#“why am I surrounded by pink flowers mom”

[coeluvr]

Happy to announce I received Vincent's portrait today!

I will post the portrait later, keep your eyes on here. 💗

This is what you will see in the codex part where you can choose a character to learn more about them!

[bandgie]

Predator & Prey

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

smut!Nonhuman

synopsis: You were suddenly teleported to a snowy world while discovering a cave. After norrowingly escaping a terrible fate, you're practically forced to deal with a winged beast you saved. It's awkward and kinda mean, but it does more good than harm.

warnings!: I think this counts as dead dove, there's some gore (stabbing, blood, bone breaking) in this chapter. there's also monsterfucking, but it's not in this chapter (no smut... yet), reader is also is a scary situation but you'll make it out okay :)

a/n: I love monster fucking, I am part of the community and I pray this reaches the right audience cuz im not tryna be shamed!

5.4k words

You wore a cute spring dress, being that it was Easter. You did not favor the color white or yellow, so you when with a shade of pink that went nicely against your skin. The dress was decorated with small flowers at the bottom of the dress that touched your mid thigh. You wore open-toed wedges made it a little difficult to walk in, but you could manage.

Though you liked hunting for eggs, pictures were probably your least favorite part. Then again, you're sure it was everyone's least favorite part. Your family was looking for another spot to take a picture, so you were free to explore the terrain of the area. Your family had chosen a secluded beach, not many people but too many caves. You opted to watch the beach, the waves softly splashing at your feet.

Your peace is broken by your younger sibling calling your name, signaling that your parents have found a place for pictures. With a sigh, you grab your shoes and walk barefoot on the sand. Then you feel it, a cold breeze washes over you that send chills down your spine. Your head whips around, arms wrapping around your body as you look at your surroundings. Sure it was windy, but it shouldn't have been that cold.

You're about to ignore it when you feel the gust of wind again, now realizing it's coming from the cave to your right. You narrow your eyes to look inside, unsure of what you might see.

Nothing.

You step closer, ignoring your sibling's yelling as you walk into the cave. The empty cave, save for the water on the ground and the...icicles on the ceiling?

The ground starts to viciously shake, your arms stretching out to find something to balance on. One arm grabs onto the side of cave while the other block the top of your head to prevent the icicles from falling on you.

An earthquake, you think as you fear for you life and your family's. They should be safe, given that they're outside. You though? You're not entirely sure. After a few more seconds, the ground stops moving, the water stops splashing so aggressively. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding and turn, running back to your family to check on them.

The cold hits you immediately, your arms go back to wrapping across your body. You think you're hallucinating, dreaming. Those icicles must've hit your head leaving you unconscious. But why does it feel so real? The painful chill you're body is experiencing, the chattering of your teeth, the snow that falls from the sky, why is it all so real?

You take tentative steps forward, eyes scanning the frosty trees and ears hyper fixated on the crunch beneath your feet. Toes and fingers are the first to go in frostbite, so you bend down to put your shoes back on. You sink into the snow, but it's either this or chopping your feet off.

"Mom?! Dad?!" You yell. You strain to hear any response, but you're left with deafening silence. You sniff, eyes starting to water. You're scared, the overwhelming scene of loneliness quickly starting to get the best of you.

You shake your head aggressively, the heated curls on your head hitting you in the face. Crying won't fix anything, it'll only make things worse. With a few deep breaths, you manage to maintain your composure.

Okay first things first, you think, get warm. Most people would advise you to stay where you are when you're lost, but in this case, that's the last thing you should do. You look at where the sun is, determining that it's a little past the afternoon. People who live in the snow build their houses on the East, so maybe if you head in that direction you'll find something?

"Oh my god," you say aloud, finally accepting the predicament you're in.

"I'm fucked."

-

You were about to give up on your pursuit of finding warmth until you saw a large house, or building. It was far, but it was there. Your body was shivering, and you know your snot and tears were frozen on your face, but the mere sight of a home had you running.

Your wedges quickly came undone, leaving your barefooted to run in the burning snow. You didn't care though, and the view of the house-no mansion quickly came into view. It was bigger than you anticipated, but you could only cry of joy when you ran up the steps and banged on the door.

It didn't matter if you looked like a crazy woman, it didn't matter how disgusting your face was, what mattered was being thrown in a fire.

"Hello?!?!? Excuse me?!?!" Your voice was loud, demanding to be heard. Both your hands were banging harshly on the door, you would apologize for being so rude later.

Finally the door swung open, an older lady in white and black greening you.

"What in names heaven do you think you're- Oh my goodness!" She quickly took in your physical state. She grabbed you by the hand and yanked you inside, shutting the door.

"Grace?" Another voice called from deeper inside the house. "Who was it?"

The lady, who you now know was Grace, waved a dismissive hand. "Run me a hot bath! Quickly! Quickly!" Grace was practically pushing you inside, up the stairs while your feet struggled to keep up. You were shivering too much, tears clouding your vision that you could barely see where you were going. But you could feel the warm embrace of heat.

You were shoved into a room, clothes quickly being stripped off before you could complain. Grace along with other women lifted you and placed you in a bath. You yelped in pain, the heat of the water was too much. If they heard you, they ignored you. Rather, they dunked a bucket of water over your head, warming every part of your body.

After clearing your face, you finally took in the way the bathroom looked, if you could call it that. It was unbelievably big, a large window stood in front of you. Then you looked the women who were scrubbing you, varying from ages. Yet, it was clear the Grace was the one in charge, easily giving orders the other ladies listened to. They were all dressed the same, as if it was uniform.

"Do you guys...work here?" You ask.

Your voice broke their concentration, eyes narrowing at you. "Maids tend to work where they live, yes," Grace answers, as if it's the most obvious answer. Maids? You think, who has maids nowadays? Before you can ask another question, Grace speaks.

"Are you feeling better? Can you move?" Her eyes can your body from underneath the body, and now is it that you become aware that you're nude. You can't cover yourself though, the other women were busy cleaning your arms and scrubbing your head.

You nod deciding that this must be a frequent occurrence for them, "Yeah, it's just a little hard to move my fingers." She nods, turning to the door. "That's normal," she starts, "I'll find you something to wear. Girls..." her head turns to her workers, "Get her dry."

With multiple yes ma'am's they pull you out of the water, leaving you to bare to the window. A small shriek leaves your lips, you quickly tell them you can dry yourself. They instead giggle at your little outburst, gently pulling you out of the tub.

"Please don't worry yourself miss," one of them says. It's only then that you notice their accent. It had a slight lisp to it, like a gentle pirate who was sophisticated.

"You'll be fine with us. For now, we should get the hearth going. Need to warm yourself yes?" Another was grabbing the towel, wrapping you tightly. Before you could say something, there was loud clanging. Muffled, but loud enough. You peer outside the two-story window and see a cage. There were three people, men you think, poking at the cage with what seemed like a stick. Whatever was in the cage was not happy, thrashing around angrily.

"Please miss, pry you eyes away. It's unwise to look upon such a beastly thing," another girl pulls you away from the window, using smaller towels to dry your hands and feet.

You remain silent, allowing them to dry your body. You hear a couple of them whispering near the door.

"I hear she came with ill clothes, indecent for a young lady in this cold," one whispers. "She must not be from here. Perhaps she was in an accident and got lost," the other reasons.

Before you could say anything, the door swings open, almost hitting the two gossiping girls. Grace waltz in, a large dress in her hands. She sets it on the stool nearby and with a wave of her hand, dismisses a few of the girls.

"I believe this will fit rather nicely. These girls will do your hair and such," Grace announces.

"Actually," you start, "I'm just lost. I don't know where I am and-" Grace laughs, though you didn't say anything funny. "I understand your worries, but I believe you should concern yourself with other things. Do you know whose house you're in?" Her eyes glint with curiosity. I shake my head, "Like I said, I'm lost and I need to find my-"

"You are in the home of Lord Lukas," Grace interrupts again. You're starting to grow irritated, close to snapping at this lady. She helped you though, clothed and bathed you; you bite your tongue.

"He is the famous monster hunter, and you stumble in here wearing heavens knows what in the winter. You have stirred the pot in such a way, miss. Perhaps I pry too much, but are you...interested in the lord?"

You furrow your eyebrows. The ladies behind you are dead silent, waiting for your response. You take a deep breath, "I don't want to talk about this naked."

The ladies gasp, as if you had said a terrible thing. They quickly grab the dress from Grace and bottles from the bid dresser behind you. Without a word, grab at your towel, but you hold it tightly.

"Can I dress myself?!" You shout, losing your composure. The ladies look at one another then at Grace. For a moment, Grace eyes you suspiciously. She lets out a sigh and nods, "Leave her girls. We need to prepare for dinner."

-

You have decided that not only are you in a completely different area, but surrounded by old technology. No hair dryer, heated pipes for the bath, stained windows, the smell of old wood, it's not current trends. Perhaps this place prefers the older times, but the accent, the outfits...

No, you're getting distracted. You need to get home, and you should start by heading back from where you came from. Or is this just a very realistic dream? You would normally wake up the moment you recognized you were dreaming, but this time you stayed in this fictional world.

One thing was sure though, you were not putting that dress on. It was beautiful yes, but too many layers. It had a corset much too small for your body and was unnecessarily big. After some digging around, you found outfits that were similar of that to that maids. It would be much easier to walk in, and put on.

You dried your hair as much as you could before brushing it out with a long toothed comb. There was some make up on the dresser as well, you touched it curiously. It definitely was old, the style, the smell. You decided to not put any on, scared of the chemicals it may have.

When you opened the door, you were in another room. A bedroom. You gasped, if you thought the bathroom was huge, this was gigantic. A big, red, plush bed in the middle, a fireplace from where you were exiting was lit, a long window on the right, and an even bigger dresser on the left. It was straight from a fairy tail.

Now you understood why the dress was so big, so grand; Because this entire mansion was lavish. You were given that dress to fit the aesthetic. You walked around the room, unsure if it was even the one you were temporarily given.

You made your way to the window, your hand touching the cold glass. You looked down, seeing the cage they ladies had told you to not look at. You saw the...beast...huddled in a corner, conserving it's warmth. You pouted, feeling bad for this pure black creature. It was hard to make it out, but it looked like it was enveloping itself in wings.

"That's a big ass bird," you mumble.

Knocking at the door startles you, turning your head to see who was opening the door. You relaxed when you saw one of the ladies who was attending to you in bath.

"Miss, it is time for- What! Oh no dear, that is not what you should be wearing," she promptly shuts the door, speed walking to you."This is completely unacceptable. If the Lord saw you think this..." she trails off. She hurries to the closet you hadn't noticed, swinging its doors open.

"Yeah sorry," you apologize, "I didn't think I would feel comfortable in that dress so I put this on instead." She ignored you, rummaging for something that you can wear.

"You will be in the presence of the Lord of this house, miss," her tone is clipped, "I understand you are not from here, but he is someone of power. I assume even a place where you're from would have someone power?"

She doesn't bother to wait for you answer, instead pulling a golden color dress out. It's doesn't look puffy at all, instead like an easy slip on. It glitters in the light, you notice a slightly deep v-line. The maid gently places it on the bed.

"Put this on miss. I will be outside your door, please dress quickly," and with that she leaves.

You take one more glance outside the window and make your way to the bed, reaching for the dress. It really is pretty, and it's long enough to have leg room, but not enough to have you trip. You nod, satisfied with this dress.

You slip into it, feet first. It goes over you easily, and you reach behind to tie it together. It proved harder than you thought and you struggle horribly. You pace around the room trying to lace the string though its holes, facing the window as if the scenery will help.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan. The bird in the cage jolts, and your eyes widen. Did it hear you? You watch as it lifts its head up, looking around until it meets your eyes. You gasp, looking into its black, human-like eyes. You stumble backwards with a hand covering your mouth, what was that?

"Miss?" The maid reappears, probably from hearing your frustration.

You close your eyes, your head is playing tricks on you. You're in an unfamiliar place and your brain in panicking, unsure of how to take in its surroundings. Plus the bird was far away, you could be mistaking things.

"My dress," you choke out, "I can't do the back."

Wordlessly, she goes behind you, tying the the back of the dress in a criss-cross manner. Your heartbeat is wild, loud in your ears and throat. You're suddenly remained of how utterly lost and alone you are, no longer interested in playing pretend. You sniff, tears softly falling down your face.

The maid notices this, she gently pats your shoulder. She turns you around and wipes your years with her thumb, smiling softly at you. "I'm so sorry that you are lost miss. Lord Lukas is a very powerful man and I'm sure he can help you. Do not fret please."

You nod, grateful for her encouraging words. "I just really wanna go home."

"And you will," she promised, "But I'm sure you're famished, let's eat first."

-

Lord Lukas was younger than you anticipated, less than 10 years younger than you. His parents died, leaving him with a massive fortune and to carry the legacy of being a monster hunter. He loved talking about himself, you had only managed to tell him your name and how you got lost.

If you shut off your brain, it was easy to accept that you had somehow teleported to a different world. You didn't want to think about it too much, how there must be millions of different worlds and millions of portals to them. You were the unlucky soul that stumbled upon one, and you needed to go to the right one to get home. See? Wasn't too hard to understand if you didn't think too much about it.

You poked at your food, your appetite was nonexistent. It looked good though, cooked meat with boiled veggies and unique looking rice. At least you think it's rice. The man siting across from the table was still stuck on how you ended up here. Portals were thought the be a myth, yet here you are.

"So you're just looking for a family?" He asks, shoving a broccoli in his mouth. "Yes, my family," you stress. You briefly met his eyes, they were a light green. He smiled.

"And you said you were near the sea when this happened?" You nod. He hums, "I've always wanted to visit the sea. I've only seen pictures and I think it's quite beautiful." "Yeah it's nice," you agree, "The sand gets annoying though.

He laughs softly. He leans forward, eyes going down to your cleavage. You grimace. It doesn't matter what title a man has, he will always be a pig.

"You smell like lavender," he notes, "I love that smell." You laugh awkwardly, "Uh, yeah the girls had good soap."

"So," he says, eyes never leaving yours, "you're with your family when you stumble in a cave, appear here with no idea of how, and now you're at my place, lost. Looking for refuge?"

"Yup, pretty much," you nod. "But I dont need...refuge. I just need to go back home. I don't know what being a monster hunter means, but you must know about fantasy things like that. I don't have money to give but I went to school and-"

He starts laughing, hysterically actually. The words in your throat get caught, and you're replaying what you said in your head to see what was so funny.

"Unbelievable! You're a a great jester I give you that," he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "You don't need to lie, sweetheart. I don't know who put you up to this trick, but it's quite admirable." He stands and walks around the table so he's behind you. You stiffen, head turning so he never leaves your sight. "What are you taking about?" You ask.

"Many know that I am without wife. I've heard the complaints of how they worry about who will carry the monster hunter title, about who will inherit my fortunes. You are lost? No family? With no way back?" He laughs again, "It's a very intricate plan, and I'm almost impressed with how well they know what I fancy most in a woman."

He leans down in you ear, breath disgustingly hot, "I suppose you're hungry for something else. Yes?"

His hand appears on your shoulder, trailing down to your breasts before you shove him off. You stand from your seat, chair falling from how forceful your movement was.

"The fuck?! Don't fucking touch me!" You yell. You grab a stake knife from the table and hold it, aimed at him. "I don't know who you are and I don't give a fuck! I'm not going to play dress up anymore, you sick fuck."

Lukas raises his eyebrows, surprised by your outburst. He smooths a hand over his face and smiles again, "Did they also tell you that I enjoy the chase? I love it when they fight back."

His words send a chill though your body, you nearly gag. "You're sick. Stay the fuck away from me."

His smile widens more, "And I just adore your accent, I wonder how it will sound when you submit to me."

You run with the knife in hand, choosing to go out the back door rather than the front. The sun is setting, giving the snow a pretty pink glaze color. You would admire it if you weren't being pursued. Lukas is fast behind you, but if you manage to make it though the clutter of trees, you might have a chance.

No one is outside, no one was at the dinner. Did he send them away so he could have you alone? Did he plan this out?

You yelp when you're tackled into the snow, face first. The knife falls out of your hand and you're left defenseless. He yanks your hair so your head is up, he presses a knee into your lower back. "You're a lot faster than I anticipated, but no matter."

You trash in his hold, but he only digs his knee deeper into you. You cry out in pain, hands scratching at what you can manage.

"Gosh you are so full of energy!" He exclaims. "Keep this up, you will tire in no time."

He maneuvers you so you lay on your back, but this gives you more room to kick and hit. You do manage to get a few good punches in, but he grabs the top of your head and slams you into the ground. Your head rings from the impact, a groan leaving you.

"You...dick..." you strain out, spitting salvia in his face. He puts all his weight on your stomach, hands gripping your throat. He lifts one of his hands and backhands you, you head harshly turning to the right. Then you see the cage, it's no less than 20 feet from you. The bird is still huddled in its corner, but its eyes peer to you. The poor animal has been out in this snow for who knows how long and it's still alive. For some reason, it gives you strength. Despite the tears in your eyes, you see the glint of you knife. Lukas's hands violently tear at the top of your dress, trying to rip it.

For a moment, just for a moment, he loses his grip on your throat. You take this opportunity to headbutt him right on the nose, and you hear a satisfying crunch when you do. His hand cradles his broken nose, and you strike him with the heel of your palm while he was stunned. You manage to get half his weight off you and you reach for the knife.

He sees this and grips your hair again, but it's too late, you've already grabbed it. You turn and stab him in the neck, surprised by how how hard it is to sink in. You pull the knife out and stab again hard, blood spraying on your face and fingers. He cries out, hands grasping yours to pull away. His eyes meet yours and you see it, fear. Genuine fear that makes the hair on your neck stand. With a cry you took the knife out and stab a third time, this time digging so deep your fingers could feel the insides of his throat.

He gurgles, blood pooling from his mouth and neck as he opens his mouth to speak, but you drop his body on the ground before he gets the chance to. You sob wrecks through you, you hadn't notice the tears running down your face until now. You were wailing, weeping from your dire situation and the dying body next to you. In the movies, they had died so quick, almost gracefully. But this was messy, blood was all over your dress, hands, the knife, the snow. His hands were weakly trying to cover his wounds, to stop the blood from flowing out.

You needed to get out of here, it was only a matter of time before they came looking for Lukas. Or his body at least.

You stand on your shaky legs, wiping your tears and keeping a steady hold on the knife. 'This isn't real," you tell yourself. "You're fine. You're alive. You'll be okay."

You look up and see that you facing the cage, but the bird is no longer hunched over. Though the cage is much too small for it to stand, it crouches eyes trained on you. It's no bird, not with a human body like that. Its skin is pale, nearly grey with a head a black hair. It's nails are inhumanly long, its feet shaped like a birds. It's wings are cramped, tightly tucked beneath its back. You could still see it's dark feathers, and the tail that swishes unsettling. It could pass for human if you ignored its pitch black eyes. You knew for sure it was a male, it wore no clothes despite having a similar male anatomy.

It looks like a nightmare, but more human than the corpse behind you. Its eyes look at you then the lock, signaling you on what it wants. Despite everything you laugh. This monster had seen you fight for your life and all it asks if you to free it.

"I don't have the keys," you say, though you know it can't understand you. Its eyes flicker to the man you killed, then to the lock, then at you. You shiver, it can understand you. You look behind you and shudder, you had killed someone.

"Are you serious?"

It doesn't respond, instead shifting anxiously in its cage. Who knows how long it's been in there, in the cold. You let out a sign, rubbing your face. You know you're smearing blood all over yourself, but you don't care.

You turn to the body, reaching for keys. You keep your eyes closed, instead feeling around for the item. Finally, you feel a bundle of metal in the pockets of the dead man, pulling them out. It's a hoop of keys that jingle in your hands, and the beast behind you clatters in excitement.

You stand and head to the cage, grabbing the lock. There must be around 10 rings on this key holder, and you're not sure how long it will take to try them all. The first one is a no go, no even fitting in the hole. The second one fits halfway, and no matter how deep you tried to shove it in, it just wouldn't go in.

The human-like monster inside the cage paces, obviously anxious about being free. You were trying the third one when you could hear shouting from the house.

"Where is the Lord?" "Shouldn't he be done by now?" "Go look for him!"

The beast and you lock eyes. You don't know if you have the time to open his cage, and he knows it. But the way it's looking at you, so much hope and pleading, you feel a pang of guilt.

"I'll keep trying okay? But don't expect me to get captured for you okay?" You go back to the task at hand, the third one did not fit. Your fingers start to go numb from the cold, it takes a while for you to fit the 4th key in. Though it manages to slide in, it doesn't turn.

"Fuck," you whisper, struggling to grab the fifth key. Then you hear the door swing open, and 4 men tumble out. "Hey!" One of the shouts, and you whimper. The beast gets close to your face, eyes never leaving you. It's a silent plea, just try one more key. You should go, you should run, but you don't.

You shakily shove the fifth key in, ignoring how close the sound of running is getting. It turns, and grants you a soft click! "Holy shit, it's op-"

You yelp, hair being yanked back from the cage. The man who has you hostage is angry, eyes bulging from his sockets as he regards you. "You whore! You damned heathen!" You throws you harshly on the snow, your fingers numbly try to grasp anything, but it's so hard to move them.

"Captain. He's dead," one man says, next to the body of your assaulter. While a 2 men attempt to revive the body, the other two draw their weapons. "You fool! Do you know what you've done?!" "A stupid whore like you could have never killed a man. Who were you with? What did you plan? Where is your-" The captain is cut off quickly by a screech.

You hear the slash of flesh, blood spreading on you. The captain stands as he clutches his stomach, entrails exposed to you. Before the man beside him can react, he's grabbed and yanked into the sky. Your eyes follow up, watching as the winged beast takes him high into the clouds before he dropped him. His body lands 10 feet away from you, a nasty sound emits as his body snaps.

You scream, covering your face and head to shield your eyes. You put yourself face down into the snow, trying to ignore the sound of men screaming and flesh tearing. Your body is shaking from fear rather than cold. You don't know what type of monster you let free from its cage, but it's certainly out for revenge.

Finally it stops, but you can't stop sobbing. You didn't want to kill anyone, you didn't want anyone else to die. You just wanted to go home. You wish you were taking those stupid fucking pictures instead of enduring this fantasy nightmare.

The sound of feet crunching gets your attention and it stops right in front of you. You slowly lift your head up, quieting your sobs as you recognize the bird-like feet in front of you. Your head keeps going up, finally seeing the beast stand bare in front of you. You sniff and stand, surprised by how tall it is. It's taller than any human man, that's for sure. You barely reach its torso, needing to look up to see its face.

It leans down, and you gasp when a snake like tongue darts out of its mouth. It tastes your face, touching he tears and blood that stain it. It puts its tongue away and swaps it for another, a much bigger and thicker one. You close your eyes as it licks your cheeks, collecting the saltiness. You let out soft whimpers while it cleans you, hand softly gripping your chin so it can tilt your face in his direction. When he's satisfied, he grabs your hands. He brings them to his face and he licks your fingers, drinking the dried blood on them. It purrs at the taste, greedily taking it all.

Once he's done you open your eyes, gently pulling away from him. Its wings spread out from him, larger than any bird you've ever seen. Each wing is longer than his height, covered in dark feathers. You take a step back, finally looking at him at his full height. He still looks like a nightmare yes, but so beautifully scary.

"I need to get home," is all you say. You know it can understand you, perhaps it was trained by humans. "I don't know where I am or when I am? Oh god what am I even saying." You bury your face in your hands. You're going to cry again.

A gentle hand finds your shoulder, another gently pats your head. "You will be okay, human." You gasp at its voice. It's so deep and slightly scratchy, as if he hasn't spoken in a long time. You look up at it, mouth agape. "You can speak?" You muster.

It's face does not change, only giving you a simple nod. "You will be fine, but first we must leave. You have killed a Lord, and I his guards. You will be safe, but not here. Come."

It reaches its clawed hand at you, waiting for you to take it. You look at the hand then at the house. Should you trust this creature and leave with it? Or go back the way you came in a place you're completely unfamiliar with? A rock and a hard place.

You look at it in the eyes, searching for any indication of what it wants, but it just stares back. You notice you can see some white of its eyes, his pupils must expand exponentially when he's full of adrenaline.

You let out a shaky breath and grab his hand, "Guess we should go then."

a/n: this is the first chapter! this story is still in the works but I think im on the last chapter! ill post the second chapter tmr or something

[aloysiavirgata]

(if you are accepting prompts!) what iffffff you wrote a soft gentle little fic in which Scully has a spectacularly unlovely head cold and after some grouching Mulder looks after her? There are so many moments of peril on x files that sometimes it’s nice when the enemy is just a simple rhinovirus, lol.

He doesn’t even attempt to make it himself. Calls ahead to Loeb’s with his order, which he accepts from a stylish young Mexican man whose name tag reads Pierre.

“A sheynem dank,” Mulder says, echoing the grandmother who called Samantha a shaineh maideleh.

Pierre nods. “Bitte, baby,” he says. “De nada.”

***

Mulder clomps up her stairs with Puritan determination. He feels that since he did not cook the food himself he must exert some other effort for it. His soul is at eternal war with itself.

He doesn’t knock; lets himself in with the Home Depot key Scully had made for him around the time that Tooms wanted into her pants for all the wrong reasons. It sticks a little still, even after so many years. He’s rarely had to use it - when aren’t they together?

A hacking noise from her bedroom, something wet being coughed. Spat.

Mulder helps himself to a bowl, a plate, a spoon.

“I’b arbed,” she rasps from down the hall. “I’b a Federal Agent.”

“Don’t shoot,” Mulder calls back, hunting down a napkin. “I am a poor boy from a poor family.” Her mother wears Revlon and his wears Guerlain.

He tips some soup and two of the matzo balls into a bowl, wedges one of the challah rolls next to it. He puts the leftovers in the fridge.

Mulder carries the plate down the hall, the nearly-full bowl sloshing dangerously atop.

He enters Scully’s bedroom. She’s been upgrading over the past couple of years, replacing her IKEA basics with good secondhand finds in cherry and walnut. The candle she’s lit smells like white flowers with thick, creamy petals.

Scully is tucked into bed like an Austen heroine, all delicate pallor and genteel unhappiness. Her nose is pink-tipped and raw, hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing a gray sweatshirt instead of her usual pajamas.

Mulder sets the food down on her nightstand, next to a vase of dried roses and her Yaqui slide holster. A speed loader. There’s a well-framed Monet print over the bed.

Pat Conroy’s Beach Music is open face down on her lap, surrounded by crumpled tissues. She doesn’t look happy to see him, her purple-shadowed eyes narrowing a bit.

“Go away,” she says. Sneezes.

“Brought you some soup,” he says, unnecessarily. Points at it, also unnecessarily.

“Bulder,” she sniffs. “Go hobe. I don’t like being fussed over. I hab a cold, dot Ebola.”

“Too bad,” he says. “I’m going to. Do you have Vick’s Vapor Rub? You really should have Vick’s Vapor Rub.”

She closes her eyes. Pinches the bridge of her nose, centering herself. “It’s dot your fault I’b sick,” she says, looking back over at him after a moment.

“I dragged you into the woods again. You fell down a hole full of corpses! You’ve been in remission for like…twenty minutes.” He jabs the spoon at her.

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t get a cold frob being in the woods. Or frob being chilly. You get a cold frob a virus.”

He feigns outrage. “Excuse me, but are you contradicting noted excellent mother-slash-world-class-epidemiologist Doctor Teena Mulder MD?”

This sends Scully into a flurry of coughing. She swats at him in annoyance. “Ugh,” she says at last. “You see why I can’t hab you here, you’re a lousy durse.”

Mulder takes her hand, pale as a kid glove. He shoves the spoon into it, squeezes her fingers about the handle. “Eat the soup or I’m calling your mom. I’m calling BILL.”

She narrows her eyes again. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think you’re well aware that I’m capable of being overly dramatic when the wind is southerly and the fancy strikes.” He holds the plate before her like an offering to a goddess.

Scully considers him. “You did get us out ob the teabwork sebidar,” she observes. “Techdically.”

“I did,” he agrees.

“You bade be sing,” she adds. Reproachful.

He grins. “The angels all were singing out of tune, And hoarse with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two.”

Scully looks at the spoon in her hand for the first time, as though wondering how it got there.

“Byron,” she says, a little smile. She picks up the roll, examines it. Peers at the soup. Sneezes again. “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.”

“Caroline Lamb,”Mulder replies. He doesn’t point out that Caroline Lamb had been Byron’s lover, that she’d sent him a clipping of her pubic hair in the mail. He certainly doesn’t think of the juncture between Scully’s thighs at all, whether it matches the drapes, whether it tastes like kettle corn and Vineyard whitecaps in July. Lobster rolls and saltwater taffy.

He’d meant it, about the sleeping bag. He wishes there had been a sleeping bag and he is so, so grateful there was no sleeping bag.

Scully sniffles again, defeated. “You got be batzo ball soup?”

He thumbs an escaped tendril of hair back from the sweep of her extraordinary cheekbone.

“I did,” he murmurs back. He sets the plate down between them. He peels the roll open, yeasty and fragrant, and dunks it into the golden broth.

He raises it to her mouth.

Scully sucks at it, draws it past her lips. She bites. Chews, swallows. She holds his eyes with hers. She catches an escaped droplet with her tongue.

“Good,” she mumbles. Watches him dip the dry part back into the bowl. “Thank you.”

He feeds her another bite. Her mouth opens like a snapdragon, like an oyster in the tide. She drops her gaze this time. Her guard.

They complete the entire roll this way, and one matzo ball. Silent, slurpy. Scully’s lids droop, her lashes brushing her cheeks.

“Sleepy,” she mumbles, curling onto her side. Her paperback falls to the floor.

Mulder returns the food to the night table. He strokes her hair until she’s out cold, snoring a little. He curls into the bed as well, his nose to hers. He touches her philtrum with his pointer finger. He traces the tender pink whelk of her ear.

They sleep for hours until she coughs awake, gasping, her thin chest heaving. Mulder rubs circles between her scapulae.

“Go hobe,” she says, knees drawn, leaning against his chest. “You deed to sleep.”

He puts his arms around her, drops a kiss on her tangled head. “Okay,” he agrees.

She’s out again in moments. He holds her upright until he drifts off as well.

They sleep until morning. He feeds her soup for breakfast, calls into work with a case of Ebola.

[cleoluvrr]

The Last Days of Summer V (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 4.2k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

“I can’t believe I’m going to this shit.” I say angrily as I slip on my shoes.

I stare at myself in my friend’s mirror, body and mind filled with self-pity. I couldn’t help but feel sad as I looked at the beautiful, pink gown draped over my body. Tonight was Midsummers, and instead of being excited about going with my best friend, I’m dreading having to go with the guy who beat up my brother. Twice.

“Maybe your ass should’ve thought before you beat him with my golf club.” Londyn says, adjusting the flower crown on my head.

“I said I was sorry!” 

“Oh you’re sorry alright.”

Londyn and I left her house shortly after with her parents, moping in the backseat as we drove to the Island Club. I saved up all year to buy myself another Selkie gown, only to waste it on being a piece of arm candy at a dick measuring contest. Rafe made me send him a bunch of dresses, and I knew it was my fault for sending a picture of this one, but I still had hope he wouldn’t choose it.

“The pink one.” Rafe said over the speaker of my phone. I sighed heavily, looking at the dress laid out on my bed.

“But I wore pink last year…” I tried to protest, but he wasn’t going to give in.

“So wear it again this year.” He doesn’t leave any room to argue, hanging up the phone rudely before I can get another word in.

We arrive at the club, the sun setting on the horizon as we pull in. Londyn and I sneak away from the adults when they aren’t looking, avoiding the dick measuring the best we can. I see my Pope with our dad by the grill, and they spot me as well. I move to go talk to them, waving as a greeting, but am stopped with a firm grip on my bicep. 

I recognize who it is immediately by both the look on my brother’s face and the signature scent of Versace Eros. My smile drops almost instantly, my shoulders slouching in disappointment once again. I look up at Rafe, who is now waving at my brother with the same smug look he can’t seem to get rid of. Pope looks as furious and defeated as I feel and turns away.

“Get your hands off me, douchebag.” I say, shrugging his arm off my shoulder. Londyn looks at him in disgust, laughing when I pretend to shoot myself in the head and play dead.

“Hello to you too, Neriah.” He greets, smiling down at me. “Londyn.”

“Don’t talk to me.” She says, rolling her eyes. We all turn our heads when we hear her name called by her mom who motions her over to them. “I’ll find you later, sweets.” She sighs out before dragging her feet towards the tall woman.

Rafe leads me away as well, mentioning something about seeing his dad. I try to drag my feet in a way similar to Londyn, but the blonde places a hand at my back as we walk which prevents me from going any slower than him. We pass Topper and Sarah who seem to be having some kind of confrontation, but we walk past them without saying a word.

We walk through the familiar halls of the club, brushing past adults dressed rather flamboyantly. After a few minutes of me being dragged around in silence, we find Ward inside surrounded by a group of older men. I feel my heart about to crawl out of my throat at the sight. I feel only a little relieved when I spot Londyn’s father.

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you disappeared off to.” Mr. Woods says as we approach. He spots Rafe’s hand on me and the uncomfortable look on my face. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I reply after the older boy squeezes my waist.

“Dad, you remember Neriah?” Rafe says to his father, whose eyes have landed on me finally.

“Of course I do.” Ward looks between the two of us quite strangely, as if he doesn’t understand why I’m standing here with him. “You look very beautiful tonight, Ms. Heyward.” I blink at the use of my last name, a reminder of my status amongst everyone else.

“Thank you! You clean up very well yourself, Mr. Cameron.” I reply sweetly, laying on the charm heavily. 

“Heyward? You’re Heyward’s daughter?” One of the men asks, his eyebrows scrunched together. The rest of the men show similar expressions.

“Yes, I am.” If I felt offended, I didn’t show it.

“Are you working here tonight?” Another man asks, quite rudely. I shake my head no, biting me tongue so as to not say something I shouldn’t.

“She’s here as my guest.” Mr. Woods interrupts, sensing me becoming uncomfortable as time passes by. “She’s my daughter’s best friend. They go to school together.”

“Oh?” The rude one says. “Really?” He asks as if he can’t believe it. I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“She’s on a scholarship if I remember correctly.” Ward looks at me for confirmation and I nod. “She’s a very smart girl from what I've been told. Very hardworking.”

“Are you two here together?” One of them asks. Ward raises his eyebrows at his son, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, we are.” Rafe says, pulling me closer and looking down at me with a fond smile. “I’ve always been too much of a coward to talk to her, but after seeing her looking so beautiful under the sun of the golf course, I just had to ask her to be on my arm tonight.” 

“Well isn’t that just lovely?” The rude man says, eyeing my attire.

“She’s such a great influence on me, y’know?” Rafe continues, the hand previously on my waist now rubbing up and down my arm affectionately.

The motion gives me goosebumps.

“Really?” Ward’s eyes light up a little, his eyebrows far into his hairline.

“She just makes me want to be better for her. I think she’s too good for me, honestly.” 

I think my face has gone numb with how long I've been forcing a smile during this conversation. Hearing Rafe speak about me like this while knowing the things he actually feels is making me feel almost violent, my nails digging into my palms once again.

Ward leaves the group to join us, introducing me to a bunch of people I’m sure don’t even view me as the dirt under their shoe. The fact I’m a scholarship student and my father being Heyward is thrown around a lot, as if that’s something to be bragged about. Surprisingly, people find that interesting. My father is well respected, for a Pogue at least, and nobody knew that he had a daughter.

The adults seemed shocked that someone like me could end up in a school with their children, assuming that I’m some sort of prodigy to be able to get a scholarship. I’m dragged around like a show pony, which I didn’t sign up for. I guess Ward Cameron endorsing a little pogue girl is a big deal, but quite frankly, I want nothing to do with this family.

The whole ordeal makes me sick to my stomach.

At some point I’m able to sneak off, the men far too deep into their conversation to notice me slip away into the crowd. I ran up to Londyn, spotting her with a bunch of other girls our age. Sarah Cameron included. I don’t even care about the night of the beach anymore, just glad to see someone that isn’t a bunch of old rich men showing off their money.

“There you are!” A tipsy Londyn says as I approach. “Where have you been?”

“Hell.” I answer, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter.

“I thought you were with Rafe?” Sarah quirks up at that, eyeing me curiously.

“You were with my brother?” She asks, looking me up and down.

“Not willingly.”

“What do you mean ‘not willingly?’” She inquires. I sigh, taking a long sip from the glass in my hand.

“Well,” I start, putting the glass down on the table. “Your brother beat the shit out of my brother, so I beat the shit out of him. As a result, your brother made me come here with him or else he’d press charges. For some odd reason, Ward really likes me, so Rafe thought if I came with him it would somehow get your dad off his back.”

Sarah’s mouth gapes open slightly, as if she can’t comprehend what just came out of my mouth.

“So no, I did not come with Rafe willingly.” I say. “Your brother’s a pussy by the way.” She snorts at that, clearing her throat to cover up the sound.

“Agreed.”

I’m not sure how much time we spend dancing with each other. The music was kind of bad, but we didn’t let it stop us. We laughed so hard that my cheeks burned from smiling. Sarah apologized for that night at the beach, but all had been forgotten by now. I was having fun, more fun than I’d had in a long time.

I’m watching Londyn do the catdaddy in front of me when I see a head of blonde hair float by out of the corner of my eye. JJ somehow snuck into the event, well dressed in a vest and dress shirt. We catch each other's eye, the boy coming up to me with a smile on his face. I smile back gleefully, embracing him in a warm hug when he reaches me.

“You clean up well! I didn’t know you were coming?” My voice raises a question.

“I’m ‘working.’” He says vaguely, winking at me to hint he’s up to something else.

“Hm…right.” I laugh lightly, the blonde wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“You look beautiful as always.” He pulls back from our embrace to get a full look at my outfit, his eyes shining brightly. “The prettiest girl here, actually.”

“Don’t flatter me, JJ.” Smiling shyly I look down, my face burning up at the compliment.

“I'm serious! Don’t tell your brother I said that though,” He glances back at my brother by the grill before facing me again. “He’d kill me.” I giggle, shaking my head at the slightly nervous boy I’m dancing with.

“Thank you, JJ. And I won't, promise.” I hold out my pinky which he takes with his own, the two fingers interlocking. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll see.” He smirks. I raise my eyebrows in suspicion as he glances around the venue for a moment. “I gotta go. I’ll see you around.” He says. Before he leaves, he plants a kiss on my cheek.

“JJ?” He gives me a thumbs up as he backs away grinning.

“Don’t tell Pope about that either.” Is the last thing he says to me before he gets too far for me to hear him over the music. 

A few minutes pass without seeing the blonde and I assume he left the party, off to cause trouble somewhere else. However, my assumptions are proven wrong when I turn around and spot JJ dancing with Sarah back to back, discreetly passing her a note and whispering in her ear. Before I can warn him, Rafe and his goons approach him faster than I can get a word out. 

I can’t hear what they’re saying over the music, but Rafe and his friends look very intoxicated and ready to pick a fight. A nervous JJ tries to talk them down, walking backwards to avoid them but they keep pressing up on him.

“Until then, help yourselves to hors d'oeuvres.” I hear him say as they pass by me.

“Guys,” Rafe motions the gaggle of Kooks to come follow him. “JJ’s gonna serve us some hors d’oeuvres.”

The group passes me, Rafe catching my gaze briefly with a look on his face I don’t recognize.

JJ says something to them before he takes off running, snatching open the door of the club and rushing inside with the Kooks hot on his heels. I shake my head and rub my temples, telling myself to stay out of whatever drama they have going on now despite every bone in my body telling me to go check on him.

When I turn back around, Sarah has also disappeared from the patio. I shrug and continue dancing with the rest of the girls.

It’s none of my business tonight.

That is until a disheveled JJ is escorted out of the building by one of the security guards.

“It’s okay everybody!” He shouts. “Do not panic.”

“Oh God…” I say to Londyn. “What the hell happened in there?”

“Leave it to the men and women in uniform!” He continues. “Let’s hear it for them. Rose!” He calls out, clapping at Sarah and Rafe’s step mother.

“Is he drunk?” Londyn whispers to me, watching the situation go down next to me.

“Let go of him!” Kiara says loudly, appearing on the balcony in a purple dress. Rafe appears beside her, drinking something I’m sure is alcoholic and laughing at the drama he definitely caused. “You can’t just boot him. I invited him here.”

JJ pushes the guard off of him, the man stumbling into a table filled with people.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” JJ says, pointing up at the girl standing on the balcony with her parents before turning to my brother. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

My head swivels towards my dad and Pope, sure that nothing good is going to come from whatever he just said. I watch as Kiara slips away from her parents, running towards the beach after JJ, and John B who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. My brother rips off his gloves and apron as my dad warns him not to leave the party. He runs off as well, leaving my dad to stand on his own.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He calls out after his son, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the beach with his friends.

Heyward turns to look at me for an answer and I shrug, turning back to the balcony where Rafe is standing. He’s already looking at me, smirking as he watches me over his glass. The music starts again, everything going back to as normal as they can get after that. 

Rafe descends the stairs slowly, discarding the now empty glass on a random table. He approaches me, the smell of alcohol and cologne filling my nostrils strangely pleasant. He says nothing, grabbing my hand and leading me further onto the dance floor.

“I think you owe me a dance.” He says as he pulls me closer to his body. 

“I’ve already fulfilled my duties for the night.” I tell him, but I don’t pull away. “What did you do JJ?” He scoffs at my question like it was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“Why do you care?”

“Because he’s my brother’s best friend?” I replied obviously. “What the hell did you do?”

“You guys looked very comfortable earlier.” He says smiling, a tinge of anger in his voice. I scrunch my face up at him. “Too comfortable.”

“Were you watching me?” I try to pull away from him but his grasp is firm. “I’m allowed to dance with whoever I want to. And I think you’re forgetting that he’s my friend.”

“I thought he was your brother’s friend?” He tilts his head at me.

“Two things can be true. What did you do to him?” I ask again, now irritated at his non-answers.

“I didn’t like watching a Pogue put his hands all over my date.” Rafe’s jaw hardens. “I especially didn’t like watching him kiss her with that dirty mouth.” He chuckles dryly, poking his tongue into his cheek.

“Rafe.” My brows knit together as I watch his tense shoulders and face covered in more than just irritation.

Is he…jealous? What right does he have to be jealous?

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” He answers my previous question vaguely. I open my mouth to ask him to clarify but he cuts me off before I can say anything. “It’s none of your concern, princess. Your job right now is to dance with me.”

“I am dancing with you.” I say. We sway gently to the music amongst the crowd of people that have now joined us. Rafe’s hands are planted firmly on my waist, holding me against him as my own hands rest on his biceps hesitantly. He leans down to whisper in my ear and I wince.

“Try to look like you don’t want to kill youself.” He speaks lowly into my ear. He grabs my hands and wraps them around his neck instead before placing his own hands back on my waist.

We stay like that for a while, painfully close as the adults watch us from afar. Ward keeps a close eye on us especially, whispering to Rose as he takes in the scene of me dancing with his son. I started to enjoy it at some point, the feeling of his warm body against mine almost relaxing.

And that terrified me.

“I need to talk to you.” Rafe says pulling me away from the crowd suddenly.

“Can you slow down? I can’t walk that fast.” He ignores me, dragging me through the door of the club by my arm. I stumble over my heels trying to keep up with his fast pace.

People throw us quick glances of curiosity, the sight of a random girl being pulled to the club by an anxious Rafe Cameron barely capturing their attention long enough to spare us anymore than that. He opens a random door and flips on the light switch, pulling me inside with him before shutting and locking the door.

He releases me and begins walking back and forth through the room, stressfully running his hands through his hair. I hear him breathing heavily, whispering to himself as he paces. I watch him in silence, unsure of what his problem is this time.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe.” My voice dripped in irritation. “What’s wrong with you this time?”

He doesn’t seem to hear me, still pacing through the room. 

“Rafe. Rafe!” I call for a third time, finally capturing his attention. “What? What do you want? What’s the problem now?”

“You can’t talk to JJ, not anymore.”

“What?” I say in disbelief, eyeing him incredulously. 

“You can’t hang around him. He’s no good.” He keeps going, not making any sense. “None of them are any good, not for you. None of them.”

“Rafe.” I repeat, even more confused than I was previously.

“I can’t keep seeing you around those fucking Pogues. You’re too good for them. They don't deserve to have you.” He keeps pacing, not even acknowledging my presence in the room. Something in the back of my head tells me to start inching towards the door, but I don’t.

“Rafe, are you having a psychotic break right now?”

“I’m not fucking crazy!” He suddenly lunges at me, only stopping a few inches in front of me. “I’m not crazy, everyone needs to stop calling me that.”

“Okay, well are you high? Because you aren’t making any sense right now.” I push past him further into the room, learning from my past mistakes to not have my back against any wall when in a room with him. “And quite frankly, you’re creeping me out.”

“I’m making perfect sense.” He advances towards me again, stopping less than a foot away from my body. “You can’t be around those people anymore. You’re too good for them. I don’t like the way JJ looks at you.”

“Who are you to tell me who I can’t hang out with?” I ask angrily, poking a finger in his chest to push him away from me. He only moves a couple inches. “You don’t even like me, first of all, so what’s it to you?”

“No, No, that’s where you’re wrong, Neriah.” He says, shaking his head aggressively. “I do like you. I like you so much that i-it makes me feel crazy and I don’t understand why because you’re a fucking Pogue. And I sometimes think ‘maybe I am crazy,’ but I’m not!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, Neriah. You just don't get it, do you?” He runs his veiny hands through his hair once again before looking at me with his blown out pupils.

“No, Rafe! I don’t ‘get it!’” I shout frustratedly. “The only reason I’m here with you is because you threatened me with criminal charges. You beat my brother and were going to let Topper fucking kill him! You, you-” I scoff, pressing a hand to my forehead with a slightly gaped mouth.

“And I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for that, really.” He pleads with his eyes, pulling my hand away from my face so I’d look at him. I snatch it back, stepping past him to get to the door. “But I didn’t know how else I’d convince you to come with me. I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t give me any choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You didn’t have a choice?” I spin around to face the stressed out blonde behind me. “Your choice could’ve been to leave me the hell alone!”

“But I can’t do that, Neriah!” He shouts back. “I can’t do that anymore. I’ve been doing it for so long and I just can’t anymore.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t.” He presses his fingers into the sides of head as he walks up on me. “Do you know I can’t sleep without listening to that video of you singing at the Club talent show a few years ago? I used to follow you around school and watch you during lunch to make sure nobody was picking on you. I only became friends with Brye because I know he’s your best friend and I needed a way to get closer to you.”

“Rafe, you’re fucking insane.” I say in shock, backing away from him and feeling around for the door behind me.

“No I’m not! Stop calling me that!” He corners me against the door, the handle pressing into my bottom uncomfortably. He wraps a hand around my neck tightly, not enough to stop my breathing, but enough to hurt. “I love you, Neriah.”

“You don’t love me, Rafe. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I place my own hand on top of his, shivering at the way he looks down at me. “You barely know me.”

In his eyes is a mixture of things, none that I can recognize immediately with the feeling of our breath mixing together. My heart skips a beat and my stomach drops into my feet, my brain begging me to fight against him but my body staying statuesque at the feeling of his against mine.

“I do! I do…” He trails off, swallowing dryly as he looks deeply into my eyes. “I know everything about you. I know your favorite place to eat, to hang out. I know all of your hobbies, how much you used to love singing. I know you used to dance when you were younger but stopped because your parents couldn’t afford it anymore.” What the fuck?

“Rafe…”

“I know your favorite color and your favorite places to shop. I know that John B was your first kiss when it should’ve been me.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I told you, I know everything about you.”

“Rafe, you’re scaring me.” He loosens his bruising grip on my neck, hand still firmly in place.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He sighs, pressing his warm forehead against mine. 

“You called me a dolled up gutter rat and told me in so many words to stay off Figure 8, so I’m really having a hard time believing your very…abrupt change of heart.”

“I was just scared to confront my feelings. I was a stupid boy then, but I’m not like that anymore.” He says, gently rubbing circles on the side of my neck with his thumb. “Please, Neriah.”

“Rafe, please stop touching me.” He hesitates at my request for a moment before reluctantly backing away. 

I swallow hard, touching my tender neck as I watch him warily. I shake my head, pressing on the door handle and briskly walk out of the room. He calls after me but doesn’t follow, leaving me to return to the party on my own.

“Hey, where did you go? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Londyn appears in front of me, her sudden appearance causing me to jump. She looks at my anxious and stressed out expression with concern, brows knitting together as she eyes the way I hold my neck. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I shake my head, moving to sit at a table near the corner of the venue and away from everyone else. I watch the door for the rest of the night, waiting anxiously for Rafe to return.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Henry Creel (1/9)

Word count ; 4.0k

*Edited.

It was a summer night like any other. Return from my evening shift at the video store. Chat with my mom. Get ready  for bed. Lay down in my fluffy pink nightgown. Count to one-hundred and wait until sleep would claim me.

And then, he would be there. He always was. Well, perhaps not always, but for the past few months, that’s where my dreams took me. To the same fleshy, vine-covered area that was once a victorian-styled home underneath, an exact replica of the house my mom bought a year ago. It was dainty and barred off completely, each window and door shut. But that wasn’t what was important. It was that he, a young man my age named Henry, was there. He truly never fit in with his surroundings. Instead of wearing dark, dank clothing, he glowed angelically in a white, fitted uniform, and his blonde hair always styled perfectly.

And, as I drifted off to dream land again, he was there. I had to walk from up the staircase down into the dining room, where the man was fussing around with some vines that vaguely resembled flowers, shoving them into a dusty vase. He set it on the table, but almost knowingly, his composure was regained and he looked up to meet my gaze.

“Hello, dear. I was hoping to make things look a bit nicer, but it’s difficult to do so in ten seconds,” he quipped gently.

I fluttered my eyes up at him and clasped my hands together shyly. He took a step closer. “You know I never mind, Henry. I only want to see you.”

Henry chuckled, his face lighting up. A small smile stretched across his handsome visage and we maintained steady eye contact. He had such brilliant blue eyes that made me melt under his gaze, and although it truly felt like his warmth radiated upon mine, I couldn’t help but grow sad.

Sure, the luck was uncanny that consistently I’d dream of him almost every day, and nothing in the environment would change, but perhaps I was mentally ill. I couldn’t help cast away my gaze sadly, only to be brought back to him as his soft fingers curled across my jaw and tilted my head. The other hand encircled my waist, bringing me even closer. 

He was so warm. So real. And yet, it truly was impossible for all of this to be real. He was simply too good to be true.

“What ails you, dear? You have no need to be sad,” Henry mused lovingly, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. I leaned into it, enjoying the feeling. “We have all the time in the world, after all.”

That made a frown twitch into place and tears threatened to fall. “I’m pathetic, Henry. I know you aren’t real. And yet I am in love with you. I sleep as much as possible in hopes you will be there, and yet, every time, I wake up in my own bed with nothing but your memory. You aren’t real and I wish so badly that you were.”

Henry’s face fell and an unknown emotion seemed to swirl in his eyes. His brows furrowed, and it was almost like he was angry as he looked right through me. He tensed ever so slightly, and it was enough to make me wrap my arms around his waist, enjoying the feeling of his tight uniform against my finger tips. 

“I am real, my dear,” he finally mustered, all anger dissipating as he sighed. “I am as real as your bed or your home or the world around us. We are just separated.”

“B - but, even if that were true, it would be impossible,” I croaked shakily, not yet releasing my tears. “There is no such thing as telepathy. You are but a figment of my imagination, and yet, I care for you so deeply.”

“And I for you, Y/n.”

I was taken aback. He always spoke to me with flowery pet names. He only ever used my name when he was serious. I knew that because he called me Y/n when he first told me he was madly in love with me. I recited it in my head daily whenever I was in need of comfort, because even if Henry wasn’t real, it sure felt like it was.

“Truly. I love you with every fibre of my being. I wish to be with you in person. But…” He paused, furrowing his brows again. Something was on the tip of his tongue. “I can’t.”

“Why, Henry?” I pleaded, creating some distance only to grope at the front of his uniform bunching it in my fists tightly. I craned my neck higher as his hands drifted across my lower back, sending shivers down my spine. “Why can’t we be together?”

“Are we not right now?”

“You know what I mean.”

He bit his lip before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against my forehead. It lingered, the passion of it all seeping into me. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and hum in joy, enjoying the man’s presence so very much. More so than I’d ever with anyone else. Not my exes, not my family members, not my friends. Only him.

“If I told you, if I showed you, it would put your life at risk. I couldn’t have that, dear. They are monitoring me at all times.”

“Please, at least tell me who ‘they’ are. If you are in peril, I will save you, Henry. I would rather be with you than not at all. The idea of you being in pain is agonizing to imagine.”

Henry let out a low chuckle, taking a step back. I followed, but he instead led me over to a sofa. We sat down, the vines dispersing as though he were the god of this realm. I leaned as close to him as possible as he took my two hands in his, holding tightly.

His face fell, despite his best attempts. His Adam’s apple bobbed with disscontempt and his eyes fluttered shut as he mustered his words. “I know you think that, dear, but truly. I couldn’t put you in harm’s way. You are my everything. And if they laid a hand on your head, I…”

“Are you sure there is nothing you could tell me?”

He pursed his lips. I could tell that, with every neuron in his brain, he was trying to find a loophole. And then, he released one of his hands, gliding it over his sleeve. He raised it to his super arm, and that’s when I saw it. Imprinted, burned into his skin, was the number zero-zero-one. My eyes widened and I immediately went to touch it.

He allowed me to do so, sighing in contempt as my fingers glided across it with care. It looked so ancient. And after, he cut me short, instead raising my hand to neck. I felt around, and when I noticed him flinching I tried to withdraw. But he didn’t allow me to.

Instead, I moved some of his gorgeous blonde hair out of the way. I noticed then that there was but a bump inside his neck. It was so minuscule I’d never noticed until now. I gasped quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. I was still so conflicted as to whether he was even real, especially since I didn’t understand what any of this meant.

“I am real. I am just trapped, dear. But I will escape. I promise you.  I just need you to wait for me. Always.”

“Yes, Henry,” I gasped, pressing my forehead against his. “But… is there truly no way for you to prove you’re real? Just one sign. It’s just… you’re too perfect to be true.”

Henry’s eyes flitted over my expression, a soft passion present in his azure eyes. It was as though he melted just as much I did. It was pathetic to think that I was so madly in love with my own imagination, but if Henry was real… nothing would make me happier.

So many times during the summer while I was at work, and even right before I graduated, when we first began our mental acquaintanceship, I fantasized about how meeting him in person would be. What anything from a date to a wedding would be like. Henry was always so loving and kind. He was the most incredible person I’d ever met, even though he had a way of dodging questions.

Even ones as simple as ‘what did you do today’ made him clam up. I understood that somehow he was in a dangerous situation. And yet, I wanted so badly for him to tell me. To show me. I trusted every word that came out of his mouth, because either he was something of my own creation, or he somehow had superpowers and truly was mine.

Henry gulped before resolutely shaking his head. “I can’t. It would pain me to do anything to you. Besides, they already suspect something, dear. If I used my abilities, it would… alert the monitor in my neck. It’s risky enough as it is to exert myself like this to see you, but you… are worth it.”

I couldn’t help but softly press my lips to his, a few tears sliding down my cheek. I wanted him to be real, with every fibre of my being. And yet, I may never find out. I could spend a lifetime of longing not knowing the answer. And yet, Henry suddenly pulled away from the kiss, alarmed.

“We must depart,” he announced shakily.

“W - wait, why? It’s only been —“ my eyes flitted to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “— an hour! Is everything alright, Henry —“

Just like that, it was like my eyes shot open. A gasp tore at my throat and I had broken out into a cold sweat. Some tears had even escaped my eyes, but it was as though I’d awoken from a trance. I flinched when I realized the overhead lights were burning into my retinas, and shaking my body vigorously was my mother.

“Honey, what’s wrong? A - are —“

“Mom,” I panted, still recovering from the shock of waking so suddenly. How sudden it was only seemed to reinforce that Henry wasn’t real. And even that was enough to make a sob release from my throat.

Mom held me close, pulling me into her arms. She shushed me while also stuttering unintelligibly. I frightened her, but I wasn’t sure why. I grasped onto her tightly. And all of the sadness crashed down on me. Henry couldn’t tell me anything about himself because my head hadn’t conjured up a backstory. He couldn’t show any physical manifestations because he was a creation within myself.

“Mom, Henry, h - he isn’t real,” I sobbed into her shoulder.

“Y/n, dear, who isn’t real? What’s going on? Why weren’t you breathing or responding? Oh, my sweet baby, an ambulance is on the way! I thought - I thought you were dead!”

My heart stopped and my my eyes shut. “W - what do you mean, mom? I was just… dreaming —“

I heard some wailing of sirens in the distance, and my mother, not releasing me entirely pulled me from my bed. I had nothing but the chance to pull on my slippers, because she was pulling me toward the bedroom door. I was so confused. What was she talking about? I was just dreaming…

~~~

“Miss Ln,” The psychiatrist mused gently,” You say that you’ve been dreaming. Can you tell us more about that, please?”

My mouth went dry. I was tired because the entire night and early morning, I had been thrust into exam after exam with my mother glued to my side. And, finally, after a confusing night, the hospital recommended a psychiatrist to me. Because, no matter how much I insisted I was just dreaming, they truly believed I had some sort of mental illness.

And maybe I did.

But at least I was in the comfort of my own home again after so many hours.

My mother was holding my hand to her chest and I was so tired I couldn’t raise my head. I could barely manage to talk above a whisper as I tried collecting my thoughts. “W - well, for months, I’ve been dreaming of him. A - and it’s so real. And always the same. I’m at home, but it isn’t really home because there’s all sorts of vines and slime and… Well, he’s always there. His name is Henry. And he is so kind an sweet and h - he told me he loved me - It’s been this way for months, I guess, and…”

I was so numb and I wanted to cry, but nothing came. I wasn’t sure how to continue. All of my conversations with Henry were so personal that I didn’t dare go into details. However the moment the woman finished scribbling on her notepad and her eyes returned to me, soft and understanding, she sent me a smile.

“May I ask if there’s any indication that this relates to when your father left? Your mother told me you had a hard time when it happened.”

I sent my mother a quick glare, feeling my cheeks light up in an embarrassed blush. I abashed my gaze once more, and I could feel my mother watching me in pure concern. I gulped, trying to wrack my brain for an honest answer.

I shook my head eventually. “…No. I - I can’t think of anything. Henry isn’t connected to any of it.”

“Have you told Henry about what happened with your father?”

I fell silent. I nodded, not wanting to answer. However, my heart fluttered as I recalled the memory like the back of my hand. He was so loving and understanding. More so than anyone else ever had been.

“…Sometimes it still hurts, Henry.”

He held me close, cupping my cheeks tightly as we laid on the bed. It wasn’t the exact one I had in my room, as mine was smaller and less childish. The decor was different, alike to what a young child would have. We were cuddling on the bed, living vicariously through one another. He looked so pained, just from the explanation. I had never truly opened up about it to anyone, not even my own mother.

He pressed a kiss to my nose, and when he pulled away, continued across my cheek. I released a content sigh, leaning into the affection. When his lips finally departed, I was left in a flurry of peace and softness. It was as though each kiss had taken with him a piece of my hurt.

“I’m so sorry, dear. He is such a vile man for leaving you and your mother. I hope for only the most terrible of fates to follow him. But I am here now. And I will never allow anyone to hurt you again. I love you so much, Y/n. And don’t you love me?”

“Of course, Henry. You’re my everything. I wish that you were real.”

“I am —“

“…Miss L/n?”

I was brought back to reality, wide-eyed and vision blurry from the onset of tears. I gasped, shaking my head. I went to wipe my own eyes, but my mother was crying out of concern and did it herself, rubbing harshly. She was clearly tense and worried, and I felt awful about it.

Maybe I was just mentally ill.

“I - I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I was… lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking, if I may ask? As I said before, your mother and I are here for you and we just want to help. What you seem to be struggling with could be very serious and we need to know everything.”

I nodded, gently pulling form my mother’s grasp. “I - I know. I just… He’s so real.”

“You weren’t breathing, dear.”

I shrugged, trying so badly not to allow my heart to sting. Henry always calls - or perhaps, called - me that. But I realized that maybe I conjured up the pet name because of my mother. And yet, he had such a particular, smooth-as-butter voice that I’d never heard before. Everything about Henry was angelic.

“How was your high school experience? Were you bullied or engaged in any meaningful romantic relationships?” the woman continued. 

“No and no,” I admitted, rather embarrassed. “I’ve never dated before.”

“Is it possible that you’ve thought Henry up to cope for a lack of romance in your life?”

That made my heart fall, because it was true. I was always too shy. And aside form that, I’d never seen someone who truly caught my eye. So many of my friends told me to be more outgoing, but here I was years later, without a single notch on my belt.

“Often, dreams reflect your unconscious wants and desires and also helps with coping.” She checked her watch. “I hate to cut it short, but I need to attend another patient. In the meantime if you’re willing to pay upfront - we can discuss medical insurance and loans in private, Miss L/n -, I can supply some psychotics and sleeping medications that are general dosages. At the moment, just from what I’m hearing, it may be some mixture of sleep paralysis and schizophrenia.”

I gulped. I was so numb that the words meant nothing. If the medication worked and Henry disappeared, it meant that all my dreams would be crushed. Because, as wild as it was to think up, I wanted Henry to be real. I was abandoned on the couch, still completely stunned, as mother took care of the details.

~~~

“You took the medication, right, dear?” my mother hummed kindly, ducking into my bedroom.

I had just finished slipping on my nightgown and had once again found myself in a daze as I stared at the bed. I had indeed had the medication and it knocked me out completely each time. And, despite my wishes, Henry did stop coming. I even flushed some doses down the toilet in hopes that maybe the medication was to blame.

But Henry wasn’t real. He was a figment of my imagination. And it was the logical explanation, but it still hurt.

“Yeah, mom. Good night,” I answered quietly, my words slurring from the residual effect of the meds.

“Good night. I love you.”

I sent her a smile, and as she shut the door, I went over to flick off the light, and may room was cascaded in darkness. I sighed and went to my bed. As I stared at the ceiling absentmindedly, I felt so empty. Life wasn’t the same with Henry’s absence. From the beginning of his creation, he’d taken over my entire life. Every minute not sleeping, I was daydreaming of him. And I tried to sleep more and more, even if he didn’t always show.

He always showed up at night. During afternoon naps, he was always absent.

So, as sleep took me, I felt saddened, as I had been for the last couple days. Hell, perhaps it has even been a week. But I had already lost track of time.

Sleep took me. And yet, despite the sleeping pills, my mind drifted.

Usually, my brain went dead. And yet, even with the medicinal effects, my brain was consciously fighting it. Perhaps my body was attempting to cope by conjuring up Henry again, but regardless of my resistance, the internal darkness of my head was consumed by the vintage vine interior of my own home.

I was in my the bed. I was so very anxious as I sat up, once again laying on the childish comforter instead of my own twin-sized mattress. The vines were writhing more than usual. They often lay dead, and yet it was like the house itself was alive and terribly nervous. Angry.

I heard thumping echo in the household. There were black widow spiders crawling all over the place, and as terribly as I longed to search for Henry, I was too frightened to do so. Instead, I pulled my legs up onto the bed and hugged my knees, trying to minimize myself as much as possible.

Suddenly, some of the spiders fell from the ceiling onto my head. A scream broke through as I swatted at them, but all of a sudden, they dissolved in my hands. They made way, and the bedroom door crashed open. A gasp tore through as I saw him. And yet, he didn’t look nearly like he used to.

His face was blue and black, several bruises crawling across his falsehood. He seemed frailer than usual, and his entire body was trembling. Just like the house itself, he was angry. Desperate. Scared. So many emotions rushed through his eyes, and I was still startled.

Henry wasn’t real. And yet, despite the spiders crawling across the ground, I called out for him and rose my feet. I pawed at him desperately, and Henry, as though he were on a war path, went to me. His fists were clenched and his glare was aimed at nothing in particular, except it seemed to stray from me.

“Henry, what happened to you?”

His gaze finally met me. It bore into my eyes, and he furrowed his brows. A handsome frown was etched into his features, but he looked so very troubled. The moment my hands pulled on his semi-torn uniform, pulling him close, he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. They forced me to tell them about you. You need to run —“

“Who?”

“My captors. The ones who are exploiting me for my abilities,” he hissed hatefully. His hands clasped onto my waist, nails almost digging tensely through the nightgown. “You’re too close. It is very draining to wake you up, but I must. They’ll be there soon.”

“W - wait, are they going to kill me?” I cried out, tugging on his uniform and stepping on the tips of toes to draw my face closer to his. 

“They may,” Henry stated through gritted teeth. “I do not have the strength to contact you once you leave your home, but I’ll escape. I promise. And I’ll find you. But you must run —“

I was so overwhelmed with emotion as I pulled Henry to me. A mixture of tears and sweat and slime combined with our sloppy and passionate kiss. So many emotions were driven into it, so much love and care. Henry had always been so gentle and calm. I’d never seen him in so upset.

I wanted to continue the kiss, but he suddenly pushed at my shoulders, separating. I opened my mouth to get a word in, but as he shut his eyes in mourning, he cut me off.

“I love you, Y/n. Run.”

Just like before, I woke up in a cold sweat. My head was so very muddled. Somehow, I was full of energy, as though I’d never taken any medication in the first place. I tore the blankets off of my body and threw my legs off the side of the bed. I was so confused, but I believed him. I would rather be safe than sorry, regardless of how farfetched the idea of superpowers and telepathy was.

I flicked on the light. A part of me was telling me to stop. But it was just in my guts. I believed in Henry. I couldn’t live in a reality where he didn’t exist. I was on sleeping pills. And yet, he reached me anyways. And it was barely a few minutes after going to bed.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Deserve

Pairing: BestFriend!Harry x Reader

Summary: YN, Harry and another guy have been best friends for a long time and YN has always like the other guy but didn't say anything because she was overweight and though the guy didn't like him back but then he confesses.

AN: Harry doesn't really have much role in this one but I just wanted to write this because personal experience...

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

I take out my key from my bag, walking up to my apartment door. I open the door and lur on the light. I gasp at the sight in front of me.

My living room is full of pink and red balloons with candles. A slow song is playing in the background. In the middle stands Hans with a Bouquet of roses.

Hans is my best friend, well, my other best friend. We are a trio of best friends, me, Harry and Hans. We have been best friends since we were 8. Harry and my moms are best friends so naturally we are too since we spend literally every day together from our birth. Hans came around in 1st grade.

We have been inseparable from the moment we met. We went through everything together. I saw them at their worst and held them close when they needed it and so did they. They were there for me when I cried or worked my ass out to lose weight when it got too much.

And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Hans.

I have lost count of how many times I have cried to Harry because I can't show my real feelings of Hans. Now he stand in my house with roses and a smile that make me melt every time.

"Hans, what are you doing here?" I nervously chuckle, hoping to god this isn't a dream.

He comes closer to me since I seem to forget how to walk. "These are for you" He gives me the bouquet with a smile.

"T-thank you" I smell the flowers and look at him. "But why?"

"I have a confession to make." He says taking my free hand in his. My heart is beating very loudly and I'm breathing heavily.

"These past few months, ever since you had that... change in you." He hesitates looking at me. I know what he means, ever since I lost weight. "I have been feeling differently."

"I am starting to like you. More than a friend." He looks me in the eyes, something soft behind them.

Oh my God.

"This is too much, don't you think?" I point at our surroundings, filled with candles and balloons.

"Well you always liked grand gestures." He laughs.

He touches my cheek. "Harry told me." He doesn't need to explain for me to understand that he told him about my feelings. "I like you too, darling"

I forget how to breath when he put his forehead to mine. "Will you be my girlfriend, baby?"

I'm about to say yes when I get a strange feeling. I frown when I repeat his words in my head.

Ever since you had that... change in you. I have been feeling differently.

I suddenly get a huge flashback of mamories of everytime he made comments about my weight and told me I don't look good in things I wear. How he would look at me with disgust every time I wore something that showed my strech marked skin. He was so bad to me.

He doesn't deserve me.

I take a step back creating space between us when I realize it. He frowns in confusion.

"Y/N" He looks at me worriedly.

"No" I whisper giving him the bouquet back.

"What?" He says.

"No" I say firmly this time. "I won't be your girlfriend."

"Is this a joke." He laughs nervously but stops when he realizes I'm not kidding. "Why"

"Because I remember how rude you were to me about my weight." I look at him with a hard look. "If you didn't accept me at my worse, you don't deserve me at my best."

I don't wait for his reaction and turn back with tears in my eyes. I get out of the house leaving him in my living room. I don't turn to look at him one last time because I know if I do I might forget everything and take him back.

I drive straight to Harry's house without letting a tear drop and only cry in his arms letting in all the comfort he's giving. He tries to get me to talk but I can't get a word out so I just sob in his embrace.

I don't think everything will be the same again.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

[givemeanaccountalready]

Haruka Sakurai: the Breakdown of a Soggy, Blue Blorbo (1/2)

I really started this post going, “Oh boy, I can’t wait to talk about one of my blorbos,” and I have once again made a new conspiracy board. I swear to you, I just wanted to do a character analysis. Now, I’m certain that something happened during the night of fireworks involving the girl, and that this is how Haruka ‘started’ (more like grabbed and thrown down the first leg of it, at least) down the wrong path.

Night of the Fireworks: Haruka, what happened?

When it was very slow at work, I took the time to play “Weakness” at 0.25x speed to take as many screenshots as I could of the music video to break it down.

The music video opens with Haruka sitting at a vanity, toying with the pendant on his necklace as he looks at his reflection. I know the theory that the younger boy in "Weakness" is actually his younger brother, but I lean towards the idea that the younger boy is Haruka as a child. They look too identical to be brothers. If I had to estimate how old younger Haruka is, I would say between the ages of 10-12. He looks like he's in the last years of elementary school.

Because I can, we're going to call 17 year old Haruka Haruka, and his younger self can be Chibi. I could call him YH for young Haruka, but I like Chibi better.

When Haruka sees Chibi, he falls backwards and we're treated to the first image of Haruka sinking as the first verse begins to play. There's a bit of a cut to Haruka with his knees up to his chest and we can see a child's doodles surround him. We also see the Frankendog and then Chibi with Haruka's mother. Chibi and Mom are walking along, with Chibi smiling and talking while Mom's face is cut out.

If you look closely, it looks like Chibi is trying to hold Mom's hand, but she isn't closing her hand around her son's. She seems to be letting him hang off of her. Since she doesn't have a face, it's hard to tell what she's thinking, and tbh, the dark shadow over her face makes her seem menacing, to me at least. Her posture seems a bit stiff to me, and she's not turning her face like she's involved in the conversation. Chibi just seems to be talking, and his eyes are closed, so he's blind to how involved in this conversation she's in and her emotions, (since we can't see her dang face). But do you know whose eyes are open? Haruka, and he is currently singing asking what went wrong to cause all these changes:

“Tell me, why are you drifting away from me? / Tell me, why do you say it's my fault? / The words I tried to say were "You're unfair," and those words thought how pitiful I am / Why is it breaking? Tell me why? Please don't change”

Something clearly happened but Haruka (and us) are out of the loop. The next line in the song is when Haruka grabs Chibi by the back of his shirt. For the first time, Chibi isn't smiling as he turns and faces his older self. Haruka responds by shoving Chibi into the puddle. However, Haruka is the one sinking, not Chibi and he watches a memory of Chibi and the Girl in Pink walking hand in hand.

Haruka almost seems wistful when he looks at that memory. Then the screen cuts to him with his hands over his ears while blue and white fireworks appear to be going off in the background while, “The right future chose the wrong me,” plays. Then we see Chibi and Girl are running together, still hand in hand, and Haruka sings, “I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling / I was in denial, I was in denial”. Then, there's a brief cut to Haruka being surrounded by yellow camellias, and then to his hand reaching out to grab the Girl.

I am 85% sure that those are yellow camellias, and not yellow carnations. From what I've seen on Google Images, yellow carnations have a more concentrated color evenly spread out while the yellow camellias seem to become paler yellow/light tanner the farther from center of flower (pistil?). I'm not a botanist, so please correct me. From what I've found online, yellow camellia flowers symbolize longing (for love, to love, to be loved, it doesn't specify beyond the heart wants what it wants). If it was a yellow carnation, I found one definition being that "you disappointed me/rejection" which also fits Haruka's story.

Haruka reaches out for the Girl, and does his chorus routine of throwing his head back and laughing while "AHaHa, please notice me," plays. Then, the light shines on this mf's hands as he admits, "I was wrong / Yes, it was me," and then he wakes up in his bed. I just want you to note that Haruka's hands are clean.

We go on so Haruka can sink to the bottom of the screen while his many childhood drawings are shown and then Frankendog makes his reappearance! Chibi is petting Frankendog while his mother watches. We still can't see Mom's face, but she's crouched down like she's interacting with Chibi and Frankendog, which is better than before. Then, oh no! Frankendog runs away into the dark, scary, red-lit woods with Chibi walking in after him. We see mountains, more yellow camellias, and a blue moon (the moon was grey before).

Now, Chibi is getting nervous. We can't see his eyes, but we can see a little sweat drop of tension on his face, his shoulders are hunched forward, and his arm is grabbing at his shirt front, probably him trying to fiddle with the buttons or pluck at the shirt to let out his nervous energy. Then! We see dog prints! Or maybe a bear's! I'm not a zoologist either. But the important thing is that the scribbly blood is on the ground. Chibi wipes his brow, and that's when he notices that there is scribbly blood on his tiny hands! But whose face do we see react to the bloody hands? Not Chibi since the hair is too long. It's Haruka.

Then we cut to the chorus where Haruka’s bringing a large rock down over his head onto something offscreen and he’s throwing his head back and laughs. We see his clean hands one more time and he wakes up in bed.

We cut to the next scene where everything is his fireworks doodlings on LSD. It’s bright, loud, and there’s just Haruka’s bright blue silhouette staring at us with anguished eyes. Then we see him reach out for his mother (whose back is towards Haruka and us) and she fades from view. Jump cut to Haruka, where a single tear rolls down his cheek and into a pool of water. (It looks like there's a little crown when the water splashes up.) And while all this happens, Haruka sings:

“Even if I keep trying it / It’s broken right away / The things that aren’t here, and the unneeded things / Is it still living somewhere?”

Haruka sinks one more time and watches the memory of him (as Chibi) walking with Mom, and Haruka looks rather ticked off. An open, outstretched hand shoots out from the screen. (There were so many of these throughout the entire video, from when he grabbed Chibi at the beginning to him trying to reach out to the Girl and then Mom.) Haruka catches Chibi again, this time by the throat. And then Haruka proceeds to strangle Chibi. Despite having free hands, Chibi doesn't fight back. His hands are semi-curled like he's going to make a fist, but Chibi doesn't lift them up towards his neck to try and pry himself free. They twitch like Chibi started moving, but his hands don't really go above his hips. It's like he started to fight and then froze up. These lines play during this scene.

"I cried, I screamed / I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling / I was in denial, I was in denial / I just had to make sure / I've become a victim, I've become a victim / My loneliness was desired / I was falling, I was falling down / My life started in the wrong spot"

The chorus finishes up as Haruka throws his head back and laugh, only this time, tears are streaming down his face. Haruka briefly becomes despondent as he admits he was wrong. We're treated to another show of light uncovering his still clean hands. There's a scribbly silhouette underneath him that looks like Chibi and then quickly becomes distorted into something I can't recognize. The song ends on Haruka's tearful smile as he admits, "I was wrong / Yes, it was me" and then it cuts to black.

Now, what's the point of me dragging you through a fricking play-by-play summary? Something happened the night of the fireworks. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. What happened?

I think the Girl is Haruka's sister. Younger sister to be specific, though definitely not more than two years younger than him. Girls tend to be slightly bigger than the boys at 9-12, which would explain why she’s almost the same height as him despite Haruka being not much older than her. I would say that they're probably about a year apart, since she is only slightly smaller than him. Why not twins? Well, because during the second trial written interrogation questions, on Question 4, Haruka wrote down that "It seems like she [his mother] wanted a girl. She had already chosen this name." If they were twins, the girl would have been named Haruka, and Haruka probably would have gotten some generic boy name, or maybe a different, but still feminine name similar to Haruka. If we can take Haruka’s statement at face value, we could say that Haruka’s mom wanted a girl more than a son. If Girl is Haruka’s younger sister, then her wish for a daughter had been fulfilled, but now her daughter doesn’t have the name she had originally wanted to give her. Haruka’s second strike (his first being born a boy).

His mother seems distant to him in the beginning of the music video back when Chibi tries to hold Mom’s hand but she doesn’t really wrap her hand around her son’s. But like I said, Chibi doesn’t seem to notice since his damn eyes are closed. We don’t see Mom with the Girl, which does put a hole in my theory. Perhaps a memory of Mom favoring Girl over Haruka really would have set him off, or perhaps this theory is wrong.

Even if the Girl is Haruka’s little sister, what the hell do you think happened the night of the fireworks? Okay, this is what I think what happened that night:

Chibi (10-12 year old Haruka) and Girl went to a festival or some sort of celebration where fireworks were being set off. Mom gave them special permission to go by themselves so long as they stick together, with the implication that Chibi looks out for his younger sister. Chibi gets distracted by the dog. The kind of dog doesn’t matter (hence the Frankendog), but Chibi does get separated from his sister. Maybe the fireworks scared the dog off? The important thing is that the two kids are now separated, and it’s implied to be Haruka’s fault. Chibi doesn’t seem bothered by losing the dog at first, but what makes him freak out is him realizing that the Girl is gone. Mom will “make that disappointed face again” and he is scared of being in trouble. Chibi has to find her.

Now, the Girl is either dead or hurt when he does find her, and there are two possibly perpetrators: someone unseen (because of the giant hands keep trying to grab the ladies in the video), or Chibi. Whether the Girl did die or was hurt doesn’t matter, what matters is that the damage was done. We see Chibi wipe his brow in relief, and then flinch when he realizes there’s blood on his hands. I think that’s supposed to symbolize Chibi finding the Girl and then realizing she was hurt and that he is responsible (either for losing her, or because he did it). Chibi seems like a normal, happy kid. If he did hurt the Girl, I think it was an accident. We never see Chibi lash out in “Weakness” only Haruka. It is possible that some unknown party was hurting the Girl and Haruka interrupted, leading to him being attacked by the same perpetrator (you do see a weird doodle of some fanged mermaid looking thing a couple of times in the background which could represent the perp). Maybe Chibi had gotten a head injury for interrupting. They have been known to cause a flip in personality (see Phineas Gage) and bad concussions and other severe brain trauma can lead to memory problems and other cognitive issues which could explain why Haruka doesn’t use kanji more advanced than what a grade schooler can use. I’m not a medical doctor either, and assuming he has a head injury is a big leap of faith.

But a head injury bad enough to impair his functioning could explain why others call him crazy (being unable to describe the attacker well or tell a clear version of events) and why Haruka has gaps in his knowledge. Something has happened, even if he can’t remember it and he blames himself. But what’s done is done. It cannot be undone. But Haruka is left to repeat that day over and over because he feels responsible for it.

More on this in the next post.

[disregardcanon]

kaz rowe put out a video today about the history of unicorns, and i'm only halfway done but oh gosh am i getting flashbacks

when i was in like, kindergarten, my cousin who was the same age as i am and i decided that unicorns were real. cuz we liked them

we each had a horde of unicorn stuffed animals with names like "uni-say" "uni-see" "uni" and "uni-sigh" and we played with them all the time with her younger sisters and our other cousins. i decided that adding uni to something made it mean something in unicorn language. fairly sure that was because of the strawberry shortcake show where everything was berry instead of very

there was this little flower bush with pink and purple flowers that i decided was somehow related to unicorns. just because.

i tried to convince my friends at school that they were real too. i don't remember if i got any of them or not

the cousin lived in a woodsy area of st. louis at that time and when i went to visit she was like "i saw a unicorn in the woods by my house and also at my HORSE BACK RIDING CLUB" and then i was like HELL YEAH THEY ARE REAL THEY ARE REAL THEY ARRRREEEEEEEE

i then proceeded to raid the public library for materials about unicorns. i found some nonfiction books about the origin of myths surrounding different magical creatures and my mom was like "see darling it's fake. they're fake. that's why they're in this book" and i was like "but mommy! they used to mean jesus! and they were in the bible!" and she was like "yeah they thought lots of wrong things back then" and then i was like "ARE YOU SAYING THAT JESUS ISN'T REAL! because unicorns MEAN HIM!?!?!" and she was just like okay. whatever. believe in unicorns if you want. just don't let your dad hear you say i don't think jesus is real, oof

i know i still was holding onto that idea in late 2nd grade. maybe 3rd grade too. i remembered reading some unicorn chapter books at the school library when i still believed in them and i didn't get clearance to read them until then. i don't remember stopping believing in them, though. which is kinda.. weird. to have such clear memories about so many parts of that but not when it ended

[invisibleraven]

Hi :) number 13 of the prompts list with Reggie + Alex if you so please <3

Alex open the door, inhaling deeply, relieved to be home. It had been a hellish day at work, and tomorrow looked like it would be equally bad, so a small reprieve from the world was a welcome one. Only when he breathed in, he could smell something a bit atypical for his small home; butter, sugar, vanilla...

"Reg?"

"Oh hey, you're home!" Reggie said, a bright smile on his face as he peeked out of the kitchen. "Just in time for cookies!"

"You made cookies?" Alex asked, shucking off his outer layers and cautiously making his way to the kitchen. "Why?"

"Well I was in the mood for them, and you told me no more unsupervised trips to the grocery store because I come back with half the cookie aisle, so I decided to bake some!" Reggie replied, leaning up on his toes for a small peck, and then plopped Alex down to the counter. "I was just about to ice them when you got here."

Alex surveyed the kitchen, and he could smell the evidence of the baking, but aside from the racks of cooling cookies, he didn't see much of it. All the dishes seemed to be washed and put away, and he slumped in relief. Reggie was a great baker, and an even better boyfriend, but cleaning wasn't his forté.

"Can I have one not iced? I don't think either of us need the extra sugar," Alex asked, reaching for one of the cooling treats.

Reggie gently smack his hand away. "No way, the icing is the best part! Plus I know today was a hard one, I can see it in your eyes, so you deserve the little treat of some extra sugar."

"When you're right, you're right," Alex admitted. "Can I at least help ice them?"

"Of course, I even made some pink frosting just for you," Reggie replied, gesturing to the piping bags lining the counter. He grabbed the red one and started a neat plaid pattern, mimicking his flannel. His next one was a purple flower design, and then a skull, fully knowing that Julie and Luke would appreciate personalized cookies.

He glanced to the side, to ask Alex how it was going and froze. There were globs of frosting everywhere, all over the cookies, the counter, and Alex's hands. His tongue was stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he held the bag almost a foot above his latest creation, drizzling the icing in a wild, sporadic pattern.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Alex looked up, then glanced back down at his cookie. "Decorating?"

Reggie gently pried the piping bag away, laying it down. "Sweetness, you frost cookies like you're neither left or right handed but a third other hand that you don't actually possess and I can't stand it. I love you, but I am taking your cookie frosting privileges away."

Alex looked at the destruction surrounding him, and then at Reggie's neat work. "I-I've never done it before okay? My oma wasn't the baking type and you know my mom would have caught hell from my dad for teaching me."

"Aw sweetie, why didn't you say so?" Reggie said, gathering Alex into his arms, kissing his cheek. "I'll help you, we can decorate the rest together."

"Okay."

Reggie stood behind Alex, patiently and gently guiding his hands over the rest of the cookies. Sure the designs were simple zig zags and spirals, but the pleased little smile on Alex's face made it worth it.

Well that, and the icing sweet kiss he got after they had sampled some of the finished cookies.

[timetraveller-1]

Near the age

When questions start to appear

You're wondering why or how

Your road is not clear.  

Pink is not my favorite color.

Neither I wear my rainbow shoes.

Hide and seek feels like past.

Everything changed so fast.

My songs were about flowers

The sun, the moon and stars

And now, about stupid love ,

That always leaves scars.

Littel prince as my dearest book.

Every night before bed

I read it loudly to myself.

Funny, now it's not even on my shelf.

My mom's rules become a joke.

Why should I care

Isn't the point to be cool?

and not listen to any rule.

The things I said :I'll never do

Are mistakes I make every day .

The words that sometimes hurt

is everything I have to say.

But the pain that I feel

Because today I am aware

Of the cruel world that surrounds me

And people who don't care.

[nationalharryleague]

Valentine’s Day

Summary: Y/N receives a special candy gram on Valentine’s Day. 

Genre: Valentine’s Day Fluff with Middle School Band Teacher!Harry 

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Hi my valentines!!! There’s about 30 minutes left of Valentine’s Day for me and I finished this piece right in time!! Thank you to the angel herself @tbslenthusiast​ for beta reading this for me and I cant wait to hear what you all think!! More of my writing can be found in my Masterlist and I would love to hear some feedback! 

***

Valentine’s Day was never fun for you. You dreaded this day every year.

Valentine's Day in a middle school was full of teddy bears and flowers purchased by someone’s mom and having to tell 12 year olds to stop kissing in the hallway. You also knew that you would be inevitably interrogated by your students about your love life before getting any of them to listen to your lesson about the industrial revolution.

And every year, your answer stayed the same.

“It is none of your business,” you would begin with a teasing sigh. “But if you all have to know, I am happily single.”

And every year, you were met with a chorus of disappointed whines.

Your students were always desperate to wiggle their way into your personal life, a side-effect of being one of the youngest teachers in the school. You were closer in age to them than to some of your coworkers and they took advantage of that fact constantly, creating an open and honest dialogue with their favorite history teacher.

“But do you have a crush, Miss Y/L/N?” Jenna, one of your favorite students, piped up this Valentine’s Day from the front row. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she raised her eyebrow at you from her desk, inquisitive and adorably curious.

“How about this?” you started, raising your own eyebrow to match her’s. “I’ll tell you if I have a crush, if you can tell me why the printing press was so important to the industrial revolution.”

Your heart started to drop as you watched the massive smile stretch across her face, exposing a mouth full of braces with pink rubber bands. They weren't supposed to learn about the printing press for another week.

“It made information more affordable and easier to access which bridged the information gap between the rich and the poor,” she answered like she had the textbook right in front of her. She crossed her arms triumphantly and leaned back into her seat while the class oohed and ahhed around her, knowing she had kept up her end of their deal.

You felt your cheeks heat as your classroom descended into giggles as your flustered face. “Nice job, smarty pants,” you let out with a nervous giggle.

“Remember, honesty is the best policy,” another student shouted out, pointing towards the poster on the wall of your classroom next to the world map that read the same saying.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you conceded, raising your hands in surrender to the classroom full of seventh graders. “I do have a crush.”

Your students erupted at your admission. Whos, whats, wheres, whens, and whys were thrown out by the class, but only a gentle smirk rested on your features, refusing to relinquish any more information to the children demanding it.

“You aren’t getting anything else than that!” you raised your voice to settle the rowdy classroom with a laugh. You moved from the front of the class back to your desk, listening to the gentle click of your heels on the white tile and gathering the stack of worksheets for that day’s lesson. “Now, pass these around and stop asking questions,” you playfully scolded.

“That’s not what your poster says, Miss Y/L/N,” Jenna spoke up again, pointing out another poster on your wall.

Never stop asking questions! was written in bold rainbow colors on the wall and it was now staring back at you.

You let out a chuckle and shook your head at the floor, knowing they had caught you once again. “I’m going to take down all my posters and you’re going to have to learn in a boring classroom soon.”

“We are just looking out for your love life!”

“You deserve a boyfriend!”

“Or a girlfriend!”

“Just someone who loves you!”

You smiled wide at the class full of endearing faces in front of you. They had nothing but good intentions and were sweeter than Valentine’s Day candy. You loved these kids like they were your own.

“Guys, I appreciate your concern,” you confessed. “But I promise I have it under control.”

After that, they began to settle down, eventually letting you give your lesson on the industrial revolution and scientific advancements of the period.

But you knew you had told them a lie.

You did not have it under control, at all. You were hopelessly in love with the kind man with curly hair and green eyes down the hallway in the band room and had no idea what to do about it.

Harry was one of your first friends when you were hired last year, volunteering to show you around the school and fill you in on all the workplace gossip. He had flecks of cheeky mischief in his eyes as he told you about the gym and spanish teachers’ affair and how the coffee machine was broken by one of the math teachers after a bad administrative evaluation. You had listened adoringly, like he was explaining the meaning of life, and you hadn’t been able to shake your crush since.

You brought each other coffees on the daily and were always in and out of each other’s classrooms. He always made sure you were a chaperone on his field trips and you always made sure he was one on yours. He had even convinced you to let your classes come to band practice once a month so they could play music from the time period your classes were currently studying.

He was endearing and kind and charming and so so good with all the kids. He was also incredibly sexy, which made it even more difficult to control yourself around him. You had the fattest and most uncontrollable crush on him, but he was your friend and you didn’t want to ruin that.

The ring of the bell that signified the end of the class period brought you out of your Harry induced haze, waving goodbye to your students and shouting after them to do their homework and to stop kissing in the hallways. You stood against the door frame of your classroom and watched their little awkward bodies skurry towards their next class, but your attention was soon caught by the tall man who’s chocolate curls stuck out high above the sea of middle schoolers that surrounded him.

“Good morning, love. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he smiled wide, dimples appearing like they were inviting you to poke them, as he reached your classroom and your heart fluttered at his affectionate pet name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry,” you beamed back at him, hoping he and the passing students didn’t pick up on the adoration that was becoming very hard for you to hide.

“Oi, stop that,” he called over your shoulder, slight disgust showing on his face. You turned around and were met by two kids sucking face behind you. “Guys, just go to class,” he exasperatedly sighed when he was met by their shocked and embarrassed faces. Once they were gone, the two of you descended into a fit of giggles.

“They have no shame!” you laughed.

“Absolutely none!”

“Why are you over here? Not that you aren't welcome, but don’t you have a class to teach?” you teased gently as students began to gradually fill up your own classroom.

“I thought I would stop by and wish you a happy love day.” He smiled wide at you and spoke sweetly. If you weren’t reading into it too closely, you thought he might even be blushing a bit. “And it’s okay,” he waved off his class, clearing his throat and his voice returning to normal. “They’ll survive a few minutes alone. I trust them.”

“You shouldn’t,” you giggled again.

“Yeah,” he nodded with a chuckle. “I probably should get back, but I wanted to invite you to come to my classroom and get some cookies whenever you get a chance today.”

You felt your heart soar at his invitation, no matter how friendly the proposal. “I am free next period.”

“I know,” he winked, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “I will see you then,” he grinned as he began to walk backwards down the hallway, maintaining eye contact for as long as he could, before spinning down the hall just as the bell rang to start the next period.

You tried your best to focus on your lesson about the renaissance with your sixth graders, but your mind kept floating back to the delightful man who had invited you for cookies. 

Had he invited all of the teachers for cookies? Or did he ask just you? Was he just being nice? Or did he actually want to see you? Had he been flirting with you?

The lesson was interrupted when there was a knock on your classroom door. You opened it up to find one of your students, Matt, dressed in a giant heart costume holding baskets full of labelled chocolate bars.

“I’m here to give out Valentine’s Day candy grams, Miss Y/L/N!” Matt exclaimed, his face barely fitting into the far too large hole cut out for his face. Every year the student council set up a candy gram fundraiser and the kid in the suit never got any less cute. You let out a chuckle as you looked down at him, opening the door further and letting him into the room.

You watched with a smile as he called out students’ names and the genuine surprise and flattery that passed over their features. Cheeks turned red and shy smiles played on their lips as they made their way to the front of the room and retrieved their candy from the giant pink heart.

You were caught off guard when you heard your own name be called. Matt held out the meticulously wrapped pink candy bar out to you as the class let out an “ooh” and your cheeks heated with embarrassment. Your cheeks heated even further as you read the label.

To: Miss Y/L/N

From: Mr. Styles

Will you be my valentine?

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you had a very hard time holding back the large and toothy grin that wanted to appear in front of your students.

“Who is it from?” one of your students asked excitedly.

“I don’t ask who your Valentines are, do I?” you teased, but held the candy bar close to your chest over your heart. You could feel your heart racing underneath your hands.

The giant pink heart standing at the front of the classroom finished distributing his candy and your class led a chorus of goodbyes as he left the room, onto the next classroom to spread some more innocent young love. You impatiently watched the clock tick down the seconds until the bell rang and released both you and your students out into the school.

And just when it felt like it might never come, the bell rang through the school and your students were off into the chaos of a passing period. You followed closely behind after you gathered your things, the candy bar slid carefully into your bag. You flowed along with the flow of children that carried you down the hallway, heart racing as Harry’s classroom came into view, your feet quickly matching it’s tempo.

Your footsteps echoed on the tile in the acoustics of the large room, your voice bouncing off the walls as you said hello. He had been tuning a guitar when you came in, his attention flashing up from the instrument in his hands to you.

“I was promised cookies,” you teased him. “They better be good.”

“I promise they are. They’re my nan’s recipe.”

“Of course they’re your nan’s recipe,” you sighed with a chuckle.

“What’s so bad about using my nan’s recipe?” he asked incredulously, grinning as he settled the guitar back into its stand and moved towards you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed adoringly. “I just think it’s very sweet.”

“You haven’t even tried them yet! You can’t say they’re too sweet.”

You couldn’t hold back the giant smile that was so wide it made your cheeks hurt, chuckling at his cheesy joke. He made you feel warm when he moved closer to you, like someone had just turned up the heat in the large room.

“I meant that you were sweet, silly,” you tried to joke, but it came out genuine and soft. You bit on your lip nervously, replaying the affectionate tone in your head over and over.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he smirked softly at the pet name and you felt like you were soaring.

He was close to you now, having crossed the room and standing only a few feet away from your body. You wanted to close the space between you two, to kiss him with all your might, to tell him you would love to be his valentine. But just as you built up the courage, he stepped away towards his desk, retrieving a cookie for both of you.

The cookies were shaped into small perfect hearts with a coarse pink sugar pressed into the soft biscuit. The cookie melted in your mouth and the sugar granules crunched between your teeth. You had to hold yourself back from releasing a moan at the taste. They were dainty and delicate and you could only imagine how much time he had put into them.

But you weren’t shocked. Harry was like that. He was gentle, taking care and measured precision with everything he did. He spoke to the kids with tender care, making them feel talented and successful, and was always there to lend a helping hand whenever one of them needed it. And he spoke to you the same way.

“Harry-” you began softly, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“-Yes, I would love to.”

“What?”

“I would love to be your valentine.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, flattered heat rushing to the surface of your cheeks, but you also looked at him with a slight confusion. He had asked you to be his valentine, hadn’t he?

As you looked at him in slight shock, you noticed the small and meticulously wrapped pink candy bar that sat on his desk. Oh my god, they didn’t, you thought.

You could only imagine the confusion that fell onto Harry’s features as you moved away from him and towards his desk, picking up the candy bar and reading the writing on the wrapper.

To: Mr. Styles

From: Miss Y/L/N

Will you be my valentine?

Oh my god, they did.

“Harry,” you chuckled, looking back towards him and holding the chocolate bar up. “When did you get this?”

“I got it this morning when the kids delivered it,” he said dumbfounded. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t send this.” You walked over to your bag that you had left near the door and retrieved your own matching candy bar. “And I’m assuming you didn’t send this either?”

You handed the pink package to him and he read the label closely, eyebrows furrowing even further, then relaxing as you watched the puzzle fall together in his head as it had in yours.

“The kids sent these to us from each other, didn’t they?”

“I believe they did, Mr. Styles,” you nodded.

His cheeks turned a bright red, embarrassment flooding his features. “I’m sorry about before then,” he stammered out. You watched the panic on his face as he searched for something to say that would cover his tracks, but you cut it off when you connected your lips to his.

His lips were soft and velvety and he tasted exactly like the sweet sugar cookie he had gifted you. Your lips moved gently over each other and you slid your hands up to play with the curls that rested at the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his hands found their spot on your hips. You couldn’t help the smiles that fought their way into the kiss and you broke apart moments later, both flushed and flustered, small giggles leaving both of you.

“I would love to be your valentine if you would have me,” you said breathlessly as you looked up to him.

“It’s all I could ask for.”

“This is the best Valentine’s Day ever,” you said softly against his lips, already pulling him back in for more.

“We’re just like the kids in the hallway.”

“They’re not too bad. I understand it now.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! :)

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

[errorpeachy]

Helloo!! I just discover your page and even tho you only have one fic I already love itt!!! I finished hxh last night and my heart need more💔💔 could you do a Killua x reader, they know each other since they were babies and their families wanted them to get married, but when Killua find out that’s when he escaped and maybe after that the reader escaped too but they don’t see each other until they are like 20 or something like that. Btw sorry for my English I suck hehehe.💕💕

I can absoLUTELY do this! And don’t worry bb, your English is great💞 I’m doing a scenario for this one~

𑁍 No Take Backs! 𑁍 《Killua x Reader》

“Hey, Hey, Killua!” You shouted, running up to him with enthusiasm. He glanced at you, raising a brow. “What is it, Y/N?” He asked, turning to you. Smiling, you took his hand in yours. “I have something to show you! Follow me!” You said, pulling him along as you walked through the forest that surrounded his house.

Fighting your way into a clearing, you watched him let out a small noise of shock. It was a beautiful, crystal clear lake, one he had never seen before. Flowers surrounded the area and light shone onto the water, making it look drastically different from his dreary house. “How did you find this, Y/N? I live here and even I haven’t seen it before.” He said, looking at you. You grinned, pointing to the scrapes on your knees. “I fell into this clearing when I went exploring. Cmon, let’s swim!��� You said, jumping in fully clothed. He paused before shrugging. “Ah, what the heck.” He said before jumping in, making a big splash which caused you to giggle.

“Hey Killua?” You asked, swimming over to him. He looked up at you, shaking his head to get some of the water off of him. He looked kind of like a dog, you thought. “Yeah Y/N?” He answered, powder blue eyes staring back at you. “Let’s stay best friends forever, ‘Kay?” You said, smiling up at him. He turned pink, looking away. “Sure, I guess. You’re not THAT bad.” He muttered, causing you to smile. You were used to his antics, he acted like this ever since he could talk. Even though you two were 12, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Okay, but no take backs!”

You woke up to the sound of arguing. You were sleeping over at the Zoldyck household, since Killua’s mom practically begged you to stay over. She was almost as protective of you as she was her own son.

Your feet met the cold wood floor of the guest bedroom as you got out of bed. Rubbing your eyes, you fixed your sleepwear before quietly opening the door. You could use Zetsu, however they would all notice it more if your aura suddenly disappeared rather than just moving around. You snuck around to the stair railing, peering between the wooden rails as you watched Killua argue with Milluki and his mother.

“I’m not marrying them!” He shouted, crossing his arms. Milluki rolled his eyes. “You should be glad mother is allowing you to marry someone in the first place, Killua!” He shouted back. Killua glared at him, before looking at his mother. “I want a choice in who I marry! Just cause we’ve been friends since we were little doesn’t mean we’d be a good match!” He said to her. “You two don’t have to be a good match to have good grandchildren. You’re the heir to the family business, and they easily match you in strength. I’m sure you two will have powerful children.” She said, causing him to give her a disgusted look. You were equally as grossed out. Sure, you did have a small crush on Killua, but children was something you definitely didn’t want to think about as a child yourself.

“Why are you even thinking about that?! I’m twelve!” He shouted. You nodded quietly in agreement, thinking it was really weird. His mother had always been a little... odd.

“Because it’s what you should be focused on! You need to take on the family business and marry the right person, and Y/N is that person!” She said, with Milluki nodding next to her. Killua huffed. “Then I’m leaving!” He shouted, storming over to the stairs. Milluki grabbed his arm. “Killua, where do yo-“ he started, but was cut off as Killua grabbed his wrist tightly with his free hand, giving him an ice cold stare. “Milluki. Let go of me.” He threatened lowly. His brother scoffed, grip tightening. In a flash, Killua dug a spare knife out of his pocket and stabbed him in the arm, causing him to reel back in shock. It was honestly a little funny, in a twisted way. His mother rushed over to Killua, pleading in her high pitched voice. He whipped around, and in an instant, she was holding her bleeding face. Her visor was knocked on the ground as she covered her face and called for her husband.

Walking up the stairs, he went over to where you were crouched down. “You’re so nosy, Y/N.” He teased, poking your cheek. You pouted. “You said you were leaving.” You muttered, looking at him. He sighed. “I am. I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you. It doesn’t feel right. I need to get out of this family business and be something that’s not related to assassin life.” He said, patting your head. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you gulped them down. You got up onto your knees and hugged him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like vanilla.

“I’m gonna miss you, Killua.”

“I will too.”

Ten years had gone by since that night. After Killua left, you had gone over his last words to you in your head. You decided to quit your family business and become a hunter at the age of 14. Since then, you had been doing freelance jobs and earning money. Life was good. You still had memories of Killua, where you two stayed up and told ghost stories with a flashlight under his soft sheets or splashes around in the clear waters of you two’s secret lake. You hadn’t seen him since he left, but you thought of him often.

Shaking your head, you laced up your shoes. You had a match against some random person in Heaven’s Arena, and you were supposed to go fight in less than a minute. Standing up, you rushed to the tunnel, waiting for them to announce your name.

“And here we have the returning powerhouse, Y/N L/N!”

You stepped out onto the stage, smiling as you waved at the crowd. Scanning the audience, your eyes met a pair of blue ones.

Powder blue.

White hair.

It couldn’t be... could it?

You felt the air leave your lungs. It was him. It had to be. He looked grown up by now- of course he would, he would be 22. You blinked, trying to focus as the fight started.

‘I might as well show off a bit.’ you thought.

The fight was almost criminally easy. You defeated the guy rather quickly before rushing off the stage, not even staying for your victory announcement. Running through the halls, you slammed straight into another person, causing you to fall back.

“Ouch! Sorry!” You said, looking up. The boy had green hair and light brown eyes, as well as a kind smile. He offered a hand to help you up, which you accepted. “It’s alright. You did great in your fight!” He complimented, causing you to smile back. “Oh, thanks! I-“

“Gon! I was looking for you, whe-“ A familiar voice said, pausing. You looked over to see who it was. Your eyes lit up as you rushed over to him.

“Killua! Oh my god, it’s been so long! I’ve missed you so much!” You shouted, hugging him. He turned red, patting your head. “Baka! Don’t say that stuff, it’s embarrassing...” he muttered. You smiled, knowing he was still the same boy you knew long ago. The boy, who’s name you now knew as Gon, looked at the two of you confused. “You know them, Killua?” He asked. “Yeah. We grew up together, but I left to take the hunter exam when we were little and I hadn’t seen them since.” He said. You nodded, smiling at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Gon!” You said, and he nodded back. “Same here!” He said.

You turned to Killua. “Come sleep over at my place! We have to catch up!” You said. He gave a smirk, looking away playfully. “I don’t know, what if people get the wrong idea?” He asked, smirking. You smacked the back of his head. “Ow!” He said.

“Don’t be a pervert!” “Fine, fine, I’ll come over. Only cause you asked.”

Fixing the white sheets on your guest bed, you walked out to see what Killua was up to. He was sat on the couch, watching some sort of TV show about... superpowers? You sat down next to him, leaning on his shoulder. He froze, blue eyes gazing over at you. “What?” He asked, seeing you give him a gentle stare. You smiled softly. “I really missed you, Killua.” You said, hugging him. He turned red, pushing you gently by the head. “Don’t say stuff like that! It’s embarrassing...” He muttered, cheeks pink as you continued to have your arms locked tightly around his waist.

“Why did you leave without me?” You asked quietly, causing him to pause. “I needed to find myself, I needed to become something that was detached from the Zoldyck name. I figured becoming a hunter would do that, and it did. I met some really nice people, Gon being one of them.” He said, gently stroking your hair. You nodded, agreeing silently. You completely understood why he wanted to do that, but something that had been eating you alive for the last ten years had you asking one more question.

“When you said you didn’t want to marry me... was that true?”

His hand stilled, gently resting against your head as he thought quietly. “It wasn’t necessarily true, but I did feel like it wasn’t something that needed to be talked about.” He said, carefully choosing his words. You reached up and gently moved his hand off of your head, holding it in your own instead. “Ever since you left I worried about you. I know you’re strong, but I always thought about whether you were alright or not. I missed you so much- not a day went by with your name not popping up in my head.” You confessed, feeling your face heat up as you buried your face into his chest.

He still smelled like vanilla.

He tended up, his face turning red as he flicked your head. “You’re so embarrassing...” he muttered. “I’m telling the truth, though.” You said softly, looking up at him. He stated back at you, his eyes shining with... love? Was that what it was? It didn’t really matter.

“I’m in love with you, you know. You’re so stupid, making me like you.” He said, looking away as he turned bright red. He looked adorable, his cheeks puffed out due to embarrassment. You smiled, leaning up and giving him a gentle peck on the lips.

“No take backs.” You said, giggling. He rolled his eyes playfully before giving you a gentle smile.

“I’d never want to anyways.”

[deniigi]

So @petrichordiam and I are menaces and giggled over our ideal dinluke flower shop AU for like 4 hrs and then I wrote this.

Title: murderer next door

Summary: Din works as a florist and Luke works as a bookseller and they’re both assassins trying to keep the other off their turf.

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

Two times now, Luke had crashed past that flower shop, and two times now, the fucker inside had taken out his mark. Now all Luke had to say about the whole thing was that it was too bad that he was going to have to kill the guy.

Han told him not to turn back. The mark was dead; the mark was gone. They weren’t fast enough this time, but there would be others.

Luke just couldn’t let it go, though. He had rent to pay, and McFloristApron over there was smashing through all his targets and making that nigh impossible—regardless of how many marks there were in the area.

Luke waited until Han had closed up shop for the night and remained there in the dark with his arm slung over the back of the chair in the backroom, surrounded by books. He rolled his shot of whiskey in its tumbler. The sound against the old wood table offered no comfort.

He stood up and left the glass to get his laptop.

He wasn’t losing to some florist, Han, sorry. Only one family could take innocuous cover on this street, and it was them.

 ---

McFlorist’s name wasn’t listed on the florist’s staff page, but then again, none of the people on that page had names. In fact, the website’s whole vibe was all wedding-chic until you clicked on the ‘staff and contacts’ tab. Then, it may as well have been a line of mugshots.

Luke squinted along the row of increasingly involved headgear until he got to someone with a reasonably-sized neck with no tats. The ladies on either side of him appeared to have sapped all the ink out of McFloristApron. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and gave a stoic thumbs up to the camera.

Under his picture was the number fifteen.

Damn.

Luke was only making eight per pop. Who the hell was this guy eating up all the feeder fish, huh? Them lower division folks had to eat too, you know.

Well.

‘Lower division’ in a sense of the word. Being two times undercover wasn’t super glamorous, Luke had to say. But when your dad fucked it up for the first family, sometimes you had to take what you could get.

Luke pointed at Fifteen on the screen.

“You and me, pal,” he said. “You and me.”

 --

 Step one was to get paid first.

Luke chased down three marks on the other side of town to pay the rent and the medical bills for now. His hand’s new sleeve felt like a dream. It didn’t overheat like the nylon black one did, and the hand was far less shiny now as a bonus. That had certainly reduced the number of people catching something move out of the corner of their eye.

Was it worth fifty grand?

No.

Was it worth the last nine that Luke had left to pay on it?

Yeah. It was definitely worth the nine.

 ------

 Step two was to go make it clear to Fifteen McFlorist that he and his folks needed to back down in the face of the established guard.

Luke put on his biggest sweater and the thickest glasses he could find. He stole Chewie’s messenger bag with all the pins on it. He slung it over his shoulder and rolled the hems of his jeans up just a smidge too much, then scurried over to the florist’s across the way.

Fifteen was off to the side of the register, fucking around with something in the refrigerator. Luke busily and noisily looked through the wall of foliage on the side of the shop nearest the window. He hummed. He hawed. He made anxious nerd-sounds until a voice asked, “Hi, can I help you?”

Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye and found that Fifteen was standing facing his way now. His mask was gray this time. His apron was orange. His boots were too heavy-looking for florist work.

“I’d love that,” Luke gushed breathlessly. “See, my mom just got engaged and I’m on the way to her house.”

Fifteen lifted his chin slightly.

“What’re her favorites?” he asked tonelessly.

Terrible customer service skills, dude.

“Roses,” Luke said.

“Ours are shit today,” Fifteen said. “How about dahlias?”

Luke didn’t know what those were but sure.

“That sounds great,” he said. “You have any in pink?”

 --------

 He watched Fifteen brutalize some pink, orange, and white flowers into a bouquet wrapped with a silver bow and was sure to smile every time the guy looked up.

“That’ll be $37.59.”

Sir, these are dead flowers. There is no need for that price.

“Can I put it on card?” Luke asked. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking? I work just across the way is all.”

Fifteen’s dark gaze flicked up. His hair was covered by a gray beanie two shades darker than the mask.

“At the club?” he asked.

“The bookshop,” Luke corrected him with a shy, but widening smile.

Please be gay. Please be gay. Please be gay. Leia wasn’t going to want to cooperate. She thought it was beneath her to establish boundaries like this.

“Blue paint,” Fifteen said. “Yeah, that place. How long have you been there?”

“My brother-in-law’s place, actually,” Luke said. “I started there last year after I finished college.”

Or, you know, maybe even eight years ago when he’d finished college. No one had to know. Baby faces don’t kiss and tell after all.

“Huh. You must like it there,” Fifteen said.

“It’s fine,” Luke hummed. “You like it here?”

“The kid does.”

“Oh, you’re a father?” Luke asked. “How old?”

“He’s three,” Fifteen said. “Godson. His folks were in an accident; didn’t make it.”

“That’s terrible, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Luke said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Fifteen handed him his card back. Luke’s hand didn’t close in time to catch it and it fell onto to the wooden counter.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, reaching for it with the other hand. His knuckles bumped into Fifteen’s when he went for the card at the same time. They both paused and went for the card again with the same result. Luke laughed.

“Slippery, am I right?” he asked, flattening his fingers on top of the piece of plastic and snatching it away.

“Very,” Fifteen said. “I hope your mom likes them.”

“Me too,” Luke smiled. “I’ll see you around—What was your name?”

“You can call me Armando,” Fifteen said.

“Armando,” Luke sounded out. “It suits you.”

It was a falsie.

“And yours?”

“James.”

“It suits you.”

It didn’t.

“Bye now,” Luke said. “Thanks for your help.”

He let the door fall closed behind him with the tinkle of the bell.

 --------

 He informed Han that “Armando” had a toddler and received only a warning look and a scolding for all his effort. Han told him not to get jealous. If there was a kid in the balance, then Fifteen, for better or worse, was going to have to see each day after the next until there was no longer a kid in the balance.

Luke offered to call CPS and report “Armando” as an assassin.

“You do that and those folks across the street are gonna call the VA and tell them I’m an assassin,” Han said. “Lay low, Luke. Lay low.”

Never.

“Christ. At least until that thing’s yours then.”

Luke glared at his right hand.

“Gimme a double,” he told Han without looking away from it.

 ------------

 It was never easy to hunt in the daylight, but Luke wasn’t here to do easy things. He needed to get Mark No. 1 alone. The man took the train once a week to a gentleman’s club on his lunch break. Luke needed a change of clothes.

He had a rainbow windbreaker, white boots, and fishnets all ready to go.

He got on the same train as the mark and dropped his phone nearby. It clattered loudly and the case came off. Luke swore and squatted to drop it at the same time that two girls next to him decided to become good Samaritans. They crouched with him and one of them caught the phone first. They handed it back with a smile.

“I like your jacket,” she said.

Luke let his face struggle to find a smile at her kindness to him, a sweet little twink trying to find the pride parade that happened two weeks ago.

“Thanks,” he said. “I like your bracelet.”

He stood up. The girls were pleased with themselves. Luke glanced back to find Mark No. 1 turn his head abruptly away.

Come here, Markie.

Do you like what you see?

  Mark No. 1 didn’t make it out of his hotel room. A pity. Luke took the elevator down and huffed and puffed about a cheap date when he passed the front desk. He stopped abruptly and went back to ask the receptionist what the cross street was. She judged his go-go boots.

He told her she wasn’t his type. Her manager gave him the cross street.

Mark No. 2 had different parameters.

 ----------

 Mark No. 2’s parameters involved chasing him through a maze of boiler rooms and dumpsters. He was chump change towards a hand that Luke hadn’t wanted in the first place, but alas. The anger still roared.

Luke cornered him, still in go-go boots—no need to sacrifice style for speed—and watched those pale eyes look every which way as Mark No. 2 realized that there was no getting out of this.

“You got options, friend,” Luke said. “I can bring you in hot or I can bring you in—”

“—cold.”

His head snapped up and he lurched out of the way just as the crack of a bullet exploded in the alley. A car backfired around the corner in a sympathetic cough. Luke stared at the body then twisted around just in time for a thick glove to latch onto the back of his neck.

“Well, look who it is,” Fifteen drawled.

Luke glared out of the corner of his eye.

“Hands off, Armando,” he warned.

“I like your boots.”

“You’re gonna love ‘em when they’re on your dick,” Luke warned.

“Back off, Nayberry.”

Fucking hell, Han. This is why they should have set up boundaries weeks ago.

“I prefer ‘James,’” Luke said sweetly.

The glock levelled at his face didn’t care.

“You took my mark,” Fifteen said.

“Aw, poor baby,” Luke pouted. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you took mine.”

Fifteen’s orange apron was gone. He’d swapped it for an old leather jacket—something he could more easily wipe clean. He should’ve gone for patent leather. The brown really wasn’t working with his grey mask-beanie situation.

“Stay in your lane,” Fifteen warned.

“Only if you stay in yours,” Luke beamed.

Fifteen huffed.

“Bookstore,” he scoffed. “Who’d you give the flowers to?”

Luke tsked.

“Myself, jackass,” he said.

“Do you even have a mom?”

“What the fuck business is that of yours? You even got a kid?”

Fifteen’s stare was deadly—the cooling body before them notwithstanding.

“Take one step near him and we won’t be talkin’ so friendly, yeah?”

Mm. Yeah.

“You owe me four grand,” Luke informed Fifteen as the glock went down and Fifteen left him to go take a pulse.

The man’s back stiffened.

“Four?” he asked. “You took this job for four?”

Luke rolled his eyes.

“I got bills, Armando,” he drawled.

“How do you keep that shed open? Have you sold even one book?”

Rude. Luke was a great sales associate. If he actually cared to put his mind to it, he’d be worthy of a promotion to manager.

He pulled the rising legs of his shorts down and adjusted the weapon in his windbreaker. He couldn’t leave the alley the way he’d gone into it. Someone might have seen. He was going to have to take a side street. Hmmm, which one? Choices, choices.

“I’ll give you a Dad’s discount. Gimme two grand, and you can have him,” Luke negotiated as he thought.

“Two.”

Hey, no need for that tone. This was a great deal.

“What’re you gonna do with two?” Fifteen asked, already knelling down to heft the body over his shoulder as proof for payment.

“Buy some more tights,” Luke deadpanned. “Two, final offer.”

Fifteen stood up all the way and gave him a weird look. A long look. His beanie was pulled down low, but Luke got the impression that he was frowning at him.

“Take the four,” he said out of nowhere. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Luke recoiled a step at first, then recoiled another when the reality of the situation hit him full in the chest.

“Forget it,” he snapped.

He spun around and started to leave.

“Wh—hey. HEY. Where are you goin’?”

“I don’t need your fuckin’ pity,” Luke called ahead of him as he set to climbing the chainlink fence separating him from the adjacent dead-end alley.

“You what?”

“You heard me,” Luke said.

He jumped down. His left hand found his right wrist and squeezed as he walked.

 -------

 The phantom pains kept him up all night, and it was definitely that and not the humiliation that made him call in sick. Han told him to answer his therapist’s emails. Luke told him to go do something useful and hung up. He rolled onto his back on his bed and focused on letting his body relax, his jaw unclench, his joints go limp.

There was sunlight finally streaming through his apartment windows again. It had been months.

Spring was almost here. He just had to hold out a little longer.

 --------

 He came in to work the next day and found an envelope on his chair in the backroom. It was thick.

“McFlorist dropped it off,” he said between aggravated sounds at his spreadsheets.

“Is it tax season already?” Luke asked him as he tried to burn a whole in the center of the envelope with his mind.

“Sure fuckin’ is.”

He stepped forward and snatched up the envelope, then deposited it squarely in Han’s lap. He made an unattractive noise of confusion and alarm.

“For the taxes,” Luke called as he went out to grab his lanyard and name tag. “Gotta keep this place open for another six months at least.”

 ------------

 There were new books in. A new shipment to shelve. Two kids’ displays to set up. And Luke was actually good at this stuff, thanks; he started stacking.

He got peace until he nearly got to the end of the second display, and then what he had was a heart attack. Two liquid brown eyes surrounded by an ocean of ringlets stared up at him from between his knees. The child curled a hand in and out in hello.

Luke jerked himself up to locate the thing’s parents immediately, and promptly found himself in deadly eye-contact with Fifteen.

Armando.

“You were gone yesterday,” Fifteen said flatly.

Luke looked between him and the kid. He was pinned between two enemy parties. How to escape, how to escape.

“Are you sick?”

How to escape. How to escape. How to escape.

“Are you hurt?”

H—what?

“I’m fine, stalker,” Luke snapped with more heat than this present cover allowed. He caught himself and pulled it back. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Thank you for asking. Is this…?”

Fifteen blinked once. The child blinked once as well. It was creepy.

“He’s mine,” Fifteen said. “And apparently the only thing that will get us through the next two hours is a book.”

Dude.

“Kids are kids,” Fifteen said. “You got any books?”

Luke stared at him, then checked the shelves to make sure he hadn’t teleported into another dimension.

You always had to check.

“We’re in a bookstore,” he said.

“He can’t read,” Fifteen said, pointing.

The kid grinned. His teeth were gapped in that toddler sort of way. He was kind of cute.

“You can’t read?” Luke asked him.

“Hi,” Baby said.

Oh no.

Luke loved him.

“How much?” he asked Fifteen.

“Touch him and you’ll be permanently comatose,” Fifteen said.

“Not if I died out of spite,” Luke said.

There was a long pause. Then Fifteen started laughing? Kind of hard?

“Oh my god, that was so unprofessional. I am so sorry,” Luke blurted out.

Fifteen collected himself and shook his head. His little one giggled and reached for Luke’s fingers.

“Boo,” he said.

Luke couldn’t feel the hand, but he could feel all the heart.

“Book?” he asked, crouching down. “Do you want a story?”

“Mmmm.”

“I have the perfect one,” Luke told him. “It’s about a caterpillar. Do you know what a caterpillar is?”

He got a slow, exaggerated head shake back and forth, back and forth. He stood up straight.

“I’m conducting a temporary kidnapping,” he informed Fifteen. “Do I have consent?”

Fifteen looked from him towards the front entrance and mulled over the merits of leaving his kid with his rival assassin. Then he shrugged.

“Consent granted,” he said. “Luke.”

Luke’s heart stopped.

“James,” he said.

“Your name tag says ‘Luke.’”

Well, fuck.

“Luke Nayberry. It suits you.”

Hhhhhhh. This was karma, wasn’t it.

“Thanks,” he gritted out. “And yourself, Armando?”

“Din.”

Woah, look out. Mr. One-Syllable-Cool-Man had entered the building.

“Din, what?” Luke asked as his arm registered tension. Din’s kid had latched onto his fingers and started pulling incessantly with a chubby hand gesturing in the direction of the wall of children’s books.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Din said.

“Fine, go trip then,” Luke said.

He swore that there was a smile under that mask.

 ----------

[pregnant-piggy]

could we get a dad!sirius headcannon or blurb??

All my blurbs turn into little 1.3k fics... I didn't wrote this as part of the dad!marauders series because I already have plans for a fic but I will never say no to dad!sirius. I am quite proud of it and I hope you will like it too!!

Learning how to fly

A cosy cottage stood at the end of a little road of cobblestones, surrounded by green trees and yellow flowers. On the left side of the house there was another, but this one didn’t seem to have the warmth nor the happiness that could be found in the house at the end of the street. A field of wildflowers in more colours than the rainbow lay on the other side of the cottage and trees with light green leaves and light pink blossom stood proudly on the edge. Happy birds flew around, chirping their cheerful songs, telling anyone who listened that spring had begun.

In the back of the cottage there was a yard just as green and full of bloom as the field surrounding the house. Bushes with peony roses, purple and white crocuses and wild orchids stood on the edge of a small patch of grass.

Just above the grass there were two little feet floating and a loud childish laugh sounded through the warm spring air. A little boy with raven black hair like his father and eyes like his mother, sat on a broomstick that flew just half a meter above the ground, letting the points of his feet drag over the grass. A small yell passed his lips every time he made a turn and was just in time not to collide with the bushes.

Behind the boy there was a man running. Two tattooed arms stuck from his shirt and they were held right behind the little boy’s back, making sure that he wouldn’t fall. However, the broom was faster than the dad had thought and for the past half hour he had been running after his son with his arms outstretched and sweat was starting to run down his back.

Sirius had thought it a good idea to get his son a broomstick for his third birthday, but as he was running behind the toddler he began to doubt his decision. Nevertheless were his doubts quickly thrown away as he saw the smile on his son’s face while he cruised through the garden. That smile could get anything done.

‘Dorian, watch out! Your mom will kill us if we ruin her flowers,’ Sirius warned his son when this one waited for the last second to turn around. The little boy laughed loudly and he stopped in the middle of the patch of grass. He turned around to his dad before he let himself fall off his broom.

Dorian landed softly in the grass and lay on his back with his arms wide. Sirius quickly took the broomstick before the boy would mount it again and he lay down next to his son, their heads together and bodies pointing the other way. The little kid was panting lightly and Sirius could hear the blood rushing as his ear was against Dorian’s.

For a moment Sirius closed his eyes and let the sun shine on his face, relaxing at the feeling of the warmth on his skin. It were the precious minutes like these he enjoyed the most. Before Dorian was born, Sirius’ life had been slow and relaxed. Everything in his life had settled down after he had met you and it was only after his son had come into his life that Sirius had realised how lucky he had been to have those few calm years with you.

That didn’t mean that he did not enjoy the busy life he had now. Ever since the words ‘I am pregnant’ had fallen from your lips Sirius’ life had taken a hundred-eighty degree turn. From that moment on everything that had seemed important before had been pushed to the back. Suddenly Sirius had been responsible for a life that was not his own.

‘You see that cloud, Dor?’ Sirius pointed at one of the clouds that were floating over their heads. ‘It looks like a horse.’

‘With a knight on it!’ Dorian exclaimed and he giggled softly. ‘And that one looks like a dragon!’

As the two clouds got closer to each other, Dorian held his breath until the white shapes collided and melted together. Dorian made the sounds of their battle and Sirius laughed loudly. He turned his head to look at his son and a smile formed on his lips as he saw how enthusiastic the little boy was. Dorian’s eyes glittered in the light of the sun and his cheeks shone from the thin layer of sweat that had formed while playing.

While Dorian babbled on about the knight and the monster, the door of the house opened and you stepped out into the garden with two glasses of lemonade in your hands. Sirius brushed his hands through his son’s black curls and the Dorian stopped talking and looked up. There was a question mark in his eyes but Sirius just got up and pulled the boy up too.

‘Mommy!’ Dorian cheered when he saw you standing at the table and he ran towards you. ‘Dad learned me how to fly!’

‘He did? Why don’t you drink some and then show me?’ you said and you gave Dorian a glass. The other glass went to Sirius and he gladly accepted the cold liquid in his body.

Dorian was finished before him and he handed his glass back to you before he ran off to get his broom. You placed the glass on the table and wrapped one arm around Sirius’ waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and together you watched as your son tried to mount his little broomstick.

After a few minutes of struggling Dorian gave up and looked up at his parents. He shot Sirius a helpless look and his dad let go of you before helping Dorian. Still holding the broom with one hand, Sirius bent forward to Dorian and whispered, ‘Let’s show mommy what you can do.’

He gave Dorian a little push and the boy spurted off into the garden. He giggled loudly as he turned and twisted above the grass. Sirius stood in the middle of the grass and he smiled at you as you watched your son anxiously, afraid he would hurt himself. When you looked at Sirius, you rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he had sensed your worries.

After a few rounds, Dorian let himself fall off the broom onto the grass. He jumped up again and ran into your arms, while you cheered him on. ‘Good job, sweetie! You were amazing!’

Dorian smiled giddily and placed a wet kiss on your forehead. ‘Thank you, mommy. Dad’s gonna learn me how to land tomorrow!’

‘Is he? I thought your dad had an appointment tomorrow?’ you said and you turned to look at Sirius.

‘I’ll figure something,’ he shrugged. ‘Can’t let my boy wait!’

Dorian turned in your arms and opened his little ones to pull Sirius into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you and Dorian and kissed you shortly. Dorian pulled a face and pushed you apart.

‘Ew!’ he said and you laughed. Sirius let go of you and took Dorian’s face between his hands, peppering his son’s face with kisses until this one was wriggling so much you could barely hold him anymore.

‘That’s enough,’ you chuckled and put Dorian back on the ground. You brushed his hand through his hair before he ran off to play with the broom again. Wrapping your arms around Sirius you sighed as you looked at the boy that was growing so fast. Sirius seemed to understand your sigh because he buried his head in your neck and nodded.

‘He’s growing too fast,’ he muttered and you felt his hot breath on your skin. ‘Soon he’ll be our little Dorian no more.’

‘If he is anything like you, he’ll always be our little Dorian,’ you smiled and pressed a kiss on Sirius’ head. ‘You are still my little Sirius.’

‘I’m not little!’ Sirius whined into your shoulder and you chuckled, stroking his back.

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, love.’