#(thankfully i barely interacted with him and he's no longer in class) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Bloom // H.P.

Summary: Healing doesn't happen overnight. It’s a process that can take months, if not, years to come to terms with. It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. Harry finally feels ready to confront feelings that have long been sat, growing unattended in the recesses of his mind and soul.

A/N: This was inspired by the made-up fic title that I did a few weeks ago. I got so stuck on this, I couldn't get any further, but inspiration somewhat struck and here we are. I know this is long, but I am so so proud of this, I would love some interaction with this. Take a chance, please.

Warnings: feelings of sadness, grief, worthlessness, more visits to graveyards, talks of death. This sounds dark, and parts are, but there is so much fluff and comfort and pining in this.

Word count: 9.4k

Harry’s Flat, London, England, October.

For the fourth night this week, sleep evades him. Deciding to surrender this particular battle, Harry sits up in bed and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table.

With clearer vision, he turns to the digital clock next to where he places his glasses. He hangs his head in his hands when he reads the time. not even two hours of sleep before he awoke; his mind unwilling to alleviate him long enough for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.

He supposes it could be a good thing, or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he throws the covers off his body and swings his legs out of bed. As he sits on the edge of his bed, Harry gives himself a moment.

He gives himself only a single moment to give into the tidal wave threatening to drown him. A single moment simply to feel everything before he packs it all away into corresponding drawers in his mind.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he plods into the living room and through to the kitchen. As he boils the kettle, he thinks of you and your ingrained belief that everything can be put to rights over a cup of tea.

Settling in the living room, he grabs the remotes for the television. Turning it on, he switches the volume to mute, not wanting loud noises, but rather the comfort of monotonous moving pictures. Harry cannot tell what the programme is; a muggle show dedicated to archaeology, he thinks, but he pays it little mind.

He runs a hand down his face; feeling the tiredness deep within his bones. The insomnia had started in the months after the end of the war; beginning with repetitive nightmares in which he would suffer through the deaths of his friends countless times before being awoken by the sounds of his own screams. From there, it shifted into a fear of sleep, a terror of closing his eyes and seeing Hermione’s or Ron’s lifeless bodies. He knows – he knows they are alive and well, but the fear remains.

He wonders how long he’ll continue to feel like this should do nothing; how long he will deal with the sleepless nights and the nightmares that greet him when he does close his eyes.

However, as he watches the soundless pictures play on the television, he cannot help but feel an urge to get better. To do better and to be better in all that he does. At the age of eighteen, he defeated the darkest wizard to have ever walked the earth in the last century. At the age of twenty three, five years later, he feels close to laughter that he has let his life come to this.

But no-one warned him of the aftermath of the war. No-one readied him for the feelings of guilt that twists his stomach; leaving him unable to eat. No-one explained to him just how long the nightmares would last; seeing the faces of those that fell at the battle of Hogwarts and before as he tries and tries to dream of happy things.

Harry’s bottom lip begins to wobble. The tears won’t fall. It’s been years, Harry thinks, since he had cried in earnest.

As Harry sits on his couch for the fourth night that week, he readies himself to start putting his life back together again.

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, October.

The Burrow had always, to Harry at least, been a place full of happy memories. The home of the Weasley family physically exuded warmth and happiness. To put it bluntly, it was Harry’s safe haven; the place he could go where he would find no judgement for his state of sleeplessness or lack of appetite. He would catch Molly watching him worriedly, but she knew not to press, and for that, he was thankful. To appease her worries, or at least to lessen them slightly, he visits the Weasley matriarch once a week.

Immediately, Harry is wrapped up in hug after hug. Molly keeping her hands on Harry’s cheeks as she moves his head side to side, getting a good look at him. She clamps her lips together to keep the frown from forming on her face; worry rises in her gut, but she does not voice it.

The food cooking on the stove has Harry’s mouth watering as he walks through the kitchen to the large table in the dining area. There, he finds your eyes. They remain on the door as he walks through, as if you knew it wouldn’t be long before he entered.

“Mate,” Ron greets; pushing a drink into Harry’s hand. Harry nods at Ron, taking a swig of his drink before smiling at Hermione.

He moves to sit next to you; wanting nothing more than to sit by your side so he can tell his plan of which he came up with by himself. All around him conversation continues as if he had never walked in in the first place. He supposes that’s bit big-headed of him to think, but as he looks around those he classes as his family, he comes to realisation that they’ve all started to move on.

It hits him then and there; just how terrified he is of being left behind.

“How have you been?” You ask; voice gentle and caring as you lean into him.

Harry smiles at you; spooning vegetables onto his plate but feeling no pangs of hunger. “You just saw me last week,” Harry reminds in humour; his attempt at avoiding the twinges of fear ravaging his gut.

You roll your eyes, “That means it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. So, how have you been?”

Harry hears the meaning in your words; he hears the undercurrent of worry in your voice, and it only adds to the pit growing in his stomach. After his decision the other night, it was as if all the realisations hit him at once and he came to see just how much of a bad friend he had been to you all. He’d had been so caught up in his self-loathing that he failed to see just how much you were struggling with it all; he hadn’t even noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sought out help too.

Harry nods; reaching for his knife and fork, “I’ve been okay.”

Even he can hear the lie in his voice, and it makes him sick to his stomach. Thankfully, you don’t address it. You simply nod; patting his hand twice before turning your attention to your own meal.

Cutlery scrapes on plates as happy conversation lightens the atmosphere. It isn’t mentioned, but it is there – the absence of Fred’s laughter and his smile, the pointed comments, and his love for his mother. It is there, and it only adds to the guilt pooling in Harry’s stomach and invading his bloodstream.

It’s as if you sense it; as if you sense Harry starting to spiral, his thoughts turning to that dark place that he so often finds himself in. It’s as if you know; changing the hand in which your fork sits to free up your other hand so you can take Harry’s under the table and squeeze. A silent reminder if there is any.

I’m here, you remind him, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Harry squeezes back; unable to do or say anything else, meeting Arthur Weasley’s pained eyes from across the table, and beginning to wish that he had in fact done and said more.

At the age of eighteen years old, harry defeated the darkest wizard in a century. Yet, he had lost a friend he had classed as a brother, and now finds it hard to look Molly and Arthur in the eye.

There is a lapse in conversation and Harry slips his hand free of yours, needing to leave the room before the guilt he’s sitting in drowns him. He smiles apologetically at each Weasley, eyes lingering on the empty chair across from George and promptly leaves the room.

The night air is cold against Harry’s bare arms as he sits on one of the many benches littering the Weasley’s gardens. It’s so cold that his breath is coming out in white puffs, but he doesn’t feel the need to fetch his coat. In fact, he would rather feel the cold against his skin. It reminds him that he’s alive and that he’s breathing. It reminds him of those are who no longer living.

He stiffens at the sounds of footsteps behind him; his hand immediately reaching for his wand kept in his back pocket.

Harry relaxes somewhat when he realises it was you who followed him outside, and not Ron or Hermione. He doesn’t turn, but he smiles when he hears you swear quietly, having tripped on a rogue stone.

You sigh as you sit down on the bench next to him; rubbing at your sore knee.

“How are you not freezing?” You ask; rubbing at your clothed arms, not happy with the chill seeping through to your bones.

Harry releases a breath; it puffs white, “I don’t feel it.”

You raise an eyebrow; running a finger over his arm which is covered in goosebumps, “I beg to differ.”

Harry doesn’t reply; he flashes a smile your way before returning his attention to the night sky and all that he can see of what the Weasley’s own. For a few minutes, no words are spoken between you both. Sinking into a silence that could only be described as comfortable; he doesn’t feel the constant need to reassure you that he’s okay. You check in on him every now and then, but no true pestering takes place.

Truthfully, Harry basks in your attention. He rather likes the fact that you do make a fuss of him when you check in on him because he’s sure that without you, he would be doing a lot worse than the nightmares and insomnia.

Breaking the silence, you broach the subject of Harry’s health, “Harry, can I give you the name and number of my therapist? I’ve made real progress since working with her, and I think you will too.”

Harry smiles at you; feeling grateful for your help but feeling like an awful friend for shaking his head and declining your offer. “I just… I don’t feel ready yet to speak to someone.”

You nod your head, “I get that, but Harry, it’s been five years since the end of the war, and you know how I worry.”

He nods, letting the conversation collapse into nothing in front of him. This is the time, he realises, to tell you his plans for getting better that don’t involve divulging his deepest and darkest secrets to a stranger, even if they are a trained professional.

“I have a favour to ask you,” Harry prompts, “And I’ll understand if you say no.”

“If I can help you, Harry, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want to speak to anyone, not yet at least, but I do want to start moving on.”

“So what’s the favour?” You ask; your curiosity piqued with his mystery.

“I want to visit the places where things have happened, whether they’re good or bad. I want to go back, and I want to see them in a different light.”

“That,” You pause; thinking of your next words, “That sounds like a really good idea, Harry. Where do I come into it though?”

Harry smiles at you sheepishly; running a hand through his forever messy hair. “I want you to come with me,” He states as plain as day.

“What?”

“I’d like for you to come with me,” Harry amends, “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“What about Ron or Hermione? I’m sure they would help.”

Harry shakes his head, “They’re both so busy, and they’re starting their lives together. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for either of them if I can help it.”

You sigh, picking at an invisible thread on your sleeve, “How were you thinking of doing this? I have to work too, you know. Not everyone can inherit a fortune, Potter.”

Harry blinks, letting your words settle before a small smile breaks across his face, “You’d come with me?”

“Harry,” You start, “I don’t think there was any chance of me saying no to you. If I can help you in any way, I can. I’m always here for you.”

The familiar burn of tears starts at the back of his throat. Harry has to avert his eyes; glancing up at the night sky as he swallows past the lump in his throat. He should have known you would say yes; you’ve been by his side for everything since Third Year, but the small voice in the back of his mind had him doubting whether you would.

“Thank you,” He whispers eventually.

“So,” You begin, “Where too first?”

Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, November.

Upon the untimely death of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been passed down to Harry through Sirius’ will. Sirius had no children for the house to go to, but Harry was as good as.

Standing on a residential street in Islington, you watched as the house appeared as if from nowhere. Appearing amongst number eleven and number thirteen as if it had always been there; as if it was part of the furniture at this point.

Thick dust covers each and every surface. Simply opening the door sends a cloud of dust into your face; leaving you coughing and sneezing as Harry battles the enchantments placed upon the home after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Turning your gaze to Harry, you could remember the last time you had stepped foot in the ancestral home of the house of Black. It hadn’t been long after Sirius’ death; Harry’s gut-wrenching screams still echoing in your ears as you had bundled him up in any blankets you could find and sat him down at the kitchen table.

He hadn’t spoken much; he hadn’t even cried. Instead, his face set in steely determination, his desperate need to avenger his godfather overriding any common sense. That night, instead of comforting him and drying his eyes, it had been argument after argument, trying to make Harry see sense.

It took hours; the both of you tired not only from the arguing but from the grief sitting on your shoulders. It took hours, but Harry eventually agreed with you, choosing to sit back and wait for the right moment instead of lunging headfirst into attack that would surely get him killed.

Memory after memory washes over you, dragging you into its grips. If the memories are this strong for you, it was not hard to imagine how it must be for Harry.

You focus your attention on him, watching him warily as he wanders further down the hallway, heading for the kitchen where you still expect to hear Sirius’ raucous laugh despite years having passed since his death.

“How are you feeling?” You ask; running a finger across the now clean surface of the kitchen table.

Harry releases a shuddering breath. “I thought,” He starts, “I thought by coming here it would help me come to terms with Sirius and what happened in the Department of Mysteries but being here simply makes me hate his family more.”

“What makes you say that?”

Harry gestures to the large room. “He hated being here. He despised being locked up in the house that he left at sixteen, but he wanted to help the Order, so he stayed here and let it be used as the headquarters.”

“That… That is a very noble thing to do,” You murmur, eyes fixed on the man in front of you, taking in his tight fists and clenched jaw.

Harry laughs without humour, “The noble house of Black.”

Silence lapses and the tension in the room only increases. Biting your lip, you can only think that this was the wrong thing to do, that this is only pushing Harry further away instead of helping him come to terms with the last years of his life.

“We can leave, Harry,” You remind him, “We can leave right now and do this another day, when you’re more ready.”

He shakes his head, shaking himself out of his funk but also steadfastly refusing to go. He’s made this far; he’ll see it through to the end. He throws you a smile; it doesn’t reach his eyes and your heart cracks a little.

Holding a hand out to you, Harry states, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

The room he enters is one he has told you about countless times; describing it with so much detail that as you enter the room behind him you feel as if you’ve already been inside.

It cannot be denied that the tapestry is nothing short of piece of art. It cannot be ignored that the depth of detail to the Black family tree is not breathtaking, but at the same time it is so utterly heartbreaking to see the scorch marks litter the walls. The consequence of turning against one’s own family, you think as you step further into the room, taking in its beauty but also its darkness.

“The noble house of Black,” Harry spits, gesturing to four walls, pointing at each scorch mark before settling on the one that once showed the portrait of his beloved godfather.

“He got out,” He states brokenly, “He left his blood family to live with his found family. He had a life ahead of him. He had my father, he had Remus. He had his family, and it was all taken away in one night. In one night, Sirius lost his best friend and then his freedom.

“And all I feel when I think about Sirius is anger. At how he was treated. He was good, (Y/N),” Harry states, his tone pleading, full of emotion, “He was good, and he was treated like shit. His real family didn’t care but his found family did and then he lost all of it.”

“He found you, Harry,” You remind him, “Sirius found you. You didn’t have half as long with him than what you should have, but he made sure to be involved in your life. After the Triwizard Tournament and you had come back with Cedric, Sirius would not leave your side in the hospital. I remember seeing him every morning and he would stay every night. He loved you, Harry – remember that.”

“And what did I do?” Harry laughs, “I got him killed. Some godson I am.”

“Harry, you are not to blame for Sirius’ death.”

He scoffs, disbelief and derision echoing off the walls. You stalk over the green eyed man, your determination growing with every step. You grab his face in both your hands, bringing his face to your level, “Listen to me, Potter. Are you listening?”

He nods, eyes wide and voice silent.

“Good,” You smirk before turning serious. “You are not to blame for Sirius’ death. He knew what was happening in the Department of Mysteries. He knew that there was a chance he was not going to come out of there alive and he still went in to find you, to protect you.”

“If I had paid more attention to what Voldemort showed me though… I could have figured out it was fake…”

You shake your head, “You were a sixteen year old boy, barely trained in occlumency and legilimency. You weren’t to know that what you had seen was fake. All you saw, Harry, was someone you care about being tortured. You acted on instinct.”

“Foolish instinct,” He argues.

You roll your eyes, “Not foolish at all. More brave than foolish.”

Harry remains silent; letting your words sink into his skin, binding them to his bones. It isn’t going to be as simple as one speech and all is forgiven, it is going to take time to forgive himself for the death of his godfather. There is always going to be an element of himself that believes strongly that he was the cause of Sirius’ death; if he hadn’t acted so rashly, if he had stopped to think things through, to go over exactly what Voldemort had shown him, Harry might have been able to delay Sirius’ death.

If, if, if.

If, if, if. He repeats that word; hindsight is a wonderful thing. If he had done this, if he had done that. Hindsight was going to be the death of him.

Harry focuses his attention back on you and the warmth of your hands on either side of his face. Gently, Harry places his hands on top of yours, “Can you let go of me now?”

You smile before pursing your lips, pretending to think through the answer. “I don’t know,” You ponder, “Are you going to continue to argue with me?”

“Probably,” Harry admits, “But I’m ready to go now.”

Harry lets his hands drop from yours, his eyes running over your face before stepping back. Your hands drop to your sides, clenching as if they wished to be touching him some more. His face feels cold now that you’ve let him go, as if all the warmth his body carried was in your hands.

“Do you think you’ll come back?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

Harry pauses, closing the door to the Black family tree behind him. He looks up and down the hallway; thinking of the memories he has cherished over the years. He had Sirius in his life for far shorted than he deserved, but he had Grimmauld Place to help him discover the man he idolised.

Meeting your stare, he nods. “I think I will eventually.”

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scottish Highlands, December.

It didn’t matter how long it had been since your last visit; it didn’t matter how long it had been since you roamed the corridors of the place you once considered your second home, seeing Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry rise out of the Scottish Highlands would never be something you could get used to.

From your spot in Hogsmeade, you can just make out the turrets of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. Slight unease spreads through your chest as you think back to the last time you had been at the school; still a student, hurling curses and jinxes at any Death Eater that happened by you.

Reflexively, you curl your hands into fists, your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. You gasp slightly as the pain; your mind becoming clearer and your focus becoming sharper. Harry’s hand takes yours; unfurling your fingers and replacing them with him, tangling your hands together.

“(Y/N), are you okay?”

You take a deep breath; mentally working through the exercises given to you by your therapist,. Shakily, you smile at Harry, “I’m okay, Harry, don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?”

His eyebrows furrow as he squeezes your hand. “I’ll always worry about you,” He says gently before continuing, “I’ll be okay though. I have you.”

You smile weakly; letting yourself be led through the well-worn path from Hogsmeade to the school. Small conversation is made; Harry bringing up happier memories of your education at the magical castle. The time when Ron received a Howler from his mother; the time when Hermione punched Draco Malfoy in the face.

Happier times now turned to memories; each one tinted with age.

Hogwarts soon looms in front of you both. Harry’s hand tightens on yours, fingers squeezing to the point of cutting off blood flow as he leads you into the grounds of the school.

It feels like coming home, but it also feels like facing your worst enemy. The Battle of Hogwarts had been hard on everyone who found themselves there; it had been hard for students and teachers. You would never forget the screams and the sound of breaking stone. It would be a long while until the sight of dead bodies could be scrubbed from your mind.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall greets from the stairs; voice warm and fond, “To what do we the pleasure of this visit with Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“I was hoping to walk the school and its grounds for a bit, Professor. If you don’t mind, that is. I’m trying to get better,” Harry states; sincerity ringing in his voice so much so that even McGonagall looked to be taken aback by his words.

She nods; finding her voice but needing to clear her throat first of all the emotion he had brought up, “Of course, Potter. Take as long as you need.”

Harry smiles at the beloved Professor gratefully, stretching out a hand towards you. You take it, resisting the urge to tangle your fingers together as Harry leads you to the Great Hall. “Where do you want to start?” You ask; eyes scanning the familiar walls, lingering on the Gryffindor table.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits, sounding lost as his eyes dance around the repaired room.

“It’s strange for me too,” You whisper, voice loud in the cavernous hall.

“It was entirely destroyed,” Harry recalls, sweeping his gaze over the large wall of windows by the Ravenclaw table.

You hope up on the closest table, crossing your legs as you watch Harry work through it all in his mind. He hadn’t been in the hall too long, but even that was long enough to have to branded into your memories.

“The tables were pushed back against the wall,” He states, gesturing to both walls before sweeping his hands above the floor, “And bodies were laid out on the floor, resting on blankets and towels,” Harry turns towards the staff table, pointing to a flagstone just in front of it, “That was where Fred laid – Molly and George crying over his body,” Harry spins, his finger now pointing back in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, “Remus and Tonks rested there. Teddy, my Godson, now an orphan… like me.”

“So many lives lost,” He whispers brokenly; eyes lined with tears that won’t fall, no matter how sad or broken he feels.

You slip off the table, going to his side and clutching his hand. “We lost a lot that day,” You whisper, “There isn’t a person here who doesn’t feel that same loss, Harry.”

“I was terrified of finding you laid out in the Great Hall,” Harry admits though not for his own good; he’s coming too close to admitting his feelings for you, but this is something he had never told a living soul, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to tell you.

“What?” You ask, all thoughts emptying out of your head as you focus on Harry entirely.

“I was terrified of finding you in the Great Hall. I was so scared that I even hesitated at the door, wondering whether to walk in or walk away. I have dealt with a lot, and will continue to deal with a lot, but if there is one thing I cannot cope with the idea of, it is you hurt or worse,” He takes a deep breath, “The Battle of Hogwarts brought that out of me.”

“I’m here, Harry,” You reassure, “I’m here and I’m whole.”

“I know that now, but then I didn’t and even thinking of it drives me close to madness.”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying anything,” You laugh, “You know that Harry.”

Harry laughs, but there’s no heart to it. “I have you now, that’s something.”

Your heart skips a beat; thudding in your chest so loud you believe that it is entirely possible that Harry could hear it pounding away in your chest. You lean in, hiding your face in Harry’s shoulder – a rare moment of tenderness from both of you. Harry’s hand slips from yours to wrap around your waist, holding you to his body.

Hiding your smile in Harry’s shoulder, you murmur as loud as you dare, “You have me now, Harry. You have me forever.”

Neither of you make it further around the grounds of the castle; sticking to its interiors, wandering the corridors when students are firmly placed in classrooms, not wanting to be a distraction to their education.

Harry’s words continue to play through your mind; how he would not be able to cope if he lost you too. It makes this all more important for you, helping him come to terms with what he has experienced in such a short amount of time.

However, a small part of you rejoices in his admission, the words echoing in your head with a hint of hope. A hope that Harry may feel the same as you after all.

Hogwarts is left with a wave to McGonagall and a promise to write soon. Harry’s muscles relax the further he gets from the castle; the tension leeching away as he breathes in fresh air and Hogsmeade comes into view. He adored Hogwarts; it was his home, but he had to admit that it would be a while before he could face the whole castle without wanting to scream at the walls.

It’s a start however, Harry thinks as he grabs your hands and apparates the two of you back to his flat. It’s a start, he thinks, and now for the rest of it.

Little Hangleton, England, January.

Little Hangleton resides six miles from its paired village Great Hangleton. Little Hangleton was very much a village that was powered through gossip; the rumour mill only grew upon the deaths of the Riddle family. By the time an arrest had been made, the town had become judge, jury and executioner – sentencing poor Frank Bryce to a life of social exclusion even after being proven innocent.

Little Hangleton is made up of one main high street; five or six shops with a pub near the middle. It has a small village green where the local cricket team likes to practice every Saturday morning. It isn’t an extraordinary village; plain in comparison to other dwellings, but it’s history with the Riddle family would go down in wizarding lore until the end of days.

Harry continues to hold onto your hand long after you apparate into the village, landing in side street rather than in the high street as not to attract too much attention from the villagers. You refuse to be the first to let go; admitting to yourself that you rather like the way his hands fits in yours, how it feels like a steady anchor holding you in place.

Taking one look at the dark haired man next to you, you knew in your gut that this was going to be a hard day for him. Harry doesn’t talk about his nightmares often, but form what he has told you, this picturesque village features enough that you can see the tension line Harry’s jawline.

Nudging his shoulder, you smile softly, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry’s hand tightens on yours. He doesn’t reply verbally; nods his head and focuses on finding his destination. He can’t verbalise his gratefulness; he cannot put it into words just what this means to him because Harry is fairly certain there are no words to cover the scope of what he feels for you in this very moment.

He knew he was asking a lot of you to keep doing this; to visit these places and relive his darkest times with him. He knew it affected you more than you admitted, but he still was selfishly grateful you choose to come every time.

He thinks that he wouldn’t have been as half as productive with his feelings if it wasn’t for you. Harry’s feelings for you only having grown through these visits; he remains in awe of you, as he always has been, but now he can no longer deny himself the depth of his love for you. To deny himself that would be a grievous crime.

However, even Harry is aware that he is nowhere ready to confront the idea of a relationship. In the last few months, he has only been able to accept that Sirius’ death and your injuries at the Battle of Hogwarts were not his fault.

He has to keep working on himself; he has to keep healing so he can be worthy of a love like his parents had.

So for now, Harry is more than content to hold your hand with each apparition, to savour the way your hand fits in his perfectly and how each squeeze of your fingers sets his heart racing.

For now, Harry is happy to remain in the throes of puppy love, but still eager for the day when he can proclaim his love for you in the hopes that you feel the same.

Such thoughts are thrown out of his head when his eyes catch the sign for graveyard. His steps falter, before coming to a brief stop by the sign. Your free hand touches his arm and Harry turns to you, seeing the question reflected in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voicing the unspoken question.

You nod, “Ready when you are.”

The graveyard looks just as it did all those years ago; dark and miserable.

You shiver as Harry pushes open the creaky metal gate. He holds the gate open for you out of politeness, but he does not return your smile of gratitude. Harry keeps his facial expression neutral as he turns to face the memories that still plague him all these years later.

His eyes run over the gravestones as he puts one wary foot in front of the other. You follow behind him timidly, footsteps slower as you too read over the names written in marble, granite, limestone.

It doesn’t take long to find the place. Harry’s feet take him there automatically despite the fact that the last time he was here, he had been apparated in and did not walk out.

The Reaper stands proudly among the gravestones; his scythe crossed against his body in readiness. Harry stills, coming to a stop in front of it. He tilts his face; staring into the faceless stone hood of the figure that had him trapped like prey all those years ago.

Harry doesn’t turn from the figure as he points directly behind him. “That is where he killed Cedric,” He states bluntly, hearing the thud the Hufflepuff’s body made as he landed lifeless at Harry’s side.

Your eyes leave Harry; body tensing as you make eye contact with the patch of grass that would be the last thing to touch Cedric’s body.

Harry finally turns; gaining control of the anger and upset that had been raging in his body since landing at the graveyard gates. He needs to approach this carefully; he needs to approach all of this carefully, so he doesn’t fall back into the dark pit he found himself in months ago.

Harry gestures to the centre of the small copse and then to the Reaper, “That is where I had to watch as Voldemort rose again.”

“Oh Harry…” You whisper, voice breaking as you say his name.

Harry’s eyes shutter closed, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. He had been fourteen years old; he had not had his first kiss and yet, he had to duel the darkest wizard to have been produced in a century.

“I thought I was going to die that night,” He confesses after a moment; opening his eyes to once again focus on the faceless depiction of Death himself. “I thought I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

Resolve steels your nerves and once again, your feet find their way to Harry.

“You did make it out, Harry. You made it out alive.”

“Two of us went in, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be ignored,” You start, “Cedric’s death was an utter tragedy; completely unexpected and blindsided everyone in the school, but you cannot blame yourself for this, Harry. Cedric died at the hands of a madman – not you.”

“I could have done something!” He screams, finally losing all grip on his temper, “I should have done something. Instead, as Wormtail murdered Cedric, all I did was shout his name as if it was going to help. I did nothing, I as good as murdered him.”

Breath leaves your body in one fell swoop; you had never seen Harry like this. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration as he tries to get a hold on his temper, reigning it in. You remain silent as Harry works to control himself; you watch him pace the small copse, flattening the green grass under his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Harry,” You sigh, “I am more than capable of handling you shouting at me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong though, and I just take everything out on you.”

You laugh, short and sweet, “I think this is the first time you’ve ever shouted at me, Potter.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I try not to make a habit of shouting at my friends,” Harry states, throwing you a look that states the obvious.

Wringing your hands together, you brace yourself for your next words. Meeting Harry’s stare, fixing your gaze on him, you politely demand, “Tell me more about that night, Harry.”

So he does.

It comes rushing out of him in a torrent; words flying so fast that his speech gets muddled up and he sometimes has to say his sentences again. For so long he has been holding this in; there are very few people who know what happened that night in this very graveyard and out of those, many are dead or imprisoned so Harry has been left to deal with the pain.

It feels like a confession. It feels as if he is seeking forgiveness from his crimes; seeking repentance from a priest of his choosing because he needs to get it out, he needs to know whether penance is possible for the sins committed that night.

Harry feels as if a weight is being lifted off his chest as he tells you about duelling Voldemort and the spell that had taken place beforehand. Harry seeks solace in your comforting gaze and reassuring smile as his voice breaks when he speaks of his parents, not having seen them in any physical form since that night with the Mirror of Erised.

Once he starts, he finds it hard to stop. He stutters over his feelings over Cedric’s death, pausing once in a while to let you interject a thought and for the first time since starting this exercise, since asking you to come along with him, Harry feels as if it is starting to work.

Eventually, his voice falls quiet as does his mind.

“How do you feel?” You ask; an expected question that accompanies each location visited.

Harry nods, “Better. Happy to have finally said what happened that night.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell you.”

“I trust you with my life,” He states honestly and plainly.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze to wander across the dark graveyard once more before finally turning to face Harry. “Are you ready?”

Harry nods: more than happy to leave this place and never return. What happened in Little Hangleton will always remain a heartbreaking tragedy; a life cruelly taken before it even got the chance to begin. The village would always be stained with such misfortune, but now, Harry feels that part of his life come to a close.

As Harry reaches for your hand, readying himself to apparate you back to your flat, his heart soars at the words you utter with conviction.

“You’re a good man, Harry.”

--------

Landing back at his flat, Harry takes a seat on his couch and hangs in his head in his hands. He had dropped you off at your flat; needing to be alone to deal with the emotions that had been threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. Whilst Harry had accepted that he played no part in Cedric’s death, he still had to confront the magnitude of what had happened to himself.

It hits him all at once; the scale of what he had been through throughout his education. From the ages of eleven to eighteen, Harry hadn’t seen a school year through without injury or battle. It’s as he sits there that he realises the extent to which he was used by the headmaster he looked up to; used as a pawn to further the game of chess being played by Dumbledore and Voldemort.

The waves never cease; his parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, and Cedric.

No tears fall; he isn’t sure he has the capacity to cry anymore. Tears haven’t fallen since they fell out relief for the end of the war, but out of sadness for the deaths of Fred, Remus, and Tonks.

Sitting on his couch, shivers overtake his body. His teeth chattering as he reaches for the blanket kept across the back of his couch, wrapping it around his shoulders. Harry bites back the scream that is slowly crawling up his throat; he pushes it down as he fights for control of his mind.

Collecting his thoughts, Harry comes to a conclusion.

He needs to return to where it all began.

Godric’s Hollow, West Country, England, March.

Spring blooms real and true, and Harry feels ready enough to return to Godric’s Hollow. Harry could count on one hand how many times he has stepped foot in the village his parents once called home. He had been born in Godric’s Hollow; at the end of July to two loving parents who adored him just as much as they adored each other.

Out of respect for James and Lily Potter – murdered at the age of twenty-one – the house in which they lived had never been repaired. The thatched roof remains caved in; a large hole in the middle of it, letting the elements now batter the house.

It had been twenty-two years since Harry had stepped foot inside the house he was born in. It had been five years since he stood outside of it with Hermione; only beginning to feel the grief for the parents he never truly knew.

It was this that had plagued Harry from the moment he turned eleven and arrived at Hogwarts. How does he grieve for those he never truly knew?

As crass as it is to say, Harry didn’t know his parents outside his need for food, comfort, and love. The memories of his mother and father are so clouded; he can no longer tell whether they are his own or whether he’s simply simulated a story told to him by family friends.

He was fifteen months old when they were murdered. He was fifteen months old and barely aware of his own shadow.

Whilst he hadn’t visited the house much – it being too painful to see the sight of his parent’s murder – he had visited their graves in the years that have passed.

With you in tow, Harry leads you down the worn, familiar path. He slows his pace every now and then; warning you of an upcoming dip that may make you lose your balance.

All too soon, however, you stand in front of the grave of James and Lily Potter.

Quietly, he asks, “How do I grieve my parents when I never knew them?”

Your heart breaks for him; unable to stop yourself, you wrap an arm around his waist offering any form of comfort you can. Shakily, you answer, “I guess you can mourn what could have been or you grieve the fact that they were so young. Either way, Harry, they’re never going to leave you.”

“I know that,” He whispers; gaze fixed on the grave of his parents, “All I know of them is what I’ve been told. I feel as if my memories have been tainted, and I know that they all mean well, but sometimes-”

He cuts himself off with a huff; kneeling down and drawing out his wand. Silently, Harry conjures a bouquet of Orchids, Chrysanthemums and Lilies and then bows his head in silent prayer, continuing to grieve the parents he would never know.

You place your hand on his shoulder, “Sometimes you what, Harry?”

He sighs, “Sometimes I wish they would stop. I was so young when they died – any memories I have of them are practically gone but sometimes I have these flashes. I have no idea whether they’re real or not, but I feel as if they are. Yet, when friends tell me stories of what it was like to go to school with them or to fight alongside them, it’s like they’re pushing they’re version of James and Lily Potter onto me. Does that make sense?”

Squeezing his shoulder, you answer, “It makes perfect sense. The James and Lily you knew is different from what Sirius knew or what McGonagall knew.”

“I just worry that the more stories I hear, the quicker I lose what I know of them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Harry.”

“You don’t?” He asks, shifting to his feet and facing you.

You shake your head, “I don’t. I think you’re going to remember your parents for the rest of your life; their morals and values make up yours, Harry. You might not think, but you are a lot more like them than you realise.”

Harry bows his head, feeling the familiar burn of tears at the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut, begging the feeling to go away. Quietly, almost ashamedly, Harry asks, “Do you think they would be proud of me?”

Then and there, your heart breaks, cleaving itself in two for the man standing before you. It’s the only dream of a child; to make their parents proud, but what about children who do not have parents – who grew up in a home that did not cherish them like it should have?

Silver lines your eyes; tears threatening to make an appearance as you reach for Harry’s hands, pulling him into a hug. Against his shoulder, you state with conviction, “They would be extremely proud of you, Harry. So proud of you it would shine out of them.”

Harry sniffles; ducking down somewhat to tuck his head against your neck, hiding his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. From the outside, it looks as if two lovers are embracing, unable to keep their hands off the other for too long. However, you know that Harry is trying his best to maintain his composure, to try and gets to grips with the emotions that follow never knowing the ones who were supposed to raise you.

Minutes pass and neither of you move; neither of you willing to be the one to break this moment, but for the day to progress, you need to step away from the only man you have ever loved.

Releasing Harry, you send what you hope is a reassuring smile in his direction, “Come on, Harry,” You prompt, “Show me the rest of Godric’s Hollow?”

Framing it as a question, you offer Harry the choice. He is in control of this moment; h can choose whether he shows you the rest of the wizarding village or whether the two of you apparate back to his flat and spend the rest of the day mooching about.

Harry smiles: it’s watery, but fixed as he nods, stepping around you to lead you out of the graveyard.

Hands brush every now and then as the both of you wander back to the high street. A simple brush of hands, a simple twitch of fingers and your heart would start to race, practically shouting for Harry to take your hand and tangle your fingers together.

“I think I’m going to live here,” Harry murmurs; eyes scanning the high street.

“Are you sure?” You ask; worried not only for the fact that you may miss him while you remain in London, but also for any potential setback this may cause him.

Harry nods; his eyes now focused on a small café straight across the road from where you stand. He gestures towards it with an open hand, “Let me explain over some food.”

The bell above the door tinkles as you follow Harry inside. He chooses a table on the left hand side of the shop; sitting at the seat that faces the window and the door. It’s with stark realisation that you come to see that he’s chosen this exact spot so he can have eyes on each entrance and exit point.

You sigh as you sit across from him; old habits die hard, you guess.

Menus are placed in front of you by a teenaged witch looking as if she would rather be anywhere else but here. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in Harry’s form; the menu in her hand shaking as she places it down before him.

You bite your lip to repress the ever-growing smile on your face as you watch the waitress grow flustered under Harry’s smile and green eyes. She walks away in a daze after having taken your drink orders – coffee for Harry, Yorkshire Tea for you.

You shake your head fondly at the young witches departing figure; noting how she bumps into numerous tables before making it safely to the kitchen. Harry follows your gaze, wanting to know what’s taken your attention from him, “What is it?”

You shift your gaze back to the wizard, “You still don’t see the effect you have on people, do you?”

Harry frowns; his hand reaching up to touch his forehead self-consciously. He had grown his hair longer in order to cover the scar that mars the centre of his forehead; his black hair now fell around his head in curls he didn’t know he had until you had found an old picture of his father. The glasses and the curls along with the smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts; he was the spit image of his father.

“Not your scar, Harry, nor your name. I meant how you look; you have to know you’re handsome.”

Blush paints Harry’s cheeks as your words settle. The last thing he expected from today was to be told he was attractive; least of all, from you. He’s never had the chance before; to act upon his feelings for you. He realised just what he felt for you at the end of Sixth Year, and then the war happened, and he absolutely refused to let anything happen to you. He couldn’t tell you his feelings for you should it put a target on your back, and if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself.

He laughs, shaking his head, “You’re a flatterer.”

You hold your hands up in playful surrender, “Only speaking the truth. You’ll see it one day.”

“One day,” He promises; eyes earnest as they gaze into yours.

It’s too much; just like that, it’s too much and you have to avert your stare before you end up blurting your inner most thoughts and scaring him away for good. Clearing your throat, you wait for the teenage waitress to place your drinks in front of you before you change the subject, “Why do you want to move here?”

Harry shrugs, picking up his coffee and taking a long drink, thinking over his words. “I think,” He begins, “I want to be close to them, but I also want to start carving out my life properly and this place is so peaceful. It’s so peaceful and it’s beautiful. I think it’s one of those places that if I don’t move here now, I’ll still move later on.”

You nod, “I get that. It is gorgeous here.”

Harry hums, “I’d still be in London every week.”

“You’d commute?” You ask, puzzled in terms of train schedules.

Harry barks out a laugh that turns into silent shaking of his shoulders as the teenage waitress returns, her pad in hand as she waits for your food order. Harry continues to repress his laughter throughout his order. As the waitress walks away, you fix Harry with an unimpressed stare. “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”

Harry smiles at you; as in, he really smiles at you. He beams as he whispers somewhat in awe, “I love you. You’re one of the smartest witches I know, and you still forget about the fact that we can apparate.”

You reel back in your chair, knees knocking into the table as the air leaves your body in a single breath. “What? What did you say first?”

Harry’s smile, if possible, grows as he shrugs his shoulders, “I love you.”

“Since when?” You demand, wondering how on earth he could discuss something as important as this as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather.

“Sixth Year,” He confesses, blush beginning to paint his cheeks.

“That long?” You ask, voice hushed, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Harry finally frowns, finger tracing the lip of his coffee cup, “There was a war, and then I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”

Of course he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to confess his love for you, you admonish yourself. He had defeated the Dark lord and then had to cope with the survival guilt for years. It had only been in the last year that he finally let himself let go of the guilt surrounding the casualties of war.

“I love you too,” You admit, chewing on the inside of your cheek from nerves.

“You do?” Harry asks, about as breathless as you were when he confessed only moments ago.

“I do,” You confirm, smiling.

It isn’t much in the way of confessions, but the look on Harry’s face says it all. His green eyes remain bright and the smile wide on his face even as the waitress returns with your food. He looks as if no wrong could be done in that moment; the food could be the worst he has ever eaten but it wouldn’t matter.

You love him.

You love him as he loves you, and suddenly it all makes sense. His motivations through the war; not only wanting to rid the world of Voldemort but wanting to secure a safe future in which he can love you.

The food is eaten quickly; the both of you rushing to make it outside where you can talk more, and in private.

The bill is paid. The waitress wanders back to the till; stunned at the sight of Harry’s smile – and you couldn’t blame her.

Harry stands from his seat, reaching for his jacket and waiting patiently for you. Electricity thrums between you; holding promises of more to come, the headiness of it having you gripping the table tightly as you rise to your feet. One look at Harry’s face and you know he’s feeling it too.

Pausing outside the small café, you hold your hand out for Harry to take.

A soft breeze blows through Godric’s Hollow, disturbing your hair and the trees around you. Harry holds onto your hand tightly as the both of you begin to wander down the high street; the blossoms of the trees fluttering around you as they fall to the floor. Harry inhales deeply; the floral of the blossoms mixed with the sweetness of your perfume providing the perfect backdrop to his future.

Harry’s Flat, London, England, September.

Healing is a process. It is neither quick nor slow; it follows its own pace.

Through this process, Harry has realised that he is in fact getting better. He has his bad days; days where he seldom leaves his bedroom and refuses to stare at anything but the wall.

However, those days are becoming scarcer. Harry can sometimes go weeks before he has an episode that leaves him bedbound, and for that, he is proud of himself.

He doesn’t do it alone; he has you by his side through it all as you both prepare for the move to Godric’s Hollow. For both the good and the bad days.

********

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lovely-angst · 5 years ago

Text

sucker punch

chapter 207-210 spoilers below!

word count: 2141

genre: angst in the middle and extreme fluff at the end

summary: monoma talks shit about bakugou and it gets on your nerves so much you landed a punch on him.

11.08.20

Round four had just started, meaning it was Bakugou’s turn in the battle. You had no doubt in your mind he would come up on top, but you were slightly nervous to see how he would do in a group.

Staring up at the large screen that displayed the battle, you watched eagerly to see how your boyfriend would do.

You knew him to be hot headed, loud and at times uncooperative, but seeing him on screen jumping in to save his teammates, you could feel yourself falling more in love with him.

It wasn’t even just that he saved his teammates, but how much faith and trust his teammates had in him, knowing that he would be able to bring the team to victory.

No more than five minutes later, Bakugou and his team would come out the winners.

Squealing as you see Bakugou emerge from the gates, you sprint over to him before launching yourself in his arms for a hug. “Katsuki! Congrats on the win! You were so amazing!” Bakugou let out a chuckle before resting his hands on your back.

“It was a piece of cake,” he scoffed, looking down at your happy face as you leaned back. “You looked so cool out there you know,” you say quietly, causing his cheeks to redden, turning his head away from you. “You don’t gotta tell me, I know.”

“Hey, get a room you love birds!” Mina shouts, causing the two of you to jump away from each other embarrassed. Walking towards the class, they all gathered around the round four winners, bombarding them with congratulations.

It wasn’t long after when the fifth and last round had just started. Standing beside Bakugou, he watched the screen intently, focusing on Midoriya, his lifelong friend and rival.

“Watching Midoriya, huh?,” you say with a cheeky smile before Bakugou shoved you away playfully. A chuckle left your lips before you made your way back to his side, focusing on the screen.

The screen had focused on an interaction with Monoma and Midorya before Monoma’s words caught your attention.

“If you’re his friend, tell me this,” he starts cheekily, “How can Bakugou smile without a care when he’s the reason for the downfall of the Symbol of Peace?”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitched in your throat as you heard the words coming from the dirty blond’s mouth. Your face scrunched up in anger and disgust and before you could do or say anything, Bakugou placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Leave it, (Name). Don’t let anything that comes out of his annoying ass mouth get to you,” he says, less angry than you would have thought he would be on the situation. Pouting, you glance back towards the screen, your arms crossing, “That jerk doesn’t know anything about you.”

Thankfully, Midoriya’s group won the last battle earning the title of champions for Class A. As the two classes were mingling before it was time to leave, you removed yourself from the group to look for Monoma.

Upon seeing his blond hair amongst his class, you walked over and tapped on his shoulder, “Monoma?” you say gently, watching as he turned around.

“Well, if it isn’t (Name)! Class A’s princess!” Monoma cried dramatically, earning a frown from you. “Did you come here to congratulate me on my spectacular battle?”

At this point, he had grabbed the attention of both classes as they focused their attention on the two of you, much to your dismay for what was to come next.

“Actually, I came to do this,” you say with a friendly smile on your lips.

Shifting your foot back, you swung your right arm powerfully, landing a strong punch onto Monoma’s cheek, causing him to fall backward on his bottom. The students gasped in shock upon your sudden aggression, quickly running over towards the two of you.

Before you could launch yourself on the male, Jiro quickly came to hold you back, causing you to squirm in her hold. “Jiro! Let me go!”

“(Name)! Stop it! You could get suspended!” Jiro cried, holding you beneath the arms, trying to stop your flailing body.

“Say that it was Bakugou’s fault one more time!” you shouted loudly, catching the teacher’s attention as you continue to flail in Jiro’s hold. “You think he asked to be kidnapped by the league?”

“Nothing is Bakugou’s fault! He works his butt off all the time in training and in school so he can reach the top! Even the villains saw strength and power in him! If that doesn’t prove how strong and amazing he is, then you need to get your facts checked!” You shout, glaring at Monoma, who held his cheek, staring at you from the ground.

“So, how about you use your brain next time instead of that stupid, annoying mouth of yours!” you finish off before silence filled the air. Students from both classes watched, stunned as they listened to your strong words.

After you finally stopped struggling against her hold, Jiro let your arms down as you turned on your heel, walking away with a huff.

“Also!” the students jumped at your sudden yell, watching as you quickly spin on your heel. “Next time, I won’t be so easy on you! I’ll make sure to knock you out cold!” you finish, turning back around.

You could hear Kendo lecturing Monoma in the back as you walked over towards your class.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, (Name)!” Kaminari exclaims excitedly. “That was so badass of you! Definitely showing how superior Class A is, right?” You give them a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed from the scene you had caused.

Meanwhile, the teachers stood in the back, watching amused. Aizawa sighed as Midnight lit up at the entertainment.

“These first years are really something!” She says, earning a nod from All Might. “A little too much sometimes..”

It was finally the end of the exhausting but amusing day. The students had all already gone to bed, but you were still busy cleaning, refusing help from any of your classmates.

Unfortunately for you, Aizawa had assigned you clean up duty for a week for punching another student, but you took on the assignment with no regrets.

It was worth it.

Grabbing all the trash, you were about to head outside towards the dumpsters until a sight caught your attention.

“Katsuki? You’re still up?” a smile made its way onto your lips as Bakugou walked over towards you before grabbing half of the trash bags from you. “I was waiting for you but forgot you had clean up duty,” he mumbled and you gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry, I was trying to hurry, but with Class B mingling here, I guess it took a bit longer than expected,” you say as the two of you made your ways down the halls towards the main doors. “Yaomomo and the others offered to help. Even Kendo offered because of Monoma, but I got myself in this situation, so I wanted to do it myself.”

Reaching the dumpster, Bakugou held the lid to the dumpster open for you to toss your trash in. “I guess this punishment isn’t too bad for punching another student,” you joke, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile.

Only, Bakugou looked down at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“Katsuki? Is everything okay?” you asked, placing your hand in his with a squeeze. His red eyes gaze over your features silently before you lead him over towards the steps in front of the main doors.

“We can stay out here a little longer. They won’t notice.”

Staring up at the stars that lit up the sky, you hummed quietly as you waited for Bakugou to talk. Turning to glance over at Bakugou, his eyes catch yours and you offer him a smile before he looks away with a pout.

“You didn’t have to do that you know,” his states, playing with his hands, seeing how you turned your body to face him from the corner of his eyes. “Do what? Stay with you outside? It’s fine, I-”

“Defend me from that idiot Monoma,” Bakugou says, cutting you off. Your eyes widen before you lean towards him, “Oh, does it bother you? I’m sorry, I just thought that he deserved it.” you glanced down ashamed, hands on your knees with pursed lips. “He had it coming though...”

“I know that idiot spews out dumb shit, but,” a heavy sigh escapes his lips before his brows knit together frustrated and slightly upset, “was he wrong though? About the fall of All Might...”

“Katsuki!” you scold, mouth agape as you stare at him in shock. Your hands automatically find their way onto his cheeks, forcing him to glance into your eyes. “Don’t say that,” your voice is small and fragile as a heartbroken expression crosses your face.

His red eyes fall back down as your eyes flicker across his broken expression. Your heart clenches as you bring your hands down to hold his.

“It is not your fault and will never be your fault. Did you not hear everything I said about you? Every word I said was true, Katsuki. So why would you listen to his lies?” you say desperately, but Bakugou avoided your eyes.

“Is it your fault that the villains wanted you? Is it your fault you got kidnapped?” Leaning towards him more, you try to get him to look into your eyes. “Katsuki,” you say firmly, watching the hesitation in his eyes.

“Please look at me,” your eyes watch his red ones, watching the hesitations that run across his eyes. “Please,” your voice is barely above a whisper as you ask once more. And when his eyes finally lock onto yours, you give him a small smile.

“I love you so much, Katsuki. Please don’t talk about yourself like this.” His brows furrow before he leans his head onto your shoulder, his blond hair tickling your cheek.

“You hold so much potential and strength—use it to prove people like Monoma wrong.” your hands wrap around his back, running up and down comfortingly.

“You know, seeing you work with your team today made me really happy,” you confess with a smile, leaning your head on his. “You’ve grown so much as a person this year too. Your off so far ahead already, it almost seems impossible to catch up to you.”

Bakugou suddenly pulls away from your hold, his large hands cupping your cheeks gently before he presses a warm kiss onto your lips.

Your cheeks heat up from his sudden affection as his thumb caresses your cheek, “Don’t be stupid (Name),” Bakugou says, “I could never catch up to you. You’re just so...perfect.”

Before you could reply, Bakugou presses another kiss onto your forehead before he pulls you up onto your feet. “We better get back before we get in trouble,” his hand latches onto yours as he takes you inside.

Your heart is still doing backflips in your chest as you tried to process his words, his actions and by the time you knew it, you were already outside your dorm room.

Turning to face Bakugou, you lean up to hug him, pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead. “I love you,” you say quietly with a smile as Bakugou offers a small one back, his hands resting on your waist.

“Yeah, I love you too,” he says with rosy cheeks as a soft giggle escapes your lips. “Thanks for today..for defending me and for everything you said. Monoma really did deserve that punch, huh?”

You laugh louder this time, glancing up at him so contentedly. “Maybe I should’ve actually knocked him out, though he wouldn’t have gotten to hear my speech though.” you joke as the two of you share laughter.

You look up at him one last time before breaking away, stepping towards your door. “Goodnight, Katsuki.”

Before you could get too far, Bakugou pulled you back into his arms, pressing his lips against yours one last time before he pulled away, your breaths mingling together as your eyes looked into each others.

“I love you,” he confessed one last time. “so fucking much.” His arms tighten around you as your brows arch in awe. “I love you so much too, Katsuki,” you say with a sweet smile as Bakugou finally loosened his hold on you.

Opening the door to your room, you turn over your shoulder to give him a wave before stepping in and closing the door, leaving Bakugou alone in the hall.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked down to his room, a shy smile playing on his lips.

He was such a sucker for you.

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summonerscenarios · 4 years ago

Note

So, mc adopting at least one of each of the Child mobs, how would that go?

IT MAY BE 4AM BUT THAT'S NEVER STOPPED ME BEFORE LETS DO SOME MF HCS.

Sadly I was only able to work on two of the mob kiddos as I didn't want this to get too long but I still hope its okay~!

Also just a heads up a lot of this is a pure waffle of information based on my own interpretations of the mobs so here's hoping I did a good job with them lmao.

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It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d ended up inadvertently adopting someone, nor will it be the last knowing your luck. It’s not like you intentionally do anything to draw people to you, it just so happened that the things that you did and situations you got wrapped up in led to you getting to know all kinds of people in the process. And those people saw you in all kinds of ways - most saw you as friends, others saw someone else in you, more than a few made no attempts to hide their blatant flirting - and, rarely, a few would even see you as a role model,a mentor or parental figure to look up to.

You honestly have no idea why, after all, it’s not as though you go out of your way to make particularly responsible decisions (if anything, you get yourself in enough trouble that you’d imagine you’re anything but a role model) but a lot of the younger transients and students seem to flock towards your presence, looking for comfort, advice, or just someone who respects them. At first it was just the younger members of your guild that you technically took under your wing - as the Guildmaster you assumed it was only natural to look out for them, and you’d long gotten used to protecting Agyo and Kijimuna, wanting to make sure that the only thing they had to worry about was having the chance to be kids rather than getting dragged into the Guild’s app-based affairs. It’s not like responsible parental figures are easy to come by in this world of app-battles and fighting, so that’s perhaps why when you start taking a more protective, nurturing role with the younger ones that more of them begin popping up.

Surprisingly, the ghosts are some of the first mob children that you noticed began flocking towards you. Roaming spirits are unusual but certainly not rare, and it honestly breaks your heart a little to see so many young ghosts lingering around in the unexplored corners of the city, searching for one thing or another. Things feel...off, for a while before you can pin down the issue - you start feeling as though you’re being watched when you’re in the guildhouse by someone other than your teammates, and when your attempts to shake off the uneasy feeling doesn’t work, you decide to bring it up to your fellow Guild members in case it’s someone trying to spy. You want to make sure it’s not someone who can bring danger to the guild, but you don’t have much of a chance to set up a search of the building when the D-evils come tottering into your field of view, screeching up a storm and motioning towards an otherwise unassuming corner of the window.

Turns out you weren’t the only one noticing the other presence, as Shiro’s D-evils seem to have picked up on it to - and when your attention snaps over to the window to see what they’re pointing to you barely catch a glimpse of the flickering figure of a ghost child as they disappear from view. From that point on you start spotting the child more often - he’s shy or wary, always lingering someone just out of the corner of your eye but never getting any closer almost like he’s afraid. He seems to have taken an interest in you though, especially whenever the younger guild members come around to spend time at the guild, and it isn’t long before you notice that he’s intently watching the way you watch over and care for the kids of the guild - he looks almost sad in these instances, but never dares to get any closer and disappears as soon as you turn to look at him. Over time it becomes almost normal to have a resident ghost at the guild (though Agyo still shudders at the mention of ghosts despite having seen the kid plenty of times since arriving). He seems to be more at ease after a while of watching you, and things finally come to a head one day when you’re playing videogames with Hanuman and the other kids, noticing that the little ghost has wandered far closer than he’d ever done in the past, watching the small screen setup on the floor with an avid interest that seems far happier than the forlorn looks he’d had before. Taking a chance you tilt your head to look over at the ghost child, motioning him to come over and join; he disappears for a moment, startled, but right as you start to worry you may have scared the kid off he rematerializes, inching hesitantly closer and closer till he’s hovering beside the rest of your group, eyes fixed to the characters on screen with a child-like wonder.

You aren’t quite sure how this ended up with you adopting the ghost child yourself. It’s just one day you were talking about how you were pretty much adopted by the teachers at school and how you’d like to pay it forward some day, and the next you were talking about ‘son’ this, and ‘might as well take the kid under your wing’ that - you were practically acting like an impromptu parent for like a fifth of the people you knew anyway, so what was actually adopting a child? Toji had just about choked to death when you’d made the unfortunate decision to announce that fact mid-drink, and Shiro spent more than his fair share of time probing you with the legal questions surrounding a student adopting a child, ghost transient or not. Ryota seems incredibly excited by the idea however, gushing about being an uncle and wondering if your new son can eat and if so what his favorite food is - plenty of questions for a later time.

Ghost is certainly the most clingy of the children you end up adopting, and it’s clear from the get go in the sense that the poor little one is essentially glued to your side from the moment you take the venture to actually adopting him. With few things remaining in the physical world to cling onto, the familial bond is something that the little one cherishes and he absolutely refuses to budge on letting it, and by proxy, you, go. For a while he actually fears you’re going to leave him and take back what you said about protecting him and being a good parent. He of course had parents once, and their lack of presence at his side now paints a tragic picture no matter what way you look at it, so the kids got more than a few attachment issues you need to work through. Ghost doesn’t really talk too much, instead relying on gestures and interacting with things around him to talk to you and others - it takes a little bit to get used to if you’re unfamiliar with some of the gestures but it’s easy to pick up as time goes on.

Definitely one of the more well behaved children of the bunch, given that once you’ve convinced him that you’re not abandoning him he’s dead set on making you proud. He gets antsy when you’re not around, spending most of his time at the guild when you're at classes, but he takes to following Agyo around instead during these times. Agyo’s more than a little startled at first, and is a bit awkward about the whole situation as he processes it, but before long Agyo’s not only getting along with your ghostly son, but he’s also teaching him the ‘lion dog duties’ that he’s been teaching you - you’ll never quite forget walking in to Agyo giving the poor kid a detailed rundown on the upkeep of the guildhouse and all that it pertains.

It was supposed to only be the one child, you swear, but damn if you haven’t got a bleeding heart and a knack for attracting trouble. Word travels around fast about your adoption, and as more people learn about your impromptu push to parenthood people start coming to you for help - namely, kids with nowhere else to go. Maybe it’s your bleeding heart or savior complex, but before long one kid becomes two, and then two becomes three, and soon enough you’ve got four kids on your hands.

There’s no denying that things get a little bit rocky when you start taking in other children. Despite the other kids in the guild, Ghost has technically been the only child up to this point, and with your attention shifting from both him and the other children at once it’s a sudden change - one that you thankfully discussed with him first to make sure he was okay. Even with the okay though, Ghost is more than a little anxious when you bring the second child, a nether sprite, ‘home’, especially because of how loud she is by comparison. Nether sprite is an absolute ball of energy and mischievous to boot, so she more than makes for an interesting parallel to the otherwise quiet Ghost you’ve been taking care of the past few months.

She’s a handful, especially during the first few weeks that she’s settling in - it takes her a while to really start seeing the place as home, and even longer for her to even consider you a parental figure (she’s seen you as more of a babysitter till you proved you were willing to stick around and put the effort in to be a good parent). Once she does settle in however she takes to the place quickly, and, to your surprise, your two kids become thick as thieves. The Nether sprite catches on quickly to how Ghost communicates, and given his penchant to linger around those he’s close to and follow them around she’s more than happy to drag him all over the shop from one activity to another - it’s a surprising development but one you actively encourage. Unfortunately as I mentioned she’s still mischievous, though tones it down from anything too troublesome if it’ll cause you too much grief.

However that hasn’t stopped the amount of times you’ve gotten calls from someone about the kind of trouble you two little ones have wound up getting themselves into - looks like they both picked up your knack for getting intentionally and unintentionally dragged into the weirdest events (sure, it’s fun when you do it, but having your kids doing it only serves to give you grey hairs from the stress.) And things only get crazier once the other kids end up coming along, for both better and worse - but that’s a story for another time.

#tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo mob #housamo ghost #housamo sprite #housamo lantern #housamo nether sprite #request #ask #gzgs222-blog #first post in....hooo boy #a WHILE #i think im a little rusty so please bear with me while i get back on track #i will probably do one for the ciramantep and jiangshi in the future #but for now we got the ghost and the lantern #a fitting combo lmao

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watevermelon · 5 years ago

Text

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi is still in love with you and begs for your forgiveness.

➳ A/N: It surprised me how many people wanted a part 2 to Akaashi’s initial cheating imagine, but here we are!! Ask and you shall receive. People want good things for the reader and I agree -- that’s too bad this is what we got instead LMAO ➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One

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You could’ve gone the rest of your high school career without ever having to hear the word volleyball ever again. The only interest you had in it was from your ex-boyfriend and now any reminder just left a bitter pang in the pit of your stomach.

Thankfully, Akaashi was not in your class and there actually were not any volleyball players in your homeroom. But that didn’t stop them from popping up in your peripherals or in some rumours around school.

Some of the members of the volleyball team would shoot looks at you, whether out of pity or curiosity, you couldn't care less. You fostered your own relationships with the athletes individually - whether it was Haruki’s strange brand of humor, Sarukui’s constant references to memes, or Wataru’s lopsided smiles - you knew them.

You shared, or rather suffered together, in a class with Konoha the year before. A bright first year with no friends yet, Konoha was a nice person and the first one of the entire volleyball team to actually speak to you. He was even the one to introduce you to both Akaashi and Bokuto.

Out of the bunch, Konoha was often a tag-along when it came to hangouts. Whether it was to the arcade or the movie theatres, you and your (ex)boyfriend were quick to include the others. And usually Bokuto and Konoha would come along as well. Looking back, now you felt like an idiot, Konoha was one thing, but Bokuto was always there.

Nonetheless, as a member of the volleyball team, you knew Konoha was close to Akaashi. And there was no doubt which side he would be taking, no matter the moral high-ground.

There was too much history there and there would be no attempt on your part to salvage the friendships you had with the volleyball team.

There was no doubt of the curiosity in everyone’s minds the moment you and Akaashi were broken-up and there was a new person he was holding hands with. It went from general confusion to malicious rumours. Akaashi was the silent boy next door, the person everyone thought to be the perfect boyfriend without a bad bone in his body.

Some said that he broke up with you because you were too mean, too boring, or he simply lost interest in your boring lifestyle.

If only other people knew what he had done to you and Bokuto.

You didn’t believe this was the hill you wanted to die on. And so you ignored the carefully whispers that followed you in the hallways. Your best friends urged you to clear your name - you were the wronged party so why must you be the one to continue suffering? But this was not something you wanted to bring up again, not something you wanted to think about and relive after how painful it was the first time.

But it seemed the volleyball Gods really hated you.

Konoha approached you one day, after class had just ended but before extracurricular clubs were about to start.

“Hi.” He stood beside your locker as you organized your things, “Can we talk?”

You nodded wordlessly, packing up your bookbag and following him out the door. He guided you toward the outside fountain by the athletic building, not many students passing by as they rushed home through the main entrance. A part of you worried that some of the other volleyball members would pass by as you sat there together, but then you realized that it was no longer your problem.

You were seated on the edge, silently watching his pensive expression before he finally turned to you.

“I feel like I owe you an apology.” He started.

“What, why?”

“I could’ve told you a year ago that something strange was happening between Akaashi and Bokuto.”

You felt a lump in your throat, not sure what to say.

He shook his head and turned away, “There was something there even before you two were dating. And so even when Akaashi asked you out, I bet you were surprised?’

You frowned, but agreed quietly with a nod of your head.

“We barely knew each other at the time.”

Konoha scoffed, you were unsure why exactly, but he continued, “Out of curiosity, why did you agree?”

You smiled back wistfully at the memory, remembering how you had excitedly texted your friends on how the Akaashi Keiji had asked you to be his girlfriend.

“It was so simple back then.” You explained, “He was the kind, pretty setter of the nationally-ranked volleyball team. It was shallow, based off of what little I heard about.”

“But you grew to love him.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed, “And look what that brought me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Haruki passed by, texting away on his phone, mind on something else before he spotted the two of you. He waved at Konoha first before his eyes landed on you, widening in obvious surprise before he shot you a genuinely wide smile.

“A lot of them miss you too.” Konoha explained.

“Well sorry, I tend to avoid anything regarding the volleyball team these days.”

“Don’t worry, as much as this sucks, we understand.” Konoha frowned, clenching one of his hands into a fist in annoyance at the situation.

“But I do miss you guys too.” You added.

Konoha smiled, fondly remembering the last time you had all gone to the arcade, “Who could forget the time you beat Haruki at Dance Dance Revolution?”

“He certainly did not.” You recalled, “He kept challenging me all the way up to mid-terms.”

Konoha laughed, no one on the team was able to defeat the libero. And yet here you were, all smiles and confidence radiating off of you, bringing the third year to his knees. It made Konoha wonder if the last year could have been different.

When Akaashi had approached you, Konoha had dutifully stood to the side. The setter was one of his closest friends and never had he approached anyone in the past. He was often busy with the team or Bokuto. And for Akaashi to have asked you, it meant he was serious. And so Konoha had stood to the side, his crush on you mollified if that meant you’d be happier with the setter your age.

If Konoha had the courage to ask you out instead, would you still be close to the volleyball team? Would you be celebrating an anniversary together rather than crying over some lecherous bastard he called a friend?

You sighed and turned to Konoha, registering his earlier words. “Why are you sorry?”

“What?”

“Why are you sorry about what happened with Akaashi?”

“Ah.” He raked an open palm through his hair. “Maybe I could have stopped you.”

“What?” You asked, a confused smile on your face.

“I introduced the two of you after all.” He explained.

“Shut up.” You said in a teasing tone, “No one could have stopped it. I was just dumb enough to fall for him.”

Konoha shot a small grin back at you, “Yeah, you were.”

Sighing loudly, you made sure you had all your stuff before standing. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” Konoha held out a hand for you to shake, “I hope we can still be friends.”

It was odd, to feel the small blossom of something in the pit of your stomach. This was Konoha, your friend of two years at this point. This was nothing more than him trying his best to affirm your friendship, you reminded yourself.

“I hope so too.”

And, to his credit, he really did try. It was simple things - you had each other’s chat ID’s from your shared class together and, every once in a while, he would send you a meme or a small tidbit of information. You still had things in common, subjects ranging from the current shounen anime and TV shows you kept up with.

It was refreshing to talk to him. Your friends had your back, but the school’s curiosity was not easily satisfied with time. People were naturally nosy, eager to know the true reasons behind your failed relationship. Both you and Akaashi had yet to even address it and it only got worse with Bokuto’s increasing PDA.

Thankfully, no one was audacious enough to actually approach you about the situation. No one else was involved in your relationship and they had no right to actually point fingers.

That was until someone had the audacity to come up to you during the free period, most of everyone on campus enjoying their lunches.

You were sitting at your usual table, waiting for your friends to come from their respective classrooms when one of the more annoying third-years came up to you.

You recognized her as president of the Fukurodani Volleyball fanclub, this should be fun.

“I think you should apologize to Akaashi-san.”

You closed your book and looked up. The usual bustle of the lunchroom was dying down, many people silencing as they turned to the interaction.

“What?”

“For wasting his time - he deserved so much better than you.” She bit out cruelly, the other girls behind her nodding in agreement. “And we all think it’s high time you beg for forgiveness.”

You stood up, pure annoyance rolling off of you. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? I don’t?” She challenged, “Why would Akaashi date you of all people? And now that the two of you are broken-up he’s been sadder than I’ve ever seen him! This is your fault!”

You slapped your book down and raised your chin, “If that’s what you honestly think then you’re as ignorant as you are a meddling piece of shit.”

The murmurs that followed were obvious, people listening in to your harsh response.

She raised her hand as if to slap you, obviously offended at being called out to the entire lunchroom. “Why I outta --”

But the offending hand never came.

“Leave her alone.”

You could recognize your ex-boyfriend’s voice anywhere. Turning, you saw Bokuto enter your field of vision and grasp at her wrist in a tight hold, held high above your head. Akaashi was standing on the other side in front of you, an arm-outstretched as if to protect you from the group of girls.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Akaashi stated clearly, his gaze was unwavering from the girl, but you were sure that the entire room was now listening in. “It was me.”

She stuttered, attempting to save face, “Akaashi-san, surely that’s not true.”

He turned to her, his blank expression now marginally colder. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

The mean third-year visibility recoiled, turning to you and apologizing under her breath. Bokuto swung her arm away, his glare enough to scare away the rest of the group, but the room was still obviously silent. Bokuto scanned the rest of the room with his tough stare, many people turning away and vainly attempting to restart their conversations.

Akaashi turned to you, an unsure expression on his face. There were words on the tip of his tongue, you were sure, since he looked as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say.

“I’m not going to say thanks.” You decided to start for him.

“I know.”

You wanted to turn away from him again, no words left for you to say or even scream at him through your anger. This was more than just some ex, you genuinely loved Akaashi and thought he was going to be your future. And from the way he acted, it seemed like the setter wanted that as well.

“There’s something I want to say.” Akaashi stated before you could flee.

“Maybe not here.” Bokuto tugged at your elbow, motioning to the nearest hallway with his chin.

You followed Akaashi wordlessly, Bokuto behind you to make sure you didn’t just run away. You sure that there were more than a few dozen pairs of eyes sticking to the backs of your strange trio.

Akaashi led you to a corner, no one to spy on your conversation unless they hung outside the building from the window. He moved to gently grasp your forearms, but you pushed him off before he could get a firm hold on you.

He frowned, but looked at you intently. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” You stated back plainly, “I can’t forgive you.”

Akaashi hesitated, a dejected look on his face. “I know.”

Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk away, to stop looking at his despondent pout and not fall for his sad look. You remembered the first time you fell in love with his smile - how easy he would flash that beaming expression at you. How Akaashi would tell you how much he loved you and it filled your heart until it overflowed.

And now all of those memories were worth nothing.

Screw being a bigger man, your heart had a thousand things it wanted to say.

“I really loved you, you know.” You pushed at his shoulder, “And now I can’t look at you without feeling like I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I was so in love with you I thought this would be it.” You felt your heart crying, but urged the motion down. “Why kiss me and tell me you love me when you had someone else on your mind the entire time?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Akaashi looked just as anguished, trying to reach out to you with shy hands on your shoulders. “Please just listen to me.”

But you shoved him away this time, “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I love you.”

His blue eyes bore right into your own, determined and sure of his previous statement. Looking over his shoulder, Bokuto was standing to the side, his gaze stuck on you as well. How the hell was this normal?

“What?”

Akaashi paused, hands coming up to hold you but stopping short again when he realized that was the last thing you needed. “I’m in love with both of you.”

You huffed and took a step back, what could you possibly say to that? There was a sudden flurry of emotions just whirring around your mind - a rush of elation at being loved, immediately squashed down by the annoyed at Akaashi’s selfishness.

You turned to Bokuto, “You believe this?”

The wing-spiker frowned, but affirmed it in a loud voice. “Yes.”

“No.” You started back quickly, shaking your head. “I refuse to be part of this.”

“It’s true.” Akaashi pushed, moving toward you with an ernst expression on.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not.” You moved away again, but this time Akaashi did not let you evade him. Putting firm hands on your shoulders, he pulled you against his chest. “Stop.”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, but I can’t.” Akaashi continued, “I love you and it hurts me so much that I hurt you in the process.”

You struggled against his hold until he let go. “How could I listen to you be so selfish?”

“I know.”

“Don’t involve me in this.” You motioned at the both of them in a wide circle.

“(F/N).” Akaashi stressed, eager to get you to see his side, but you wanted nothing to do with him or Bokuto. He broke your heart enough, there was no way you were willing to entertain him back in your life.

“What don’t you understand about leaving me alone?” You raised your voice, annoyed that Akaashi was asking anything of you after treating you so cruelly.

“Please let me explain.” Akaashi kept repeating.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing that Akaashi could say that would ever make you think about introducing him back into your life. He was terrible for lying to you for months, maybe even as long as a year, but you didn’t want to exactly ask the length of his infidelity. He was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse person - you were ready to raise hands at both boys if they didn’t let you go this instant.

Bokuto blocked your path this time, “(L/N), come on we just -- “

“What’s going on here?” A gentle hand fell on your shoulder, pushing Bokuto aside as a new person entered your conversation.

Konoha stood tall behind you, his sudden appearance quelling your rising anger. If not, you were sure that you were going to throw hands with the volleyball boys. Bokuto would probably fight you off, but slapping Akaashi would feel cathartic in a way.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Bokuto tried to wave away the other wing spiker. “We’re just talking.”

“(F/N), please. Let me explain it all to you.” Akaashi stressed, moving a step in your direction, to which Konoha challenged when he tilted his head upward.

“Right, just talking.” Konoha murmured in disbelief before turning to you. “And how do you feel?”

“I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

Both Akaashi and Bokuto exclaimed your name in contrasting tones, but you hardened your expression before turning away from them. Konoha still had a hand on your shoulder as you walked back to the lunchroom.

Your friends were already at your table, some of them standing around pacing while others were angrily chewing into their food. A chorus of your name followed as the two of you neared the table, some of them getting up from their seats to give you a comforting hug.

“(F/N)!” Your best friend was quick to rush you, crushing you between her arms. “We heard that Akaashi and Bokuto basically ushered you away.”

“The whole lunchroom was basically watching that door.” Another stated, pointing to the one you just came from.

Your best friend put her hands on your shoulder, steading your attention back to her. “Please tell me you remembered that men ain’t shit.”

Konoha laughed as he put a mocking hand of offense over his heart.

“Yeah, yeah.” You assured her, “I’m not about to make the same mistake again.”

“Good.” She confirmed, before turning to Konoha. “Okay, only Konoha has rights.”

“Thanks.” He stated back half-heartedly, guiding you back to your lunch and taking the seat beside you.

“When people told us they took you away, we weren’t sure what to do. Go after you? Call you to give you an out? We didn’t even know how long you had been gone for!” She explained, “Thankfully Konoha here came to the rescue.”

You turned to the wing-spiker, smiling as you did so. “He really did, thank you.”

He reflected a similar expression back at you, holding your gaze before springing away to take out his own lunch out of his bag.

“I take it back, the volleyball team has no rights with the exception of Konoha.” One of your friends joked.

As for you, you could not help but think back to the fond expression Konoha just shot you. It was so quick, and yet so genuine, you felt it pierce your heart so suddenly just to rip away from you when he turned away. But not in a bad way, per se.

If anything, this was a nice feeling, for a lack of a better term, to have again. You were not totally healed, still angry at both Akaashi and Bokuto for being complete fuckheads. But a part of you was still alive, happy to see Konoha as your friend and just maybe… maybe something else.

Akaashi and Bokuto returned back to the lunchroom silently, having left their stuff at their now fully occupied table. Bokuto didn’t bother to even turn in your direction, but Akaashi shot you a devastatingly sad frown as he passed.

A part of you wanted to comfort it, to leap out at the man who loved you for the past year. But you were thankfully steadied back to reality when Konoha put a gentle hand on your own. Akaashi’s gaze fell to the contact, making him stop entirely in his tracks. It was only when Bokuto grabbed his hand did the setter continue walking, but the shock on his face was palpable.

No matter, Akaashi was the last thing you wanted on your mind right now.

You upturned your hand and squeezed Konoha’s smiling at the third-year before turning back to your lunch.

The situation was far from resolved, you still had another two years at this drama-infested school and Akaashi seemed keen on explaining something to you. You were far from completely healed and it seemed the student body would not let this drama go unnoticed.

But you were getting there.

Little by little, you were re-learning to smile and laugh more. Places on campus were no longer bitter memories, but quiet lessons for you to remember. You had your loving best-friends and suddenly, the kind Konoha, at your side.

You had no worries about the rest of the school year, you would get through this with a head held high.

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A/N: TBH for myself i could see this going both ways; reader saying nah OR reader entering a poly relationship. idk - i’ll write it if someone wants to see that ending but otherwise here we are :):

➳ Masterlist

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beetlegoose01 · 4 years ago

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first hero (one shot)

AN: Snippets of Draco as a father, and one as a grandfather. :)

Before Scorpius was born, Draco had no experience with babies or small children. He was raised an only child, and had no knowledge of what to do. His own father was never one for comforting hugs or piggy back rides or teaching him how to properly play Quidditch without falling off his broom. He wasn't a terrible father, but he was definitely not a doting one.

He would do better. Draco vowed the second he discovered Astoria was expecting, that he would. He would do everything he could for this child. Resting his hand to her ever growing bump, whispering 'I love yous' and soft French lullabies.

"Is that-?" Draco uttered, eyes sparkling with wonder.

She laughed. "A little kick, yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, silly. Like a baby bird fluttering about."

Astoria's health was declining. Her body was already weakening from her curse and the pregnancy seemed to exhaust her further, day by day.

"If I don't see them grow," She whispered one night, caressing his cheek. "Please watch out for them, Draco. Promise me, you will."

His heart ached at her painfully true words. "I don't want to make that promise. Maybe there's some hope...some positivity?"

"It's the truth." She shrugged. "I can't change that, Draco. You know it, even if you won't say. Promise me?"

"...I promise."

Their son was born just a few days before Christmas. He had been intended to be born after the New Year, but his early arrival was welcomed nevertheless.

"He's...so tiny." Draco whispered, staring at the swaddled infant laying against his mother's chest. He didn't dare touch the blond fuzz, like dandelion fluff on their little one's head. He was so premature, so fragile.

"Hello Scorpius," Astoria murmured, exhausted and blotchy from childbirth, but still had a twinkle in her eyes. The tiny boy yawned, nestling closer to her. "Would you like to hold him?"

Draco nodded firmly, though he was positively terrified of dropping the boy. Astoria placed him gently in his arms, and he melted as the infant squirmed and squeaked.

"Hello, little fellow." He said, careful not to shift too much. "I'm your papa, Scorpius. Scorpius..." He thought for a moment. "Have we decided on a middle name?"

Astoria shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want to do Lucius?"

"Positive." He said, watching as their son's eyes fluttered open. They were bright and blue, like his mother's. Then, it dawned on him. "Hyperion."

"Like my father?"

Draco sat beside her, kissing Scorpius' head, then Astoria's rosy cheeks. "A man worthy of his name being carried on by our boy."

"Scorpius Hyperion," She repeated, smiling. "I like it."

~•~

Scorpius proved to be a shy, but precocious child, always fascinated in anything and everything. Though he had little contact with any other children his own age, he was best friends with his parents, and even occasionally visited his maternal cousins- though by visiting really he sat in the corner, staring at a picture book instead of interacting with them. He was quiet, remarkably quiet with his cousins.

Not that they didn't encourage him to talk to them.

"How about you join them, Scorpius?" Astoria asked, laying on the picnic blanket beside her husband and son. Her nieces, Constance and Cordelia were loudly playing gobstones while Daphne supervised them. "Gobstones is fun, I'm sure they'll teach you."

Scorpius simply shook his head, pointing at his book.

"Alright." She kissed his head fondly. "What would you like to do pumpkin?"

"Braid your hair, mummy." He whispered, giggling.

"My hair's already braided, silly. But...daddy's isn't." She smirked.

"Yeah!' Scorpius chirped, popping his thumb out of his mouth. "Flowers too?"

"Ooh that's a brilliant idea!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

"Your hair is so long and pretty. Perfect for braiding." Astoria said, eyes crinkling as she laughed.

So Draco stood as still as he possibly could as his son and wife braided daisies and other flowers in his platinum hair, all while holding back chuckles as Scorpius stumbled around looking for various flowers to put in his hair.

"No, no Scorpius' that's a weed-" He started, but Scorpius didn't hear him, and continued braiding, singing a made up song to himself as he worked.

~•~

"Dad?" Scorpius asked one afternoon, while Draco was brooding by the fireplace. Astoria was resting upstairs after a particularly bad morning of sickness.

"Yes, son?"

"I um," He stared at his shoes, growing anxious. "I finished all the books in mum's library."

"Reading them?" Draco asked, puzzled, though not surprised. Though he was only nine, he devoured books like sweets. Instead of playing, he would read in a cushy armchair, reading books bigger than his head. Fantasy books, muggle literature, textbooks, non fiction, spell books- anything he could get his hands on. He especially loved ones with facts.

"Almost all of them." He corrected softly. "There's the ones you have locked up."

"Ah." Draco hummed. "You wouldn't be interested in that...it's all very grim. They're all about the War."

"Please, can I?" Scorpius begged. "I barely know anything about that and I'm so curious."

"How about we read it together? There are some things you need to know that ...you won't be happy to hear."

They read the old book together, and Scorpius was silent the entire time. When they finished a chapter about the list of Death Eaters, he looked distraught.

"I'm sorry, son." He murmured, but Scorpius didn't answer. Instead, he curled up beside his dad.

"Do you still have it?" He asked finally. "The mark?"

"...Yes."

"So we were evil?" The question was so innocent, but it still hurt.

"It's ...complicated. This mark serves as a constant reminder of my wrongdoings. With your mother's help, I became a better man. At least, I think so."

Scorpius dimpled. "You are." He yawned sleepily, resting his head on Draco. "I love you."

"I love you too, Scorpius."

~•~

"Ready?" Astoria asked, fixing Scorpius' black tie. "Oh, you look so grown up." She cooed.

"Mum!" Scorpius whined. "The train is going to leave soon!"

"I know, I know. One more hug and a kiss?" She asked, and he happily obliged. Thankfully at the age of eleven, he was still young enough to not be embarrassed by hugs. Especially Astoria hugs. She kissed the top of his hair.

"I'll miss you." He whimpered.

"Be good." Draco added, patting his shoulder. "Don't cause too much trouble."

"I won't, dad. I'll miss you too." He said glumly. "Suppose I don't make any friends?"

"You will."

"Don't forget your sweets." Astoria passed the bag to her son. "To help you make friends. Remember?" She winked. "Everyone will want to be your friend if you share."

"Friendly bribery." Draco joked. "But also because of your charming personality."

Scorpius laughed nervously as the train whistled. "I should go then."

"Write to us as soon as you can," Astoria said. "We love you, sweet boy."

"I love you too." He gave them a watery smile. "Bye then." He reluctantly walked towards the train, the trunk already put away so he only had his cat carrier to hold.

Watching him slip away made Astoria's lip quiver.

"He'll be alright, Toria." Draco assured her.

"I hope the other children will be nice." She said. "I don't want his light to dim."

Draco said nothing. It was true, Scorpius was the embodiment of sunshine and love, the idea of putting him with other children who most likely knew of the rumor was not comforting. He had wanted to homeschool Scorpius, but Astoria had insisted he needed to interact with others his age. Sending him to Hogwarts still felt like bringing a unicorn foal to a Chimera den.

"He will be alright." He repeated to himself.

School was harder than they had predicted. Scorpius had made one friend, Albus Potter of all people, who was sorted in Slytherin with him. Still, judging by his letters, he was happy. The other students teased them, but they had each other.

Which was enough.

~•~

It was a grey, cold summer's day. Scorpius curled up by the windowsill, silently watching the raindrops drip down the window. Everything felt bleak and dim. Not even the birds nearby chirped their beautiful songs.

"Be brave, Scorpius." His mum smiled, her strength weakening. "I love you."

"I love you too, mum."

He had held her hand as she passed away into the night.

"Scorpius..." Draco said, voice shaky. "Please let me in."

Scorpius hadn't heard him. He continued to watch the rain fall.

~•~

They were drifting apart. Draco could sense it. He had tried desperately to reach out to his son, but nothing worked.

Astoria would have known what to do. And now...well it was up to Draco to help his deeply distraught son.

After Scorpius' reappearance, he had hoped their relationship would rekindle somehow. It hadn't, despite his stress over losing him and the brief reunion that they shared was awkward. His son was back at school and that was that. Draco wished they could have spent a longer time together, especially after he had been missing for some time.

He stirred his tea thoughtfully. At least Scorpius was at Hogwarts with Albus and his professors. Still, the idea of /why/ he ran away was perplexing.

The manor chimney moved slightly. Placing his tea down, he watched as his lanky son tumbled out in a puff of soot and floo powder.

"Scorpius?" Draco asked, rushing to his side. "What are you doing here?"

Scorpius lifted his head, collapsing into his father's arms. "I came to see you."

It had been a while since they had hugged, but Draco didn't reject it. He held onto his son, his sweet son and let him weep into his chest like he was a little boy again.

"It's Albus." He gulped, voice cracking. "He won't speak to me. Dad, everything is wrong- he avoids me, all of our classes have been changed so we aren't in anything together." His eyes were glassy with tears. "I know for some reason he's in Gryffindor now, but he doesn't even ...acknowledge I exist. It's like he hates me."

"No...no...he doesn't hate you. We'll sort this all out." He paused. "And the other kids, have they been unkind?"

Scorpius stared at him in disbelief. "They've always been unkind, Dad! I'm the son of Voldemort, remember?" He snapped, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You don't know half of the things they do. Every day. Every day they hex me, belittle me, tease me. They make me feel...worthless."

Draco felt his heart break as Scorpius' face crumpled.

"School was fine with classes and such and when I had Al with me to make everything bearable. Now I don't even have him. I'm all alone. I don't want to be alone, Dad. I don't want to go back to school. I hate it there." He took a shaky breath. "I hate it so, so much."

"Scorpius I..."

"I miss mum."

"I know."

He had to make things right.

~•~

His son had come out as bisexual the following year after his little 'adventure' with Albus. Draco hadn't understood the term at first. He had to do extensive research to fully comprehend the meanings, alongside other sexualities that were included. Sexualities and gender were confusing, even Scorpius admitted it.

He didn't understand at first. But he listened to Scorpius explain tearfully, and hugged him as tight as possible when he mentioned he was dating Albus Potter.

"I love him." Scorpius said quietly. "That's what matters the most. Not my labels...nor his."

"I'm so proud of you."

~•~

His son was married.

His son was married, and he couldn't be happier.

Watching Scorpius embrace Albus at their wedding was everything Draco could have wanted. Seeing his son love someone, and look at him with such adoration made his heart soar.

He could see Astoria's bright smile in Scorpius' eyes as he laughed, leaning against his new husband. They were both glowing with genuine happiness.

‘All was well.’ He thought, wondering if Astoria was proud of him too.

~~~~~

Draco was much more confident holding his newborn granddaughter. At least, more confident than when he held Scorpius for the first time. She too, was early and had the same expression of curiosity in her eyes. He chuckled fondly as she reached her tiny hand to grab a hold of his pinky finger. She was precious as a doll, with fuzzy blonde hair and curious turquoise eyes. What a wonder, being that small and innocent.

“She’s beautiful.” He murmured. “What is her name?”

Albus grinned, pride evident in his voice. “Astoria Ginevra.”

#drastoria #draco malfoy #astoria greengrass #astoria malfoy #fanfics #scorbus #scorpius malfoy #baby scorpius

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

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Mirror, Mirror Finale P.2

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw reader

request: yes very highly requested lol

summary: despite never speaking before, y/n has a big crush on draco malfoy, a particularly broody and obnoxious slytherin. what will happen when they finally have to start associating? and what if they run into a certain mirror that shows you what you truly desire?

warnings: cursing!

a/n: so ik i said this was gonna be out later this week but i love you guys too much! here it is...the final part of mirror, mirror! it’s weird to finally finish a series like this but ohhhh boy here we are

taglist: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99 @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop

word count: 2.1k

“About time you got off your arse.”

“Hello to you too, Rena,” Y/N sighed as she dropped her satchel on her bed. Her roommate watched, bemused, as she began to unpack her things.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer. “I really missed you. We were all worried sick, you know.”

Y/N snorted, tossing her wrinkled robes on the bed and making a mental note to spell them neat later. “I do know. Madame Pomfrey was going to kill me for how many times she had to tell you to leave me and let me rest.”

Rena’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Y/N. “I missed you too.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as the cold afternoon breeze wafted into their room, carrying the smell of fresh snow in.

“So, anything exciting happen? Did anyone tell you anything….interesting?”

“No.” Y/N was about to turn back to her work before she caught the mischievous expression on Rena’s face. “What? Why?”

“Nothing,” she sang. “I’m just wondering. I have to catch up with my best friend, you know. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been the whole of four days.”

“It’s been forever,” she restated, jumping up and spinning Y/N around (who couldn’t help but allow a slow grin to spread across her face).

“I was going crazy in there.” Y/N’s voice was considerably more serious. “I never told you, but--” she chose to ignore the look of anticipation written all over Rena’s face, “--Malfoy talked to me. And he was so nice to me, it was we--”

“That COWARD!”

The outburst started Y/N, who dropped her things on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry? Rena, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Rena, her tone dutiful and mournful. “It’s not my place. Anyways, what did that loser do?”

“Er,” began Y/N, “I don’t know how much of it was real or if it was because I was on pain potion, but he and I--I don’t know, flirted? There was a lot of banter, and before he knew it he pulled me off the ground--”

“You were on the ground?”

“--he pulled me off the ground and picked the gravel out of my palms.” Y/N swallowed as she recounted the instance. She’d never seen him look so soft before. “He said he had something he wanted to tell me, and his voice got all strange.”

“And then?”

“And then Madame Pomfrey came to yell at me and basically--oh god, Rena, she basically told him that I dreamt of him!”

Rena snorted with laughter. “Shit, dude. I don’t think you should worry, though. You’d think any bloke with half a brain would’ve figured out that you were obsessed with him by now.”

“Shut up.” Y/N’s face was hot. “Anyways, I haven’t seen him since. I’d prefer if we could stop talking about this.”

“Sure, sure.” She took in a breath. “Wait, what about rounds? Don’t you still have to see him?”

“No. Flitwick told me I’m off. At least until next month.” If she sped through the thought, it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ending of a chapter, huh? How are you feeling about that?”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Rena, I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? It’s over.”

If her words carried any deeper meaning to Rena, she didn’t show it. “Lighten up, girly. Maybe it’s not.”

“All I’ve done is make a fool of myself,” lamented Y/N, throwing her empty satchel in the closet and collapsing onto her bed. “I’m just going to go back to what everything was before. This hasn’t changed anything. Now, Rena, I have a Potions exam to study for.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Her interactions with Draco were few and far between in the following weeks. Sometimes she caught a few glimpses of a pale blonde head of hair as she walked down the halls to her classes, but nothing concrete, nothing even close to the amount of interaction they had while she was still bound to her rounds.

It was certainly a punch in the gut--after all, she did spend a good portion of her academic career thirsting over him--but the sensible part of her knew that this was for the better. Her schoolwork became her top priority again, just like it had been the years before she was assigned to be his partner.

So, given this pattern of communication, it was fair to say that Y/N was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she saw Draco waiting by the entry of her common room at 11pm one night.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she shifted the books in her satchel to be secured over her shoulder.

“Yes, actually,” he said smoothly, not tripping over his words in the slightest. “I have rounds tonight.”

“I’m aware.” She hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding the way that it was.

“And I’m out of Wide-eye potion.”

“That really sucks,” Y/N said as she held up her hand on the door of the common room, uttering the riddle’s answer under her breath before she stepped in.

“Wait!” His voice turned her around--it was pleading, almost desperate. “I have an exam tomorrow. No one in Slytherin has any. Snape would kick my arse for waking him up now. I know you have some left over since you never finished the rounds, and I--I understand if you don’t want to but it doesn’t have a very good shelf life anyways and I was hoping you’d...that you’d be alright with giving it to me.”

She paused, completely stunned. The most hopeful part of her wondered if he had made this up, but she squelched this with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Fine. Come with me, you must be freezing outside.”

Y/N wasn’t wrong--the weather had taken a turn in the past few days to be bitterly cold--but it wasn’t like she’d object seeing him for any longer. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak-willed.

Draco looked pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and stepped into the common room with her, following her up until she reached the base of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re comfortable,” she began, “I’d honestly prefer if you came with me. I don’t want to explain to anyone why I let you into our common room unsupervised.”

He looked like his mind was buffering the information for a second, standing with a glazed look in his eyes before he sucked in a breath and became the picture of confidence once again. “Want me in your room that bad?”

Yes.

“You wish.”

He scoffed as they climbed the stairs, Y/N a few steps above him. She thought that if she maintained the space he wouldn’t see how hard she was shaking and wondered where Rena was. Studying with Hermione like she told her she was? She hoped.

Y/N stopped in front of her door at the very end of the hall, decorated with a banner that had their names displayed in glittering bronze letters that moved in the light. “Ok. You can come in with me if you want--it might be a couple minutes since I don’t quite remember where it is.”

He looked amused with himself as she got out her wand and attempted to unlock her door with the specialized charm she and Rena had decided upon. Mortifyingly enough, her hand was too shaky to execute it.

“Hey, hey,” Draco tutted, holding his hand out. It enveloped hers and held her wand still as she muttered the incantation, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“Er...thanks,” she said. His hand was still over hers.

Y/N broke the eye contact to dart through the door to a thankfully dark and empty room--if Rena had seen that, she never would’ve let her hear the end of that--and began rifling through her drawers as Draco shut the door and examined her room.

“You’re flustered,” he noted as she tipped over one of her candlesticks and just barely managed to catch it. “Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise, little Ravenclaw?”

“Like you care.” Y/N shut the desk drawer with an audible BANG. “And don’t call me that. Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling in her grave hearing you infantilize her good name like that.”

Draco laughed from his stance by her door--a sound that she hated to admit that she really missed. “I take back what I said. You certainly sound like yourself.”

Y/N’s fingers finally closed around the last bottle of Wide-Eye, which was quickly tossed to Draco. “Happy now?”

He sent her a strangely weak smile as he slipped the vial into his pocket, no doubt silk lined and expensive. “Sure. So this is goodbye? Actually?”

“I think...I think so.”

Y/N had moved closer to him so only about a foot stood between them, a distance that felt like a mile from where she stood.

This is goodbye.

Draco was making a motion to turn around and open the door when Y/N experienced the most severe lapse of judgement in the entirety of her 17 years.

She sprung forward, her fingers curling around the satiny soft fabric of his tie and pulling. Her motion was rough enough that he jolted forward, his eyes wide with surprise as Y/N closed in and pressed her lips to his in a very chaste and ungraceful movement.

The split second that it took for her to realize the consequences of her actions was enough for her to let go completely and jump away, apologies readily falling out of her mouth in disjointed and clumsy collections.

“I’m so sorry...Oh my god...I have no idea what got into me...Draco, I--”

Before she could finish, his hands were already cupping her face, his frame bent down the slightest so he could be more level with her. And he was--oh--he was kissing her, actually properly this time, without the tense closed-offness of her first attempt.

When Y/N imagined what it was like to kiss Draco Malfoy, she didn’t imagine him to be so soft. Or warm. Or gentle, or pliant, or whatever other good things he was to her as he snaked her arms around her and held her tight to him.

His kisses turned feverish, almost desperate as he turned her so she was pressed up between him and the wall. Everywhere his hands touched felt charged with electricity and energy, and as his hands traveled up and down her spine she decided that this must be what it’s like to die of happiness.

“Draco,” she managed in between kisses, pulling away for air for just a moment and sliding back down so her feet touched the floor again. “Can we talk? About this?”

“Thanks,” he responded, his eyes glittering with endearment. “I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned but made no effort to step away from her, instead choosing to drag his fingers up and down the side of her exposed neck. “What’s there to talk about? I like you, you like me, there’s nothing we need to do to complicate this further.”

“You...you what?”

“Yes, genius, what else did you think I was planning on telling you that day in the courtyard,” Draco said. “I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were over me. That was horribly embarrassing, you know. Had to nurse my ego for weeks before I could garner up the courage to speak to you again.” He stopped to gently press the pad of his thumb into the little dimple she had in her left cheek, smiling uncontrollably as he moved his hand back to cup her face.

“How was I supposed to know that?” argued Y/N.

“Isn’t this supposed to be the smart house?” he teased.

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make me decide I don’t like you anymore.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me?”

“I’m going to scream.”

“Just from kissing me? Wow, I must be good.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I!”

Y/N gazed up at the boy in front of her for a few beats, admiring how the moonlight bounced off the silvery strands of his hair and how his smile reached every corner of his face.

“I take back what I said,” she told him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

He smiled again, leaning in close so his lips barely brushed her ear. “No. No, it isn’t.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #dracotok #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x you

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nachosforfree · 5 years ago

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Aliens Among Aliens

I still remember the day the earthlings touched down onto our planet. Everyone who was alive that day does. It wasn’t a majestic, dramatic landing like you’d see in movies, they crashed through that atmosphere at hundreds of miles per hour, landing in one of our cold oceans. Rescue parties immediately made their way to the ship. Their entry had been broadcasted across the entire planet.

Few planets in the galaxy trusted the earthlings enough to allow them to visit, seeing how they angrily raged war on themselves. It wasn’t like any of us were any better, though. We’d had our own fights, inner-world and outer. My planet had made peace with the earthlings long ago, however.

Our atmospheres were quite similar, enough so that the earthlings could breathe well enough on our planet without protection, and vice versa. A young woman had been leading the visiting earthlings, a scientist who was eager to study our planet. Among her was a historian, a reporter, an ambassador who was one of our own, a captain for their ship, and the ship’s crew.

The scientist, who I would later get to know as Jane Aminori, shook hands with my father, who was the leader in the region the earthlings crashed into. I’d stood right beside him, only 13 glentons old, 9 years in earth terms. The reporter, standing behind Dr. Aminori, cooed at me and spoke in words I didn’t understand. Immediate translators weren’t common technology on our planet then, nor did I know much of the language she spoke. She then butted into my father and Dr. Aminori’s conversation to ask him questions. The rest of the day felt like a blur, I couldn’t understand most of what was said, so I’d tuned it out. Dr. Aminori had dinner with us that night, though, along with several other leaders of our planet.

She, thankfully, spoke our language fluently. She mostly spoke with the leaders, and me and my young kin were pushed away to a smaller table nearby to allow them to speak on more serious matters. We tried our best to listen in, but after hearing it was boring, scientific things, we turned away and talked among ourselves. Later that night, Dr. Aminori spoke with me directly. I remember it vividly.

She’d walked over and bent down to be closer to my eye level, “Hello,” her accent was funny. I don’t think our words were meant to fit on her tongue. “My name is Jane. You’re Jaktekine’s daughter, aren’t you? It’s very nice to meet you.”

I gently nodded my head, not meeting her eye, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Her lips crooked up, and she bared her teeth. It was a gesture of happiness among humans, but in my young age I’d found it frightening.

“I’m going to be staying with you and your family for a while. There’s a lot about your planet that’s very interesting.”

Again, I nodded, staring at my pointed out leg. Humans’ legs seemed much straighter than ours, and they had kneecaps. I found the differences in our legs much more interesting than the science of a world I grew up in.

She must have noticed my lack of enthusiasm, because she straightened her back to be at her normal standing height. Her teeth were no longer bared, but her lips were still pulled up in a way that made her cheeks rise and eyes squint.

“I have a child, who, I believe, is about your age. If I get permission from my home world, she’ll be allowed to come live here too. Have you ever met a human kid before?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and her lips seemed to stretch farther, “Well, hopefully soon you’ll be able to!”

She pressed her hand to my head for a moment, a comforting gesture, before turning to leave with a small wave. I waved back, and she started off down our hallway. I stared after her, still thinking about the differences in our legs, and in our faces, and spines, and arms. She had less arms than me, and had no tail, her mouth was one straight line with rounded, differently colored skin on the top and bottom, she had long hair that covered the top of her head, but everywhere else was quite smooth, her back was more vertical and straight, her nostrils were underneath a protruding chunk of flesh in the center of her face, and her eyes were smaller than mine. We were learning about the anatomy of different species in my school at the time, and I knew I wanted to do my end-of-period project on humans, they were so interesting.

To me, everything seemed fine with the earthlings, but I would soon find that despite the leaders’ mutual agreement to let them visit, many of my people were very anxious and unhappy with this decision. They were frightened of the earthlings. We were a planet that usually kept out of other planetary affairs, so to directly interact with one was considered risky.

In the next planet cycle, when I sat in my class with one of my friends, he told me that his parents thought the humans dangerous. I assured him that earthlings wished no harm toward us or our planet, we were on peaceful terms with them! He still seemed wary though, and I don’t think I could really blame him. One day, I would learn that there was much more backlash on earth than on our planet about the visitation. Humans, oddly enough, were more hostile to their own than they were to other species. They fought with one another over if this was good, was safe, and those who believed so hated those who believed other wise. Those who believed it wasn’t good or safe hated those who believed it was. When I learned about this, I was told that that was how humans always were. This or that, who and why, why and how, humans were angry and determined and stubborn, for better or for worse.

It seemed to be a “for better” case with our meetings, thankfully. Eventually, majority of humans accepted the fact that we were real and we were peaceful.

I’ve met many human children since the day earthlings first touched down onto our planet, including the daughter of Jane Aminori. I’ve helped raised earthling children, teach them, care for them. And in turn, humans have raised and cared for beings from our planet. We can’t mate with humans, not in any way other than for pleasure, but many humans have fallen in love with and married beings from our species.

I outlived Jane and her daughter. It’s possible I will outlive her daughter’s daughter, my daughter. Earthlings don’t live as long as most beings on our planet, humans certainly don’t live as long as my species. This saddens me, because they give such meaningful relationships. They are joyful and saddening and dramatic and loud. They are new. They are exciting.

I hope watching our integration of cultures and societies will allow more planets to open up to earthlings, and for earthlings to meet other planets. Perhaps I’m just biased, though. These silly, four-limbed, small eyed, tailless creatures have made quite the impression on me. One day, I want to travel to Earth and experience all of these odd cultures for myself- they have so many of them on one small planet.

There are many different views on afterlife, both on our planet and Earth’s, I hope Jane Aminori and her daughter are together in whichever one they believed in. I hope to join them some day. It would be nice to see Jane’s specific baring of teeth again.

Each earthling has a slightly different one, I’ve noticed. They are all so beautiful.

#writing #em writes shit #original #aliens among aliens #aliens #space

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peanut-butter-parkerxx · 4 years ago

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plane pillow

where peter planned to play video games with ned through the whole flight but fate decided to take another turn....

*A/N: this isnt related to far from home nor the ending of endgame, just pretend infinity and all the movies after didnt exist since i imagine pete 16 in here. i dont know why 16 i just like that age on him lmao, enjoy reading!*

pairing: peter x reader

status: strangerz (well sort of since they haven't talked to eachother but they're in the same school)

NOT PROOF READ BTW SO SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES

peter's POV

"the flight will be amazing! i heard they'd installed the new game we were talking about" i gushed to ned, excited for the whole flight to be filled with video games.

"im excited" ned stated practically jumping from excitement and i shook my head laughing

"OK CLASS!" Mr Harrington clapped his hands getting our attention "we're boarding the plane in a few minutes so pack your stuff and lets goooo" he pointed at our gate dramatically.

we walked to the gate, scanned our ticket and sat on our assigned seats, ned and i sat on the three seater, he took the window seat by winning a 3 round match of rock, paper, scissors *sighs angrily* and i obvious got the middle, kinda scared of who'll sit beside me though.

we had to wait for a few minutes, since we boarded the flight early. ned and i obviously started playing video games, too entranced by the small glowing screen infront of me i haven't realized a girl.

she hadn't really acknowledged me either because she looked tired, i cursed at the screen for losing the game too quickly and my dumb ass still didnt realize a GIRL, MY AGE, looking PRETTY FUCKING ADORABLE was sitting next to me. oh dear god.

after a couple more games and me being the most idiotic teenager known today for not looking at my right to see her the flight attendant alerted us that the plane will take off so we the screen will freeze any moment. ned and i decided to sleep, it was very early in the morning and we need to rest if we plan on gaming most of the flight.

i closed my eyes and shifted a bit in my seat, and slept. the plain was moving at the time trying to find the best place to take off. i guess i was really tired that i havent felt someone sleeping on my shoulder.

i was peacefully sleeping still agitated from the uncomfortable seat but i heard a loud noise that frightened the life out of me and due to my spidey senses i sensed a hand on my right, so what did i do? i fucking held the hand. hard, may i add, from the fright.

i opened my eyes quickly and jumped a bit, turning around to see who's the stranger that i held hands with, startled as well. i sighed in relief knowing our plane was safe and it was just about to take off. but then i took a good look on the perso- her, took a good look on her, on her? OH MY GOD ITS A GIRL calm down peter and please dont scare her off. i couldnt stop looking at her and to my luck she was looking at me as well, but none of us spoke

i couldnt help but notice the small part of her y/h/c hair that was shown from her hood looked so shiny and smooth, her eyes were the most perfect shade of y/e/c. the extremely large hoodie looked so comfortable on her which made me think of her wearing one of mine, how big and long it'll look on her body sent butterflies to my stomach. she looked small, and precious so fragile yet she held her body confidently.

the voice of the flight attendant echoed through the speakers which made us both stop our trance of one another. even though the lady's voice wasnt scary it still frightened us. i mean no hate towards miss attendant she called me a cutie and gave me extra blankets

but coz we got startled again we held hands....again looking for the sources of the noise. we visibly relaxed once we realized what it was, looked at eachother and laughed, her laugh was angelic and soft, hands down the best sound ive ever head. she looked rather embarrassed from the encounter but i bet you a thousand dollars i look worse, i could practically feel the blood rush through my cheeks once she realized how long ive stared at her

"i- uhm i-im so sorry for sleeping on your shoulder, and- and holding your hand and stuff" she apologized, it only made me even more baffled by her. how could a voice match with a face so perfectly.

"no no its fine uhh i dont mind *nervous laugh* and for the hand thing i was the one who grabbed yours so i-i should be the one apologizing...im sorry" i rubbed the back of my neck. this is why i dont talk to girls, ever. well mj is an exception since shes like the closest thing i have to a friend other than my best friend obviously.

"i-im y/n, by the way" she lifted her hand properly introducing herself

"peter, peter parker" i shook her hand, it was nice feeling the warmth of her hand again. we probably held hands (for the third time today by the way) longer the we should have but who am i to say i was bothered. i definitely wasnt.

"nice to meet you peter" she smiled shaking our hands one last time then sitting it on her lap. scratch what i said about her gorgeous laugh, hearing her say my name was the best thing ive heard in my 16 year of existence. (her laugh is obviously the second best)

before i could ask anything else, the plane decided to finally take off. i adjusted myself to the seat, not turning to my right side anymore and closed my eyes trying to think of smiling puppies. ive been on a plane before, in fact a private one last year but that was it. this is my second time flying away from new york and i was a bit nervous.

y/n somehow noticed my sudden tense form, who am i kidding i looked like i was about to die coz of my nerves. and held my hand. and i immediately opened my eyes again, the feeling of her skin coming in contact with mine brought chills down my spine, good ones obviously

"you looked rather tense, is this ok?" she leaned into my ear so i could hear her. i looked at her confused on why she would want to help me but nodded as a reply. a smile crept on my face and i couldnt seem to take it off. the take off went smoothly thank god. and ive occasionally squeezed her hand, usually when the plane made very loud sounds. but i made it! woohoo

i didnt know if i should stop holding her hand or not, even though i didnt want to. will she think im a creep? and if i did, will she think im rude? but i guess it didnt seem to bother her if she went back to sleeping. so i figured i should do the same

i shifted in my seat a couple of times trying to get the perfect comfy spot....nothing. this seat will be the death of m-

"you can sleep on my shoulder if you want" she whispered. "i figured since you let me sleep on yours which im very sorry about, you could sleep on mine" she smiled

"thanks, but i dont wanna bother you or make you uncomfortable"

"oh nonsense! my body is screaming right now cheering for me, well partially scolding at me for saying something risky like that to a good looking guy, its ok" she laughed, her eyes widened in shock from what she confessed. i smiled at her and rested my head on her shoulder

"you think im good looking?" i whispered playing with our fingers, i dont know when i got the sudden confidence but hearing someone like her think a loser like me is cute did something to me.

"shut up" she playfully shoved me and i laughed.

"are you from midtown?" i asked her

"no im from queens" she joked

"oh you're definitely from midtown" i chuckled, next thing i know i was having a normal conversation with me laying my head on a girl i just met like we knew eachother for years, it was nice to talk to a girl i potentially thought was cute instead of talking gibberish

she was very understanding and looked like interested into what i was saying, i was gonna skip my geeky side when she asked about what i like but to my surprise, she mentioned it when i asked her the same, she said she loves comics and likes watching sci fi movies. i asked her if she watched star wars and she said she didnt...yet.

"wanna uhm watch it together?" i played with her fingers absentmindedly nervous if she'd reject me.

"yeah sure" her eyes lit up like she was waiting for me to ask her that. we watched the movie in bliss, thankfully she liked it! and immediately said to put the second one. and surprise surprise, we finished it.

when the credits rolled in, i saw her yawning, shifting in her seat again, i decided to be bold so i lifted her head off my shoulder pulled the arm rest away from us, took a pillow and patted my lap. immediately after doing it i regretted it, she barely knows me, what the fuck peter.

"you sure?" she asked smiling a bit, she looked like she felt something giddy inside which made me feel at peace again and i nodded.

"good night" she whispered snuggling her head on my lap, i hesitantly put my arm over

"good night, y/n" and we fell asleep like how ned slept the whooole time i was talking to her, wow we have a lot to catch up on

bonus:

peters pov

i didnt know the whole plane (our class) practically gushed over my interaction with y/n, i know its been a while since i liked a girl but betty and the rest (including Mr Harrington) practically begged mj to take photos of us since she was the closest, not that she wouldnt have done it without them asking her....

*A/N: idk what this bonus was lmao but i had to add the school feeling happy for our boy pete*

have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening/night!

-quacksonlover

#spiderman #peter parker x fem #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #ned leeds #may parker #aunt may #the avengers #mcu #michelle jones #marvel #sony pictures #imagines #peter parker x reader #fluff #peter #parker #avengers

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 28

A/N: Thanks for all the love this past week ❤️ It meant a lot to me. Here’s 4600 words of subpar writing 😝 And FYI, we’re not getting too sad around here. This is the only chapter they’ll be apart. That means reunification next week!

April 12th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was with her family.

It was Easter, and they were celebrating together, thankfully. She was more grateful for it now more than ever, considering the state of the world. She had stayed camped out at her apartment for the last two weeks with Kasha, who had come back from Evan’s place and was none the wiser about William being there for the fourteen days prior. It made the most sense to Aberdeen because she still had to pay rent, and because she didn’t want to put Minerva through a stressful move again. So, she stayed put. Plus, now that she was living on her own, she’d know she’d go crazy if she lived with her family again. Especially with Siena back from Ottawa because of classes in some weird state of limbo. The sisters were thankful that Camden was independent enough to be able to learn on his own and not be constantly watched – and so was Orla. She had enough to tackle, having her grade one class turned into online learning until further notice. Everything was messy, and unprecedented, and weird, and not understandable, and weird, and chaotic, and confused.

But Aberdeen had her family. And Aberdeen had Willy.

They’d kept their promise about calling each other every night. Aberdeen would lay in bed and put in her headphones (so Kasha wouldn’t hear) and they’d FaceTime each other for a majority of the night, alone in their rooms, talking about anything and everything. Sometimes they’d fall asleep talking, and their phones wouldn’t shut off, and Aberdeen would wake up an hour later and see the brightness of her phone screen still lit up, and she’d see William sleeping on the other end, his face so peaceful yet so burdened with responsibility of caring for his siblings while his parents and other siblings were eight hours and an entire continent and ocean away, and she wouldn’t have the heart to end the call.

Things were fine in Tampa, from what he told her. Jacquie had calmed down considerably. Alex was…Alex – always trying to make jokes and make light of the situation. They barely left their house, but because there were three of them there, it wasn’t too bad. There were a lot of board games played, a lot of Netflix series watched. From across the countries, Aberdeen and William were watching Tiger King together. She didn’t think she’d watched anything as horrifyingly crazy. William would crack jokes about her putting him in a meat grinder and feeding him to tigers. She could only giggle.

She knew that today the siblings were going to go for their first “outing”, just to get some sunshine, along the Courtney Campbell Bridge. She hoped the weather would cooperate for them. And once they were all home, and once Aberdeen was back at her place, the routine would begin, and she’d crawl into bed, and she’d FaceTime Willy to hear all about it.

Good Friday meant they had fish. Easter Monday meant Orla’s roasted lamb and much of the same sides that were prepared on Christmas. They’d still video chat with their grandparents, Camden would still play hockey in the driveway, and Aberdeen and Siena would go down into the basement and watch episodes of Brooklyn 9-9 or another show. Routines, in a time of a global pandemic that brought so much uncertainty, were accepted with warmth. Even for just a day, life was going to feel normal. Orla and Mirza had even gone so far as to get their kids chocolate eggs. It didn’t matter that the youngest didn’t believe in the Easter Bunny anymore or that the girls were in their early twenties – the gesture went farther than that. They were all together again, even if it was just for the day.

When Orla placed the roasted lamb at the centre of the table, asking Mirza for his plate first, Aberdeen took a giant whiff of the smell and immediately felt more relaxed. She filled her plate with carrots and asparagus and Yorkshire pudding before her mom piled on the lamb and sauce.

“So where’s our good friend William these days?” Orla asked as she finished serving everybody and sat down in her seat. She immediately grabbed her knife and fork to dig in. “He didn’t want to come for Easter?”

“I’m sure he wanted to come and have your lamb, darling,” Mirza said.

“He’s in Tampa,” Aberdeen answered, smiling slightly at her parents’ interaction. “His brother and his sister went there at the start of lockdown, and so when he was good to go too, he went.”

“William quarantined for fourteen days too?” Mirza asked. “Why?”

“He spoke to one of his Swedish friends on the Predators so he had to. I bet the whole team did,” she explained.

“Did you guys quarantine together?” Siena asked.

Aberdeen rolled her eyes. “Hah. Good one.”

“William has sisters?” Camden asked.

“He has three,” Aberdeen smiled. “All of them are younger than him.”

“I can’t imagine three of you and Siena.”

Everybody at the table snorted. “We can’t imagine three of you either, buddy,” Siena quipped back.

Camden smiled, then focused his attention back to Aberdeen. “So what’s he doing in Tampa?”

“I don’t know. Hanging out with his brother and sister.”

“Why don’t you call him and ask?”

“Camden,” Aberdeen said, “I can’t just call William Nylander and ask him what he’s doing so my little brother can know,” her tone made it seem like it was the most out-of-this-world idea. But it was a total lie. William would be at her beck and call – he always was. If she called him right now, he’d answer. If she called him and asked him what he was doing because Camden wanted to know, he’d answer her and tell Camden what he was doing. He was just like that.

“I think the most important question we should be asking about William, considering the circumstances in our world right now, is whether or not he’s safe in Tampa,” Mirza interjected. He stuffed a roasted potato into his mouth. “Is he safe?”

Aberdeen nodded. “He’s safe. And he’s with his family, just like we are.”

***

Aberdeen could hear the video game sounds coming out of Camden’s Nintendo Switch as she lay in his bed, cuddled up to him while browsing through her phone. It was later – later than she thought – but she wanted to stay at home for a little while longer, at least until Camden went to bed, because, well…it was a global pandemic and she wanted to see her family. Her dad would drive her home eventually – she knew that. But she wanted to spend some time with her younger brother, even if it was just cuddling with him while he played video games and she browsed Instagram. Sometimes physical contact was the best contact; sometimes nothing needed to be said.

“Hey Aberdeen?” he whispered.

Apparently something needed to be said.

She looked over at him and saw that he’d placed the Switch face-down on his chest. He was looking up at her. “Yeah bud?”

“Are you scared about the pandemic?”

Aberdeen softened immediately. God, she wished he could stay this age forever. She didn’t want him to grow up and turn into a moody teenager. She wanted him like this forever: young and innocent and the little boy who cries over meeting Kyle Lowry. “Of course I’m scared,” she admitted. “Are you scared?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Mom’s home so it’s okay but I’m scared about dad. What if the virus is on one of the envelopes or packages he has to deliver? Or, like, on a mailbox?”

Aberdeen cuddled closer to her brother, if only to provide physical assurance. There were so many unknowns about the virus. It didn’t help that there was wall-to-wall coverage of it on the TV all the time. “I don’t think the virus works that way, Cam. I think—”

“But did you see how fast it spread in New York City? Mom and dad were watching the news one night and the number of people who have it is so high,” he was so concerned.

“I think dad’s work put a lot of, like, safety rules in place so nobody will catch it,” she tried to calm his nerves. “Dad wouldn’t be working if it wasn’t safe. Look at my work. They’re not letting me work because it’s not safe.”

Camden considered his sister’s words. She could practically see the gears shifting in his mind. “I guess so,” he acquiesced. “But I still think about dad a lot when he’s working. Mom’s even praying a lot more now.”

“I figured she would be,” Aberdeen nodded. “Listen Cam, I’m scared about everything too, but the reason why I’m not worried about dad is because dad’s a really smart guy, and we’re a family that listens to doctors and public health experts who are trying to make everything better,” she explained.

“And don’t forget the epado…epid…”

“Epidemiologists,” she smiled, saying the word for him. “Them too. I’m listening to them.”

“Mom thinks I won’t go back to school this year at all. She told me I’m gonna help her teacher her first graders,” he giggled. “Imagine that! At least I don’t have to take EQAO this year.”

“Lucky you,” Aberdeen wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Hey, if I order some masks, what designs do you want on them?”

“Raptors and Leafs, obviously,” he smiled. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Well excuuuuuuse me—”

Their conversation was interrupted by Aberdeen’s phone ringing from its place on her chest. When she flipped it over to see who would be calling her at this hour, she should have known better than to wonder. It was William. It would only be William. But he was requesting to FaceTime her. Just as she was about to reject the call, she heard Cam gasp. “Is that William Nylander? He’s calling you?!”

She gulped. “Cam—”

“Answer it! Answer it!”

She swiped her screen. She prayed to every saint that he wasn’t already topless. When he finally appeared on the screen, he was wearing an oversized t-shirt. She’d have to pray the rosary tonight. “Hi William,” she greeted formally – no “Hi baby” or “Heeeeeyyyyy” like she usually did, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Hello…” he answered back awkwardly, not realizing immediately why she was being so formal. When she tilted the camera and he saw Camden lying beside her smiling from ear-to-ear, waving frantically at him, he understood. “Heeeyyy Camden,” he greeted, waving back.

“Hi William!” Camden said. “How are you?”

“I’m good, buddy, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” he shrugged. “Aberdeen told me you’re in Tampa Bay with your brother and sisters.”

“I am,” William nodded, shooting the quickest of looks to Aberdeen. “She texted me to let me know you guys were apparently missing me today at lunch. I already know my lunch wasn’t as great as the one your mom made.”

Camden giggled slightly. “It definitely wasn’t. Mom made lamb today. Hey William?”

“Yeah bud?”

“Aberdeen told me you have three younger sisters. I have two older ones. How do you do it?!”

William burst out laughing, as did Aberdeen. “Ooooooh Camden. If I knew, I’d tell you.”

***

“How are you, minskatt?” William asked as he watched Aberdeen get into her bed. He’d called her again when he knew it was safe – when she was back at her apartment after her dad drove her home. He hadn’t expected Camden to be on his earlier phone call, of course, but they’d spoken for about ten minutes until Camden was satisfied.

Aberdeen took a deep breath. She was going for it. “Jag mår bra hur mår du?” she replied in near-perfect Swedish.

She watched as William’s eyes bulged out dramatically and smiled mischievously. “Minskatt?!” he gasped dramatically, even going so far as to sit up in bed. She could only giggle. “Minskatt where did that come from? Are you…”

“Mhm,” she nodded before he could finish his thought. “I ordered a bunch of Swedish language books and I’ve been learning since you left. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Minskaaaaatt,” he repeated, except this time in a more playful accusatory tone. “What have you taught yourself?”

“Just the most basic stuff,” she said. “Hello, how are you, where is the washroom, that kind of stuff. Verb conjugations are going to come later. And…” she trailed off.

“And?”

She smiled again. “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker,” she whispered.

It was the most amazing thing William had ever heard. It didn’t matter that the pronunciation was a bit off – it was incredible. Incredible. So incredible that he couldn’t handle it. He smiled from ear to ear and buried his face in his pillow as he giggled. “Minskatt…you have no idea how beautiful that sounds,” he said. “Like…you honestly have no idea.”

“Do you like the surprise?” she asked.

“I fucking love it,” he said. “Minskatt, you’re too good to me.”

“I want to learn more. I want…I want to like, become as fluent as I can so that I can speak to your family in Swedish. You know, when we’re in Sweden. Whenever that is.”

William’s heart practically burst in his chest. If it was possible, he would have spontaneously self-combusted right then and there at her words and their sweetness. “If I could take you to Sweden tomorrow, I would. God minskatt, I miss you so much. I’m dying over here.”

“Me too.”

“I want to touch you so bad,” he admitted. “I was dreaming about it the other night but then I woke up, and I couldn’t fall back asleep again.”

Her heart fluttered. She’d dreamt about the same thing too last night and woke up sweating. She’d never been this sexually frustrated before, even in her single days. To think of the time they spent together during quarantine, only to have him leave and be unable to do those same thing…it was a lot to miss. A lot to look forward too, as well, once they reunited. But for now, she could only miss it. “How were you touching me?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

She could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “You know how,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” she said, slipping her hand underneath the covers. She snaked it down her body and underneath her pajama pants and underwear. “Tell me how you were touching me.”

William watched as he watched her one arm move and her hand disappear. He gulped at the sight of it. “I was touching your pussy,” he huffed, slipping his own hand under the covers.

“Was it wet for you?”

“Of course,” he said, grabbing hold of his cock, stroking it almost immediately. “Is…is it wet right now?”

“Getting there,” she nodded.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Mhm,” she said, her eyes drooping slightly. She waited a few moments as she continued to touch herself before she finally continued. “Tell me how you were touching me. What were you doing?”

“I was fingering you. And my thumb was rubbing your clit…how you like it,” his voice was low.

“Mmmmm,” Aberdeen hummed, mimicking what he was saying and doing it to herself as best she could. She’d done it for so long as a single woman that she’d practically mastered it, but ever since she’d been with William, he’d mastered it in the short amount of time too. There was nothing he did that didn’t turn her on. “I had your cock down my throat in my dream last night.”

“Oh fuck,” William huffed, not expecting that at all. He thought, as always, this was gonna be about pleasuring her by some good old-fashioned phone sex. He didn’t think she’d go so far as to include him too, considering how new the experience was. But they were doing this. “Was it deep in your throat?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded. “It hit the back.”

“Fuuuuuck Aberdeen,” he huffed. He imagined the feeling and it sent shivers down his spine. He got hard almost immediately at the thought as he kept stroking himself, but ever since he’d been with Aberdeen, his own hand didn’t fucking cut it anymore. She gave him the best handjobs, the best blowjobs…everything she did was the best to him.

“Remember when I sucked you off in the backseat of your car?” she asked, her voice sugary sweet. William nodded his head quickly. “Remember how you came in my mouth? You tasted sooooo good, Willy.”

“Ab—Aberdeen—fuck, don’t—”

“I can’t wait to taste it again.”

William’s eyes rolled back. “I can’t wait to taste your pussy again.”

“When you come back home, I want you to fuck me like you did during quarantine,” she continued. “Fuck me hard how I like it, Willy.”

“Ab—are you—look at me when you cum, Aberdeen,” William demanded. He could tell by just a quick look that she was almost there. “Look at me when you cum.”

“Are you close?”

“Y—Yeah.”

“Cum with me, Willy. Think of my tight pussy when you cum.”

She could see his face contort slightly as he closed his eyes. She bit her bottom lip and tried to suppress a loud moan, writhing in her bed and squeezing her legs together as her orgasm took over her body. She heard William moan too, low and guttural, and when she saw his chest heaving just as much as hers was, she knew he came too.

As her breathing steadied out, Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle slightly. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she admitted. “That was—”

“That was really hot,” William finished her sentence, albeit more bluntly than her tone. “That was—we did that quick but God it was hot.”

“Yeah,” Aberdeen nodded. “Nothing compares to the real thing though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” William agreed. “The second I land in Toronto – finish quarantine – whatever, I’m taking you to my place and I’m fucking you senseless.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle and smirk at his words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

April 14th, 2020

“What did you and your brother do that day?” Aberdeen practically screamed into the phone as the video played on what seemed like an infinite loop on her laptop. “Seriously. What made you think to film that?”

“We practiced for a long time!”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure the Toosie Slide dance took a lot of practice.”

“It does!”

“Your poor sister.”

“She lived.”

Aberdeen snorted. “And what are those shorts, William?!”

“Um, excuse me? Are you making fun of my shorts?” he giggled. “I thought you’d like them, seeing as they show off my thighs. We both know how much you like my thighs…”

“Stop it.”

“No.”

***

April 20th, 2020

“Did you get some sun today?” Aberdeen asked sarcastically, seeing William on FaceTime looking redder than a tomato.

“You’re funny.”

“Have you heard of sunscreen?”

“I wore sunscreen,” he grumbled.

“Sure you did.”

***

April 25th, 2020

“Have you been writing a lot, minskatt?” William asked as he watched Aberdeen concentrating on her screen, hearing her furious typing through the microphone. They were on the type of call where the participants just went about their business, connected through the screen, watching the other do their work while also doing their own. William was just being dumb and scrolling through golfing websites, but Aberdeen was actually being productive.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “I just…well, you saw how much I wrote when we were together too. In between the sex,” she chuckled slightly. “But after you left, there was just this huge burst of inspiration and energy.”

“I think it was the sex,” William deadpanned, causing Aberdeen to laugh. “The sex inspired you.”

“Well you definitely gave me the energy,” she smiled. “Too bad what I’m writing isn’t a sex diary or something.”

“What are you writing, minskatt?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Um…” Aberdeen began, trying to formulate what she was writing into words. “It’s about a girl. Well, a group of girls.”

“You mean like that TV show Girls?”

“Better,” Aberdeen huffed. “Lena Dunham is awful.”

William smiled. “So a group of girls?”

“A group of girls and their relationships with each other. And the expectations they have for each other that sometimes may not work in their favour.”

“So is it semi-autobiographical?”

Aberdeen side-eyed him. Everything in writing was at least somewhat autobiographical. But he didn’t need to know that. “Maybe.”

***

April 27th, 2020

“I miss you so much,” William mumbled, his voice sleepy.

“I miss you too,” Aberdeen said, equally as tired. “I can’t wait for you to hold me. I can’t wait to just cuddle.”

“Me too.”

***

April 30th, 2020

For the first time in weeks, Aberdeen wasn’t doomscrolling about COVID-19. She was doomscrolling about William.

It started innocently enough, by Aberdeen reminiscing on the first time he drove her home from the airport and he spoke about his contract negotiations and how they turned a lot of people sour on him. She believed him right then and there, but she didn’t go looking. Now, with nothing to do and a curious mind, she went looking.

And she hated what she found.

Entire articles, practically one written every week, about his trade value. Those same articles devalkuing him as a player and downplaying his role on the team as a top-six forward. Panels of analysts and experts demanding that the Leafs trade him. Entire Twitter accounts dedicated to blasting every single little thing he did on the ice. Men with nothing better to do than to obsess over him and call him every name in the book.

And then there was the video from Tim & Sid, the popular sports radio duo in Toronto that Aberdeen listened to for fifteen minutes once, but couldn’t get past Sid Seixeiro’s dumbass opinions. In the video she watched, he took a less than 10-second clip of something William had said in a post-game interview during a loss against the Panthers and asked, indignantly, “What the hell is wrong with him?” He then proceeded to go on a five-minute rant about the entire locker room having an attitude problem, how Willy had an attitude problem, how he didn’t care about the team…and people believed it. She knew it. People gobbled it up. It was their serotonin while they hated him and called him a pussy on the internet and threw glasses at him in bars while drunk. She felt sick to her stomach that these people felt this way about him.

She’d been crying for a while before she picked up her phone to call him. Her hands were shaking as she dialled his number, waiting for him to answer. “Hi minskatt,” he cooed after the fourth ring.

“Willy,” she greeted, her voice shaky.

The last time she’d called him in such a state, she was being followed from her apartment. William’s mind immediately went into overdrive. “Minskatt? What’s wrong?”

“Willy you know I love you, right?”

He softened slightly. “Of course I do. Why would you—”

“—I love you every way you are—"

“—Aberdeen—”

“—And I know you’re a good person and I love you so much, more than anything—”

“—Aberdeen—Aberdeen—stop. What is this about?”

She took a quick breath. “What everyone says about you, Willy. They’re horrible. Horrible. I was reading and I was watching these videos and they’re just awful to you and—”

“Aberdeen, I told you not to watch those videos,” he said.

“Willy, please,” she begged. “How could they say those things about you and not even know you? How can they still be so bitter after your contract negotiations?!”

“Aberdeen—”

“I love you, Willy. I love you every way you are,” she repeated. “I don’t care what anybody has to say about you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Aberdeen,” he said calmly but fiercely. “Aberdeen, you can’t listen to them. I learned how to tune them out a long time ago. Even if I did…I don’t care what they say about me. I know who I am, Aberdeen. I know the truth, and they don’t. And you do too.”

“I do, but I just…they’re so awful, Willy. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“Like I said…I know my truth. My family knows. And you do. The most important people in my life know the truth and that’s all that matters. I don’t give a fuck about what they think of me,” he said.

Aberdeen stayed silent. She knew she was overreacting, but damnit, she needed to overreact. She’d been a part of the hockey world now for what felt like a century, and if what she had with William was going to last, it would be a major part of her life for years to come. She needed to learn to roll with the punches. But at the same time, she felt like if those punches were unjustified, then she was justified in being upset about them and wanting to speak out. “I just love you so much,” she whispered, her voice much calmer now but still a bit shaky. “God, I’m such a horrible girlfriend. I’m calling you crying about the stupid Toronto media on the night before your birthday—”

“It’s okay, minskatt,” he interrupted. “I would rather you call me then cry alone. Besides, my birthday isn’t going to be special because you won’t be here.”

“Willy, don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he replied. “I wish I could spend it with you. Fuck, I wish I could fly you down to Florida on a private fucking plane just so I could spend time with you. I’d kill someone just to hold your hand right now.”

Her heart fluttered. “I wish you’d come back to Toronto,” she whispered. “When you get back, Willy…I’m gonna let you hold my hand so hard.”

They both snorted. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting my gift, by the way,” he said, knowing that whatever she had in store for him for his birthday would be waiting for him when he got back to Toronto. She made it that way – she promised, and he’d accepted. He was dying in anticipation, but he’d accepted.

“Want a little piece of it now?” she asked.

He smiled. “You know I do.”

***

May 1st, 2020

Happy birthday I know you’re spending the day with your brother so it’s okay if you don’t text back I just want you to know how much I love you. I’m sorry that I waited so long. I’m sorry I denied it for so long. You have been so good to me Willy. I hope I’m half as good to you as you are to me. I’ve never felt the love that you give me every single day from another person and I think that’s because the universe was saving it for ~you, for ~you to show me, because I can’t picture it being from anyone else. I love you so much and I miss you. Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.

i love u more than anything minskatt Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker always i will always love u i wish u were here with me nothing is the same without u

nothing is the same without you either I love you so much Willy

i love u aberdeen

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hajimewhore · 4 years ago

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Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.6k words ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness ofc ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, ✈Part 2

Thankfully, Hajime’s parents had busied themselves in the morning. Probably out grocery shopping, he’d mentioned off hand.

With Hajime the one blindfolding you now, you can finally place yourself in his shoes, an uneasy humiliation enveloping your bones.

“We can’t exactly dress each other everyday for school, can we?”

You mumble, as Hajime lets you tug the loose tee overhead. It seems he wanted little to do with this dress up game scenario, while simultaneously attempting to save himself from the embarrassment of you catching an eyeful of his junk.

He pulls off the blindfold and stares with an uncomfortable expression and blush. You’ve been doing a lot of blushing today since... well, since you woke up in each other’s bodies.

“I guess not. But I’ll respect your body, don’t worry.”

He huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

A short gasp comes from his lips, clearly not used to having a set of breasts, and he pulls his arms away quicker than you’ve probably ever moved yourself. Hajime awkwardly settles for resting his hands at his hips, and you stifle the snort that threatens to escape.

“I trust you, Hajime. Don’t worry. And same goes for me! I won’t eat junk food before bed, and I’ll work out a lot too!”

You announce while fist pumping the air, and he rolls his eyes.

“You better. Come on, let’s go before my mom and dad get back.”

A lot of changes had to be made to accommodate your... new lifestyle.

You decided it was best to swap phones, considering you each have the same model and should probably be conversing with your classmates and friends with some sort of vague continuity.

You also had a rather short lived and awkward conversation about bathroom time and changing.

And on the way to the park, you discussed the people you each talked with the most in class, how to talk to them, and to take notes properly.

You’re thorough if anything, trying to make this awful situation as easy as you can possibly make it.

“This is exhausting... and we haven’t even gotten to play volleyball yet.”

You bounce the volleyball in the grass, huffing at the torture this body swap is turning out to be.

“At least you can spike, and have a mean serve. It would have been way worse for me if you were a libero.”

At least Hajime is looking on the bright side.

“We just have to get used to our bodies.”

You attempt to reason alongside him, amping each other up.

By the time the sun sets, you’re both panting in the grass next to each other. All former encouragements and hype lost, replaced by the dread of the coming Monday.

“We’re so fucked, I’m not used to being this tall, or having these limbs.”

You wave your arms around in the grass for emphasis, turning to gaze at your partner in this disaster.

“I feel like I’ve been launched back to middle school, it’s hard to get used to being short again.”

Hajime hums in agreement.

“I’m not that short! You’re just tall!”

“Not that tall!”

He grimaces, and you think you hear him mutter something about one more centimeter.

Before you can delve back to wallowing in misery, Hajime speaks up again,

“Whatever, we actually started doing pretty good by the end. It’s not the level we’re usually at, but I’m sure we can fake it in practice well enough. Chalk it up to being sick or something. We’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

Sitting upright, he musters a confident look that warms your chest. You’re glad he’s being optimistic, pushing away the negative thoughts that keep rearing up.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Now let’s get food, I’m starved.”

“Agedashi tofu is the best after practice.”

He’s gleaming, and you think it looks more natural on your face than the stern countenance that seems trademark to Hajime. Though, you do miss the rare occasions you got too see that expression on his normal face... so you make a mental note to take plenty of happy face selfies while you’re in this body.

You can’t help the soft laugh, imagining all the faces you could make in Hajime’s body he wouldn’t be caught dead making normally. When he eyes you warily, you shake your head and respond before he catches on to your plan.

“The katsudon here is way better, you’re crazy.”

You grin, mouth watering as you bring a pork cutlet to your lips.

When you bite in, it turns out to be less satisfying than you remembered.

‘Weird, this place has really good katsudon.’

When you peer over at Hajime, he seems to be sharing a similar dilemma.

“How is it?”

You tilt your head up, gazing cautiously at him.

“It’s... okay.”

He frowns, can he seriously not enjoy agedashi tofu right now? Or was it just made bad?

“Right. Same here.”

The two of you pause, stewing for a second at the disappointment of your favorite meals, before both having the same idea to swap plates.

When you bite into your newly swapped dishes, you both simultaneously break out into wide grins.

“Whaaat, this is so good!”

“’katsudon’s not so bad either.”

You burst out into laughter,

“I guess our tastes have been swapped too.”

“I was beginning to think this would just be a nightmare. But there’s some fun things involved.”

Hajime hums, taking another hearty bite from the katsudon. You smile at his enthusiasm, before returning to your dish.

You continue to idly chatter about things that might be important to know, before walking home together.

When you reach the end of the street, Hajime almost makes the mistake of turning to the Iwaizumi residence. When he freezes, you realize you were equally ready to freely waltz into your own house.

You both awkwardly switch sides on the sidewalk, silently acknowledging the blunder with a light laugh.

“I’ll text you if I think of anything else. Have a good night,” you pause, “Y/N!”

You wink at him, chuckling at the sour expression. If you thought referring to yourself as Hajime was weird, it’s even more unsettling to call yourself by name.

Hajime rolls his eyes before waving goodbye.

“Yeah yeah... Hajime. See you tomorrow.”

The interaction certainly is odd, but you laugh with a grin nonetheless. Despite the fucked up situation, it’s kind of cool to have a secret to share with Hajime.

You just hope it isn’t permanent.

When Hajime turns to the your household, he feels the nervousness come back full force.

The two of you spent all day with each other, not really worried about a stranger’s perception of them.

But now he has to deal with the people closest to you, your parents. And he’s actually quite fond of your parents, they’ve always treated him like the son they never had (as well as Oikawa), but he’s not exactly looking forward to living out their wish for a son vicariously through you.

He swings open the door, kicking his shoes off before stepping inside.

“I’m home!”

‘Remember to be enthusiastic, and keep that RBF in check!’ he hears your insistent reminder echo in his mind, almost catching himself scowling.

“Welcome back darling! Did you eat?”

He hears your mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“I had something to eat with Hajime.”

He sweats a little, your mom is oddly calculated, always in tune with your emotions. Sometimes even his, but there’s no way she’d figure out what was going on, right?

“Good. If you get hungry later, there’s left overs.”

He calls out a thanks, almost sighing in relief, looks like the panic was for nothing.

Hajime casually (yet so, so, eagerly) heads for the stairs.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to say hi to Tooru? He and his mother came for dinner!”

WHAT.

“Y/N-chan! You and Iwa-chan were hanging out today? We’re you practicing volleyball?”

As if on cue, Oikawa rounds the corner and cuts Hajime off at the stairs, eyeing the athletic attire he’s wearing,

“I have something I want to practice more, you should’ve texted me.”

He huffs, arms folded as he leans against the stairway’s frame. Clearly a trick, Oikawa blew up both of your phones all day long despite being told you were busy. Hajime resists the urge to scowl at the backhanded comment. Brat.

Wait a second... how exactly do you talk to Oikawa again? Hajime should know, he’s spent a majority of his life with the two of you, but he’s currently drawing blanks.

He seems to have wracked his brain a little too long for a normal interaction, as Oikawa’s eyeing him again with an inquisitive look.

“Sorry... Tooru. You were sleeping in, and we both just happened to wake up early. Besides, you shouldn’t be practicing so much.”

He’s glad he didn’t let the ‘Shittykawa’ slip, that wouldn’t have been on brand for you at all. Out of habit though, he did punch Tooru in the arm.

“Yow! So mean, why are you hitting me?!”

Oikawa cries out, looking utterly scandalized as he rubs the sore spot on his arm.

“Because you deserve it.”

Hajime rolls his eyes, hopefully you won’t become aware of this interaction or he’ll get an earful from you. He’s still slightly convinced he’s an innocent bystander affected by some sort of cosmic punishment on Oikawa Tooru.

“Are you mad at me?!”

Hajime ignores Oikawa’s cry of complaint, jogging up the stairs. It’s hard being you, he grimaces as he beelines for the safety your room.

Finally in the comfort of privacy, he collapses into your sheets with a sigh of relief.

It could barely be considered a conversation with your mother, and Oikawa, but he’s already feeling mentally exhausted from the social exchange.

And tomorrow marks the start of the school week. Great.

Hajime slumps into your absurd amount pillows (seriously, you only need one). If he feels a little disappointed that he can’t recognize your scent anymore, he certainly doesn’t admit it, and definitely doesn’t entertain the intrusive thought longer than a moment.

A/N: I’m actually having so much fun with this au it’s adsklag;hj, I just like to watch my faves suffer in a chaotic mess I can not lie

Masterlist, Part 1, ✈Part 2, Part 3

#hqradiostation #haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader

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yacoka · 4 years ago

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SHOOTING STARS

pairing — yamaguchi tadashi x reader

genre — slightly angstish? but overall fluff I think

beta — @doughnuts-5ever

note(s) — my piece for the to infinity and beyond collab!!

-ˏˋ please reblog if you enjoyed this! ˊˎ-

YEAR ONE

you’re a novice with trembling hands and a shaky stance. the weight of the bow is unforgiving, the string cruel, cutting deep into your fragile skin. the wind blows harshly, and you’re not entirely sure what, nor where the target is. so there you remain, eyes closed and bow drawn, snapped arrows scattered all around.

first days of anything are never easy, not when you’re entering a new phase of life, into a new environment all alone. sometimes it gets eased by the people around you, the friends you make. sometimes it doesn’t.

your first day of highschool stretches on for almost half a year, and you’re still where you’ve started - alone and lonely.

it has never been easy for you to make friends, and it certainly didn’t help you didn’t really know how to. you suppose it’s partly due to the fact that you could never decide on what to say and what time to say it. too many conversations had been killed by your ill-timed inputs, and eventually, you stopped trying.

loneliness is not a foreign companion, and you’d like to think you’ve made good friends with it. but it leans a little too heavy on you, every step takes a little more effort. it wraps its arms around you like a lover, whispering in your ears as you watch the group of teenagers in front of you push each other around, joking and laughing and having fun.

your head dips a little lower and your shoulders slump a little more. it’s just another day; another long, lonely day. you’ll be okay.

or maybe not.

a hard shove has you flying backwards, and you yelp in shock and fear. wide eyes meet yours and a hand reaches out to grab your arm, stabilizing you.

“hinata, you idiot!” a voice rages, and it snaps out of the shock-induced haze you’ve settled into.

“are you alright?” the boy in front of you asks, and you register who exactly it is that’s still holding your hand. his hazel eyes are filled with concern, and you can’t help but get distracted by the stray strand of green hair standing up.

“i- uh, yeah-” you stumble out. the warmth of his hand is distracting, and maybe you’ve been out of touch with talking to people for far too long. “fine.”

he eyes you worriedly, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he nods and lets go of you. “i’m so sorry about my friend, we were just messing around, and it got a little… out of hand.”

“it’s fine,” you shake your head lightly. “i’m okay, it’s-”

“i’m so sorry, are you okay?” another boy jumps right into your face, all pink-faced and messy red hair. “i didn’t mean to run you over, kageyama just bet me i couldn’t run backwards, i’m so sorry-”

he’s yanked back by another boy, this one taller than the previous two. “i’m sorry about this one, he’s lacking a few brain cells tonight.” he shoots you a bland smile before dragging the redhead away, another boy following after them.

“you’re sure you’re fine?” he asks you once more.

“i am, don’t worry,” you smile at him reassuringly. “i should get going, thank you for catching me.” without waiting for his response, you bow quickly, speeding off home.

you know it means nothing to him, but you remember how good it felt to have someone be concerned, to feel like someone cared. it's a fleeting thought, but you thought, just maybe, he could be someone to you.

you’ve only just begun to familiarise yourself with the bow, and you’re a far cry from a perfect shot. you’re still a little lost, beaten and bruised by the harsh snaps of the bow’s string. but you’re learning, and the arrows aren’t as cruel as they once were. they too, have learnt to have patience with you. you shift your feet, and you wait.

it’s almost the end of the year when one of your classmates approaches with a nervous smile.

“hey, y/n right?” she smiles politely. you know of her presence, the blonde girl reminiscent of wild daisies along the road with a sweet spring personality to match. she’s even prettier up close, and you can’t help but panic a little at the realization that you don't know her name.

how could you have shared a class with her for almost a year and not know her name?

“i’m sorry, i must’ve got your name wrong! please forgive me! i was so sure you were y/n, i shouldn’t have made assumptions, please forgi-”

“no, no, i am y/n!” you cut her off quickly. “that’s my name.” a nervous chuckle slips out of you.

“oh,” her shoulders slump in relief. “that’s good. i’m yachi! yachi hitoka.”

“uh, hi yachi.” you greet her, awkwardly shifting on your feet. this interaction had been going on for longer than you were prepared for, and you were very well aware of how bad your conversational skills were, especially without preparation. thankfully, yachi seemed to get the hint and gets to the point immediately.

“i’m one of the managers for the volleyball club, and shimizu, the senior volleyball manager, is graduating soon, and we’ll need another manager to help us out. do you think you’ll be interested in joining us?”

the very idea of helping out a club, where you had to interact with numerous people, for the next few years, was in short, terrifying. but it was as if yachi could see the very thoughts floating through your mind, and she was quick to add on, “i know it seems really intimidating! i thought so too when i first joined. but everyone was really welcoming, and i think you’d be a great fit. please just consider it?”

at her hopeful smile, you couldn't say no, not without causing that adorable expression to fall. so without thinking, you blurt out a yes, you'll try out being a manager for a week. the grin that yachi gives you almost makes the nerves that follow worth it.

you somehow find yourself outside the gym after school, nervously listening to the squeaking of shoes and slamming of balls. a couple of minutes passed, and you gathered your scattered bits of courage into a tight fist, holding on to it for dear life as you push open the doors.

you’re instantly greeted by yachi, who as it turns out, was about to go and find you.

“hey, y/n! this is shimizu, she’s the senior manager.” you smile politely at her, introducing yourself. it doesn’t take long for the rest of the volleyball club to notice your intrusion.

“who’s this?” a grey-haired boy sticks his head over shimizu’s shoulder. she elbows him back lightly before introducing you to the boys who had been quick to gather around the entrance.

it was intimidating, the stares that were locked onto you, analyzing you. you weren’t used to this much attention, and your discomfort was clear as you shifted nervously on your feet, eyes darting around in slight panic. it ran from face to face, hurriedly try to connect the names that were being thrown out. tanaka, asahi, nishinoya, hinata, yamaguchi-

yamaguchi.

you gaped a little at the overly familiar face standing in front of you. that was the boy that had saved you the night before. and that must mean- yes there were the others, the one who ran you over, and the over two who had barely exchanged a few words before leaving.

(no, your shoulders did not relax slightly at their familiar faces. and no, your heart rate certainly didn’t raise at the sight of yamaguchi. you were perfectly composed, as much as you could be under the scrutiny of so many people.)

the polite smile you give is accompanied with a slight bow, and as you greet them officially, your eyes lingers a little longer upon the green-haired boy. maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something else, something new.

YEAR TWO

the target finally comes into view, with black and green circles that surround a pulsing, bright red. for the first time you see something with stunning clarity, and you know where you need to aim for. your arms raise in preparation, the arrow poised, and you wait.

it’s been a little over six months since you’ve joined the volleyball club as their manager, and yet it feels like forever as you sit with your fellow second years below the large oak tree in the courtyard. there’s a soft murmur of conversation and laughter, mixed in with a little bit of chaos as hinata and kageyama get up to their usual schemes.

yachi reels them in just enough to keep things from exploding, though tsukishima certainly doesn’t help anything with his snarky jabs and snickers. you laugh once again as he throws another passive-aggressive comment at the two, leaning against yamaguchi’s side.

the contact leaves sparks jumping across your skin, and the circus comes to life within you. yamaguchi doesn’t seem to notice how affected you are, in fact even seeming to shift so you could lean on him more comfortably. no one notices anything, or so you think until yachi makes eye contact with you. she gives you a knowing look, and you flush deeply, pulling yourself upright.

(you miss the slight downturn of yamaguchi’s lips when you do so, and the subconscious shift of his body following yours.)

you manage to tame the turbulence of emotions within you, and with a fond smile, you watch your little group of friends as they chatter on about everything and anything. it’s sharp contrast from last year, where you were alone and lonely.

now, you had a group of people who you loved and cared for, and who loved and cared for you in return. it’s another day filled with laughter and joy, with burdens to be shared, and company to be had. you’re grateful for them, for all that they’ve brought into your life, even the chaos that trail behind them.

loneliness wasn’t foreign to you, but it also wasn’t as close of a friend as it used to be. instead, these five had filled the void it was so determined to maintain, and they pushed you to grow as they did, to aim for higher heights, even when it seemed impossible.

and as yamaguchi smiles at you when you try and fail to catch the grape that hinata pelts at you, you realize, the warmth you once so desperately sought now curls in the corner of your chest, hidden behind your ribcage.

you had them now, and they had you.

even with a clear target, you can’t seem to take the shot. it’s frustrating, and your arms ache from being held up for so long, your fingers bloodied. the bowstring is stained red with your aching failure, and you’re sure your limbs have gone numb from being frozen for too long. but still, you maintain your position, set in determination.

there’s a running tally in the club room of who gets the most confessions out of the second years, and at the very moment, yachi takes the lead with eight. it’s a wonder it isn’t more, though you know there have been many who had been scared off by the boys.

(tsukishima and kageyama, to be exact. hinata and yamaguchi were much too friendly to ever be seen otherwise.)

and it looks like there’s another score to be added to the tally as you watch a freshman approach yamaguchi, one hand holding a letter and the other a box of chocolates. he greets her with a bright smile, and the sight sends dull, rusted arrows into your heart. it isn’t the first time he’s been confessed to, though it still hurts the same every time.

you can’t help the bitter smile that rests on your lips as you watch them. there’s a mixture of admiration and anger that bubbles in your chest; admiration for the courage the girl had to confess, anger for not being able to do the same. there’s a box that sits beneath your bed containing a bunch of letters you’ve written to him, though none of them have ever made it out of your possession.

it’s horrible of you, you know, to enjoy the look on their faces when yamaguchi turns them down, and the sick relief that settles your jealousy.

Today though, your heart drops into your stomach when yamaguchi accepts the chocolates, something he’s never done before. was he accepting her confession? a warm hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, whirling around to see tsukishima staring down at you.

“he didn’t,” the blond says firmly, his hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. “he won’t.”

biting back the tears that threaten to fall, you nod your head shakily. but the sight that greets you when you turn back around taunts you with deafening doubts you’re not sure tsukishima can quell.

“how can you be so sure,” you whisper quietly. “he looks happy enough with her, doesn’t he?”

tsukishima remains silent as yamaguchi pulls out of the hug, but his grip tightens, and you know he’s here for you, no matter what.

YEAR THREE

the target calls out to you, it dares you, it taunts you. but still you remain waiting, no matter how much your arms ache, how heavy the bow feels, how painful your fingers are. the tension’s drawn too taut, but you’re no stranger to it. you’ll hold, you’ll persevere on. you won’t shoot until it’s time.

it’s valentine’s day, and there’s a flurry of activity as people rush around trying to profess their love to someone. there’s a mess of chocolates flying and candies scattered around with a few people fighting to gift their present first. you’ve never been a fan of the chaos that valentine’s day brings, and there’s an underlying bitterness that comes from never being on the receiving end.

fighting through the crowd that had formed outside yamaguchi and tsukishima’s class, you managed to squeeze through the doorway. someone grabs your arm and yanks you further into the classroom, and it is only due to spending so much time together that you know it’s kageyama.

his grip was always gentle, but firm enough to guide you around.

“hey guys!” you grin cheerily at them. “so who’s got the most goods this time round?”

hinata raises his hand proudly. “i got three more chocolates than kageyama, suck on that!” he sticks his tongue out at kageyama.

kageyama scowls, grabbing one of the chocolates at the table and pelting it straight at hinata’s forehead. “just you wait, i’ll beat you by the end of today.”

“how much did you get y/n?” yachi cuts in gracefully, smiling at you from behind her pile of sweets. “i bet many people confessed to you, huh?”

you grin weakly at her. “none, actually. i don’t really talk to anyone outside of you guys.”

she frowns slightly at this. “well, that’s alright! do you want some of mine? i won’t be able to finish it all. too many sweet things isn’t good for me anyways.”

“no, that’s alright. thanks yachi.”

yamaguchi yelps suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention upon him. he’s scowling at tsukishima, rubbing his side in pain while the blond smirks in faux innocence.

“yamaguchi, are you okay?” your question has him flushing a violent red as he turns his gaze upon you.

“ye-yeah! i’m fine, tsukki just got a little handsy is all,” he waves a dismissive hand. you don’t miss the subtle glare tsukishima shoots him, as well as the hand that sneaks another pinch into his side. “also!” yamaguchi’s smile tightens. “i made some chocolates for you!” he thrusts out a black box tied off with a red ribbon.

your brows raise as you exchange an appreciative look with kageyama.

“for us? thank you yamaguchi, you’re the best!” hinata dives for the box, and snatches it out of his hands. he’s quick to delve into it, sounds of appreciation falling from his chocolate covered lips as he devours a good third of it.

“they weren’t for- nevermind, save some for the others hinata,” yamaguchi sighs exasperatedly.

“aye aye captain,” hinata replies with a salute. “these are really good!”

you also don’t miss the way yamaguchi keeps glancing at you, nor the flush that refuses to subside after you complimented his chocolates. though you refuse to feed into the voice that whispers to your heart that he likes you, he likes you just as much as you do him, you have a chance, a real shot here, you can’t help the flutter your heart gives in response.

the crowd begins to disperse into clusters of families and friends, and you fight your way through them to find your friends. you take three elbows to the chest and a couple near accidents before you find them standing under your usual tree.

“we did it!” you greet them breathlessly, throwing yourself onto the nearest person in a hug. the rest join in, and you’re surrounded by some of the best people in your life who have made memories worth keeping, who have helped you fly.

it takes a long while before the hug dissolves into slight tears and messy thanks and goodbyes. before you even realized what had happened, only you and yamaguchi were left standing alone beneath the tree, the other four having been caught by other friends wanting to say goodbye.

“so,” you smiled at him through watery eyes. “this is it.”

he grins at you, and it hits you how much you feel for him. you wished you had more time, more courage, more of him. what you would give to be able to say the words that have resided in your heart for a long time. i love you, i love you, i love you. you are made of the night sky, of stars that shine so bright, peace that brings so much joy. you are my wishing star, and there’s nothing else i’d wish for than you.

but you stay silent, a prisoner to your fear, chained by the doubts that have never left. instead, you do the only thing that doesn’t require speaking, one action that speaks of the thousand words you’d like to say - you offer him your second button.

yamaguchi’s grin widens into a smile, filled with hope and something too complex to be defined by words. his hand reaches out, shaking ever so slightly, and he offers his to you as well. it takes a moment for you to comprehend his silent response, and another before you slide your hand into his, your buttons clasped between both your hands.

his hand is rough from years of volleyball, but you find you don’t mind it when his free hand slides up to cup your cheek. it’s a tender gesture, and you melt into his touch.

“we took a while, didn’t we?” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

“just a while,” you hum, shifting even closer to him. “but it’s worth it.”

your arrow flies, and it flies and flies, and it lands. it lands with a gloriously solid thud, dead center of your target. you’re a far cry from a professional, but your shot has finally landed, and you’ve won more than a bullseye.

you’ve won love.

#haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi x reader

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jjyusmile · 5 years ago

Text

room for one more? | lee juyeon

lee juyeon | room for one more?

pairing: lee juyeon x {gender-neutral} reader!

word count: 5k

notes: this is the kinda fluff that everyone wants, be prepared. a smidgen of angst bc why not and also slightly suggestive but we don’t get into the ~hmm hmm~ if you know what I mean? lee juyeon holds a massive spot in my heart and i wanna show how goddamn great he is in my mind so here ya go.

_______________________________________________________________________

The wind slowly brush your hair across your face with another gust setting it back into place – you were content. Every summer your family came down to the beach for a weekend of camping. An annual tradition. A tradition that slowly turned from thirteen families coming together for a weekend, to just you and your twelve friends for a night by the beach. You were around 17 when your parents stopped tagging along, with the boys’ parents slowly following suit. You didn’t mind so much though; some thought you were strange to hang out with twelve boys, but they were like brothers to you. Except one…

The crackling of the fire brought you back to reality, as tusks of smoke gradually rose from the open flame. Younghoon and Sangyeon were chopping vegetables and grilling meat, the smell made your mouth water as you swigged from your cup to fill the empty void in your stomach. It didn’t take long for Hyunjae to continue filling your cup further from the crate of beer he’d gotten from his uncle as a graduation present. This was the second year that your parents hadn’t joined; last year, you had gotten quite carried away with the strength of your alcohol tolerance, as Hyunjae loved to remind you.

“You don’t need to fill it up you know, I can barely get two sips in before its filled to the top again” you grumbled, holding back a smile at his cheeky grin.

His hand slowly retreated away from your cup. “Sorry, cupcake. Or should I start to call you Budweiser – King of Beers?” he retorted, his eyebrow lifting to taunt you further.

Hyunjae had called you cupcake ever since he and his mother found you hiding in their pantry at his 7th birthday party, icing smeared around your mouth reinforcing the evidence at the scene of the crime. You huffed and shoved his shoulder – he began to lose his balance and fell off the log backwards from where you were both perched on it. Your laughter filled the small area that you and the boys occupied, a sound unbeknownst to said boys. Except one…

You could feel his gaze, as he sat beside Sunwoo, humming along to the inaudible song he was practicing on his guitar. You turned to meet his gaze, which he quickly dodged and turned his attention back to the instrument in his hand.

Oh, Juyeon… You kept your gaze on him just for a moment longer than usual. His hair glistened ever so slightly under his cap in the light from the flame. You were sat directly opposite him, a prime position for the attention you hoped from him, but never got.

Your heart swelled a little, knowing that he had been looking, but gradually deepened once more when you realized he never actually wanted to be caught. The weight of the log shifted as a figure occupied the space that Hyunjae had just fallen from. You turned to face Changmin, who returned your gaze with a knowing look. He knew how you felt, he was the only one who you had spoken to about Juyeon. About how frustrating it was that the boy who used to sneak into your tent as his parents fought would now avoid you like the plague.

You were close to each of the boys, but Juyeon and Changmin held a special place in your heart. Their own life-long friendship didn’t mind being interrupted when you entered the classroom as the new student with no friends. Walking into your new class, your slightly discoloured dungarees and Power Rangers lunch box in hand made the girls turn away from you – you didn’t fit in with them, at all. But the empty space on the table with those two boys, at the back of the classroom, opened your heart to realise there was good in the world for a six-year-old. They were your first friends, and that held so much importance for you. This feeling was confirmed, 13 years later, by the slight nudge of Changmin’s shoulder onto yours, followed by a sip from his own cup.

“You know,” he began… “you can always approach him.” His eyes reflected in the orange flickers too; if you weren’t his best friend and subsequent pain in the ass, you probably would’ve fallen for him. His shy smile but courageous personality shone like the stars in the sky. You smiled at him gratefully, with a nod of acknowledgement, but not necessarily understanding. You knew you could approach him, you’ve known that for the last year or so that Juyeon started to avoid one-on-one interaction with you. It began when your Friday night sleepovers turned into just Changmin turning up at your doorstep with the latest horror movie he could find and a tray of freshly baked cupcakes, courtesy of Hyunjae’s mum, Mrs. Lee.

Sighing, you stood from your crouched position by the fire pit announcing that you’d just be a minute, before heading the opposite direction to the commotion you could hear near the tents. Changmin went back to helping the rest of the boys put up their temporary homes for the night, and you followed the shore to a quiet spot where you could watch the sunset. You could feel a particular set of eyes on you once more, but you were too tired to do anything about it. If he wanted to interact with you, he’d have to do it himself.

A cluster of rocks was placed perfectly in the sand for you to perch on as the sun turned the sky from a luminous orange to a dusty rose with stars randomly sparking across the skyline. You took your phone out of the kangaroo pouch of your hoodie to play some music, but halted at your lock screen. Your favourite smiles looked back at you as the picture of Juyeon and Changmin appeared – their eyes crinkled like crescent moons with their smiles wide, standing in front of the scary ride they had just pledged to go on at the funfair. This picture meant more to you than any other, because an excitable Changmin’s attention was on the ride itself, but Juyeon was focused on the person who took the picture. Your heart swelled again – a little more this time at the fond memory of your trip to the fair. You quickly locked the phone again before you let your emotions get to you. The boys cared about you a lot, and automatically knew when you had cried from the puffiness of your eyes and blotchy cheeks.

The faint sound of Sangyeon’s call for food grabbed your attention, and you realized time had passed quickly. You were sat alone staring at the sky, with a fond memory but heavy heart. You knew you didn’t have a shot at grabbing the food you wanted as the boys crowded around the make shift food table like scavenges, as you approached the table you were proved right. But your longing and heavy heart meant that you didn’t have the energy to care. Changmin reached over and placed a chicken thigh on your plate with a big smile that washed away some of your heavy emotion; you returned the smile thankfully and scooped the last of the rice onto your plate and grabbed the final pair of chopsticks that remained. You saw the boys munching on the corn on the cobs that you brought specifically for yourself, but again, you didn’t have much energy despite Changmin’s attempts. They were your favourite, but it was your own fault for walking away from these demanding and ravenous boys.

You took your spot next to Changmin once more. He and Chanhee were arguing over which part of the chicken tasted the best, an argument they’ve pondered many times. Their light-hearted attempt to spark conversation with the group distracted you for a moment. But the sudden weight that made its way onto your plate grabbed your attention. A perfectly charred corn, exactly how you liked it. You were quick enough to catch the figure that continued their route behind you, too familiar for you not to recognise. But Juyeon sat back in his spot and pretended like nothing had happened. But it did happen, and that’s what confused you the most.

With your attention captured, the content of your plate was left long enough to go cold. The change in the sky made the flames enhance the melanin of his skin that made you want to stick your finger in it. The way his oversized grey t-shirt rose a little as he sipped at the beer Sunwoo had passed to him, and the way his baseball cap was angled slightly that caused a shadow on his jawline was too much to ignore. It took a few moments for him to notice you staring, by that time his stare was just as intimidating – you wondered whether you should have chosen a nicer top and fluffy beige cardigan that you originally picked over the oversized sweatshirt and jeans you threw on moments before Hyunjae had picked you up. His stare softened slightly, a moment that went unnoticed by you - it seems you forgot that the oversized jumper you were wearing was the hoodie that Juyeon thought he had lost. Luckily, his growing smile was overshadowed by his cap once more as he turned away from you.

The conversation beside you was getting more intense, but you stared back at the contents of your plate. What does this mean?

The thought didn’t leave you for hours. You had said goodnight to the boys just after midnight, ensuring to avoid any eye contact with the one that was clouding your mind at this very moment. Changmin followed you to your tent to make sure you were okay.

“It definitely wasn’t the chicken, right? I told Chanhee that the thigh was the best part but I can’t win this argument if it made you sick!” His doe eyes concluded that as joking as he sounded, he was absolutely serious about his argument.

You chuckled lightly. “I’m okay, I promise.” Your small smile brought a wave of relief over Changmin. It warmed your heart to know how much he cared about you, and you hoped he knew it was reciprocated. Reaching over to kiss his cheek, you hugged him tighter than normal. “I love you, Q-t. Thank you for taking care of me.”

The slight tinge of his ears made both of you giggle, with his hands flying to cover the evidence. But his smile told you that he loved you too.

The noise outside of your tent began to quiet as Changmin made his way back to the fire pit, whilst giving out to Hyunjae’s “mWOHASEYO?!” that could have been heard across the ocean. These boys would be the death of you, but you wouldn’t replace them for the world.

You had taken your parents double sleeping bag this year, as your single one made you feel trapped despite the size of the three-person tent. After changing into your bicycle shorts and baggy shirt, you snuggle into the covers as the rain began to fall, splatters echoing across the outside of your tent. The squeal of Changmin told you that the boys were getting soaked and you did nothing but laugh at their misery. The bustling outside of your tent made you forget about your worries for the time being, as the calmness of the rain filled your ears. Hyungseo, Joonyoung were shouting for Youngjae to grab more beers beside your tent as they made their way into their own. You knew somewhere that Hyunjoon, Haknyeon and Chanhee were squealing just as loud as Changmin as their clothes got drenched.

Speak of the devil, Changmin’s shadow came toward your tent looking for a haven. The quickness of the zip made you sit up and shift the sleeping bag and your belongings that scattered across the tent so that you could make room. As he stepped into the tent, you continued your task, but played with a threatening tone. “I swear to god, Q, if you even get a single droplet of water on me or my side, I will absolutely, one hundred percent chop off your –“

“Room for one more?”

Your eyes snapped up in shock. You were met with melting brown ones that you wish you could forget

Closing the zipper to hide from the rain, Juyeon’s eye line slowly levelled with yours, a small smile on his face. Your breath hitched in your throat. The look of fear in your eyes made his grin disappear, replacing his once happy expression with a look of concern.

“You – How? – Why are you here, Juyeon? Don’t you have your own tent?” You hated how you stuttered. The habit you had gotten out of when you hit puberty only returned when you were nervous. A complete giveaway to the person you were trying to appear stern towards.

That moment, his eyes flickered everywhere that wasn’t your face as he rambled that “Sunwoo left the zipper open and the rain flooded our tent. He’s hopped in with Sangyeon and Hoon. But there was no room anywhere else. I can go and ask Changmin or Hyunjoon if they want to sleep here instead. I – I’m sorry if –” The faltering noise in your throat made him stop his muttering and look you in the eye once more.

“No – uh, it’s okay. There’s enough room, I guess. I only have one sleeping bag but I guess if we open it up it can reach over to the other side of the tent…” you stammered. This was not how you had planned to talk to him for the first time in a year. You thought you’d be screaming, crying, defeated. This was much different – but you took this as an opportunity to reconcile… hopefully.

Juyeon just nodded in response, and made his way over to the edge of the tent opposite you. Just as he used to when you were younger. There were two things that Juyeon came to your tent for: when his parents argued or during a thunderstorm. The latter thought combined with the rain outside made his original explanation seem a little skewed. The sudden nostalgia made your tense body relax a small bit, and you huddled back under the cover while passing the other side toward Juyeon. The slight tug told you he was under it and you could feel his body warmth immediately. But his presence made you feel more claustrophobic than your old sleeping bag ever did. Your nostrils filled with the scent you had longed for in all comfort-seeking situations – a subtle hint of ocean spray mixed with autumn leaves. It’s why you loved to be by the ocean, it reminded you of him.

Finding the silence deafening, he spoke up. “How was your corn?” You could see a slight smile make its way to his lips, with the limited light from the moon and reflecting different shades of blue through the roof of the tent.

“It was good. Thank you, I was devastated when I saw you scavenges had taken them all.” I admitted, a little too open in emotion, and completely forgetting the last year of silence. He chuckled lightly at your honesty – “I figured. Sangyeon had charred that one perfectly, so I snagged it before anyone else could get it.”

Your cheeks became hot at the realization that he meant he hadn’t taken it for himself, he was thinking of you. But the thought made you more confused than ever, and the moment of reconciliation slowly faded as did your energy. It was minutes before either of you tried conversation again, but again it died as quickly as it started. You were frustrated.

Why has it come to this? What did I do?

But the only person that knew the answer to that, was lying a few feet away from you. Just do it.

“Juyeon?”

He hummed in response, to show he was listening to what you had to say.

Here goes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” It came out quickly, a little too quickly. But the pain behind the question was no longer masked. And it made Juyeon lean up onto his side, leaning on his elbow as he looked down at what he believed was your eyes, the lack of light making it difficult to completely concentrate. That, and the loaded question you had just asked.

“I – I don’t know.” He admitted it calmly. But you were far from calm.

“You don’t know? You don’t know why you look the other way when I’ve tried to grab your attention. Or why Changmin has turned up to my house every Friday night since last summer all by himself.” You wanted to continue, but you were completely riled by the three worded, empty answer he gave to you.

“I’m sorry. That – I didn’t mean that I don’t know.” He began, drawing your attention back to the sincerity in his eyes. “I meant that I don’t know how to explain myself. It’s hard to talk about feelings when you’re too clouded in your own head.”

Feelings.

He continued, “I guess I’ll start with an apology…”

You were shocked. The candor in his tone made you want to never look away. It made you wonder why you had never asked in the first place. You were just as bad as he was by neglecting to confront the situation. You sighed and sat up, turning the small light on that hung from the ceiling.

As the light illuminated the tent, his sharp features became much more apparent. Looking down at him, you had switched roles. Now he looked intimidated by your gaze, just as you did when he looked down at you. But that moment ended with a crash of thunder and the lightning that lit up the whole tent like it had been struck.

The sudden flash scared Juyeon so much that he had jumped up and accidently hit the light in the process, flooding the tent again in darkness. Your hand went to your mouth in half shock, half laughter as you witnessed this grown man being scared by thunder just as much as he did when he was seven. His eyes were alert and you could hear his erratic breathing that made you want to comfort him just as you did back then.

Taking his hand and drawing variations of circles with your thumb you knew would bring him back to the present. But the charge of your skin touching was much more powerful than the lighting flash itself. It made you your eyes snap up at one another, now level as you both sat up in the tent. As your small hands held his right one, the warmth continued to radiate from his body into yours. It almost set your heart on fire.

The shock wore off and you started to do what you had intended as if nothing had happened. With one hand holding his hand in place, and the other drawing circles with your thumb to calm him down. It took him longer than usual to get his breathing steady, as the feeling of your electrified skin elongated the process. In the darkness, he could see your concentration on his hand which warmed his heart – it had been so long since you paid this much attention to him, let alone look his way. In reality, you both missed each other’s longing glances which was clouded by the thoughts of anxiety about your situation.

“I think – I’m okay now…” Juyeon accentuated his breathing to prove his point. But you didn’t stop, because you didn’t want to. The feeling of his hand filled the emptiness in your heart ever since he stopped talking to you. You loved Changmin, but nobody could fix this void except for Lee Juyeon. He noticed your hesitancy and took it upon himself to guide you back down under the covers. This time he was much closer, and he didn’t let go of your hand. You were content, you both were. The longing you had felt slowly faded as you had settled back into your reality together. Now you didn’t need to talk about it anymore. Anything that had happened was long forgotten by now.

You laid there together for a moment. Peacefully facing each other, Juyeon’s breath that fanned your face made you realise the proximity between you. But any anxiety washed away the moment his hand made its way to your thigh, drawing small circles. Just as you had moments ago. It had taken you this long to realise the size of his hands; the quick rate his chest rose and fell – you were focused on every detail of that moment.

“Hey,” he whispered, to which you hummed in response. “I’m sorry.”

You took a moment to take in the words you had wanted to hear for so long.

He is sorry. Do you want to know why? Is it best to forget about it?

Your silence made Juyeon act nervously, as he used that hand that continued to draw circles on your thigh to draw your body even closer to his. His hand shifted your head so it fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. The sudden action caused a strong waft of his scent to drown you and bring immediate comfort to your anxious figure. The way your lips grazed his collarbone brought a shiver over him, a moment you will relish in for a long time. Your power over him going unnoticed until now.

These actions occurred within the space of a minute. The final action being the feeling of his lips on your forehead as he applied more pressure than normal, as his emotions got the better of him. Your thoughts clouded once more as you questioned the motivation behind the kiss – the only sound drawing you back to reality was the rain that hit the tent at a force.

You pulled back to look at him, but not far enough that his arms moved from around you. You were locked in place by the feel of his embrace and the passion that shone from his eyes. Your questioning look made him put his emotions into words, as they poured out of him rushed and stammered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I am sorry, I really am. I can’t explain how I feel completely, at this precise moment. The fact that you’re this close to me is extremely nerve-wracking. But I’m sorry that I’ve avoided you. I just couldn’t face you after I admitted it to myself. I can’t tell you when it began, and I don’t remember exactly when I felt the need to distance myself; it was a long time coming and I handled it badly, I know.”

As he paused to take a breath, you noticed how his hand ran back down to your thigh, drawing circles at a much quicker rate now to mirror his apprehension. The feeling ignited your insides and sent you into overdrive but his gaze was so overpowering that you couldn’t look away.

“There were times when I saw you messing around with Hyunjae that I just wanted to drag him away by the collar. Or if we were in a coffee shop and the barista drew your name with a small heart beside it, I saw red. Or even Changmin. He couldn’t hurt a soul. But it hurt me to see the way that you’d lie together on the sofa while we watched a movie every Friday. You’d team up to throw popcorn at me, while I tried my best to focus on the movie rather than the way his hand lingered a little too long on your hip to steady you from laughing.”

He took in another breath. You were unmoving. What is he saying?

“It has been years since I started feeling these things. And I tried to suppress them. I really did. But you captivated every moment of my day – from when I opened my eyes to the good night call we had before going to sleep. Even in my sleep, I could see your face. Just like now. I thought I needed to distance myself… but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

As his hand came up to touch your cheek, you became lost in his words completely. The thought that he reciprocated any feelings you had were never possible until this moment. As your eyes traced his facial features, from the small feathered earring that hooked onto his earlobe, to the sharp contour of his cheek bones, to the honesty that melted into his eyes, drawing your attention finally to his lips that spoke the next few words.

“And like that, I fell in love with you.”

The reality of his emotions burst through you as your eyes shut and Juyeon closed the gap between you. His plush lips slotted perfectly against yours, as if they were carved specifically for one another. The touch wasn’t rushed, but you felt his desperation as his lips opened and guided yours with him. The slowness of his movements and the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth made you melt into him; your hands moving from between you to the nape of his neck, as his pulled at your hips to bring as much contact as possible.

You pulled away first to gaze at him with as much love and passion as you could muster, with a lot of it taken from the sincerity of the kiss. You merely whispered the words he wanted to hear before he drew you back in again.

I love you, Lee Juyeon.

You woke a few hours later as the light began to shine through into the tent. You weren’t sure how long you had stayed up last night – a mixture of kisses, soft touches and moments that you had never thought possible. It was all followed by hours of talking; back to your reality.

A soft snore caught your attention and brought you back to being in Juyeon’s arms. At some point during the night the sleeping bag had been thrown off of your snuggled figures, with the warmth radiating from the leg he had swung over yours. His other leg wedged its way between your own, like a high score on Tetris.

Your gaze rested on his relaxed face, the worry visible last night had been completely erased and replaced with a look of content – one that likely mirrored your own. As your nose lightly tickled under his jaw, he breathed in deeply telling you that your sudden desire to take in this moment had stirred him awake. His movement shifted his weight from beneath you to on top of you, with his head now rested in your neck, his lips slowly trailing against your collarbone. Feeling his lips curve into a smile made your own twitch upwards, too.

Laying there in that moment, the last year vanished. It hurt you to think he distanced himself because of this, but you knew you could work it out. You always did.

Your attention shifted onto the pressure against your thigh and you realised that this journey might not be the easiest you’ve ever taken.

“Juyeon!” you squealed, as the realization dawned on him and the sound of his laughter filled the tent. “Again, really?!”

He shot up onto his elbows to lean over you, as he did what felt like days ago. The fluffiness of his hair made you want to run your hands through it. So, you did. His eyes slimmed into the crescent moons that you knew and loved as he took a moment to stare down at you, the glistening of his eyes filling you with adoration. With a quick peck, he got up and began to sort through the clothes that were flung across the tent in a hurry. The mesmerising curvature of his back distracted you from sorting out your own clothes. He began to hand you items of clothing one by one, implying that you were about to leave the tent. Something you hadn’t thought about doing. At this point, you’d neglected to listen to the chaos that ensued outside – you looked back at Juyeon with a slight fear.

He chuckled, the rings that adorned his slender fingers brought a chill to you as he caressed your face. “They had to find out at some point, love.”

Love. You shivered, not from the cold this time.

With a few deep breathes, and ensuring your clothing was on in the correct and appropriate manner, Juyeon took your hand and unzipped the tent with the other.

As the wind blew sharply, the chattered died down from the group of boys that had circled the fire pit with cups of coffee in their hands. Their faces turned from excitement to shock, with a screaming that came from none other than Changmin filled your ears as he looked down at your intertwined hands.

You and Juyeon looked down at what they were staring at, and then again at each other with a small, knowing smile that only you two shared. The shock quickly morphed into shouts and hollers as Juyeon led you to the circle to join them.

You took a seat between him and Changmin, who handed you a cup of steaming coffee accompanied by a wink. You quickly shoved him at the shoulder for his cheekiness, but turned your attention to your coffee when you realised Juyeon had placed an arm around your shoulder. You looked at him with complete adoration to which he returned with a wink and a squeeze of your shoulder. Unlike Changmin, he didn’t get a shove – just a flustered look that made you direct your attention back to your coffee, as a smile made its way to your face, and it didn’t plan on leaving.

#leejuyeon #juyeon #juyeon fluff #juyeon scenario #the boyz #the boyz fluff #the boyz scenario #juyeon best friend #the boyz au #juyeon au #ji changmin #tbz #tbz fluff #tbz scenario #tbz scenarios

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