of mere months, the furnishings of her room were simple and modest. Nonetheless, as a reflection of her rank, she was afforded a room with a generous amount of space and windows that overlooked the rest of Fort Trinity and the shorelines of Terzetto Bay.

Now and then, she can hear a pack of soldiers shuffling past her doors with equipment, and the echoes of hammering steel ring outside her windows. The hour was late, but there was always more to do. Especially when a morning unlike any other awaited them all.

An hour prior, she and the rest of Destiny’s Edge had broken from their exhaustive day-long intelligence briefings and strategic overviews. Everyone involved in the frontal assault was ordered to return to their quarters and get as much shut-eye as possible. There wasn’t much time left and so much was at stake.

However, Rhea could not sleep just yet. As was the case for many soldiers this solemn night, there was unfinished business to tend to. There were farewells to be made. Lifetimes of meanings needed to be truncated to brief letters for loved ones that many may not ever see again.

Rhea leaned back further and rubbed her temples. She was used to risking her life every day, but there was no question that tomorrow will be unlike anything she has ever faced before. How do you kill an Elder Dragon? No less one who has managed to upheave an entire lost civilization?

This time, she and her comrades may truly die a horrible, permanent death. The idea of never seeing her friends and family again never quite struck her the way it did now. Everything she worked towards and bled for would come to a bitter end. All of her hopes for the future would be snuffed out like a candle. She felt as though she dangled over an endless precipe, held by nothing but a thin thread, and the anxiety made her heart ache and stomach churn nonstop. It was debilitating.

Rhea shook it off and returned her attention to the blank parchment. All that remained to do now was say goodbye to him. Thinking about what to say was numbing. After all, how do you say farewell to someone who might not be able to understand what he means to you?

Not only was he her superior officer and the leader of a massive armada that the survival of the entire world depended on, but he is not even human! Even better, he was the first of his other-worldly kind. Everything about his identity was the substance of pure legend. How do you confess something so horribly vulnerable to someone of such incredible, almost supernatural importance? Why risk such painful embarrassment?

Because he’s my best friend, Rhea thought.

And I might never see him again.

This was the one fact that brought Rhea peace of mind in the storm of her emotions. It took her a painfully long time to accept the truth.

In these past few weeks, it nearly drove her mad to not come to terms with what she was feeling. She thought of him day and night. What was he up to? Is he holding up well? Or is he overburdened, from being buried neck-deep in paperwork, logistics, and the emotional trauma of being responsible for the deaths of countless brave souls, young and old? Even worse, was there someone or something making another attempt on his life, whilst she is unable to shield him from danger?

Her juvenile instincts often fantasized of an alternate universe where there were no Elder Dragons to kill, no Pact to lead, no other-worldly dangers to run from or into. It would be just the two of them, perhaps strolling along the roaming green hills of Kessex as they muse about history, literature, or the humble and charming livelihoods of the farmers they pass by.

Or perhaps they would walk beneath the lush canopies of Caledon, where she could learn more about the wondrous idiosyncrasies of his people and admire the boundless potential of the Sylvaris’ future.

Rhea realized that she ached for such fantasies because no matter the danger that surrounded them, every moment spent in his company made her feel... warm. Safe. Happy. When was the last time she had such a reliable source of pure contentment? If ever? She thought life would forever be an uphill battle for acceptance, belonging, and survival. But it all became so small when she was at his side. With him, she was enough. If not more.

Of course, however, they would never have crossed paths had there been no Zhaitan, or armies of Risen or the impending doom of the world. Thus, here they are, a sunrise away from facing their ultimatum, and she, Commander Rhea Hanaku, must confess she is hopelessly in love with Marshal Trahearne.

She continued.

Trahearne, my dear friend,

It should be without surprise that I consider you my closest companion. My firmest ally. After everything we have endured together over the past year, you would probably agree when I say there are no words that can complement the significance of our friendship.

As usual, your confidence in me is overwhelming, and you assure me that we will certainly see each other again on the other side of this upcoming battle. And as usual, my pessimism has compelled me to overcompensate in light of the worst.

Rhea's lips curled to a small smile. The sentiment took her back to what felt like an ancient memory.

“You seemed to have known each other well,” Rhea said quietly, her eyes glumly fixed on the dark waters and misty horizon that surrounded their ship.

“We did,” Trahearne replied with a gentle smile. “I’ve counseled the Vigil on many of their campaigns against the Risen. As you might expect, Forgal was often the point-person for those initiatives. We had spent countless missions with our backs against each other. And, well,” he cleared his throat, “countless celebratory drinks at many-a-tavern. As many times Forgal has saved my life, there were just as many times he threatened it with one too many pints.”

Rhea’s eyes lit up towards Trahearne, and she surprised herself with the light laughter that escaped her lips. “You and me both,” she said with a small smile. Her eyes studied the sylvari before her. Despite the poise in Trahearne’s composure and the graciousness of his smile, she could sense a deep sadness in the golden glow of his eyes.

Forgal had always complained that ever since his “old age”, he only bothered fraternizing with those he held in high regard. After all she had witnessed from Firstborn Trahearne in the few hours they’ve known each other, it wasn't hard to tell why this sylvari fell in that category. The thought of her mentor made her eyes water once more. Rhea turned away quickly.

“I’m so sorry, Rhea,” Trahearne said softly. “I can tell you two were close, as well.”

Rhea stared back at him. The sadness he shared with her and the concern he expressed made Rhea feel closer to the sylvari. For the first time since they embarked on this forlorn voyage, she felt warmth creep back into her chest.

“You know what hurts the most?” Rhea whispered, as she couldn’t help but give in to the sincerity in his eyes. “He always said that I was the kid he should have had.” It took everything she had to gulp back her emotions. Countless memories of laughter and heart-to-hearts with her mentor rushed through her. Countless memories that gave her hope for a future that she could be proud of. They were the kind of memories she never had with her own parents despite the many years she spent under their cold gilded rooftops. “I thought he was just joking. But I wish I could've told him... I wanted to tell him, he was the family I wish I had, too.”

She was undone. The truth of what she had lost today dropped on her like a torrential downpour. Her tears followed suit. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised when she felt the sylvari gently wrap her arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“Forgal never needed formalities to know the truth,” Trahearne said quietly. “In all the years I've known Forgal, I've never seen him look upon someone with as much pride as I did today. He understood what he meant to you, Rhea. That is why he made the choice he made today." The low timbre of his voice sent a soothing pulse to her senses.

Rhea’s breathing slowed, finding comfort in his words. Trahearne slowly withdrew so he could look her in the eye, “He knew what you were capable of. And I saw that with my own eyes today. His sacrifice will never be in vain because of you. I believe that wholeheartedly.”

At that moment, she was dumbstruck. Rhea could not understand the intimidation the Lionguard soldiers at Claw Island felt in Trahearne's presence. All she could see before her was a sylvari with a world of kindness and mature understanding in his eyes. It was the kind of deep, soothing warmth one found in a finely aged wine - a sweetness tempered by the mellowed nature only earned by years and years grounded in earth. His sharp, strangely handsome features suddenly appeared all the more gentle and noble. He was stunning.

Rhea continued to write. The memory reminded her of how much Trahearne inspired her to confide in him. At the end of the day, he was her friend first and foremost. What was the worst that could happen...?

Please allow me once more to overcompensate for my pessimism. Please allow me to prepare for the possibility that this is my last chance to speak to you truthfully.

There is a confession in this letter that I’m afraid you won’t be prepared for, Trahearne. My heart is hurting from simply writing this. My heart hurts every time I think of you.

Forgive me, my friend, but I'm afraid I love you.

---

#trahearne #trammander #gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 oc #back on muh bullshit #if anyone has seen ch1 i invite you to check it out again bc i updated it quite a bit for more juice ☺️#my writing

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namjoonchronicles · 3 years

Text

please | jm

↳ genre angst, established relationship

↳ words 3k

↳ summary there’s always setbacks in married couple. it had been quite clear that you and Jimin don’t see eye-to-eye about certain things and habits, but the secret to long lasting marriage, is how you fix what’s broken.

↳ warning mentions of miscarriage

↳ song taylor swift ‘champagne problems’, dean lewis ‘waves’, rihanna ‘complicated’, olly murs ‘you don’t know love’

Fast steps dashing across the hallway, the bathroom door blasted open. A pair of knees wearing damaged jeans, kneeling over the toilet. The toilet seat whacked open, hand gripping its sides dependently. He wretches. His torsos strained and his veins began to pop. Wet, frothy sound hits the water in the toilet bowl. You sped to the toilet, rubbing his back up and down, passing him a towel. But he wasn’t done. He continued to hold the toilet brims, vomiting every content in his stomach. The smell of alcohol wafted around the extent of the room. You hate to see him like this. It wasn’t a majestic view. With half his head buried in the toilet bowl, his ‘young & forever’ tattooed in the back of his arms, it wasn’t a pretty view at all.

Flickering light on the hall. The stillness in the air. With the fridge light lighting the way, you pour a glass of water for him. When you return to the bathroom where he is, he is seated, backed away from the toilet bowl, leaning against the wooden cabinet door. Dirty blonde hair, loose white shirt and torned jeans, he wipes his mouth with the towel you gave. He glanced to the side where you stood idle, and flashed a cunning smile. Jimin dropped his gaze on his propped knee then let the back of his head hit the wood. Then he laughs, chuckling through his nose. But not in the way you know as happiness, more like bitterness. It reminded you everything Jimin is, was. He reeled you in with that same smile and that same pain. The way he charms, the way he spoke and the way he looked at you, he knew what he was doing half of the time, but this time, you took the time to figure out who, what he is.

He had been feeling dreadful; half of himself all the time. Felt the need to fill the void inside him with as much alcohol he could, just to feel something. He comes home to you, but you’re not here. He needs the music louder than he thoughts so he frequented the clubs. He could have any girls he wanted in the place, but it wasn’t what he looked for. If anything, he was lonely but none of these companions would have suffice. He was afraid that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. Isn’t it enough hurt he’s caused you? With you pulling away at every advances he made, and the stranger in the bed situation every time he returns home to you alone, he gets frustrated from the thing you couldn’t talk about.

To make matters much worse, he’d rather live like his dying next to you than live without you. It’s a puzzling thing, love. How it gutted you out and filled you in. How it makes you feel alive and dead at the same time. The things you would do for the ones you love is limitless. Death of love. How it seemed inevitable.

You put on a toothpaste on his toothbrush, help him clean up. Took his shirt off, unbuckled his belt for him, and had him shed his jeans. Jimin never once took his eyes off of you when you did this. But he didn’t say a word. If he did, he must have said it in his head. It felt like he was raking your brain apart to put himself together. If anything, love was disdained in this household. When was the last time you held him? Or spoke to him? Or kissed his lips or loved him? Those days felt so far away. As you put away his clothes into the front load washing machine to wash, you protest that love too; is putting away one's clothes, is taking care of them when they’re drunk and half loved. He stepped into the shower, stood under the running water. The hot steams of the water wafting up the ceiling, and he sighed. Water cascading down every inch of his skin, through his hair, down his earlobes, along his jaws and under his chin. Dimples of Apollo and Adonis belt well defined, he leans his forearm on the wall and lets his thoughts run. He mulls over how it used to be; you would join him in the shower, and be quite inseparable. Why is it so hard to be like that again?

Jimin fishes out a plain T to go to bed in. Unlike the nights before, he refused to take his pillows out and sleep on the sofa outside. Tonight, he is determined to get in the same bed his wife slept in.

When you returned to see him in the bed, eyes shut and curled in a ball and laying on his side, you couldn’t lie, you wanted to keep him safe. You wanted to chase away everything he might fear and save him from anything that’s eating him alive. But you hated him so much. His party life and the cunning charming smile he would throw others. And then, there’s the reckless spending. The relationship feels like it’s going nowhere. He is never home and you feel like a stone. He is only getting the attention he needs, knowing he couldn’t get any at home. How could you blame him? How do you churn out the hurt and start talking to him, instead of running polar opposites from where he is?

“Murderer,” he said. You turned to him.

“How did you live your life knowing that you’ve killed me?” His eyelids fluttered open, and staring straight at you.

The pain in his voice shot through your heart, welling up your eyes as you remembered the things you both had done in the past.

“I’ve killed you?” you asked him in gentle whispers, through broken voices, “Do you not see where this relationship is not going? Your partying, your spendings? Your utter disrespect to the foundation of this household? I hate seeing you drunk and still you do it…” You roughly wipe your tears away with the back of your hand.

He caught your hand, and stead, gently thumb your cheeks. His eyes glided on you. You switched to your back, eyes holding at the ceiling as he moved closer to you, the tip of his nose poking the skin on your neck, inhaling your scent. His hand snuck underneath your thin fabric, and his lips peppered kisses around the expanse of your neck and shoulders, jaws and cheeks.

“Please love me,” he pleaded, with his entire being.

It must have been around mid-March, winter ended, and spring began. It was raining heavily, the raindrops splattered on the glass windows of the cafe you were in. The coffee half-drunken, sitting on its saucer by your right wrist. You were reading a piece on Franz Kafka, when blood dribbled down your philtrum and onto the pages of Die Verwandlung. You hurried to grab a tissue from under the saucer, causing the spoon to fall clattered on the marble floor and pulled the attention to you. The waitress came running to your side, squatting down to see if you’re alright.

Now, at your close friends’ clinic, you patiently waited for her medical deduction of you. Her expressions are unreadable and the shame hasn’t subsided either, for you. You came to give her a gift you’ve bought her but she insisted to have her time with you by checking your wellbeing. Once she’s crossed out that you’ve been working hard, her furrowed brows and thinking forehead lines begin to soften.

“When was your last period?”

Blink. Blink.

“Your acne resurfaced, you have been having mood swings, you also had headaches and you told me about a smell I couldn’t sense,” she pauses, and smiles triumphantly at you, “Your hormones are changing… I am suggesting… possibilities of pregnancy?” She leaned forward, and stuck her hand into the drawer under her desk and took out a fresh box of test kit. She tapped it on her table, and propped an elbow to rest her chin on her palm and grinned. She winked at you and now is smiling so widely. Too widely. You took the kit and stood up.

“There’s a loo over here, if you want some company…” she giggled.

You begin with a sigh.

“How long am I in, do you think? I drank coffee almost everyday…” you spoke through the walls, echoes on the tiles but your best friend heard them very well, then you resumed, “But it can’t be, could it?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one having sex, you should remember…” she shrugged, leaning against the counter as you sat on the toilet bowl. Your smile didn’t last very long, and noticing this, she asked you.

“Is there something wrong?”

Your friends knew how much you wanted kids, and with the possibilities of having one now, you looked pretty upset.

“Jimin’s… Jimin isn’t fit to be a father,” you confessed and when you did, a weight seemed to lift themselves off of your shoulder. Then comes the waterworks. You cried easily these days and it became close to annoying. You cried at sad commercials, at dog videos and a sight of cute things. Your friend comes kneeling next to you as you wait for the lines to develop.

She rubbed your back, in effort to calm you down.

“He isn’t home till late, and I get it, it’s because of his job but I feel so lonely sometimes and I think he doesn’t care about that… he just goes out with his friends and starts drinking, and he won’t answer the calls I make. It’s been awhile since we even had dinners together. Last week, a girl called the emergency number on his phone saying he was drunk laying flat on the floor and needed me to get him home…” you covered your face and started crying harder, “And that’s not even half of the shit he does…”

Jimin recently emptied half of your joined accounts to buy a leather jacket and bag he wants to be a gift to his friend. When you approached him about it, he said he was going to recover the money soon. He said many things and did it time and time again, and sometimes, you wished you could scream in his face to tell him to stop. The money could have been for the future, it could have been a start for a piggy bank for kids you might have, and if Jimin doesn’t stop his uneventful spendings, you would be eating from scraps. And there was no gentle way to say this, but to give him the cold shoulders. You don’t want to cry in front of a man that feels that it is okay to spend without asking their partners first. Taehyung might have loved that leather jacket, but you would rather the fridge filled with half the cost of that jacket. You could really eat well these days.

When the double line appeared, you cried even harder in the arms of your best friend. She cried with you too. Closed the clinic for the day so she could be with you. And pour out your heart contents, like a dam broke and it comes flooding. There were so many things you wanted to say, and you held back all these while to save whatever that you could save. But there’s just so much tolerance you could give and there’s just so much you could take.

“My darling,” your best friend said softly, “You’re talking in circles.” Maybe it’s because your life was going in circles. With Jimin’s recurrent attitude and you continue to persevere at every receiving end, succumbing to your hurt, it was going in rounds.

The car comes to a stop at the lobby, and the windows wind down. Your best friend stroked your hand through the window and held them tight.

“Talk,” she advised, “Tell him how you feel… Be strong.”

I can’t be strong and tell him how I feel at the same time.

The car sped off and you walked into the lobby. You walked into the lobby and suddenly felt cramping on your torso. You had to clutch over the handrail as you stood in the elevator, people coming in starting to support you, asking you what happened. They helped you call Jimin over but the calls don’t get through until their third try. With the loud music, Jimin couldn’t hear the phone. He went to remind himself that he had to track a new order of a bomber jacket he bought online to see how long it takes to get here when he saw your name flashing on the caller ID. He excused himself, brushing knees with three to four ladies on the sofa where he was before sprinted outside to catch the call.

So here he is, arriving at the level and jogging to where you are.

“Why are you leaving your wife alone when she’s unwell…” the crowd dispersed but it was clear that the comments were thrown by an uncle that was there. Jimin carried you bridal style and got the door open before laying on the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face.

“It’s just the cramps…” you lied.

“Those monthly cramps right? Nothing serious?” He repeated.

You nodded. He doesn’t look like he wanted to stay there any longer. He is rushing to get away it seems.

“So…” he drawled, “If you’re alright now, and there’s nothing serious, I should remind you that I bought a bomber jacket and it’s expected to arrive soon… I’m best going because the birthday boy is coming around midnight, you’re alright right?” He is already at the door frame, walking sideways, mashing his lips together and looking at the time and then his phone. His face shone by the light from the screens, his jawline, his attentions, how handsome he looked and you tried so hard to not break right there and then. You turned the other way and said that you’re fine. You clenched your eyes shut and you felt him breathing next to you, a faint scent of nicotine on his shirt and a light kiss on your hair.

“Please love me…” you begged, placing your palm on your tummy where the baby is. Just as desperately.

It shouldn’t have been difficult to ask for affection with your significant other. And yet. It just had been a while since you spent time together. Asking for his time after a while felt awkward. But when he smiled, and he smiled so bright, you felt a tinge of confidence. It felt like he, too, was waiting for the invitation.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked, with a shy smile.

“It’s just been a while since we spoke…” you set out saucers and poured him tea.

I want to tell you everything. Everything I have and all that I carry with me. I am going through a hard time, and I want you to be there.

“You’re pregnant…” his eyes became so round and his accusation turned into fact. Since you took the time to confirm them, he was certained. That you are indeed carrying his child.

You hung your head low and began to sob. Jimin stood up immediately from his chair, he held your shoulders and his hand raised up to your neck, then he thumbed your cheeks to slowly lift your face up.

“I lost it, the night you left for Taehyung’s party…I didn’t know how to tell you,” you begin explaining frantically, but Jimin gathered your head under his chin and he softly held the back of your head, cradling you. You shuddered against his body, shivering like you’ve walked in the cold and finally found warmth. His eyes stunned and unblinking until tears wells up on its own. His nose turned red and he sobbed gently. As you grew limp in his embrace, he held you tighter, firmer--as if making up for the nights he couldn’t hold you close. Or when he is too occupied with things that aren’t his family. He was punishing himself for what he couldn’t control and things he couldn’t say. After the cramps you felt, there was blood on the sheet that you lay in. You’ve bawled alone on the bed, cradling the bloodied lump, knowing full well that you’ve suffered a miscarriage.

You have lain in bed for the rest of the evening after the reveal. Jimin had been home and holding your hands and refused to be parted from you. He laced his fingers in yours and thumbed your knuckles while he smiles at the TV show. He even laid with you, holding your tummy and whispering gently, encouraging you to eat and giving out ideas on what to eat. He offered to cook and to tidy things up. He washed the plates in the sink and kept your body warm with his own.

“It’s my fault,” he began, “If I was home more often, I would have noticed…”

“Jimin…” you protested weakly.

“I wasn’t as attentive as I should be, I will become better now…” he decreed, “Whether you like it or not, I will be home.”

“I’d like that…” you hummed to yourself, and it seemed he heard it quite clearly, because he smiled and returned to wipe the plates dry and arrange them on the plate drying rack.

Maybe, you don’t always have to tell. Maybe, he could just see.

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years

Text

medium luci

ao3 link

content warnings: homophobia, comphet, child abuse, abusive relationships

It’s rare that Susan and Neil have the same weekday off. Neil typically works five days a week and she three or four, depending who’s on staff, being that she’s only part-time. But he’d had a dentist appointment midmorning so he’d taken today off and decided to make his hours up by volunteering for a double next week.

Susan doesn’t typically care to spend any extra time alone with her husband. They have so little to talk about these days, now that he doesn’t try to butter her up or feed her honey sweet lies as much as he used to. Now that Neil doesn’t care to talk much at all unless ranting or complaining about the various things he doesn’t like, his son’s style of dress, women who sit with their legs open, cab drivers who don’t speak English. Susan doesn’t even remember the last time Neil had to take a cab but he has strong opinions on them nonetheless, and the list goes on and on.

He thankfully hasn’t done much of that today, however. He’d parked himself in front of the television after coming home from his appointment and simply nodded when Susan announced she was going out to garden. She only comes inside when she hears the phone ring and by the time she’s walking up the back steps, Neil’s already answered it.

She watches his expression change as he converses with whomever’s on the other end, nervousness fluttering in her chest as his eyes widen, then harden.

“I’ll be right there,” Neil concludes as he hangs up, turning those hard eyes onto Susan. “That was the school.”

“Oh dear…what’s Billy done this time?”

“Not Billy.” Neil shakes his head and Susan’s heart drops with the realization her husband isn’t just irritated but seething, knuckles blanched as his hands ball into tight fists. “Maxine. Did you know the Sinclairs have a girl around her age?”

“N-No, I didn’t. I’m not very familiar with them, Neil.” Susan never had much luck getting close to anyone anymore, not in the least because of Neil himself.

“Apparently Maxine is,” he declares icily. “A teacher caught her and the Sinclair girl fornicating under the bleachers.”

Susan’s heart turns to stone and sinks into her stomach.

No.

Please, no.

Neil has very strong opinions about sexuality in general and homosexual conduct in particular, and Susan can practically feel the outrage radiating from him. It crackles in the air like the promise of a lightning storm. Neil’s fists are still clenched and his posture goes taut like it always does before he explodes.

“W-Well,” Susan begins, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

She hates herself for what she is going to say. She says it anyway.

“Well, you know where she learned that kind of b-behavior from, don’t you?”

Because if Neil is going to explode, Susan can’t stop him. But she hopes she can at least encourage the worst of it away from Max. She watches Neil’s eyes flicker and knows they’re both remembering the day they came home early from the short vacation they’d taken for their fifth anniversary, a girl and a boy sneaking out of Billy’s bedroom window, neither particularly clothed. She watches the angry bulge of the vein pulsing in his neck and knows they’re both thinking of that short young fellow with the skateboard who worked at the used car lot during the day and spent his time with Billy during the night.

“Yes, I know exactly where she learned it from. I’m picking both of them up and we’re all going to have a family discussion.”

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Neil holds up his hand. “Stay here, Susan. We’ll be back soon enough.”

Neil has gun powder in his gaze and she dares not argue. She lowers her head and steps aside when he walks past to fetch the truck keys from the hook. He stomps down the steps and slams the backdoor shut behind him.

Susan watches through the window as he gets into the truck and pulls out of the driveway, feeling dreadfully ill. She doesn’t mean what she’d said, of course. There are a number of behaviors that Max has picked up from Billy, but that isn’t one of them. If anyone is to blame, Susan supposes it’s herself for passing it along intrinsically.

She has her own secret desires locked away within the chambers of her heart. Desire she dares not confront for her own sanity, for her own safety. She’s never acted on her wants, always chose to play private games of hide and seek with them in her head instead, those insidiously innocent wishes of hers. Never spoken aloud let alone pursued those urges that flush hot beneath her skin when she finds her eyes drawn to other women’s lips, hips, breasts.

Susan gave it to Max and unlike her, Max is brash and bold and brave. God save her, Max does what she wants to do and doesn’t care what other people think. Susan would admire her for it if it didn’t scare her to death.

Because Neil does care what other people think. He cares very much. And Susan’s seen him annoyed with Max in the past. She’s seen him frustrated with Max, displeased, exasperated. But never has she seen the silent stirring of a reign of rage to come where Max is concerned, never has she known that particular look in Neil’s eye to be directed Max’s way. She can only hope—

Oh, it’s such a despicable thing to hope for. Susan has poison in her soul, she swears she must. But Billy isn’t remotely hers and Max very much is.

* * *

Susan doesn’t know if it was actually her remark that spurred Neil to turn the blame on Billy or if this was the conclusion he would’ve come to anyway. Neil often blames Max’s mishaps and mischiefs on Billy. Billy being the older sibling meant to lead by example. Billy being the older brother, meant to keep his younger sister out of trouble to begin with.

Her remark or Neil’s default thought process, in any case, it’s Billy he’s glaring at in the living room. Angrily dictates that Billy take off his shirt, belt in hand. Susan grabs a very pale Max’s shoulders and begins to usher her down the hall.

“Where are you taking Maxine?”

Susan freezes, mouth going dry.

Neil’s looking their way now, brow arched, stern and skeptical.

“I-I—“

“She isn’t going to learn if she doesn’t watch, Susan,” he declares with no room for argument. “Bring her back.”

Susan swallows, hands tightening on Max’s shoulders. Something dies inside her when she turns her daughter around. She buries it silently as she’s buried so many other pieces before and avoids Max’s eyes boring into her as she marches her back to the living room. Neil motions for them to sit on the couch, sunlight glinting off the metal buckle. Billy doesn’t bother to disguise his disdain, glaring murder, nostrils flaring like an ornery bovine. Susan suspects he’ll pay for this too.

“Your behavior today was beyond inappropriate, Maxine,” Neil tells her coldly. “Unnatural, disgusting, absolutely unacceptable.”

Max squirms next to Susan, hands tucking under her thighs. She is stone faced but this close, Susan can feel her shaking.

“Now, I know it’s not all your fault. Big Brother here’s taught you—“

“I didn’t teach her shit!” Billy cuts him off, sharp and acidic. “I told her to steer clear from Sinclair, this isn’t on me!”

Neil punches his son in the stomach with all the affect of swatting a fly, once, twice. Susan flinches. Billy’s gasping, breath knocked out of him. He staggers and Neil viciously shoves him to the floor.

“She saw you with that faggot’s tongue down your throat, don’t think I don’t know! I know you, I know the kind of shit you think you can get away with behind my back!” Neil roars like thunder. “Well, now it’s my turn to teach her a thing or two! Pay attention, Maxine!”

Max stiffens beside her. She opens her mouth to protest and Susan grabs her arm, sinking her nails in. Startled, Max's eyes dart to her. Susan gives a tiny shake of the head, urging her not to speak. Max bends her elbow like a chicken wing and jerks her arm out of Susan’s grasp. Ire flares in her gaze but she holds her tongue. She does not challenge Neil as he begins beating Billy with the belt.

Susan can’t watch. She lowers her eyes to the floor. She can see the movement in the shadows, Neil’s rapid whipping of the improvised weapon and Billy’s form jolting with the blows. Susan shuts her eyes to the shadows but she can still hear it, thick, hard leather striking bare flesh.

“Don’t turn away, Maxine,” Neil barks at some point between the sounds of violence.

Billy doesn’t cry out. Eventually it’s over. Susan raises her head and cannot bear more than a glance at her stepson braced on his hands and knee. The belt now rests at Neil’s side and still, her stomach is churning.

“If there is ever a repeat of the conduct you displayed today, there will be consequences. Is that understood, Maxine?”

Max looks to Susan. Her eyes are wavering. Then they glean whatever it is they were searching for from Susan’s and harden.

“Yes,” she mumbles.

“Yes, what?”

Max clears her throat.

“Yes, sir,” she corrects, louder and clearer.

“Both of you to your rooms,” he commands. “I want both of you to reflect on your actions until it’s time for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy answers this time, climbing to his feet in the corner of Susan’s eye. She remains on the couch as her daughter rises and plods down the hall, cheeks as red as the cherry atop a sundae. Flushed as red as the welts on Billy’s back that have Susan’s stomach in ropes even though she only spares a brief glance.

Neil sets the belt aside and plops down in his armchair. “Can you get me a beer, Susan?”

She nods and rises, quietly fetching one. Pops the tab and then passes it to him before she excuses herself. In times like this, Susan wants to leave more than anything. She wants to grab Max and take her far, far away. But she can’t imagine they would get anywhere, truly.

Neil controls the finances. Susan makes less money than he does and every cent she does earn inevitably winds up under Neil’s attentive purview. In a distant, ostensible kind of way Susan understands there are shelters for women in her situation. Shelters out there, somewhere…aren’t there? For her situation?

Neil hasn’t actually put his hands on her. Not yet. Not like what he just did to Billy. Hasn’t actually done so to Max, although the threat of that unfolded in the living room in a way that could not be more crystal clear. The threat alone feels like a fist to Susan, invisible fist clenched tight around her insides and squeezing so hard she's nauseous.

Is the threat enough? Would Susan and Max be accepted on the basis of threats alone?

Provided she could ever find such a place to begin with. Susan doesn’t have the faintest clue of where to look for what feels more like a nebulous fantasy of a sanctuary than a tangible reality. A shimmering oasis in the desert. Even if she were to locate such a place, what if it were at full capacity?

What if she and Max got turned away?

That would mean choosing between being homeless or going back to Neil. Going back to Neil after a failed escape would certainly mean him making good on all those threats of his, the ones verbal and non. The examples explicit in his words and implicit in his actions. Above all, any failed escape would certainly ensure there would be no second escape.

Susan isn’t going anywhere. And neither is Max. The very notion is abstract and distorted, floating just out of reach in a gaussian blur of a wish. Their home isn’t a good home. But it is the home they have and so, Susan will simply have to do her best to make sure Max never does anything like this again. That Max never does anything to get Neil’s attention like that, nothing to stoke the coals always smoldering in his choleric soul. That as painful as it's sure to be, Max learns to keep certain parts of herself under lock and key.

When dinner is in the oven and Neil is engrossed in his program, Susan slips off to Max’s bedroom. She knocks quietly and lets herself in. Her throat knots up at the tear tracks on her daughter’s cheeks, far more gutting than the way she bristles as Susan steps closer, the sheer hurt in her eyes.

“What do you want?”

The same things as you, Susan thinks irresistibly. And I’d go after them too, if I didn’t know better.

“I’m sorry, Max.”

Max huffs and turns away. “Whatever.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not. You’re just like Neil, you think I’m disgusting,” Max spits, hiking her legs up on the bed and hugging her knees to her chest. “You think Billy’s disgusting too, you couldn’t even look at him.”

“No, I don’t…oh, Max.” Susan swallows and lowers herself to a sit beside her on the bed, gently placing a hand on her knee. She swallows her heartbreak when Max’s eyes flash as though the touch scalds her. “Neil and I disagree about many things. This is one of them.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” The blaze in Max’s eyes dies down, voice softening to cinders. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Oh, he’s so much bigger than me, Max.” Susan sags with familiar defeat. “And I— I don’t think it’s wrong, you and this girl.”

“Lucy.”

“I’m sure Lucy is lovely,” leaves Susan’s lips, this fragile whisper she dares not tempt fate to speak above. “I could never think that you’re disgusting. But I’m just me, Max, and Neil is bigger, and the world…the world too, is so much bigger than I am. You can’t— never, ever in public.”

Max’s eyes widen. Susan shifts on the bed and moves her hands, finds both of Max’s and squeezes tight.

“You cannot be open with feelings like that. You can’t take girls to your school dances, you can’t kiss them where other people could see.”

Max lets out an angry growl even as her eyes well up.

“It’s not fair!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“I know.” She knows, oh, she knows, she’s never not choking on it.

Max chews her lip, scarlet and fuming. Susan halfway expects her daughter to headbutt her or holler right in her ear until she deafens. But after a moment it’s almost as if Max can decode all the things she cannot say because her hands twist under Susan’s and intertwine their fingers.

#my fic tag #susan hargrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #billy hargrove #kinda an inversion of that one fandom trope #ig

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Songs that make me think of the Marauders (PART TWO)

(part one)

Everything Happens For A Reason (Madison Beer)

Remus, after the Prank, completely heartbroken and completely confused… when did Sirius stop loving him in that sweet, gentle way he’d always promised to?

When did Sirius start seeing him as the monster he's always sworn Remus isn't?

I used to believe That everything happens for a reason But I just can't find a reason You'd wanna hurt me so bad

Can't get no relief Time moves on with the seasons But I still can't find a reason You'd wanna hurt me so bad

And what in the world did I do to deserve such a pain in my heart? Guess it's true I'm never getting over you

I still love you I still want you I still love you

If You Love Her (Forest Blakk)

This is the song Sirius and Remus play during their first dance. Fight me.

She always has trouble falling asleep And she likes to cuddle while under the sheets She loves pop songs and dancing, and bad trash TV There's still a few other things She loves love notes and babies and likes giving gifts Has a hard time accepting a good compliment She loves her whole family and all of her friends So if you're the one she lets in

Kiss her with passion as much as you can Run your hands through her hair whenever she's sad And when she doesn't notice how pretty she is Tell her over and over, so she never forgets

Take it If she gives you her heart, don't you break it Let your arms be a place she feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have On days when it feels like the whole world might cave in Stand side by side and you'll make it She'll love you if you love her like that

cowboy like me (Taylor Swift)

Sirius and Remus go on the run together after James’ death. Not at first - they meet up in a bar about three months after. But after that three months they’re inseparable again - desperately in love, playing Robin Hood, driving a blue Mustang into the sunset - they’re miserable, sure, but they’re also very good at pretending they’re not.

And you asked me to dance But I said, "dancing is a dangerous game" Oh, I thought, this is gonna be one of those things I've got some tricks up my sleeve Takes one to know one You're a cowboy like me Never wanted love, just a fancy car Now I'm waiting by the phone

Perched in the dark Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear Like it could be love I could be the way forward, only if they pay for it You're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars Hustling for the good life Never thought I'd meet you here It could be love We could be the way forward, and I know I'll pay for it

And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to mess this up And the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about when you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon With your boots beneath my bed Forever is the sweetest con

And I'm never gonna love again I'm never gonna love again

no body, no crime (Taylor Swift)

Sirius Black’s soulmate, James Potter, is dead. And Sirius knows who did it.

He just can’t prove it.

(I rewrote it for y'all. You're welcome.)

Cell Block Tango (from "Chicago")

The Dark Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Severus, and Regulus - performing uselessly sensual dance routines in Azkaban because why the fuck not? Their Dark Lord is dead, and all they have left of him is their loyalty and a bout of snakes and skulls on their arms.

(Wrote this one too. Again, you're welcome.)

Broken Bones (KALEO)

Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and every full moon, this song runs through his mind as James and Sirius envelop his naked body in their arms and tell him he’s beautiful, and so so good, and they’ll love him forever and ever and ever, they promise. And for a single, measley second every time, Remus believes them.

Hoping things might go my way Some might say I talk loud, see if I care Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear I've busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye I hope he's going to break these chains

Another hard day, no water, no rest I saw my chance, so I got him at last I took his six shooter, put two in his chest He'll never say a word no more The devil got him good for sure

Ain't got no place to call a home Only chains and broken bones Ain't got no place to call a home So come on lord, won't you take me now? So come on lord, what you waiting for?

Oh, the devil's going to make me a free man The devil's going to set me free The devil's going to make me a free man The devil's going to set me free...

traitor (Olivia Rodrigo)

Sirius is innocent. Remus believes that. Remus knows that. He knows it. Because he doesn’t know how he’ll live if he’s wrong. Well, okay, he knows -

He won’t.

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew That you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse I kept quiet so I could keep you

And ain't it funny how you ran And ain't it funny how you said you were friends? Now it sure as hell don't look like it

Ain't it funny all the twisted games All the questions you used to avoid?

Ain't it funny? Remember I brought her up, and you told me I was paranoid

You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter

God, I wish that you had thought this through Before I went and fell in love with you When she's sleeping in the bed we made Don't you dare forget about the way you betrayed me

Never Not (Lauv)

The Marauders, slowly breaking apart over the years. James and Lily settle in London, and Sirius and Remus run off to travel the world. They split off somewhere in Asia and forget to call. Peter cleans dishes in Hogwarts’ kitchens and Severus spends his time in those dungeons, teaching potions and writing letters he never sends. Regulus holes up in Grimmauld Place, never marrying, never moving. James and Lily divorce when Harry is ten, and go their separate ways. They always move forward, but -

They also always look back.

I lost myself, seventeen Then you came, found me There's a room in my heart with the memories we made Took them down but they're still in their frames There's no way I could ever forget

For as long as I live, and as long as I love I will never not think about you From the moment I loved I knew you were the one And no matter whatever I do I will never not think about you

What we had only comes once in a lifetime For the rest of mine, I'll always compare To the room in my heart with the memories we made Nights on fifth, in between B and A

Didn't we have fun? Didn't we have fun, looking back?

We were so beautiful We were so tragic No other magic could ever compare...

Scared To Live (The Weeknd)

Sirius and Remus after twelve years apart, having no idea what to do with each other. They were in love once - are in love? - but those days are long gone. Sirius sees how Remus looks at Tonks, but knows Remus can’t ever really love her, much as he likes her, because his heart has forgotten every word but Sirius' name. And Sirius is happier than he thought he’d ever get to be without James, really, though he’s far from happy or even content - is this all there is? Is this how they die? Is this their ending?

No. No. No, after everything, this can’t be it - this cannot be it.

(But if he dies, well... he hopes Remus lives on without him. Happier.

I guess.)

When I saw the signs, I should've let you go But I kept you beside me And if I held you back, at least I held you close Should have known you were lonely

I know things will never be the same Time we lost will never be replaced I'm the reason you forgot to love So don't be scared to live again Be scared to live again No, don't be scared to live again

You always miss the chance to fall for someone else Cause your heart only knows me They try to win your love, but there was nothing left They just made you feel lonely

I am not the man I used to be Did some things I couldn't let you see Refused to be the one who taints your heart

I hope you know that I've been praying that you find yourself We fell apart, right from the start I should have made you my only

So don't be scared to live again I said, "don't be scared to live again"

I Know Where I've Been (from "Hairspray! Live")

Remus and Sirius, sad and happy together, alone in Grimmauld Place and dancing deep into the night as this song plays on the record player and they sway. Their whole lives have been war, but in these moments, there is peace.

Fleeting, hopeless peace, but peace nonetheless.

There's a light in the darkness Though the night is black There's a light burning bright Showing me the way But I know where I've been

There's a cry in the distance It's a voice that comes from deep within There's a cry asking why I pray the answer's up ahead Cause I know where I've been

There's a road we've been travelling Lost so many on the way But the riches will be plenty Worth the price we had to pay

There's a dream in the future There's a struggle we have yet to win And there's pride in my heart Cause I know where I'm going And I know where I've been

Brooklyn Baby (Lana Del Rey)

Sirius Black being himself, and James Potter and Remus Lupin being in love with him.

They say I'm too young to love you I don't know what I need They think I don't understand The freedom land of the seventies

I think I'm too cool to know ya You say I'm like the ice, I freeze I'm churning out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines

Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby

They say I'm too young to love you They say I'm too dumb to see They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read I think we're like fire and water I think we're like the wind and sea You're burning up, I'm cooling down You're up, I'm down You're blind, I see

But I'm free I'm free

I'm talking about my generation Talking about that newer nation And if you don't like it, you can beat it Beat it, baby You never liked the way I said it If you don't get it, then forget it Cause I don't have to fucking explain

Yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool But he's not as cool as me Cause I'm a Brooklyn baby I'm a Brooklyn baby

I Can't Go On Without You (KALEO)

Sirius and Remus are lost to each other, for twelve years and then two more, Sirius locked behind bars and then a Veil and Remus on the run alone and then with a woman he’s somehow fooled himself into thinking he loves.

They’ll be together again. One day. But for now, there’s nothing to do but wait.

Alone.

Well, they thought they were made for each other Only thinking of one another Never thinking just for one second She would take a different attraction

We don't want that We don't want that, oh no I can't go on without you

Oh, so what's the point of breaking my sweet heart? She wanted me to let down my guard Well, you know what they say It's better that way So, you better hush and walk away

Well, was I supposed to wait for you sweetheart? And hide away the shame, yes I keep it all inside Though the thought had crossed my mind! To do all the things I'll regret, we don't want that

I can't, I can't, I can't go on without you I can't go on without you, oh, lord I can't go on without you, babe

Oh, she loves me She loves me not She loves me My love don't love me...

Oh, so what is left but a broken man? Cause nothing hurts like a woman can I can't go on without you...

happier (Olivia Rodrigo)

Sirius as he watches Remus fall in love with Tonks right in front of him, unable to love Sirius the same way after everything. Sirius loves his cousin - he does. He just kind of hates her, too.

There’s been a lot of things in this life he’s been afraid of, but Remus leaving him never even crossed his mind.

That was his mistake, I guess…

Fuck.

You've moved on, found someone new One more girl who brings out the better in you And I thought my heart was attached For all the sunlight of our past But she's so sweet, she's so pretty Does she mean you forgot about me?

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me? And now I'm picking her apart Like cutting her down make you miss my wretched heart But she's beautiful, she looks kind, she probably gives you butterflies

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, just not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

That's The Kind Of Woman (Julia Michaels)

James left Sirius for Lily, and that was okay. Sirius loved Lily, and he loved James, so it was okay. At least he still had Remus.

Well, he did. Until Tonks came along.

It’s okay. Really. Sirius has gone his whole life feeling unloved.

He can die that way too.

James, Sirius, and Remus fell in love in fourth year, and it was wonderful. And then Sirius started to notice things - small things, little things. Like the gentle way James and Remus are with each other, the way they wake each other up with kisses in the morning and dance the night before the full moon, the way their hands fit together the way everyone expected Sirius’ to fit with them, but better.

The way they love each other more than him.

And that’s okay. That’s fine. He wants them to be happy, and they make each other happy. So he lets them go the last day of seventh year, and disappears into the wind never to be seen again, just like their love for him.

Childhood picket fence, smells like confidence Raised with a little more common sense Isn't always on defense Sits up straight and knows how to take a compliment Jealous but the right amount Isn't scared of missing out, missing out's scared of missing her Doesn't buy things to fill voids Doesn't hate the sound of her own voice

Doesn't cry when someone leaves Isn't contradictory Mind takes a break when she falls asleep Always takes her own advice Crosses T's and cuts her ties Figured out sympathize from empathize Doesn't keep those letters in a drawer Doesn't keep a closet full of things she bought and never wore Gives all her attention to the people that are with her She still loves to dance She still loves her sister

If the me I am Walked out that door Would I miss her?

Maybe, a little bit, sure Oh, I love myself, but I'd love her more Yeah, that's the kind of woman I'd leave me for

Quarter Past Midnight (Bastille)

The Marauders steal a Muggle’s pick-up truck and fly down the highway, literally. The lights are bright and the music is loud, and they’re screaming with laughter, dancing and kissing under the stars. It’s that one perfect moment, the one poets write about seeking their whole lives. This is that moment, this is their moment.

They’ll never be this happy again.

It's a quarter past midnight as we cut through the city The streets are getting restless Good times, bad decisions And the sirens are mending some hearts But we're the losers on our back seats Singing love will tear us apart

It's a quarter past midnight, still avoiding tomorrow It's a quarter past midnight, but we're just getting going We keep on running through a red light Like we're trying to burn the night away This is my favorite part Help me piece it all together, darling Before it falls apart

And the speakers are blowing We want the bodies on the billboards Not the lives underneath them And now we're crawling up the walls again And it's a quarter past twelve And you said we'd leave this place in dust And fall from heaven straight through hell We never know what we have We never knew what we had

We keep on running Why are we always chasing after something Like we're trying to throw our lives away?

And the secrets are flowing Our lips are getting looser I don't know what I'm saying We never knew what we had I never know what I've had

Home (Edith Whiskers)

The Marauders remember each other in a haze - well. The ones that are still alive do, that is.

Regulus, falling.

James, fighting.

Lily, screaming.

Sirius, smiling.

Peter, choking.

Remus, crying.

Severus, bleeding.

They all went, and not one peacefully.

If I close my eyes, I can still see them. Laughing.

I do love my ma and pa Not the way that I do love you Well, holy moly, me oh my, you're the apple of my eye Girl, I've never loved one like you Man, oh, man, you're my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness There ain't nothing that I need Well, hot and heavy pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ Ain't nothing please me more than you

I'll follow you into the park, through the jungle, through the dark Moats and boats and waterfalls, alleyways and pay phone calls I've been everywhere with you We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night Nothing new is sweeter than with you And in the streets, we run afree, like it's only you and me Geez, you're something to see

Oh, home, let me come home Home is whenever I'm with you Oh, home, let me come home Home is wherever I'm with you

I Hate That You're Happy (Tiny Little Houses)

Severus is alone, alone again. Lily’s gone. She’s run off to marry James Potter, the prat, and Severus - Severus doesn’t hope for much in this life, but he holds out hope for her. Because everyone knows she loves James now, but she loved Severus once too… and she still keeps his green ribbon tied around her ring finger, almost like they’re still married in mind.

So Severus keeps his vows to her. He promised her forever - it’s okay, honestly. That forever can be spent apart. He’ll love her anyway.

He'll love her always.

I'm sorry if I ever hurt you And I never kissed you enough And I just have trouble unravelling sometimes The feelings that I kept locked up

And I know it's my own misfortune And I didn't hold tight enough But I found it hard to keep myself whole While drowning in my bitter blood

I'll stay awake again and start feeling The spot where you used to reside And I'll lay beneath these cold empty sheets Huddled and clutching my sides

And I know it's my own misfortune And darling, believe me, I do And you've got your problems, and hell I've got mine But I find it hard that we're through

And I hate when you're with him And I hate when you smile And I hate that for once you don't seem like you've cried And I hate that you've kissed him And I hate that I'm sore But most of all I hate that you're happier than before

And I hate when you're with him And at night you're entwined And I hate that I have to pretend that I'm fine And I hate that I miss you but you miss him more But most of all I hate that you're happier than before Most of all I hate that you're happier than before

Call Your Girlfriend (Clara Mae)

James knows Lily isn’t happy with him. It’s been months, she’s had plenty of time to come around, but she just - she doesn’t love him. She never has. He should’ve seen that, but he was too busy hating the greasy-haired git to realize that Lily has always loved him more than anything else.

Gently, he lets her go. He presses the green ribbon he found in her drawer around her hand, and he kisses her goodbye, and he tells her to go after her happiness, whoever that is. And she smiles at him, the tears in her eyes happy, and she runs away, crashing into Severus’ arms. And they look… they look so perfect together. Like they make so much sense.

It’s okay. James can take it.

Regulus is staring at him. James winks at him, and smiles.

Call your girlfriend It's time you had the talk Give your reasons Say it's not her fault Tell her not to get upset Second guessing everything you've said and done

And when she get upset Tell her that you never meant to hurt no one You just tell her that the only way her heart will mend Is when she learns to love again And it won't make sense right now But you're still her friend

Cloud 9 (Beach Bunny)

James, Sirius, and Remus. It’s an unconventional love story, but not one they feel the need to explain.

They can and will dance together forever, butterbeers in their hands and magic in their eyes, hearts colliding in a messy, three-way kiss.

I don't wanna seem the way I do But I'm confident when I'm with you Lately all I feel is bad and bruised Tired of tripping on my shoes

When I start to tumble from the sky You remind me how to fly Lately, I've been feeling unalive But you bring me back to life

But when he loves me, I feel like I'm floating When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody Even when we fade eventually to nothing You will always be my favorite form of loving

the last great american dynasty (Taylor Swift)

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and its last heir, Sirius Potter Lupin.

Fuck those assholes. He’ll be as mad as he likes.

Was the heir to the name, and money And the town said "how did a middle class divorcée do it?" The wedding was charming, if a little gauche There's only so far new money goes They picked out a home and called it Holiday House Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud The doctor had told him to settle down It must have been her fault his heart gave out

And they said, "there goes the last great american dynasty" Who knows, if she never showed up what could've been There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything

Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever Flew in all the Bitch Pack friends from the city Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet And losing on card game bets with Dalí

There goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything

They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green Fifty years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness Their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me

Who knows, if I never showed up what could've been There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen I had a marvelous time ruining everything

I Don't Believe You (P!nk)

Regulus, alone after Sirius runs away. All alone in a giant house, all alone with his wretched mother and her Death Eater friends, all alone without the only person he’s ever loved.

Sirius never comes back, but Regulus waits at the door for him every day anyway.

(Sirius writes Regulus a million letters. He wonders why he never answers. Not even with a cursive fuck you. Maybe he should go back… maybe - no.

No, best not.

It’s not like Regulus misses him.)

I don't mind it, I don't mind at all It's like you're the swing set and I'm the kid that falls It's like the way we fight, the times I've cried We come too close, and every night The passion's there, so it's gotta be right Right?

I don't mind it, I still don't mind at all It's like one of those bad dreams when you can't wake up It looks like you've given up, you've had enough But I want more, no, I won't stop Because I just know you'll come around Right?

Just don't stand there and watch me fall Cause I still don't mind at all

No I don't believe you When you say, "don't come around here no more" I won't remind you You said we wouldn't be apart No I don't believe you When you say you don't need me anymore So don't pretend to not love me at all

Cause I don't believe you.

Little Miss Perfect (Annapantsu cover)

Regulus Black, the perfect child.

He and his brother are nothing alike. Sirius is rebellious, Regulus is obedient. Sirius is brash, Regulus is controlled. Sirius is bravery, Regulus is misery. They have nothing in common.

Well -

Except their hearts, bothing beating for a boy named James Potter with twinkling eyes. A boy only one of them will get to kiss.

Regulus is happy to be the one who’s lost out. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he stares up at the white light, the surface too far above to reach.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners I make a point to be on time Head of the student council I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say...

Well, hmm Often I ask myself, "what did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter But I don't dare utter a word Cause that would be absurd behavior For little miss perfect

No, I can't risk falling off my throne Love is something I don't even know Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl Little miss perfect That's me You don't even know Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Achilles Come Down (Gang Of Youths)

Sirius, running from his family and his predetermined madness, his wildness carrying him so far he makes a circle.

Remus, hiding from love and freedom, his happiness stitched from his skin in ugly, painful scars.

James, watching his best friends tear each other apart, too blind with love to see the monsters they’ve made of each other.

Children, come down.

Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof? You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it's not much but there's proof You crazy assed cosmonaut, remember your virtue Redemption lies plainly in truth Just humour us, Achilles Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken Remember the pact of our youth? Where you go, I'm going So jump and I'm jumping Since there is no me without you Soldier on, Achilles Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Hurt and grieve, but don't suffer alone Engage with the pain as a motive Today of all days, see How the most dangerous thing is to love How you will heal and you'll rise above

Achilles, jump now You are absent of cause or excuse So self-indulgent and self-referential No audience could ever want you You crave the applause, yet hate the attention Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles, so end it all now It's a pointless resistance for you

Achilles, just put down the bottle Don't listen to what you've consumed It's chaos, confusion, and wholly unworthy Of feeding and it's wholly untrue You may feel no purpose nor a point for existing It's all just conjecture and gloom And there may not be meaning, so find one and seize it Do not waste your self on this roof

Feel your breath course frankly below And see life as a worthy opponent Crowned by an overture bold and beyond Ah, it's more courageous to overcome You want the acclaim, it's not worth it, Achilles More poignant than fame or the taste of another

Don't listen, Achilles, but be real and just jump You dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles) You will not be more than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat)

You want my opinion (no one asked your opinion) My opinion you've got You asked for my counsel (no one asked for your thoughts)

I gave you my thoughts Be done with this now, and jump off the roof Can you hear me Achilles? I'm talking to you

Throw yourself into the unknown with pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold and see life as a means to a triumph

Achilles, come down.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (Taylor Swift)

Remus gets super drunk after the Prank and gives a fucking performance on top of the coffee table in front of the entirety of Gryffindor. Sirius is bright red. James is on the verge of tears. Severus is gaping. And Remus is seething.

You woke the wolf. Now watch it bite.

And there are no rules when you show up here Bass beat rattling the chandelier Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year So why'd you have to rain on my parade? I'm shaking my head, I'm locking the gates

It was so nice being friends again There I was giving you a second chance But you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand And therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you And so I took an axe to a mended fence But I'm not the only friend you've lost lately If only you weren't so shady

Here's a toast to my real friends They don't care about the HE SAID, SHE SAID And here's to my baby He ain't reading what they call me lately And here's to my mama Had to listen to all this drama And here's to you... Cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do

Hahaha, I can't even say it with a straight face!

This is why we can't have nice things, darling Because you break them, I had to take them away This is why we can't have nice things, honey Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me? This is why we can't have nice things

right where you left me (Taylor Swift)

Remus is pretty sure he died on October 31, 1981. He’s not sure why his body’s still moving.

Friends break up, friends get married Strangers get born, strangers get buried Trends change, rumors fly through new skies But I'm right where you left me Matches burn after the other Pages turn and stick to each other Wages earned and lessons learned But I'm right where you left me

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "what a sad sight" I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on I stayed there Dust collecting on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it She's still 23 inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it She's still 23 inside her fantasy And you're sitting in front of me

At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right

I'm sure that you got a wife out there Kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware Cause I'm right where I cause no harm, mind my business If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong

I'm right where you left me You left me no choice but to stay here forever...

Every Day a Little Death (from “The Count of Monte Cristo”)

Remus Lupin, waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

For what, he’s not sure. Maybe death. Maybe madness.

Right now all he’s got is lonely.

Lonely, lonely, lonely; la, la, la…

Come out, come out, wherever you are, Peter. Come out and kill me, you coward.

Another day, another week Another month, another year Another day, another night Until it’s day again The sun has fled, I go to bed And scratch a line on the wall Another day, where nothing changes at all

And everyday shuffles by like the day before! On its way to the blackest of skies And everyday a little death comes and paces the floor! And a little bit more of me dies... Another day, another week Another month, another year Another night I spend alone Until it’s day again Our little star has moved away And all the world is a blur I only see I am not me Without her

Everyday a little death for everyday I die Everyday a little death and still I know not why...

He will come back! Perhaps but still… He will return to me! Another prayer You’ve got to live for today I will live when we’re together again Everyday I will pray until then

And everyday another prayer will bring him close to me And every night out little star we will share The one day when I open my eyes He will be standing right over there, one day

There’s something I must say I wanted to protect you

I wish there was a way I could make it untrue I heard the news today I fear the worst has happened An accident occurred He is dead! Dead and gone Rest in peace may flights of angels sing him to his rest Let me hold and help to heal you!

Everyday a little death...

tolerate it (Taylor Swift)

Remus Lupin. Abandoned, alone, aimless. Unwanted, unseen, unloved. Mad, morbid, monster.

He wonders if in the next life, he’ll be dealt some better cards.

Best not hope. Best not be greedy. He could be dead -

Isn’t sadness better?

I sit and watch you reading with your head low I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed I sit and watch you I notice everything you do or don't do You're so much older and wiser and I

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid Use my best colors for your portrait Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome I take your indiscretions all in good fun I sit and listen I polish plates until they gleam and glisten You're so much older and wiser and I While you were out building other worlds, where was I? Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire? I made you my temple, my mural, my sky Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life Drawing hearts in the byline Always taking up too much space or time You assume I'm fine But what would you do if I

Break free and leave us in ruins Took this dagger in me and removed it Gain the weight of you then lose it Believe me, I could do it! If it's all in my head tell me now Tell me I've got it wrong somehow I know my love should be celebrated But you tolerate it

Téir Abhaile Riu (Celtic Woman)

Sirius being Sirius and Remus and James trying to reign him in. I don’t know. Just vibes, I guess - three soft little gays living out a domestic half-insane life on a little farm in Wales, not a mile from the ashen sea.

Stay here and never you mind The lights of the town are blinding you The sailors they come and they go But listen to what's reminding you Handsome men surrounding you Dancing a reel around you

Listen to the music flow I'm falling for the flow of home I'm home to dance till dawning

Stay awhile and we'll dance together now As the light is falling We'll reel away till the break of day And dance together till morning

No One Knows Us (BANNERS, Carly Paige)

James, Sirius, and Remus are queerplatonic partners. Well, James is theirs - Sirius and Remus are dating. In love. But they and James, they’re not. Not that it matters - every assumes, from their atypical affection, that they are.

James wishes he could be with them, sometimes. The way he wants. Like it’s normal. Without all the prying eyes.

He wonders if he stole a pirate ship and sailed them somewhere else, if it would be any different. Any easier.

Loving the right people shouldn’t be a burden.

Wish I could kiss you when I wanna Without all the fear and all the drama Kill to hold your hand in public I could try to fight the feeling Dull it down like sleeping without dreaming

I wanna push you up against the wall Want them all to hear me call you baby I know it's never gonna happen And I've learned to accept that I accept that

I need you closer Can we go somewhere? No one knows us Leave our world behind We can hole up in a motel room Where no one knows us

See You Again (Carrie Underwood)

The Marauders as they die, one by one. James too early, Sirius too soon, Remus too late. Reunited wherever wizards go when they die, after a long, hard road of what felt like a whole lot of goddamn nothing.

But here they are, at last: alone no longer.

Said goodbye, turned around And you were gone, gone, gone Faded into the setting sun, slipped away But I won't cry cause I know I'll never be lonely For you are the stars to me You are the light I follow

I can hear those echoes in the wind at night Calling me back in time, back to you In a place far away where the water meets the sky The thought of it makes me smile You are my tomorrow

Sometimes I feel my heart is breaking But I stay strong and I hold on cause I know...

I will see you again This is not where it ends I will carry you with me Til I see you again I will see you again...

Bloom (The Paper Kites)

James and Sirius and Remus, loving each other. And not knowing what queerplatonic partners are until Severus and Lily shove a Muggle book into their hands with sweet, manic grins.

“Oh,” James says, with wonder. Sirius kisses him. Remus takes his hand. James looks at them, his eyes wide and twinkling. “Oh, that’s us.”

In the morning when I wake And the sun is coming through Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, And you fill my head with you

Shall I write it in a letter? Shall I try to get it down? Oh, you fill my head with pieces Of a song I can't get out

Can I take it to a morning Where the fields are painted gold And the trees are filled with memories Of the feelings never told?

When the evening pulls the sun down, And the day is almost through, Oh, the whole world it is sleeping, But my world is you

Can I be close to you?

Me and My Husband (Mitski)

Sirius and James. Fight me.

(Oh, and Remus - hopelessly in love with them and chasing after their shenanigans as the world stretches out before them, endless.)

I steal a few breaths from the world for a minute And then I'll be nothing forever And all of my memories And all of the things I have seen will be gone With my eyes, with my body, with me

But me and my husband, we're doing better It's always been just him and me together So I bet all I have on that furrowed brow

And I'm the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved And at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together Me and my husband, we're sticking together

You & Jennifer (bülow)

Regulus, angry and bitter, left alone in his big black bed wondering what’s so fucking amazing about Lily Evans that could make James want her more than him.

Remus, so fucking in love with his two best friends… his two best friends, who are so fucking in love with each other, who look at each other like they’re the world, who fuck Remus when the world is ending. His two best friends… assholes.

Listen, no, we don't need to be enemies Ain't got a vision of us in the future with a white picket fence and eternal decisions Now I'm sitting here wondering, when did this all start?

Would rather be the girl that got away than be under your thumb Don't need to spend no more time on you, not like I was in love Not that I'm having a nervous breakdown, I'm just let down You don't know what that's like though to wait up all night So I thank you for teaching me how I could live without you Never needed me, I don't need you

Fuck you and Jennifer, I know that you're out with her Go pretend that you're just friends I'll pretend that I'm not hurt I know all the shit I heard, you can take these bitter words Fuck you and Jennifer Go fucking make love to her

Soon You’ll Get Better (Taylor Swift, The Chicks)

James, surrounded by people he can’t fix.

James, holding a screaming Sirius against his chest as he sobs and shakes from the fifth nightmare that week.

James, brushing salve across the scars of a terrified and bruised Remus after yet another full moon.

James, trying to lure a quiet and cold Peter back to them with candy as he recedes even further away into Slytherin robes.

James, fucking Lily; James, kissing Severus; James, touching Regulus -

James, doomed to love people he can’t help.

The buttons of my coat were tangled in my hair I didn't tell you I was scared That was the first time we were there Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you Desperate people find faith, so now I pray too And I say to you

I know delusion when I see it in the mirror You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal I just pretend it isn't real I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try And I'll say to you

And I hate to make this all about me But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there's no you? This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because cause I have to

Soon you'll get better Soon you'll get better You'll get better soon Cause you have to.

Dance Alone (Blanks)

James Potter being his usual idiotic adorable self. (It’s just the vibes, man.)

Been staring at the wall today, to find some hidden meaning My momma called to ask me how I'm feeling I've been running out of things to think So what's the point of dreaming? Called all my friends cause I cant get along with all my demons And I've been watching from a distance how the seasons change

Been staring at the wall today, still looking for some meaning I tried talking to myself for a change to ask me how I'm feeling I've been running out of room to think I need a higher ceiling

I've been lost, lost in the rhythm lately I don't know, know how to dance alone

Strawberry Blond (Mitski)

James falls in love with Sirius first - make no mistake, it was absolutely Sirius first. Because Sirius was just so bright, and so lovely, and so daring, and he made James laugh as they ran and drove and flew for miles without a direction. Anything for a touch.

And then there came Remus - beautiful, sweet, kind Remus, his eyes so gentle and his smiles so pure, and James wanted to hold him forever, wanted to take his hand and dive right into the sun, wanted to burst into flames. Anything for a taste.

And then Sirius and Remus fell in love with each other, and now James watches them from the outside, grinning behind tears and thinking, Oh god. I’m happy.

I love everybody because I love you When you stood up, walked away, barefoot And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it soft and I ache

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her, I give you a grin Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, keep my eyes on the road as I ache

Look at you, strawberry blond Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm, I love it when you look my way

FML (Arizona Zervas)

James has a habit of falling for people so fierce he can never refuse them. Regulus is just the last one - the one he keeps, even if he dies still trying to figure out how.

(This is the James and Regulus theme song, I’m calling it.)

I might let you drive me crazy Usually I ain't the type to stay Cause you could fall in, and go psycho Ain't no telling where this might go But I take my chances either way

You look like somebody that could really hold it down You look like somebody that would always stick around I know you probably crazy All my friends said stay away but that shit just don't faze me Got a little bit of sass, I like that You don't take no shit, yeah you fight back Never let a dude hit it on the first night I can't even sleep over til I wife that All these bitches in my phone, hit the boy But I've been curving everyone for you Girl I would give you every single password All you gotta do is let me through

Imma keep it honest, I know that you got a plan I know you ain't perfect, but basic bitches never last I don't usually do this type of shit So baby trust me when I tell you that I'm all about it Yeah, I might fall in love and let you fuck my life up Just so I could go and write a song about it

Last man left you brokenhearted, let me treat you right If you need me I could pull up any night You just say the words, girl, I don't need a reason Give me something more than just a lover on the weekend

Come and fuck my life up.

Lay Me Down (Sam Smith)

If James married Regulus instead, but the war still tore them apart and to shreds.

They still fall, they still die, they still lose… but James is captivated by grey eyes rather than green ones, at least in this lifetime. At least for now.

Yes, I do, I believe that one day I will be where I was Right there, right next to you And it's hard, the days just seem so dark The moon, and the stars are nothing without you Your touch, your skin, where do I begin? No words can explain the way I'm missing you Deny this emptiness, this hole that I'm inside These tears, they tell their own story Told me not to cry when you were gone But the feeling's overwhelming, it's much too strong

Can I lay by your side, next to you? You And make sure you're alright I'll take care of you I don't want to be here if I can't be with you

Forever (... is a long time) (Halsey)

Remus didn’t know anyone could love him, the way he is. You can’t blame him for letting James and Sirius slip through his fingers when he didn’t know they would’ve stayed forever.

He wonders if happiness still sounds like his name on their lips.

I spent a long time watering a plant made out of plastic And I cursed the ground for growing green

I spent a long time substituting honest with sarcastic And I cursed my tongue for being mean

Weightless, breathless, destitute Motionless and absolute He cut me open, sucked the poison from an aging wound Now fifty thousand walking deads would cower at this small brunette It's a nice surprise knowing six feet high Would reach and grab the moon if I should ask

Or just imply that I want you to be more light So I could look inside his eyes And get the colors just right

But love built provinces, callouses, break promises Cause I could never hold a perfect thing and not demolish it What am I thinking? What does this mean? How could somebody ever love me?

"Tell him he's got bad news coming..."

Used To This (Camila Cabello)

James and Sirius, crazy kids in mad love in a big Muggle city, dancing and kissing under the lights every night… and then meeting Remus, and wondering if all these years they’ve been mistaking magic for something else, because this, love, this is what magic is.

No, I never liked San Francisco Never thought it was nothing special Til you kissed me there No, I never liked windy cities But I think maybe when you're with me I like everywhere

It's the strangest feeling Midnight, I'm not leaving No, for once, I think I'll stay I say your name, just listen Doesn't it sound different? Never whispered it this way

It's gonna take me a minute But I could get used to this The feeling of your fingertips The feeling of another kiss Like every tattoo on your skin I'm memorizing every inch

The callouses on your fingers I admired them from a distance Now they're on my cheek

Oh, I've known you forever Now I know you better Let's just get carried away And it bears repeating Now my heart's bleeding When you tell me that you'll stay

It's gonna take me a minute But I could get used to this I could get used to this...

Love Me Like You (Little Mix)

You cannot tell me James and Sirius did not stand on top of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and serenade Remus with this while he covered his bright red face with his hands and damn near cried with embarrassment and laughter, because they did. I promise you, they did.

I solemnly swear.

Darling, he can't buy my love It's you I'm dreaming of

so baby, baby Come and save me

Last night I lay in bed so blue Cause I realized the truth They can't love me like you I've tried to find somebody new Baby, they ain't got a clue Can't love me like you

Come Home With Me (from “Hadestown”)

Sirius and James tripping over themselves trying to say hi the first time they meet Remus, his nose buried in a book in a small cafe, at a table by the window in a dress covered in sunflowers, his cheeks pink and his smile blinding.

James, tripping over himself to win Severus over, who just isn’t having it. (Fuck off, Potter.) (Please?) (No.)

You wanna talk to her?

Yes!

Go on. Don't come on too strong.

Come home with me.

Who are you?

The man who's gonna marry you

Is he always like this?

Yes

Your name is like a melody

A singer, is that what you are?

I also play the lyre...

Oh, a liar, AND a player too! I've met too many men like you.

Oh, no. I'm not like that.

He's not like any man you've met.

That's what I'm working on - A song to fix what's wrong. Take what's broken, make it whole; A song so beautiful, it brings the world back into tune, back into time. And all the flowers will bloom... When you become my wife.

Oh, he's crazy. Why would I become his wife?

Maybe because he'll make you feel alive.

Alive? That's worth a lot... What else ya got?

You Belong With Me (Taylor Swift)

Sirius and James, unable to figure out why they're so bothered by the amount of people who have suddenly started flirting with Remus after the summer of fifth year.

He's just... he's theirs. Their werewolf. Their scrawny motherfucker. Their Moony.

Just.

Theirs.

Oh.

She doesn't get your humor like I do She'll never know your story like I do

Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be And you've got a smile that can light up this whole town I haven't seen it in a while You say you're fine, I know you better than that

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're about to cry And I know your favorite songs, and you tell me about your dreams Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me...

Have you ever thought, just maybe, you belong with me? You belong with me.

Scrawny (Wallows)

I just really love Remus Lupin, okay?

Used to be level with all my friends Still wear the same shoes I did back then I don't think they've ever been untied I can't regret the things I don't try I'd switch it up but I don't like change Only content if things stay the same Don't care to watch the story unfold Hate feeling like I'm not in control I've been sleeping with the light on I tend to freak myself out Will you come a little closer?

I say the wrong shit at the right times If I'm offending them, I don't mind Maybe they all should listen to me It isn't all about what you see Question though, how do I look to you? Am I so thin that you can see through? I've been sleeping with the light off I wanted to remember Will you come a little closer now?

I'll be one of those people you remember They'll be looking at us when were together I'll be a mannequin you can dismember You don't like my clothes but you still like my smile Take me home to mom but it'll take awhile They might think they're cooler than me by a mile I can still have wisdom and look like a child

I'm a scrawny motherfucker with a cool hairstyle

Hate You (Seann Bowe)

Severus and Lily after the Incident. Still loving each other, but not knowing why or how. Having a million things to say, but never the words.

I'm sorry. What a tragic fucking joke.

Look at me now, such a pitiful place You found someone I thought that'd help erase These crazy thoughts that we were never broken You can't see red flags through rose colored glasses!

I killed you in my head now If I see you out with friends I'll just tell myself that it's a phantom or illusion Guess I haven't chosen which

I hate that I miss you, I hate that I'm lost I hate those dead flowers you taped to your wall I hate that you're okay and I can't move on I hate that somehow this is all my fault! I hate that I'm wide awake watching the door I hate these long showers sitting on the floor I hate in the end it was me who was wrong I hate that I don't really hate you at all

But I kind of wish I did...

I don't really hate you at all.

Bitter And The Sweetness (The Ready Set)

James and Sirius and Remus, dancing in the rain. Sirius is screaming up at the sky, and James is pulling Remus against him, quelling his shivering in an instant.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Remus beams, throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him as Sirius screams, “ELECTRIFY ME MOTHERFUCKER!” at the clouds.

That’s love, bitch.

Troublemaker look on your face Followed by a smile and I melt away It ain't always been this lovely We turn the ice and start a fire, melt away

It don't happen overnight It's laughing after fights Knowing which song I should sing to make you smile again Your favorite flowers How I know before you say, "It's gonna be okay"

Love, I think we got time to make mistakes Bitter and the sweetness, I just love the taste

You give me trouble in the best way When you let your hair down I can't look away You've just always been that lovely We turn the dark into light You'll be staying close

Like the time we got stuck out in the rain When you took my hand said, "Baby, we should stay."

Serenade (BANNERS)

James Potter's ghost, watching over Sirius Black forevermore. You don't just leave your soulmate behind. Never.

Stolen, some people stay a life, some for a moment Some hearts they set a light just to be frozen And so we're out of time, broken But now you've got the chance to travel oceans I hope the world's as wide as you were hoping Don't let heartache cloud your mind

If the days go darker, darling And you lose your way Go on, go on, I'm not beside you But I'll be the song there in the silence Let go, let go, darling, it's over now You're on your own, but I'm on your shoulder I'll always be your serenade, serenade, I I'll always be your serenade

They told you It's not the being drunk, it's being sober That's when it really hits you that it's over It's hard to say goodbye So you can keep me Somewhere out of reach but if you need me Just hum these memories and you can feel me I'm always standing by Go and write your story, darling You will find your place

You can always remember that I'm here to ease your mind I'm on your side and You can call me and just like that I'll sing a song to bring you home, babe

It's Quiet Uptown (from "Hamilton")

Remus, alone. His husband gone, his friends dead, his family murdered. Nothing left for him, until...

"Padfoot."

A sheepish smile.

"Hi, Moony."

Remus takes a deep breath. Sirius reaches for his hand.

They'll figure it out.

There are moments that the words don't reach There is suffering too terrible to name You hold your child as tight as you can And push away the unimaginable The moments when you're in so deep It feels easier to just swim down And so they move uptown And learn to live with the unimaginable

I spend hours in the garden, I walk alone to the store And it's quiet uptown, I never liked the quiet before And I pray, that never used to happen before

If you see him in the street Walking by himself, talking to himself, have pity You would like it uptown, it's quiet uptown He is working through the unimaginable His hair has gone grey He passes every day They say he walks the length of the city You knock me out, I fall apart Can you imagine?

Look at where we are Look at where we started I know I don't deserve you But hear me out That would be enough If I could spare his life If I could trade his life for mine He'd be standing here right now And you would smile and that would be enough

I don't pretend to know The challenges we're facing I know there's no replacing what we've lost And you need time But I'm not afraid I know who I married Just let me stay here by your side That would be enough

There are moments that the words don't reach There's a grace too powerful to name We push away what we can never understand We push away the unimaginable They are standing in the garden Standing there side by side She takes his hand It's quiet uptown

Forgiveness, can you imagine? Forgiveness, can you imagine? If you see him in the street Walking by her side, talking by her side, have pity They are going through the unimaginable

Dynasty (MIIA)

The Marauders are dead and gone, did you know?

But they were great once. Unstoppable. Invincible, young, in love.

Can you tell? Can you...

Remember?

Some days, it's hard to see if I was a fool or you a thief Made it through the maze to find my one in a million And now you're just a page torn from the story I'm living The scar I can't reverse And the more it heals, the worse it hurts Gave you every piece of me, no wonder it's missing Don't know how to be so close to someone so distant

And all I gave you is gone Tumbled like it was stone It all fell down, it all fell down

Thought we built a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake Thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up.

Dancing After Death (Matt Maeson)

Oh. It's you. You're here.

I never thought I'd see you again.

Do I know better than this? You're a word that I can't forget Though the thought rattles my brain Will you fold or will you remain?

If I don't get better than this man in my skin If I let go, would you hold on? Would we fly? Is it safer if we just say that we tried? Are we laughing at the danger?

As the sun waits to eclipse And the taste teases my lips I'm too tired to wrestle with it Will we burn, or will we repent?

Are we dancing after death, you and I?

19 notes · View notes

whumpcollector · 3 years

Text

Kai and 07: Flu Season

I return. The semester is over, my schedule is clear and I’m ready to fucking WRITE baby. This the next piece in Kai and 07′s story. I hope you all enjoy it.

CW: Hospitals, drugging in a medical context, dehumanization, slavery, institutionalized slavery, vomiting. (If I’ve missed anything let me know)

07 knelt on the bathroom floor, hands gripping the rim on the toilet bowl and sweat pouring down their face. They had spent the past few minutes vomiting out the contents of their stomach, bile burning their throat and mouth. They breathed heavily, eyes locked on the closed bathroom door. They had tried to keep quiet, but there was only so much they could do and a possibility that they may have woken master made them want to be sick again.

A minute passed and there was no sound of footsteps, no slamming open of the bathroom door and grabbing of hair as master dragged them into the living room to punish them for daring to make enough noise to wake him. Daring to be sick enough to be an annoyance.

They let out a sigh of relief, this was the second night in a row they had managed to not wake master, and they hoped that they wouldn’t need to press their luck for a third. Luck had never been on their side before.

With a low groan they dragged themselves off of the bathroom. Their legs felt like jelly and their head swam as they limped back to their room. A shiver ran down their spine and they hugged their stomach, wanting to rush back towards the warmth of their blankets while also wanting to avoid moving too fast and making any noise.

07 reached their room, walking in and closing the door softly behind them. They flopped onto the floor of the closet, their little safe haven, and wrapped the blankets around themselves. A quick glance at a digital clock that master had installed showed that it was close to 3 am. They groaned softly, another bad night of sleep. Maybe they could push their luck and change the alarm from 6 to 7. Master usually did not wake up until a few hours after them.

They reached for the clock, fingers hovering over the alarm setting button before pulling their hand back. It wasn’t worth the risk. Master had given them many gifts lately, if they were caught being lazy the consequences would be withering. They could tough it out, they had been through worse.

Another shiver hit them and they pulled the blankets tighter around themselves. All of their body hurt, and their stomach was churning again. They hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. But they would be ok, when they woke up they would be ok. They desperately, fervently hoped that they would be ok.

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The alarm on the digital clock beeped noisily as 07 was ripped from their sleep. They were not ok. They were as far from ok as one could be while still being alive. Their head was pounding, their throat was dry and scratchy, and the mere thought of moving made their limbs ache.

The possibility that they were dying came across their mind. It didn’t seem unlikely at this point. A part of them were scared by the prospect, another felt like dying and letting this be over with wouldn’t be so bad. Another, smaller, almost utterly silent part wondered if maybe they could beg Master to take a day to recover.

No, no, no never no. Master may have been understanding and kind, but his generosity wasn’t limitless, it couldn't be. Asking for anything after being given so much would be nothing short of an insult. They couldn’t afford to do that, they wouldn’t be able to take a punishment. They just wouldn’t.

The alarm sounded again, the loud noise making 07’s head pound. They limply turned the clock off. A warm silence fell and 07’s eyes grew heavy. It would be so nice, so easy to just fall back asleep.

NO! They forced their eyes open and dragged themselves upright, legs shaking and vision swimming as they did. They...they had to get up. Had to work. Had to stay on Master’s good side. They could do this, they could do this.

Their steps towards the door were slow and shaky, each one feeling harder than the last. They pushed the door open slowly, stumbling forward slightly into the hallway. A draft blew through the house, sending another wave of shivers down 07’s spine. They warped their arms tightly around their body and made their way into the kitchen.

The kitchen sink still had dishes in it, remnants from last night. 07 looked at them hopelessly. They had left them there because they had wanted to go to bed a bit early, telling themselves they would clean them when they felt better the next day. Now the small stack of plates and cutlery looked like a mountain to climb.

07 stood in the kitchen, trying to psych themselves up. It wouldn’t be too much work. Breakfast could be quick, some toast and eggs. Master Kai had been busy the past few days, a big order for an important client as he had put it. A smaller breakfast wouldn’t be something he would mind. Then they could do all the dishes in one batch. That was manageable. Alright, time to g-

The sound of the refrigerator opening snapped 07 out of their thoughts. Their eyes went wide as they saw Master Kai rummaging through the contents of the fridge. They quickly looked to the wall clock. 8:15?! Had they really just stood there like a useless piece of shit for more than an hour? Their gaze snapped back to Master, who was pulling out an old box of Chinese take-out.

He glanced at them over his shoulder. “Morning, 07.” The greeting was quick, and Master was already leaving after grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Lotta work to do, I’ll be at the forge if you need me”.

07 watched gormlessly as Master turned the corner and disappeared. Their brain took a few seconds to process what was happening. They blinked once, then twice, and then felt their knees buckle as a wave of panic hit them.

They had just STOOD there! And did NOTHING! In front of their MASTER! They didn’t have breakfast ready and there were dishes in the sink and they had just stood around while their master was right there they didn’t even bow or respond to him an-

A fit of coughing knocked them out of their spiraling. The rough sound echoed through the empty house and 07 suddenly felt very cold and very alone. They took a moment to recover and pull themselves together. Well, Master was out at the forge and breakfast seemed to be...taken care of? That meant they could clean the dishes at least. And when they were done with that they could maybe take it slow, there wasn’t much to do and what housework was left was pretty light.

07 took a deep breath and walked to the sink. Their arms ached and their vision was spotty, but they had done harder work under worse conditions. All they had to do was wash the dishes and maybe vacuum or clean the windows. Nothing they couldn’t handle. They could do this, they would be fine.

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Kai brought his hammer down onto the hot blade in front of him, sending up a spray of sparks and finally molding it into the shape he wanted. He grabbed the blade with a pair of tongs and dunked into a nearby bucket of water, waving away the cloud of smoke that emanated from the cooling metal.

Last one for the day, not bad progress he mused as he set about shutting the forge off and putting his tools back into place. It would be close but he’d probably finish up by the deadline. Hopefully he would at least. Even if he didn’t he was on good terms with the client, he could probably get away with a slight delay.

It was getting dark. Winter days were short and forging in the cold of night wasn’t something Kai was interested in. He checked his watch...6:30 pm. It was a bit early for dinner, but he had skipped lunch. Oh well, 07 probably wouldn’t mind cooking a bit earlier than usual.

Even if they did mind they probably wouldn’t say anything. The thought bothered Kai. He was still getting used to the whole...having a slave thing. All that power over someone else, it made him feel...weird. He didn’t like it. He was an idiot who shouldn’t be given responsibility over a cactus, much less a whole entire person. Still, it seemed like 07 was doing alright so maybe he wasn’t doing too badly.

Cold air rushed in after him as he entered his house. A loud noise was coming from the living room, sounded like 07 was vacuuming. Kai shot a quick glance towards the floor. Hm, it seemed like 07 vacuumed the whole house. Much as he still felt weird about having them around, Kai couldn’t deny they were a godsend. His place hadn’t been this well kept since, well since he moved in fifteen years ago.

He should find a way to thank them for all their work. Maybe a gift of some sort? Some trinket to put in their room to add a bit of decoration. He didn’t know what their aesthetic tastes were though. They liked animals...maybe something zoo themed?

Maybe they wouldn’t mind hanging a sword on their wall. Everyone likes swords right?

Kai mused to himself as took off his jacket, hanging it over his arm and making his way into the living room. Sure enough 07 was busy vacuuming the floor, their movements slow and deliberate and their focus squarely on the task at hand. Kai stood back and watched them for a bit. They looked so intense, they always did. Like every small chore was the most important thing they would ever do in their life. It was endearing, at least it would be if Kai didn’t have…less than pleasant theories regarding where that attitude came from.

As Kai watched them he noticed something was off. At a closer glance their movements were less deliberate and more…sluggish. They were hunched over, their legs were shaky, and their face was scrunched up like they were in pain.

“Hey 07, you alright?” Kai asked, walking towards them. They didn’t respond, their gaze still on the vacuum like they were in a trance. “Hey! 07!”

07’s eyes shot open and they turned abruptly towards Kai. Their sudden movement caused them to drop the vacuum handle, and it hit the ground with a dull thud. They turned to look at the vacuum, then back to Kai, then back to the vacuum before their eyes rolled into their head and they crumpled to the floor.

“SHIT!” Kai rushed to them, kneeling down next to their body and placing a hand on their forehead. Jesus fucking shit they were burning up. His mind raced, what should he do. Fuck, what should he do. Maybe...fuck it, he wasn’t taking any chances. He wrapped them in his jacket and picked them up. They were light...really fucking light. Whatever, more pressing matters at hand.

He dashed to the front door, grabbing his keys off the hook on the wall. The driveway was clear, thankfully. He gently placed 07 down in the backseat of the car, strapping them down with the seat belts so they wouldn’t roll onto the floor. Kai jammed the key into the ignition, swearing heavily as the engine stalled due to the cold. Once the vehicle started up Kai all but barreled out of the driveway and began making a beeline for the local hospital.

The roads were empty and Kai drove as fast as wasn’t suicidal. Couldn’t get 07 the help they needed if he wrapped his car around a fucking tree right? Hahahahahahahaha.

Fuck.

Kai glanced at them in the rearview mirror. They were still unconscious, but it didn’t look like they had gotten any worse. Not to Kai at least. But then again what the fuck did he know? It was perfectly fucking possible that they were dying back there and he just couldn’t tell.

“Oh fucking...DAMN IT.”

He pressed harder on the gas, he could afford to go a bit faster. It was only a few more miles to the hospital anyways. The silence in the car was starting to feel suffocating, and Kai turned on the radio just to have some noise fill the air. The rest of the drive was uneventful, and Kai found himself pulling into the hospital parking lot sooner than he expected. Well, at least something was going well.

He unbuckled the still unconscious 07 and scooped them into his arms. The parking lot was almost empty, which meant the ER wouldn’t be too busy. Another lucky break. He entered the reception area, it was empty aside from the receptionist and one other person waiting. He walked up to the desk, clearing his throat to get the receptionists attention.

“Excuse me, I need help.”

The receptionist looked up from the file she was reading, startling slightly at the sight of 07 in Kai’s arms. “Oh, um, yes, how can I help.”

“They fell unconscious in my house. They have a fever. I think they’re sick.”

Brilliant observation genius.

The receptionist nodded. “Ok, one moment”. She made a call on the intercom and two nurses showed up with a stretcher. Kai gently put 07 onto it and they were taken away. He wanted to follow but was told to wait for a doctor to get him. He didn’t argue, best leave this to the professionals.

“Excuse me sir, if you wouldn;t mind there is some information I need to get down.”

Kai turned. “Oh, yes of course.” He sat at the chair in front of the reception desk.

The talk with the receptionist was a welcome distraction. It was all basic stuff, names, insurance, nothing that Kai couldn’t provide off the top of his head. He did get a strange look when he mentioned 07’s name, but the explanation of them being a slave seemed to clear that up.

Now all he could do was wait. He sat in the reception area, mindlessly looking through his emails and social media. The almost incomprehensible stream of advertisements, news, and shitty memes proved an effective distraction until he was approached by a doctor.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kai is it?”

Kai looked up, pocketing his phone and standing. “Yes, that's me.”

“Hello. My name is Doctor Graves. I have good news, your slave, 07 right?” Kai nodded. “Well all that's wrong is a case of the flu. It seems they passed out from exhaustion. They’re still unconscious but they’re stable. We have them on some medication and they should hopefully wake up soon.”

Kai let out a breath of relief. It was just the flou, they were fine. “Thanks doc. That's good to hear”.

The doctor nodded. “You know, generally speaking it's better to let slaves rest when they are sick instead of working them too hard. Even the common cold can be dangerous if left untreated.”

Kai raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms and frowning. “Hey! I didn’t do this to them”.

“I’m sure you didn't but…”

“Listen, I didn’t know they were sick. I’ve been busy and wasn’t paying too much attention. If I had known I would have told them to take it easy.”

The doctor didn’t seem convinced. “Be that as it may, I would recommend you pay more attention to them in the future. Negligence is the number one cause of death in slaves.”

Kai sighed, dropping his arms and slumping slightly. “Yeah doc, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The doctor nodded again. “I’ll have someone let you know when they wake up.”

Kai sat back down, placing his head in his hands. The doctor was right, he had really fucked up. How could he have just...not fucking notice? 07 had been suffering for what, three days? Forcing themselves to work while they were sick and he apparently didn’t care enough to even fucking notice.

God damn it. He knew he wasn’t cut out for this shit, he knew it. 07 would be better off with anyone else, someone fucking competent. Not his dumb ass. He let out another sigh, sliding his hands down his face and letting them rest in his lap.

Well, regardless of his lack of ability 07 would be with him for at least four more months. He was sure after all this shit they’d be counting down the days they could leave for someone even slightly qualified to care for another human being. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn't want to be stuck with him either.

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07 woke slowly, consciousness having to fight through a thick haze to reach them. The first thing they noticed was a strange beeping noise, followed by the stark whiteness of the walls. This...this wasn’t their room. Where were they, where was Master? What was going on?

Piece by piece their mind began to remember what had happened. They had finished the dishes and decided to...vacuum around the house. It took longer than they expected, the noise from the vacuum made their head pound and they had to take a few breaks to gather themselves. Then Master had come in from outside and then...then.

Panic hit them like a bullet, they had passed out in front of Master. Was he angry at them? Is that why they were alone in some strange room? What...what was going to happen to them. Their breathing grew rapid and shallow. The strange beeping noise began to grow faster and more erratic. What was that? Was it bad?

They heard voices and saw people that they didn’t recognize entered the room. 07 tried to shrink away, they didn’t want to be with these people. They...they wanted Master. The strangers got closer, crowding around them. They wanted to get away, but they couldn’t. They were trapped. They were…

They were on a bed.

A bed with walls that trapped them in and people were hovering over them, grabbing at their arms and chest. Panic gave way to desperation, and they began to struggle. They tried to flail, to get their arms away from the strangers’ grip. Despite their best efforts they couldn’t get away.

“N-no…” they began to beg. “Please...no. Please...don’t.”

The strangers wouldn’t let them go. They heard voices, words coming from their mouths but they couldn’t tell what they were. The fog of fear muddled everything around them.

“Please...please. Let me go. Please”.

They screwed their eyes shut, not wanting to see what the strangers might do. A sickening sense of familiarity hit them. It was going to happen again. It was going to happen again and they didn’t want it to happen again. They didn’t want to...to…

Their arms were let go and they felt a hand rest gently on their shoulder. They tensed, waiting for the grip to turn harsh or for it to start tearing at their shirt. Instead nothing happened. 07 opened their eyes slowly and turned to see...Master Kai?

Master Kai!

He gave a small smile. “Hey there 07, how are you holding up?”

They didn’t know what to say. Their mind was still hazy and the sudden shift from panic to relief had given them whiplash. But still, their master was talking to them and they needed to say something.

“I...I...good?”

They berated themselves internally. What a clumsy and stupid response. But Master Kai didn’t seem to mind. He never seemed to mind when they were stupid.

“That's good, that's good.” He let out a small chuckle. “You gave me quite a scare you know?”

“Excuse me Mr. Kai? I would like to speak to you about a few things before we discharge your slave.”

“Oh. Alright.”

The two men began to talk and 07 laid back, closing their eyes and drowning out what was being said. It was not the place of a slave to eavesdrop or insert themselves into their master’s business. Now that the panic had worn off they found themselves feeling rather tired. They still didn’t feel great, and getting to rest a bit longer would be nice. But they had to wait, they...needed Master’s permission first.

“Mmm...may...mmmm…”

Their attempt at a question limply railed off into soft mumbling. Before they could try again they felt Master squeeze their shoulder.

“Just rest 07. I’ll wake you up when we need to head home.”

07 was asleep before he finished his sentence.

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

Kai pulled into the driveway with a relieved sigh. It was nice to be back home, Kai had never liked hospitals. He shut off his car and stepped out, walking to the backseat and pulling the still asleep 07 into his arms. He didn’t have the heart to wake them up when they had been discharged.

He entered his house and walked into the living room, only to be met by the lord wiring of the vacuum cleaner. Damn, that thing had been running for...shit 7 hours? Well there goes the electricity bill. The loud noise also had the unwelcome side effect of waking 07. They stirred in his arms, blinking blearily and looking around the room.

“Aw, piss.” Kai walked over to the vacuum, shifting 07 around slightly so he could turn the damn thing off. “Shut it will ya?”

“M...Master Kai?” Their voice was rough.

“Oh, hey 07.” Kai looked down to see 07 looking at him, seemingly still disoriented. “We’re back home, hold on, I'll get you to b-your room.”

07 simply nodded, closing their eyes again and starting to nod off. God they really were tired weren’t they. That or whatever the hospital had given them was hitting them hard. Either way they’d probably be out for another day. Maybe longer. Oh well, they had earned the rest.

Kai set 07 down in their closet...room...thing. This whole situation was still weird to him. He wanted to talk to them about maybe moving to an air mattress or futon at some point but that would have to come later. One thing at a time and all that.

He tucked 07 beneath the blankets, making sure they were wrapped up tightly. The blankets were thick, but it was still a cold night and that damn draft was still going on. Fuck! He needed to get that fixed. Ugh, tomorrow he was tracking down whatever hole in the wall was causing that draft and patching it with extreme prejudice.

He shook his head slightly and left the room, walking to a storage closet and pulling out an old space heater. He put the heater down in 07’s room, plugging it in and turning it to a warm but not sweltering temperature. There, now 07 should be comfortable.

Kai stood in the room and watched 07 for a few minutes, watching for anything that might be cause for concern. Aside from a few sniffles 07 stayed sound asleep and Kai decided he was just being paranoid now. It wasn’t anything serious, just a case of the flu. Bed rest and fluids, nothing more complicated. The doctor recommended they be given at least two days to recover, and he intended to make sure they took that time to rest.

Guilt hit him again. He shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad. He needed to be more attentive, be more aware. He needed to be better. For their sake. He wasn’t going to fail someone else again.

At least, no more than he already had.

Tags: @haro-whumps @cupcakes-and-pain

#kai #07 #whump #slave whump #medical whump #sorta #i can't wait until I figure out Kai's characterization #its gonna be great #Ill be able to give him a persoanlity and everything

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zeldah-writes · 4 years

Text

Robbery Gone Wrong (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Masterlist

Note: This took way longer to write than expected. I’m not sure why, but for some reason I was having a really hard time writing this because I kept overthinking the way I worded certain things, so I’m sorry if this is a little rough D: (a for effort, I tried). Nevertheless, I hope you still enjoy and if you’ve checked out any of my other posts, thank you so much! :)

Summary: Spencer comes back from the store, horrified to find two guns, a dying body and a familiar face. All of which are spread out on his bedroom floor.

Content: oneshot, angst!! and some fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid and Reader

Warning(s): swear words, Mention of: robbing, blood, killing/death, guns, (slightly implied) sexual assault

Word Count: 2,261

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“Oh no, I think I ran out of ice cream,” Spencer mumbled, digging through his freezer looking for snacks you two could share.

In response, you dramatically gasped and said, “Spencer Reid! We absolutely can’t have a movie night without ice cream.”

Having spent the whole day out with Spencer doing activities that you’ve had planned for awhile, you wanted to end the night as perfect as the day felt. After all, it wasn’t often that you were able to spend a whole two days with your boyfriend, despite dating each other for six months. With the nature of Spencer’s job, it was rare for him to even get one day off, so imagine your joy when he called you earlier in the day to tell you about his work-free weekend.

“Okay, then how about this,” Spencer started, turning his body so he was facing you, “I’ll quickly go and stop by the 24-hour store to pick up some food while you stay here and get everything else set up.”

You looked up from your computer screen, taking a break from searching for a movie to watch. “And I even get to pick the first movie?”

“And you even get to pick the first movie,” Spencer repeated with a smile as he closed the freezer door.

Your tiny smile grew as you gave Spencer a small nod before diverting your attention back to your laptop.

Just as Spencer grabbed his keys and jacket that were hanging by the door, you made sure to remind him of your favorite ice cream flavor.

“Mint chip, please!” you grinned at him.

“As always, babe,” Spencer said before winking at you, which made you lightly giggle.

“See you soon,” you blew him a quick kiss as he walked out of the door.

After he left, you continued your movie hunt for a few more minutes, but eventually gave up and decided to just wait until Spencer got home so the two of you could choose together.

Closing your laptop, you looked around and thought about what else was needed for movie night.

Alright, so we have our drinks. Most of our snacks are already sitting on the living room table. What else.

Um...Oh! Blankets. We definitely need those. Maybe some pillows too.

You got up from where you were sitting and made your way to Spencer’s bedroom to retrieve the extra blankets and pillows he had lying around.

While you were in his room, you saw your overnight bag that you brought from your own apartment and thought that it was a good idea to get changed into more comfortable clothes. Knowing you, you were most likely going to fall asleep during one of the movies, especially if Spencer were to put on one of his foreign films that only multilingual people with an IQ higher than 170 could understand. Despite not understanding anything happening in the films, you would always try your hardest to stay awake during them, which Spencer found adorable.

As you started to change your clothes, you heard the sound of a front door lightly creaking open, but you couldn’t tell if it was coming from Spencer’s apartment or one of his neighbors.

Were the doors even loud enough for me to be able to hear them through the walls?

Thinking that you were just being paranoid, you shrugged it off and continued getting dressed.

Although... you couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off to you.

It wasn’t until you heard footsteps and rustling noises coming from Spencer’s living room that you knew something wasn’t right. You stilled your movements and listened to try and figure out what was making the noises.

Was someone opening drawers? That couldn’t be Spencer, he wouldn’t be back that fast. Even if it was, he would always announce his arrival.

You thought about giving Spencer a call, but as you looked around the room, you remembered you left your phone sitting next to your laptop outside, which only fueled the unease that was growing within you.

Not knowing what else to do, you quietly crept towards the bedroom door that you left slightly open, and peeked through the opening. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but when your eyes landed on an unknown man wearing dark clothes rummaging through Spencer’s belongings, you couldn’t stop the gasp of fear that came out of you.

As soon as the sound left your lips, the man stilled and the apartment was filled with silence.

You immediately covered your mouth and backed away from the door as your heartbeat quickened and your eyes widened. You didn’t get a good look at him because his back was facing you, but there was one thing you saw that stood out. It was tucked into the back of his jeans.

It was a gun.

You felt your blood run cold as your breathing increased a significant amount. I mean, sure, you’ve seen a gun in person before, but it was only ever in the hands of people you trusted, like Spencer and his coworkers. So, when you saw that the strange man in Spencer’s living room had a gun and he was definitely not someone you trusted, you didn’t know what to think.

A mixture of shock and fear took control of your body as you stood in the middle of the bedroom, unable to move. You tried your best to think, but the lack of noise ironically made that a difficult task for you.

I don’t hear him anymore...maybe my presence scared him away.

You desperately hoped that was the case, but your hopes were quickly diminished when the sound of light footsteps reached your ears.

Oh my god. He’s still here and he’s heading towards me.

Okay, just think, Y/N, think.

As the sound of footsteps grew closer, you thought back to the intruder’s gun and as you did that, the memory of Spencer reaching you how to use his gun popped into your brain. You remembered that Spencer said it was for emergency purposes.

Well, this is definitely an emergency.

Not having time to think about it any longer, you ran to Spencer’s nightstand and yanked it open to reveal his revolver. With shaking hands, you picked it up and cocked it before turning around and aiming it at the door just in time to see it being opened by the mysterious man.

He was wearing a navy hat that was mostly covered by the hood of his grey sweatshirt and black jeans. In his hand was the gun you previously saw tucked away in his clothes.

You figured that your best bet was to try and scare him away with threats, so as soon as he saw you, you started talking.

“Get out. I...I have a gun,” you said, trying your best to mask the shakiness in your voice with false confidence as your arm quivered.

Despite your efforts, the fear in your voice was still obvious and you were sure that the man noticed it, because instead of turning away and running, he just stood at the doorway, seemingly unfazed, as a sick smile spread across his face.

You’re positive that you’ll never be able to get his face out of your mind.

“So? I got one too. And from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting shot anytime soon,” the man’s face didn’t falter as he spoke.

You tried not to show it, but you knew he was right. And you hated it.

Unlike Spencer, you weren’t very comfortable when it came to dealing with violence. It baffled you how Spencer could work on homicide cases almost every single day and not turn into a completely paranoid mess.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat before deciding to ignore his words and say, “If you don’t leave, I will shoot you.”

“Oh, c’mon pretty lady,” the man stood up straight and turned his twisted smile into a smirk as his eyes raked over your body, “put the gun down and we can have some fun. Just imagine the things I could do to you.”

His insinuation made your stomach churn as tears welled up in your eyes. The way he looked at you made you nauseous. What you felt was far beyond disgust.

“My boyfriend works for the FBI and he’s on his way home right now,” you could tell that your anti-violence mindset was slipping away from you the longer the situation was going on. At this point, you would do anything necessary to protect yourself against the dangerous and deranged man that was standing before you.

"Don’t you worry, darlin’. I’ll make it quick,” with his sadistic smirk and his head held high, the man took a step towards you and into the room.

All the fake courage you forced yourself to show came crumbling down at his comment. You didn’t want to show him weakness, but you couldn’t help it. The tears that were previously threatening to escape came rushing down your face as you let out a loud sob.

“What is wrong with you? Don’t come near me, you’re absolutely disgusting! You’re nothing but a horrible, sad excuse for a human!” you yelled out to the intruder as tears kept streaming down your face.

Your outburst must’ve triggered something inside of the man, because when you were done yelling, his whole demeanor changed. His body tensed up as his jaw clenched and his mouth turned downward into a scowl. What was most frightening to you, however, was his hardened eyes that glared at you with a look that made your skin crawl.

He glared at you with murder.

“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna fucking kill you,” the man’s voice boomed and echoed throughout the apartment as he yelled, “wanna say shit like that to me? You pay the fucking consequence.”

What happened next felt like a nightmare. Everything happened so fast that you didn’t have time to think about what you were about to do.

The man looked at you and scoffed before looking down to his gun and cocking it. Before he could do anything else, however, you screamed at the top of your lungs, squeezed your eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

You weren’t sure how many shots you fired, but the only reason you stopped was because no more bullets were coming out of the gun. After you unknowingly emptied the revolver’s chamber, you noticed that other than the low ringing in your ears, the apartment became silent. Because of this, you slowly opened your eyes.

You knew that it was stupid to close your eyes in the first place, but when you opened you eyes and saw what you did, you deeply wished they stayed closed, because nothing in the world could have prepared you for what you saw.

Spencer’s mahogany bedroom door was now ruined with bullet holes, but that wasn’t what caught your eye. As soon as your vision cleared, your eyes landed on the figure that was sprawled out on the floor.

There the motionless man laid, covered and surrounded by his own blood. The man’s once plain grey hoodie was turning red, just like the floor beneath him, the longer you stood there.

After the initial shock wore off, the realization of your actions set in.

I killed him. I took his life away. I took it away and I can’t give it back.

“No, no, no, no,” you kept repeating as you sobbed and slid down the wall behind you, dropping the gun in the process. You buried your face in your knees, trying to get the image of the bloody scene in front of you out of your mind, but your attempts were futile. All you could see was his face and his lifeless body.

“Y/N? Are you-oh my god!”

The second you heard his voice, you whipped your head up, but despite the little relief you felt when you saw him, all you could do was cry harder.

“Spencer!” you managed to cry out.

With a panicked expression, Spencer quickly surveyed the room before rushing over to where you were sitting. Once he was in front of you, he kneeled down and gently grabbed your face in his hands.

“Are you hurt? Injured anywhere?” he frantically checked your body for injuries and when he saw there was none, he looked into your eyes.

By now, you were hyperventilating and your entire body was trembling, but you so desperately needed to let Spencer know that you didn’t mean for this to happen. You were only trying to protect yourself.

“Spencer, it-no-I,” you were jumbling over your words, so you took a deep breath before trying again, “I was so scared.”

You wanted to say more, but that was all you could say at the moment. You were just hoping that Spencer would be able to use his profiling skills to figure out what happened.

It seemed like Spencer understood, because he wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “It’s okay, I know. You’re okay now.”

Feeling reassured from Spencer’s words, you took your own arms and wrapped them tightly around Spencer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you,” as he said that, you became aware to the fact that you weren’t the only one crying.

“But you’re here now.”

You weren’t sure what was going to happen next, but if you had Spencer by your side, you knew everything was going to be okay.

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