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earlgreydream · 3 years

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jotun.

anon requested. dom!Loki where he goes into a Jotun heat and fucks the reader senseless

cw: slightly dubcon?, aggression, crying, choking, d/s, kind of temp play?, jotun!loki, mentions of burns, bruises, blood etc, basically just super rough sex, Sa STRONG CONTENT WARNING

a/n: I don’t usually write stuff like this, so it’s new to me

“Get out!” Loki’s vicious scream echoed off of the walls.

“No, I’m not going to just leave you!” You ran across the golden floor of his chambers and dropped to your knees. You dragged the god into your arms, and you could feel the warfare tearing him apart from the inside.

He was so cold.

Loki’s body wracked as he tried to breathe, as if just staying alive was exhausting. The tips of his fingers turned blue, and he tried to fight it off, keeping himself in his æsir form. His head tilted back, black waves falling back to reveal scarlet eyes.

You swallowed hard, fear shooting up your spine. His skin slowly turned deep blue, ancient jotun patterns swirling across the skin like scars.

“Please, I’m begging you to go. I don’t want to hurt you,” Loki’s voice was impossibly deeper, dangerous.

“I’m not going to abandon you. I trust you, Loki.”

“It’s not me, it’s a monster!” Loki wept, gripping the shimmering Asgardian fabrics that draped over your body with icy fingers.

You held him tightly, refusing to leave the terrified god. His stamina wore thin, and his icy jotun core seeped through, replacing every godly aspect of him with the blue skin of a monster. His touch was so cold it practically burned you, and very real fear burned like acid in your throat.

Maybe you should’ve listened to him, and run when he’d told you. Now, it was too late.

His clothing was gone in a simmer of fizzing blue magic, baring his entire monstrous form to you. You scrambled backward, looking up at Loki as he towered over you. His red eyes were feral, and he descended on you like you were prey.

“Loki, my love...” you tried to speak, but you silenced as his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. He asserted his strength over you, pinning you down against the unyielding golden floor. His grip was tight, rendering you completely immobile.

He gripped the fabric of your gown, tearing it into shred as he ripped it from your body. Your eyes widened, and you tried to wrap your hands around his wrist, but your touch recoiled, your palms red from the cold.

Loki grabbed your thigh, shoving your legs open and exposing your sex to him. You screamed as he thrust himself all the way inside of you, making no attempt to ease into you or make sure you were ready.

Usually, he slid into you with ease, but he was bigger in this form, and just different. It felt like someone completely different was shoving himself inside of you, and you supposed it was. You screamed as he pierced you open, forcing your body to accept him in your warm sex. Moisture blurred your vision, frightened by what was happening, and powerless to stop it, or ease up.

He was absolutely feral, his mind only focused on taking his own pleasure from you. He felt like ice inside of you, and the unfamiliar cold sensation made you writhe off of the floor, arching your back as he slammed into you with inhuman force. It was a terrible, strange feeling, and you were overwhelmed by the intensity of how hard he was pounding into you. His other hand gripped your thigh, bruises blooming under his unforgiving touch.

“Loki, please, you’re hurting me,” you breathed, trying to struggle away from his brutalizing touch. A threatening growl thundered from his chest, and you halted, wincing as his hand moved from your throat to roughly grope your chest.

The cold of his hand on your throat left red frost burns, mixing with the deep purple caused by the tight grip he’d held you down with.

You attempted to force yourself to relax, letting him fuck the life out of you, tearing up your sex. A choked cry of relief escaped your lips when he pulled out after his first orgasm.

Loki had never been so violent or rough with you, and you reminded yourself that it wasn’t him, that the god you loved wasn’t in control of his own body. He’d begged you to leave, knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and you promised him you could take it.

You panted, trying to catch your breath, curling up on the floor and shivering. Your body burned from the inside and out, pain prickling up your spine from his aggression.

You were only awarded a few minutes of reprieve, yelping as he flipped you over, your chest smacking against the floor. You braced yourself with your forearms, and he dragged your hips up, gripping you so tightly you feared your bones would shatter. He continued fucking you from behind, slamming into you so roughly that your body cracked against the floor. He shoved your head down when you tried to push yourself up.

Sharp pain blossomed deep inside of you, waves of agony washing through you with each thrust. You started to cry, sobs tearing through your chest. You screamed as he held you down, his hips pistoning against yours. His cold fingers gripped your hair, dragging you to your knees. He held you against his chest, and the cold overwhelmed your body in a cruel ache. He slipped in and out of your slick heat, and you were nearly certain you were bleeding.

Loki continued to ravage you until you couldn’t move, your bruised and aching body lying limp against the floor. You felt weak and raw, suffocated by the sobs that wracked your chest. You laid there, gazing up at him and whispering that you loved him.

“Please come back to me, Loki. I need you,” you whispered before the exhaustion pulled you into unconsciousness.

You started to gain awareness, unsure of what time it was. Your eyes were heavy, and as you began to move, an intense ache flooded your body. Loki heard your choked whimper, and you registered the sound of him crying.

“Loki?” your voice was weak, and you blinked slowly, adjusting to the light.

He knelt beside you on the bed, his face streaked with tears and his shoulders trembling. Loki’s brow was knit together, and you recognized the horror in his gaze.

“What have I done to you? My love, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, reaching toward you but not letting himself touch your skin.

He was himself again, fair, delicate, and gorgeous, with emotional blue eyes that glittered with an entire realm of stars reflecting in them.

You reached out at took his hand, relaxing as you felt his warmth. He kissed the knuckles on your fingers, his soft lips gentle against your skin. Apologies fell from his lips like prayers, and he agonized over hurting you.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I’ll understand if you hate me, but please know I would never do this to you on purpose,” he begged.

“I know, Loki. It’s alright-”

“It’s not alright! I’m a monster! I’m cruel, and horrible, just like everyone said I was. I deserve to die for doing this to you!” Loki wept, guilt overwhelming him.

He’d woken up on the floor next to you, horrified by the sight of your unconscious body. You were covered in deep purple and black bruises, and red burns from where he’d gripped you with his icy hands. Your clothes were torn to shreds, and blood and come stained your inner thighs. You had bite marks, thankfully none too deep, and you looked like you had been brutalized.

His heart shattered, hatred bursting through his chest. He hated himself, he hated the monstrous side of him that did this to you. Flashes of the night before filled his mind, making him sick.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over again, torn apart by the knowledge that he was the cause of your state.

Gentle green magic shimmered around the two of you, cleaning you up as much as possible. He lifted you onto the bed before sulking back, feeling too guilty to even touch you.

He’d watched you sleep, delirious as he studied your breathing, making sure your chest was moving and the air was moving in and out of your lungs.

“I promise you that I’m okay. I love you so much, Loki,” you reached out to him, closing your fingers around his wrist and pulling him toward you.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair, kissing your face.

You didn’t flinch away from his touch, no longer afraid of your lover. You wanted him to hold you, pushing the pain away as you crawled into his lap. The movement made the ache between your legs sharp, and the pressure on your bruised body was painful. You didn’t care, wanting to be close to Loki.

He cradled you against his body, mindful of your injuries. His lips pressed to your forehead, whispering professions of love against your skin. You let the rhythm of his heartbeat soothe you, your cheek resting against his warm chest.

“Let me make it up to you,” Loki begged.

“You don’t need to, but I’ll let you spoil me if it’ll make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips, and you held his face in your hands.

“I love you, unconditionally. I know you didn’t have control. I wanted to help you through it, I chose you, Loki. And I will always choose you,” you promised.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I want you anyways,” you kissed him sweetly.

“Let me care for you.”

You agreed, letting him set you in a bath, jolting when the hot water soaked your damaged skin.

“I’ve called for a healer.”

You sat in the water, letting him clean you properly beyond what his magic covered. His fingers grazed between your legs, and you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No, I’m still sore,” you shook your head, and he immediately took his hand away.

“Okay, not now, then.”

He washed the previous night from your skin, leaving you smelling sweet and clean. His touch was tender, nothing like the icy grip from before. You leaned into his touch, craving it and desperate for it. Trays of all of your favorite sweets appeared, as well as steaming cups of tea that you happily accepted, knowing they came from Loki’s desperation to indulge you.

“Thank you,” you kissed his cheek, leaning into him in the bathtub.

You struggled to stand as you tried to climb out, thankful when the healer walked in. Loki helped you to sit down, a fresh wave of guilt pouring over him as he saw the effort it took you just to take a few steps. He looked to the healer hopefully, taking her hand and kneeling before her.

“Please, help my love,” he begged sincerely.

“Of course,” she nodded, touching his shoulder.

“May I see, prinsesse?” the girl asked as you sat near the fire to stay warm.

You let the towel drop from your body, and the healer assessed your injuries. She hesitated, glancing to Loki before laying her hands over your body, performing her ancient magic. She was clearly troubled by the marks that covered you, and it took over an hour before the bruises began to fade and the sharp ache reduced to a dull throbbing.

“Your subjects love you, prinsesse,” she grasped your hand, her eyes snapping to Loki. Loki sulked with guilt, kneeling beside you and brushing damp hair from your eyes.

“I’m alright. Thank you,” you squeezed her hand before she fled your chambers, disappearing into the castle to tend to wounded soldiers and Valkyrie.

“They fear me.”

“No, my love.”

You slipped into a loose white gown, sheened with gold and iridescence. You joined Loki on the terrace, watching dancers below, and a festival fully underway in the streets. Your legs were folded under you, and you laid back against your prince, gold jewelry clinking on your wrists and fingers as you traced shapes on the back of his hand that lightly rested on your thigh.

He created illusions with his magic, entertaining you and making flowers bloom in the air, tiny daisies drifting down and weaving themselves in your hair and tickling your cheeks.

“What are they celebrating?” you asked, watching the Asgardians in the city.

“They’re celebrating the end of spring. Summer is coming, and they’re honoring the change in season.”

“It’ll last for weeks. When you’re up to it, we’ll go join them,” Loki promised, kissing you gently and offering you a sweet piece of fruit.

“I want to go now.”

“Are you sure? I know you’re still a bit sore.”

“Please, Loki.”

He gave in, certainly not wanting deny you of happiness. In an instant, you were down in the streets, excitement erupting around you at the presence of their beloved prince and princess.

“Prinsesse!” a girl squealed, running to you and grabbing your skirts. You giggled and gave her one of the flowers from your hair, smiling at her delight. Loki stood beside you protectively, making sure you were comfortable as young Asgardian girls took your hands and pulled you to the fountain in the square.

You sat on the edge of the marble, and they climbed around you, going to braid your hair in elaborate styles. Loki’s fingers moved, providing them with flowers and and magical pins to use.

“Tell us a story of your rule, prins,” a girl asked, her eyes shining up at Loki.

He indulged them, his magic forming figures and acting out the story he told, and you watched him in adoration. The children adored him, basking in his attention, just as you did.

“You are no monster, Loki. They delight in your presence. Don’t ever think you’re not loved,” you whispered in his ear, a smile creeping onto his face.

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itgirlification · 3 years

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supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

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after-witch · 3 years

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Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Close to My Heart [Baby Mine Part 3] [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: He’s drugging you again. The bastard.

Word Count:

Notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, medical/drug content

He’s drugging you again. The bastard. The world is too much--too bright, too empty, too heavy and thick. The drugs he’s giving you make you sleepy, slow, heavy.

And the room you’re in is so empty. Bare walls and a bed and an overhead light. The familiarity--scenes of years ago, of weeks spent in a room just like this one--is gutting. You miss the side table next to your bed with your books and notepad; you miss glancing into your daughter’s bedroom before walking downstairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night. You miss your daughter.

You don’t know how long these things have been gone, only that they are gone, leaving you with nothing in their stead.

Nothing but him, anyway.

He’s sitting on the end of your bed again. Staring down at you, mask on, eyes piercing even through the heaviness surrounding you. Your arms aren’t restrained anymore, but every time you move, it’s clear why he isn’t bothering: with all the drowsy-inducing sedatives built up in your system, you couldn’t muster an effective attack even if you tried.

And you’ve tried.

“How are you feeling?”

The same questions, every morning.

You press your lips together and smack them. Your throat is dry. You hope he brought your water cup. It’s the least he could do.

“Where’s my daughter?” You say, finally, voice dry and hoarse.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“She’s safe. How are you feeling?”

“Let me see her.”

He shakes his head, a small, imperceptible motion.

“Not until you’re better. How are you feeling?”

His voice never loses its smooth, authoritative edge. You can’t say you missed this, missed the way he talked down to you like you were some weak little thing that doesn’t know right from wrong.

You lean back on your elbows, forcing your head to lift up enough to look him in the eyes. You try to muster an expression of disdain, but you don’t know if it’s registering anywhere but your own mind.

“Like shit. Fuck you, by the way.” You can’t help but take the tiniest bits of satisfaction where you can, and it doesn’t matter that your voice is hoarse and your arms are trembling and that you’re drugged to shit, because it gets a reaction fro him.

A small reaction, but still. His lips purse in a frown.

“Dear,” he says, oh-so-disappointed. “Your language.”

You let your arms give way, falling back against the pillow with a laugh that hurts your chest. Potty mouth, you think, I’m such a potty mouth. What did you read one time, some novel set in the American Midwest--better put a dollar in the swear jar.

“Stop being difficult.”

You snort.

Your head stays where it is, eyes following him as he retrieves a tray he set on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a bolted down chair, padded like a marshmallow. You’ve been tempted to point it out, tempted to ask him if he thinks you’ll try to smash your head open on a normal chair--why not pad your bed then, too? But he might just stick you in a straightjacket or something equally restricting if you so much as make a joke about harming yourself, so you don’t.

A rumbling, empty feeling in your stomach, the scratchiness of your dry throat, destroys any temptation to goad him more. He’s not above making you wait for food if you’re being testy, though you don’t think he’d go so far as to actually starve you. Just deprive you a bit, like he has a few times this week. So you force yourself to simply sit quietly and watch as he brings the tray to your bed, unfolding the little legs and placing it down in front of you.

He lifts up the cup of lukewarm water, a large blue cup you recognize from the kitchen. The little white straw peaking out of the top bounces around until you catch it with your lips. You barely listen to his words--’just a few sips, dear’--and try to ignore the tight, tingly feeling all this gives you.

Prickling humiliation, vaguely colored with childhood memories of hospital stays that made you feel helpless and alone, washes over you every time he gives you something to eat or drink. He always insists on holding the cup, on making you use a thin plastic straw--small sips only. He cuts up your food into tiny bites and only gives you a plastic spoon to eat with.

You dimly remember him feeding you thin broth some time ago, spoon knocking against your teeth every time you moved your head; but that was when your sedative dose was higher and stronger and you were so conked out of your mind that you kept calling him a doctor.

But you’ve graduated to rice and overcooked, bland vegetable that you can eat with a spoon. You know who he is, all the time, which honestly makes things a bit worse than when your stuffy mind thought he was someone else. Hooray.

Your fingers tremble as you press your spoon against the lumpy mash of vegetables. You can’t decide if he’s overcooking them on purpose or if he simply stinks at cooking now, having surely been years out of practice. They look even lumpier than normal, covered in a thick sauce; you bite down the urge to snarkily ask him if the sodium content from such a sauce is appropriate for your delicate health.

You’ve been his little home chef for how long now? Whipping up desserts and dinners like it was your profession. Whipping them up with a smile. And, before the birth of your daughter changed everything, whipping them up with a bright anxiety brimming underneath--anxiety for his approval. Did he like it? Was it too salty? The rice was cooked fine, wasn’t it?

And it wasn’t just the food, no. You’d wanted to please him in everything. In the way you cleaned, in the way you dressed, in the way you tried to soothe him after he’d clearly had a rough day while you sat at home, comparatively comfortable, reading books or fussing with the kitchen curtains again.

But true, honest (disgusting, dark, deep-seated) thoughts of pleasing him have been the furthest thing from your mind for years now. You allowed only the vainest of surface pleasantries to remain, for the sake of pretense, for the sake of getting away with the loving act long enough to get the two of you as far away as possible. Long enough to see yourself and your daughter free and happy, creating a new life--somewhere. Anywhere.

Well, look at you now.

A tear drips down onto your tray, running past your lips, warm and salty. The sight of the tear mingled with the smushed vegetables does it, brings you over the edge, and your shoulders shake helplessly as you begin to cry. You can already feel the exhaustion sweeping over you--the mere act of sitting up and crying and feeling something, feeling something so sad, means you’ll be out like a light soon. Your emotions feel so muted lately--the sedatives?--and when you do feel them, it’s so, so tiring.

His gloved hand brushes your cheek, brushes at your tear, and flinch away. You stare at the floor, white, bare. Rugs are a tripping hazard, you assume. Or maybe he wants to drive you crazy with all the light colors, the creams and eggshells and just-barely-there pale greys.

You sigh, and look back at your tray. Your stomach demands it, so you lift up a spoonful of muddy-colored vegetables and take a bite. Despite your best efforts, the plastic spoon clinks against your teeth anyway. On your next bite, you go slower, steadying your hands--sometimes he insists on feeding you himself, if you mess up enough. You don’t think you have the energy left today to deal with that. So you eat, slow. Carefully. He doesn’t speak, simply watching as the plate of food, the vegetables and rice, slowly disappear inside you.

The sauce is salty and the vegetables are mush, but the rice is fine and you only wish there was more of it so you could stomach the vegetables more readily.

When you’re done, he holds the cup again, positioning the straw near your lips. You sip a little faster, greedy and thirsty, until there’s nothing left inside.

His eyes practically light up at the empty tray, and as he’s taking it away you leans in closer, whispering through his mask, “Good girl.”

Your stomach churns. Maybe the vegetables had gone bad. Or maybe hearing him voice praise that would have made your heart flutter before is making you feel sick.

After he sets the tray to the side, he takes his place--this time not at the end of your bed, but on the side, unnervingly close to you. You watch as he slides his hands behind his ears, slipping off his mask and setting it down on top of your bedspread.

But then he just… watches you.

You’re about to ask him what he wants, tell him to just spit it out already, tell him to fuck off if he’s just going to be a creeper who stares at you, when you feel something. Something different. A blooming, a wave, a strange feeling coming from inside your skin. Bone-deep, blood-deep.

And it’s then that you realize that he’s drugged the food with something new. Something strong. Something that does more than make you sleepy, like the stuff he injects into your arm.

Oh the fucker. Fucker, fucker, fucker. You feel it taking effect like a slow-going tide, radiating through your body. Tingles, light and airy, taking all of the sadness and stress and hate balled up inside you; soaking them up like a towel, until all that’s left inside you is a blissful feeling of forced relaxation.

“What did you do?” You ask, though it comes out as a whisper. Your head lolls a bit to the side. Was your pillow always so soft? You blink away that thought, try to focus on what’s happening: he put more drugs in the food, he put something in the food that’s not just to make you sleep and now your body is tingling.

He takes your hands in his--you dimly realize that you should pull away, but why bother? His grip helps your hands feel less floaty, anyway--and gives a firm squeeze.

“I know you’re still in there. That… untoward behavior with our daughter, none of that was really you.”

You smile. There’s a brief flicker of lightness in his eyes, but when you speak it flies away.

“You don’t know me,” you say, voice free of the snark and bite from earlier, but clearly grating to his ears all the same.

Chisaki leans forward, and in your relaxed state you don’t attempt to move away. You simply register the closeness and focus on the way your body, your mind, is slowly deflating.

He squeezes your hands tighter. Too tight. They won’t float away, for sure.

“We’ve lived together for years. We’ve shared the same bed. We have a child together. You think I don’t know you?”

You whine--you don’t mean to, not necessarily, but your chest and lungs and throat aren’t cooperating. They’re too light for the sound you wanted to make, a guttural low sound from somewhere inside. Instead it comes across as childish and helpless and you suppose, that’s what you are.

“Lived together…” You laugh, shaking your head against the soft pillow. “But you kidnapped me.” He did, didn’t he, all those years ago. From a life you barely remember, especially right now; from people whose faces are scrubbed from your memory by time and trauma.

His fingers are stroking your hands now. It feels nice--it almost tickles. But the softness of the strokes, the way they tickle the tops of your hands, contrasts against his voice, firm, controlled, a touch of anger brushing underneath.

“I gave you a home. I indulged you in your interests, your hobbies, however silly. I gave you a family. Don’t act ungrateful.”

“M’not,” you mumble, reflexive more than reflecting. Trying to think about what he’s saying is hard, and getting harder by the minute. The tingling has now draped over your head and your thoughts are wrapped in cotton, thick and fluffy. You wish he’d talk softer. Everything else is calm, and the edge of something dark in his voice feels amplified a thousandfold.

“Look at me.” His voice is still too harsh. Maybe you should pet his hands to see if it helps, like it helped yours stay intact.

Before you can do anything, he speaks again.

“Don’t you love our daughter?”

Your head turns too quickly to look up at him, and you’re dizzy, but the words tumble out of your hoarse throat anyway.

“Yes. Oh, yes. You know I do.”

You may not remember the faces of others (your mother, your friends, your mother) but you remember your daughter’s face. Clear as a bell. Bright. You want to be with her so badly.

Another firm squeeze of your fingers. You squeeze back--hopefully it will bring him down to your level, to the cotton and balloons.

“Then why don’t you want to be with her?”

Why is he asking such a mean question? Your lips curl downwards in an unintentional childish mimic of a frown. They feel thick, almost numb, as you half-blubber out the words.

“I do want to be with her, but you won’t let me.”

His hands leave yours--you almost want to reach out, but they lay almost limp on your stomach--and he cradles your cheek instead. There’s warmth on your cheek and you realize that he’s taken his gloves off. Ah. Maybe your squeeze worked, after all; he only takes off his gloves when he’s happy, when he’s comfortable. When he wants to comfort you.

Fuzzy memories of crying into his shoulder, of weeping openly on a bed in a long-forgotten room, mingled with the sensation of his bare skin against yours. Always soft, comforting. Enduring. Something you could rely on to release the pressure of your emotions and bring you back down.

“Because you’re unwell,” he whispers, voice as soft as the cotton wrapped around your thoughts. “You’re so unwell.”

The way he brushes his hand against your forehead feels nice. Maybe you’re sick, after all.

You don’t even think about the words before you speak them, instinctual questions now going right from your surface thoughts to your voice and out your mouth.

“If I get better, can I see her?”

There’s a hand cradling your cheek again, and this time, you lean your face into the warmth. There’s that spark in his eyes again, but this time the look doesn’t melt away because of your ill-timed comment. You press your lips together to keep it that way, lest the thoughts flying out your brain make him upset again.

You feel so nice, like this, like you’re wrapped in the softest blankets in the world and there’s nothing, no hardness, no anger, no sadness, holding you down and making you cry. Just him and you and the warmth radiating throughout your body.

Why cry, when his hand is right here, when your body is so tingled and relaxed. Why cry, when all you can think about is how nice you feel, how calm he is, how calm you are.

Why cry, when the next words he speaks make your heart thud against your chest in pure, body-lifting joy.

“Of course you can.”

His hand trails along your chin, cupping it in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Now that I’ve found the right medicine for your… disposition, we can start the rest of your treatment right away.”

What he says should scare you. But there’s no room left in your body for anything but forced content and fuzzy softness and the smallest hint of deja vu, a wispy little thing cupping its hands and yelling warnings that you brush away with a smile.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere bnha #afterwitch writes #part 4 will probably not be a full part #just a vignette to wrap up this particular storyline

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 2 years

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overall killing eve season 4 thoughts--

so, i really did not like season four for the most part -- the tone felt so off to me right from the get-go, i remember getting on here after the first two eps and being like D: -- and i figured i’ll just document why just to get my Rage out:

it felt to me like this season was written by people who weren’t overly interested in eve and villanelle and didn’t really like the show, which is funny because laura neal was also around for s3, which -- despite its flaws and cracks -- i thought really did deepen the eve/villanelle love story in an authentic way. (and in episodes that she wrote!) season three made the leap to go “in spite of everything, their ability to really see each other is beautiful and a good thing for both of them,” it committed to the romance of that, and then season four put them back in such a weird angry, resentful place with 4x01. it did have some moments that still spoke to that connection beautifully -- a rainbow in beige boots -- but it didn’t seem interested in prioritizing that as the #1 most important thing about the show.

often even with the eve and villanelle stuff (both as separate characters and as a relationship), though it was all beautifully acted, it felt very surface-level in its writing decisions. i feel like i came out of season three with an extremely clear understanding of how villanelle had grown and changed throughout it, but if i was asked to describe her arc in this season, i don’t know if i can. season three was a problem season for eve as she got sidelined by the narrative, but i think i might have felt like i understood what she went through better there than here, too. re: s4, eve felt like she was doing a lot more, but not necessarily in a way that spoke to anything deeper. she was whizzing around onscreen doing a lot, but what did it allow us to know about eve?? this season’s writing seemed to have no interest in really digging into why eve was so into destroying the twelve, why eve got so lured in by helene, etc. etc. etc. i also really think the greatest mistake this show ever made was the villanelle-only ep (though it was a good episode); i always think that i would have immediately followed it with an eve-only ep as episode 3.06 to keep the show THEIRS, but the second-best thing you could’ve done was an eve-only ep this season. which i think would have made a lot of sense because, again, WE NEVER GOT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER BACKSTORY!!!!!!!! the fact that instead we got a black and white carolyn and konstantin flashback ep is gonna piss me off forever.

that brings me to: this show trying to be an ensemble show was a horrible decision. i hoped they’d correct that for their last season, but instead they swung even further in the ensemble direction. i don’t have to tell you guys this; i just like to profess my hate for it! i also really, really disliked helene as a character and super did not enjoy her getting so much screentime, though i know that isn’t a universal feeling. (on the flip side of that, i did find pam really engaging -- though idk that her character should have been there in this, the final season -- and i will follow anjana vasan anywhere! so excited that there’s more we are lady parts in the future!!! and if you haven’t watched that, you should, it’s so fun and we could all use some fun right now. it’s on peacock!)

i have, many times, been in the place where i’m trying to write and i’m just not inspired so i just desperately start making anything happen even though i know it’s the wrong thing and it won’t serve the story in the long run. in particular, when i was younger and trying to write SOME novel, ANY novel, i fell back on this a lot, and i still vividly remember the awful feeling of strain that came with it, where you didn’t know what you were doing but you were just flinging random ideas at the page just so there would be SOMETHING. that is the exact feeling i get from this season. like they didn’t really want to be writing it, and they were just flinging random ideas out there all throughout just so something could be written, like an assignment they had to turn in. i found this so frustrating to watch because i feel such an inherent kinship with these two characters and i just have a hard time imagining not wanting to explore them and their relationship. the idea of not wanting to really dig in baffles me and honestly breaks my heart a little bit.

like, i could have accepted villanelle dying if it was written well and paced differently. i get that death is horrific and random, and hits when you least expect it, but i don’t necessarily think that fact of life can be used to make this into effective writing, because it’s not. i’ve been racking my brains trying to find a way to make this ending feel more earned, and i was like, “well, technically, every season finale has ended with villanelle leaving eve: in season 1, she fled after eve stabbed her; in season 2, she left her to die; in season 3, she left because eve asked her to and it was an act of love. so maybe villanelle dying in the final season makes sense. and eve starting and ending the series screaming is bookends-y, i guess!” but like ... i already feel like, just in thinking that, i’ve put more thought into it than the writers did, you know?? i think the writers were just like “ha ha, it’s going to feel like they’ve won the day and they can be together but it’s a TRAGEDY so at the last minute villanelle will DIE HORRIBLY!” it’s just something i feel like anyone could have written about any characters, and if any characters demand and deserve specificity, it’s THESE TWO!

like, the whole thing about tragedy is that the outcome needs to feel inevitable based on the choices the characters have made. and i just don’t think that energy was here AT ALL.

anyway: i love eve and villanelle and the beautiful work that sandra and jodie did all season, breathing gorgeous life into what was usually absolute garbage, but this season can bite me.

they ABSOLUTELY should have had the whole season be “eve and villanelle, road-tripping wives on a hunt for the twelve”, and i at least thank this episode for proving that. ya done messed up, writers.

i do feel very happy that eve and villanelle got (in my humble opinion) the greatest first kiss* ever televised, however. who deserved it more than them after all these years?!?!??!

* first kiss not immediately followed by a headbutt

also: are we supposed to read into it that villanelle just killed a room of random people because carolyn sent them to the wrong place?? but also what boat wedding has a secret meeting room of scheming old guys?? I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHINGGGGGGGG! WHAT WAS THIS SEASON’S “PLOT”, YOU GUYS? [cue sobbing]

it’s so weird to think back to season one and then to everything that happened this season and be like “this is the same show.” what. (in some ways this makes me happy, like in the way that eve and villanelle have developed such genuine love for each other over the years. but in most ways, it does not.)

#dollsome's deep thoughts #killing eve #killing eve spoilers

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

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Do you think you could write a piece about Harry and y/n having sex but she’s like really short and Harry is like throwing her around and just manhandling her and fucking destroying her guts but also make kinda fluffy pls😔👉👈

Welcome Home

Anonymous Said: Hi I’ve discovered this blog recently and can I please just take a moment to say Wow... you’re writing is amazing and your ideas and concepts are brilliant. I’m not sure if your taking requests or concepts but here’s an idea. SNL pilot Harry like with the grey hair and all coming home to his wife who misses him dearly after awhile followed by you know what. And if you could include size kink (I really liked that concept)

A/N: I’m so sorry it’s so late guys! Since I’ve been writing for a year now, I figured that I’d give an ‘Au’ a try. When I got this request, I was completely floored. Like holy shit, sexy ass older pilot!Harry, and small!Y/n. All of this is perfection and I love this so much! Enjoy🙃

4.7k words

Harry loved his job. He considered himself to be pretty lucky to have the ability to travel the world and see places he’d only dreamt of growing up. Even though he wasn’t in those places for an extended amount of time, simply being there was more than enough for Harry and it made him want to go back and explore. If he was lucky, he’d have multiple flights to the same place or longer layover in these But what Harry loved most about his job was the fact that he got to do it all with the love of his life.

When you two first met, Harry’d been a pilot for some years and you were just hired for your job as a flight attendant. You knew that it wasn’t the most glamorous profession int the world, but you wanted to dip your toes into the pool of world travel, and this was the route you were taking to start. Before your first flight you’d asked around about the pilots for your flight and you were met with the same response each time. Everyone said that Harry was one of the nicest people in the world and was pretty good looking too, but his copilot was the person you were advised to try your best to avoid. Luckily, you only had to interact with Harry. Both you and Harry hated to say it and be all cliché, but from the moment you two laid eyes on and interacted with each other you both were hooked. Even though the both of you could’ve really used the entirety of your breaks to get some sleep, you and Harry couldn’t stop talking to each other. From that point on, the two of you became inseparable. During layovers that were more than just a couple hours and Harry had some spare time outside of his duties as pilot, the two of you would spend time together. You two were so caught up in each other and being together that you’d swap flights and breaks with the other flight attendants so that you and Harry could be together. And Harry did the same. He’d always put in a word with the people who made the schedules to ensure that he was flying the flights you were on or he’d try to get you on his flights.

After constantly being on flights together and even running into each other during your times off, you and Harry were pretty convinced that you two should give a relationship a try. Even though there was a significant risk involved with starting a relationship with someone who was pretty much your boss and/or employee, you and Harry were willing to take that risk. And you two never looked back. In fact, disclosing you guys’ relationship made things way easier for you and Harry; you two were almost always on the same flights together. Now, you two are happily married and traveling the world together about 99% of the time. You both absolutely hated when the 1% times came around. You two became so used to being on the same flights that when you weren’t, you and Harry were a bit sad and even a little homesick believe it or not. This time unfortunately was Harry’s turn to fly without you. There wasn’t a moment on his trip that Harry didn’t miss you. He was focused on his job but he was still thinking about you. He was constantly wondering about what you were doing at home. When he took his break he just laid there and the cuddles and kisses he’d get if you were there with him. He also missed listening to your passenger horror stories and pushing you to just keep going. And on top of all that, Harry missed all the times you two would try to quietly go at it in the bathroom or crew resting area depending on whether or not you two were the only ones on break. Even though he was able to talk to you during his layover, he was counting the days and eventually hours until he came back home to you. As soon as he landed on the tarmac at the airport, Harry was on a mission to get home. After following all the necessary after flight procedure and filling out all of the necessary paperwork, Harry threw his bag into his car and sped home to you.

Surprisingly, Harry was able to get home and not get a ticket. He quickly pulls into the driveway and carries himself and his bag into the house. When he walks through the front door, Harry could immediately feel your presence. He could feel your warmth radiating through the entire house. All he had to do now as find you. Before checking upstairs, he makes his way around the main level of the house to look for you. As he exits the kitchen and makes his way down the hall, Harry could hear your soft hums getting louder and louder. When he reaches the laundry room, he sees you standing at the folding in the corner. Simply seeing you bought a big smile to his face. He then wastes no time coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller body.

“Honey I’m home.” Harry happily coos in your ear before pressing a soft kiss below it. When he does this, you turn around in his arms to get a better look at him.

“Welcome home.” You whisper back to him, lifting yourself up onto your tips of your toes to bring your lips to his. As soon as your lips connect, the both of you release sighs of content. You two were back together. It doesn’t take long for Harry’s arms to tighten around your body and hoist you up onto the table behind you. The kiss lasts a little longer before you pull away from his lips.

“How was your long haul without me?” You hum, sliding your hands up the lapels of his jacket.

“It was hell.” Harry says pointedly.

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Was thinking about you the whole time.” Harry frowns a little at you to emphasize his point.

“I missed you too baby.” You coo softly to him. You then reach up and pull the captains hat off of his head, sitting it down next to you before pushing your hands through his greying curls. When you two first met, he had some grey hairs here and there. But now they had taken over just about all of his head; and you were very into it. “Any annoying kids or weird old ladies?” You ask him.

“For the kids, I wouldn’t know. I like to stay in the front of the plane or the crew area.” Harry begins truthfully. “But as for the old ladies, they always want to break off a piece of this.” He continues smugly.

“Why would they want you? Do they wanna swap arthritis creams or something?” You joke with a laugh, watching his face fall in the process.

“I will have you know that I’m considered a silver fox. And you know it.” Harry defends, slightly tilting his head up away from you. When he says this all you could do was pucker your lips and bite the inside of them because what he said was in fact true. You just couldn’t let him know that. “Now what’d you get into while I was gone?” Harry asks curiously with a smirk from his previous victory.

“Did some stuff around the house and I did a little missing you retail therapy.” You reply happily.

“So I take it that the credit card bill this month is gonna be a little higher than normal?” Harry asks suspiciously.

“Just a little.” You whisper trying to undermine your shopping spree.

“A little?” Harry asks you again, already knowing that you’re undermining how much you actually spent.

“Mhm.” You mumble, nodding your head sweetly in the process.

“You’re too cute and pretty for your own good.” Harry chuckles and shakes his head down at you.

“You love it though.” You hum happily up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I do.” Harry sighs contently. This is what he missed. He missed being in your arms and just loving on you. He loved seeing your smile and feeing your small arms wrap around him. “I actually bought you a couple things.” Harry whispers, tightening his grip around your back.

“Is it more skimpy lingerie?” You question him, making sure to spread a wide smirk across your face. Instead of readily replying to you, Harry simply unwraps one of his arms from around your back and he brings it up to the front of your dress. Since the front of your dress was loosely wrapped around your body to keep it closed, Harry as able to simply pluck back the top a little to get a good look at your body beneath the fabric.

“Well I guess this is my cue to stop buying the lingerie, since you’re not even wearing it.” Harry points out, looking down into your dress to find your bare, supple breasts resting on your chest. It took a lot of self control for Harry in that moment to not stick his hand down your dress to take your plushy flesh into his hand.

“Well I thought it was for our sexy times or when I send you pictures while you’re on a trip and on your break or stuck in a hotel room without me.” You explain to him. You even throw in a little pout; you wanted to keep your fancy and very pretty lingerie flow going. “But I am wearing one of the pairs of panties you picked up in Italy if you wanna see how some of your purchases look on me.” You whisper lowly to him. You then use your arms that are hooked around his neck to pull his head down closer to yours. Harry was already a bit hard from finally being home with you. Now he was getting even harder from your words.

“Is it bad that I’ve only been home for 20 minuets and I’m already thinking about completely ravishing you?” Harry mumbles against your pillow soft lips. “Just so pretty baby.” Harry grumbles frustratedly before bringing his mouth the rest of the way to yours while pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He couldn’t believe that he, a man who turned 40 a couple months prior, was getting all riled up and turned on the same way he did 20 plus years ago. That was just the age defying effect you had on him.

“No, not at all.” You begin as you pull away from the short lived yet beyond passionate kiss, slowly bringing your left hand up the back of his neck to his hair. “In fact, every time I see you in your head to toe pilots get up, I’m always fighting the strong urge to fall to my knees and take your cock down my throat.” You bluntly continue, your voice filled with a very nonchalant and teasing tone.

When this statement left your mouth, Harry was a little bit taken aback. But at the same time he wasn’t. After slowly building up your friendship that in no time blossomed into a more romantic relationship together, Harry was able to slowly show you the ropes so to speak and teach you just about everything you knew when it came to the bedroom and a happy and healthy relationship. When you two progressed to the more intimate stage of your budding relationship, you were pretty inexperienced. You didn’t know your way around the bedroom at all. You we’re still a virgin and you didn’t even know the ins and outs of making out with someone. All you knew was that this smart, extremely kind, absolutely gorgeous, and just overall stunning human being, older man who just so happened to be the pilot on your flight had taken a strong interest in you. And luckily for you, your lack of experience was the least of his concerns. It was like you hit the jackpot with him. Fast forward to now when you two are a married couple, you’ve taken all of the tips and tricks he’s taught over time and you’re running with it. Harry wasn’t the only who had the ability to do things to your body that would make your toes to curl, your entire body to go numb, and cause your mind to deem it all indescribable. You also had the ability to turn Harry into a pleasured, borderline incoherent, and moaning mess; something that most women in his past who were his age or slightly older weren’t even able to do. So it wasn’t a complete surprise that those words came from your mouth.

“Who knew that my pretty little wife had such a filthy mouth.” Harry gasps with a condescending tone.

“Well I’m not a prudish old man like you.” You simply reply. This was the button in Harry that you loved to push.

“I don’t know where you’re getting that from but I’m far from prudish and I’m definitely not an old man.” Harry says matter of factly. “If I remember it correctly, I made you wear vibrating panties for the entirety of an 18 hour flight.” Harry recalls, making his point against being called prudish.

“Everyone uses those. Especially older men.” You smugly whisper back, pushing even harder on this button of his.

Harry knew exactly what you were doing. He knew that you were pushing his button so that he’d unleash everything he had built up over the course of his trip into you. It didn’t take much for him to realize that you wanted him to really make up for not being with you for almost a week. The both of you were itching to feel and be around each other again. After you and Harry made it past the learning and teaching phase of you guys’ sex life, the two of you acquired a constant hunger for one another. When you and Harry had some time off, the sex would be nonstop. Whether it was cockwarming or full on sex where you’re riding his cock or he was slamming himself deep into your pussy, you and Harry were always looking for ways to be around each other like this. And it was exactly the same when you two were on the job. Even though you two didn’t have the freedom to go at it whenever you wanted, you and Harry still found ways to be with each other. For some reason, seeing each other dressed in your uniforms was a bit of a turn on. It didn’t help that the both of you were borderline thrill seekers and loved the rush that came along with trying to be quiet as you both were experiencing some of the best pleasure you’d ever felt.

“Well do all older men pound and shove their cocks into their girlfriends, and now wives tight little cunts over and over again until she’s begging and crying for him to slow down and let them cum? Because if not, I’ve got countless stories about me doing that to you in the cramped bathroom on a flight, in restaurant bathrooms, dressing rooms, upstairs, on the couch, the kitchen counter, right here on this table, and many other places.” Even though you acted confident and enjoyed battling Harry for dominance, you were able to easily fall into a more submissive role. The way he’s calmly able to say the filthiest things made your body quake and your panties become even more soaked than they already were. You were never going to be able to forget about all of those times. How and why would you ever forget the times where he’s hoisted you up against a door or a wall, or pushed you down against the counter, tightly wrapped a hand around your mouth to keep you quiet, and deliciously slammed his cock up into you? If you focused in on those memories, you could remember and almost feel him inside you.

That’s what you wanted right now. You wanted him to pound into you so hard that you’d a sore, moaning mess and you wanted to make up for the time you two weren’t together. This was the first time in a good while that you weren’t scheduled for a flight with Harry and you really missed him. And his cock. So if you had to push one of his buttons to really get what you both wanted, you were going to do it.

“Well I think you guys can do that,” You begin, pausing to run your hands down from his neck and across the expanse of his broad shoulders. “I just think that you may need a little help if you know what I mean.” You finish. When you say this, Harry knows exactly what you were implying and he wasn’t having any of it.

“You and this pretty little body of yours is gonna get it.” Harry growls before yanking you up from the table and pulling you into his body. He quietly marches you both up the stairs and to your shared bedroom. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he releases his once tight grip on your body and drops you down onto the bed. He continues to go about everything silently, shoving his jacket off of his shoulders and working on his tie and shirt.

“You look really hot in that uniform just so you know.” You admire from the bed below him. You watch him chuckle at your statement as he shrugs his shirt and undone tie off his body. You were really turned on right now. Like the sight of his bare, toned and tattooed chest and arms was a sight you could stare at forever. Add onto that the fact that he was mad and taking control over you and you were setup to be a complete mess. And your panties could definitely attest to that. You were completely drenched and dying to feel him against and inside you.

“You don’t have to butter me up baby.” Harry begins as he undoes his shoes. “M’still gonna take care of you and that smart mouth of yours.” Harry guarantees, shoving his shoes and socks off his feet and standing back up to work on his pants. “Gonna make sure you know what I can do to you.” Harry finishes, finally undoing his belt and shoving his pants along with his boxers down his legs. When you see his thick and very hard cock, you couldn’t stop a moan or two from escaping your mouth. “I take it someone needs my cock.” Harry chuckles at your desperation for his cock. He planned on showing you just how much you needed him. He then comes closer to the edge of the bed and in one swift motion, Harry pulls you up from your lying position and flips you onto your front. He masterfully undoes the tie on the back of your dress and he flips you back onto your back. He tugs at the fabric, opening your dress and exposing your partially naked body to him. He takes a moment to admire your body and all he could do is bite his lip. He couldn’t believe that he managed to be away from this for nearly an entire week.

Harry quickly snaps out of his trance when he feels his cock twitch slightly and he leans down to scoop you up into his arms. When he does this, Harry keeps you low in his grip so that you’d be right against his cock. He keeps one arm securely around your body and pulls your arms from the dress. Once it’s completely off of you, he drops it into the pile of his clothes and drops you back onto the bed. Before crawling up and on top of you, Harry uses your claves to push you a little higher up onto the bed and to flip you back onto your stomach. When he does this, you really know you’re in for it. Whenever you were in this position Harry really made sure to slam into you and make you scream. When he crawls up and is on top of you from behind, he wastes no time in ripping the barely there panties off your body. For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry didn’t snap the delicate undergarment in half. Once they’re out of the way, Harry has complete access to your body.

“Gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?” Harry asks, squeezing the flesh of your ass before raising it up just to crash it back down.

“Mhm.” You whimper, really feeling the sting from the sudden slap.

“Use your words.” Harry demands, raising his hand back up to deliver another slap to your backside.

“Yes daddy.” You cry out to him, this time feeling not only the sting of his slaps but also feeling of your juices dripping onto the sheets.

“Good girl.” Harry hums at your response. He then straddles your thighs, wanting to keep you in place when he pushes into you. He lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you, and he grips onto his cock to give himself a good squeeze, resulting in him letting out a loud grumble behind you (that went straight to your clit). He tightly grips onto the flesh of one of your cheeks and he pulls your ass apart to get a better view of you. When he sees your puckered hole, Harry gets a little idea. In the process of lining himself up with your entrance, Harry uses his cock to put a little pressure on your tighter hole. When he does this, words begin to pour out of your mouth.

“M’too tight daddy.” You rush out to him, trying to stop his actions. Harry knew that you were too tight for him at the moment, but he just liked to work you up a little and hear you beg.

“Don’t worry baby. When were done, daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready for his cock.” He promises, lowering his cock from your second hole down to the first. When you feel his thick head nudging at your entrance, your moans got louder. You needed him to be inside you already.

“Want your big cock daddy.” You beg. You try to move back against him but he’s practically sitting on your thighs, which is pinning you to the bed.

“Whats the magic word?” Harry teases.

“Please daddy?” And with that, Harry is finally sinking his cock into you. When you feel his cock stretching you to fit all of him, your mind goes blank. All you could come up with was strings of loud moans and feeling good. You felt full agains which was all you really wanted. As he continues to sheath his cock with your walls, Harry’s hand leaves his shaft and goes right to your other cheek. He pulls your ass completely apart and watches as his cock disappears into you.

“That’s it, take this cock sweetheart.” Harry pants in amazement. He was still in awe at how a small woman like you was able to take every last inch of his manhood. Once he’s fully inside, Harry’s eyes trail up your body to find you resting your cheek against the sheets with your mouth wide open. Thats what he wanted to see. Keeping his hands on your ass, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s hovering over you and goes straight into slamming in and out of your tight and very wet pussy. As he does this, your entire body quakes at the amazing sensation of him fucking you. Feeling him pound into your stomach as he called you his sweet girl and his pretty little wife was beyond extraordinary. You could feel the familiar tight and warm knot beginning to form in the pit of your stomach already.

As Harry fucks into you, he’s beyond turned on. The way you’re pinned below him as he shoves his cock deep into you along with you pitifully whimpering, moaning, and crying at how good he felt was really doing things to Harry. He never wanted to be away from you ever again. He wanted to feel you every single day.

After fucking into you from behind for a good while and feeling the tight burning sensation forming in the pit of his stomach as well, Harry figures that he’s going to cum soon and he wants to watch your face twist as he does. He then proceeds to stop thrusting all together and pull out of you, which causes you to grumble, resulting in you receiving a hard “shut up” slap to your ass. He then gets lifts himself off of you and flips tugs you onto your back. He knocks your legs apart and gets in between them before slamming his cock back into you.

“Like this baby. Like it when daddy takes control of this tight little cunt of yours?” He pants, continuing to slam his his cock into you. You were too caught up in how good he was making you feel that you couldn’t even form a worded response. All you could do was thrash your head against the bed in agreement. When he sees this, a very wide smirk rises to his face. This is exactly what he missed and wanted to see. You taking all of his cock while you’re quivering and barely holding on. As he continues, Harry can feel the warmth from the pit of his stomach spreading to his entire body, signifying to him that his release was getting extremely close. Judging by the way your once tight grip on the sheets has gone loose, your pitiful whimpers, and the way you’re tightening up around him you’re feeling the exact same way. To make you cum around his cock, with him following right behind you Harry only has to do two things. First, he brings his palm to your lower stomach and presses it into you; putting pressure on the warm knot that was about to explode and allowing him to feel his cock moving inside you. He then comes down, bringing his mouth to your ear to whisper one thing into your ear. “Not too bad for an old man right?” Harry hums patronizingly into your ear. He wanted you to eat your words. And you were. His words, the pressure from his hand, and his cock causes you to burst at the seams around him. You let out a mixture of gasps and whimpers as you completely let go around Harry’s cock. When he feels your walls contracting around him, Harry lets go as well. He releases every last drop of the sexual frustration he’d been carrying around all week; and it felt so good. He loved painting your walls with his cum.

Once the both of you are done and it’s safe to pull out, Harry’s slowly pulls his sopping wet cock from your cunt and collapses onto the bed next to you.

“Harry, I can’t feel my legs.” You whimper after a couple minuets of silence.

“M’surprised you’re not used to it by now.” Harry hums smugly. Once he says this, a temporary lull fell over you two. You and Harry were very anxious to go at it again, but you two were holding off to see who would initiate round two.

“Did you take something before you came in the house?” You whisper over to him, deciding that you needed to be the one to initiate round two.

“Do I need to come over there and shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours for you to get the point?” Harry chuckles at your persistence.

“Only if you want to.” You whisper sweetly.

“Oh I want to, and don’t you doubt that.” Harry says matter of factly.

“Well can we cuddle first? Haven’t cuddled since the night before you left.”

“Anything you want.” Harry coos before moving closer to your limp body.

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wearywinchester · 3 years

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Something Old and Something New — Part Two

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff

Three weeks.

It’d been three weeks since you’d arrived back home in Kansas for an amount of time you don’t know if you’ve decided on yet. Three weeks of wondering the right way to tell Sam just how you felt about law school in actuality. Because since you’ve been back, you found it harder and harder to want to leave like you had planned to eventually.

Putting things off rapidly became your specialty when it came to this you’ve noticed, the very thoughts in your mind having revolved around this very subject yet you still can’t find it in yourself to pick up your textbook and study like you said you would. You’ve got a year left, you keep reminding yourself of that. A year before you finish and get your degree, a year before you can pack that up and put that chapter of your life behind you if you so pleased to do so.

But when you thought more about it, the worse it sounded as you mulled it over. Another year of doing something that didn’t make you as happy as it should. Studying law wasn’t something you believed to be thrilling even to the most eager student out there, even to Sam. You’ve caught him on more than one occasion throwing his textbook across his room. It was a complicated profession to study, one with a million endless words to read through and fully grasp should you want to be a success.

You wanted to be, but maybe you wanted to be a success in something else.

Your mind had been swimming with thought after thought on the matter, but apart from that things weren’t so bad. It hasn’t taken you long to settle back into your apartment, the place you’ve been missing ever since you left to go back to college a few months ago. It was a contrast to your place with Sam, housing quite a few more of your personal belongings. It was a place that’s all your own, and not that you didn’t love Sam’s company, but it was nice to come home to have time for yourself.

Even if you didn’t live an extraordinarily eventful life, you were content with your own company.

Things had fallen back into place at the garage over those last few weeks, some days far busier than others. Things were a bit different with Dean since that first day back. Not that he hasn’t been up to his usual tricks, not that the two of you hadn’t still bickered over trivial things like you’d done with each other for the better part of twenty-four years. That was still very much a part of your daily schedule and you don’t know if that’ll ever change.

But there was something different, something you couldn’t quite figure out.

The moment you saw the lack of cars in the parking lot when you’d pulled in you knew you were in for a day, could tell by the way the green eyed Winchester had leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest when you walked in the door with a squinting gaze.

“You’re late,” he says, head tilted and brow raised.

“No, you’re just always early,” you say.

He chuckles then, looking away from a moment before turning back to you, an expression on his face you knew all too well.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, tone cautious as you cross your own arms over your chest, keys jingling in the otherwise quiet garage.

The corner of his mouth quirks up at your words, something that only deepens the crease between your brows when you see it. You knew it meant nothing good, it had to, he doesn’t smile like that unless it’s something you don’t want to hear.

“Benny and Bobby went out to check out a new sign for the shop, ‘s just you and me today,” he says, his arms falling to his sides to slip his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes roll immediately, more so at the contentment filling his expression. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” he says, pushing himself off the counter. “You were the one complainin’ about the sign anyway.”

You purse your lips at his words, ones that were very true but it didn’t help your cause for him to be right this time. It was doing the exact opposite and the grin sitting smug on his lips was more than telling that he knew exactly that.

“And,” he started, your sigh immediate as you tip your head back. “It’s a slow day today, so you get to help me work on Baby.”

“I don’t think I ever offered to help,” you said, putting your keys on the hook and your bag under your desk.

“Lucky for you, you didn’t have to,” he says, nothing but teasing in his tone as he reaches over the counter and swipes the candy from your jar.

“It’s 9 o’clock in the morning and you’re already steaming my stuff,” you say, huffing as you sway his hand away before he can get any more.

“Be in the shop in five, sweetheart!” He calls over his shoulder, finger pointed in the air in the direction of the clock before he disappeared around the corner.

It was hot, hotter than you’d like as you worked that day. The garage doors were open and the fan was on high, but the summer heat was proving to be just a little more persistent than your efforts. The radio had been turned up just a little louder than it would have been if Bobby had been there that day, a little louder than it would be had it been busier. All of the good classics had been playing in a steady list of hits all morning, Dean’s humming accompanying it along with a string of lyrics every so often.

Your hand stayed pressed to the wheel as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, returning your focus to tightening the very last lug-nut on the wheel.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” Dean says, muffled before he leans out from under the hood to look at you for a moment.

You miss the way he looks at you, at the way it’s far too easy for him to become distracted with the way your tongue pokes out in concentration or the smudge of grease on your cheek. You miss the beginnings of a smile on his lips before he ducks back down to work under the hood of his car.

“I know more about cars than you think, Dean,” you say, standing to your feet and wiping your hands on your jeans. “‘Sides, rotating tires isn’t rocket science.”

The smile he had widened a fraction, his head shaking as he leaned over the front end. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard a series of metallic clatters, a string of curses leaving Dean’s lips that had him huffing in irritation. You walked over to him with a raised brow, watching as he fished around somewhere under the hood blindly, his nose scrunched and his lip curled up as he struggled to reach what he was looking for.

He pulled his arm back out, empty handed and his knuckles were scraped an angry red as grease smudged darkly around them.

“What is it?”

“I dropped my wrench and the freakin’ thing is stuck,” he huffs, running his hands over his face. “I’m gonna need you to reach in there and get it.”

Your brow remained raised, eyeing his hand before your gaze flickers back up to his.

“C’mon, Y/n. Your hands are smaller than mine.” You roll your eyes at his words, peering over into the spot he’d been rooting around in before he spoke up once more. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, shooing him away as you catch sight of the tool glimmering brightly amongst everything else.

A huff leaves your lips as you try and figure out how to maneuver around everything just so you could get to it, your other hand pressing to the edge of the car to steady your balance. You could see just a little better than him but not anything significant, and you find yourself patting around in hopes your fingertips land on what you’re hoping to grab. Your luck was rapidly becoming the same as Dean’s when you came up short, though you might just top his.

The moment you moved your hand down further was proving to be a mistake— you may have grabbed the tool you’d set out to look for but the feel of something you hadn’t seen ran sharp and unforgiving along the side of your hand. It sent a jolt of pain through you as you gasped, a soft yelp sounding as that same metallic clatter happened a second time.

Dean turned his head, the sight of your scrunched face having him cross the garage in a few bounding steps.

“Ouch!” You groan, pulling your hand out and groaning.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes bouncing from you to his car before returning to you.

“I scratched my hand on your car, Dean. What’s it look like?” You say, squeezing your hand in hopes that it’d make it hurt less, even if it was just a little bit better.

“Dammit!” Dean says the moment he sees your hand, the moment he sees the scarlet smudging around the scratch you refused to let him see to avoid this kind of reaction. “Y/n I told you to be careful!”

You could hear the frustration in his tone loud and clear, and if you hadn’t fed off of that very same frustration you’d be able to see that there was something different in the way that he looked at you. You didn’t know the way worry clouded his mind in that moment, or the flash of fear that ran through him when he’d first heard you gasp. But you didn’t, you did what you knew best when it came to Dean Winchester—you bickered.

“Okay, well that’s not helping me now!” You argue, your good hand wrapping around the other as you hold them to your chest. Your cheeks burned under his stare, narrowed and discontented. “And I was careful, by the way. Don’t worry, your pretty car is fine.”

“Y/n, you’re freakin’ bleeding, okay?” He says, voice still loud and still frustrated but the worry on his face was clear. “And don’t be ridiculous.”

“‘M fine,” you huff, turning away from him. You made it all but two steps before he spoke up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n wait,” he said, voice softer than before. When you turn back, you can see the dimples at the corners of his mouth and you can see the flare in his nostrils—you can see the softer look in his eyes. You could see the bit of hesitation he held onto in that moment. “Let me patch you up.”

You shifted on your feet, a quiet huff leaving your lips. “Dean, I can do it myself.”

He shook his head, a laugh leaving his lips as he brushed past you to head into the garage. “C’mon.”

You rolled your eyes when he walked ahead of you, hopping over the counter by your front desk, patting your seat with a smile on his lips. You sit down as he squats to rifle through the cabinets, grabbing the peroxide and blindly putting the bottle on the counter. He snagged a fresh towel and a few gauze, a wrap and a few bandages that was a bit more than necessary.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this thing stocked with first aid supplies before,” you say, a laugh in your words as you feign surprise.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, standing to his feet as he sets the other stuff down. “Benny just might be even more clumsy than you. I gotta be honest, I never thought that’d be possible.”

“Would it kill you to be nice just once, Winchester?” You ask, squinting up at him as you bite the inside of your cheek.

He pretends to ponder the question just to get on your nerves, just to see you frown the way you do because he knows it never lasts long. You know he’s got something to say, can see it by the way his smile returns. “I like to think I’m very nice. But for you, maybe it’ll kill me.”

You lips pursed and your jaw clenches, his head tilting as he flashes you his award winning mocking smile. You could feel that same frustration from just minutes ago bubbling in your stomach, the urge to grab the supplies from the counter and do it yourselves having grown almost too much. But the moment he looks at you, all teasing aside, his gaze just a little bit softer, a little bit more intense, that’s what has you changing your mind.

He sits down on the other chair, his thighs parted so he could scoot closer to you to make things all the more easier and much less cumbersome. “Let me see what you got goin’ on, butterfingers.”

You give him an exasperated look before you glance down at the hand you still held close to your chest, eyeing the crimson smeared on the fingers of your other hand. It throbbed and it burned, the grease on your hands surely doing you no favors. But, with all the hesitancy in the world you pulled your hand from your chest and extended it out towards him, cheeks burning at the sight of it because it looked much worse than you thought it did. Much more than you played it off as not more than five minutes prior.

His brows furrowed as he took your hand, turning it to get a better look.

“Baby really got you good, didn’t she?” He hummed, grabbing the towel he’d gotten before pushing himself up to his feet to go wet it at the sink.

Your gaze cast downward at the cut running jagged along the outer side of your hand, swiping your finger along it in an attempt to brush away some of the dirt still smudged on your skin.

“Don’t do that,” Dean says, sitting down in front of you once more.

You roll your eyes as you sigh, eyes bouncing up to catch the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he looked downwards and shook his head, green eyes flickering up just briefly in time to catch your gaze.

“Have you always been this bossy?” You ask, watching as he takes your hand in his, gentle as he turns it.

“Oh, shut up,” he says, but you don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks up, a smile he tries to hide as he swipes his tongue over his lips.

He takes the dampened towel in his other hand, careful as he blots and presses it over the wound, the once clean fabric now stained a crimson as he swiped it over your hand. His eyes look up at the way you tense, brief and wordless and he saw the way your lip sat between your teeth, at the way you’ve got your brows knit together. But he looked away before you could notice, lightening his touch before he cleaned away the dirt and blood on your other hand.

He set the towel on his lap, snagging the bottle of peroxide before flipping the cap open with his thumb.

“This is gonna hurt, sweetheart,” he mumbles, looking up when he hears the softness of your laughter. “What?”

You shrug your shoulders, your hand still enveloped in his own. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me that in a way that wasn’t sarcastic.”

Your tone was full of faux shock, near theatrical as you pressed your free hand to your heart, one that made him roll his eyes immediately.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but you can hear the lighthearted tone he held. You nudged his boot with your shoe, heaving a sigh.

He moved his hand to hold yours a little more comfortably, the cold metal of his ring brushing across your skin. It brought you back to the current moment, but not quite as much as the clear liquid pouring over your skin, stinging and burning as it bubbled white over your irritated wound. A gasp sounded then, your brows furrowing once more.

“A little heads up would’ve been nice!” You say, nearly pulling your hand from his grasp.

“I did,” he says, offering a teasing smile.

You slump back in your seat with a huff as he releases your hand for a moment, for the first time in what feels like ages, ripping open a bandage before returning his attention back to you and the task at hand. He pressed it over the length of the cut on your hand, the one that still burned from the peroxide just a mere minute before.

It was then that your gaze fell on him, at the crease between his brows as he tried his best to keep from causing any more pain unbeknownst to you. At the sweat beaded across his freckled cheeks and nose from the warm summer heat, a single drop of it having trailed down to the very tip of it. As if you’d shared the same thoughts, he’d paused his actions and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging it upwards to swipe across his face.

It was a matter of moments before he’d begun wrapping gauze around your hand, tearing it free from its roll with his teeth before tucking the loose end into itself.

“You’re good as new,” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You felt your cheeks burn at the fact that it became apparent to him that you’d already been looking, something you knew you should stop doing but for the life of you, you couldn’t.

Your eyes bounced over every inch of his face to avoid his gaze— at the slight raise of his brow, at the sweat accumulating on his cheeks once more, at the freckles smattering across his nose and more importantly, more distractingly, the freckle sitting pretty on his lips. You knew that the longer you averted his eyes the more foolish you looked, and right now you were batting a thousand at doing just that.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and words, whatever they may have, been sat on the very tip of your tongue and it became increasingly more obvious that your hand was still in his. The closeness of your proximity wasn’t far behind that either.

It was then that your phone rang, pulling your attention as your hand fell from his grasp. You sat for a moment longer, flustered, before you pushed your chair from him to reach it, the smile on your face evident.

He watched that smile grow as you pressed the phone to your ear, the rest of your attention rapidly becoming stolen for the time being.

“Sam!” You say when you answer.

At first, you miss the way Dean swallowed thickly, still sitting in the same spot. But it’s the muffled squeak of the chair’s wheels rolling across the concrete floor that had you glancing over at him, seeing the familiar furrow of his brows that was more than just nothing, at the tension heavy in his jaw as he looked away from you. You watched him while you listened to Sam, at the way he swept off the trash and crinkled it in his fist, tossing it in the garbage before disappearing around the corner.

His change in mood wasn’t lost on you, but it was something you quickly pushed from your mind with mere confusion when Sam repeated your name what had to be two or three times.

—

It was much cooler that evening as the clouds started to accumulate, the sun dipping low enough to stave off the heat that hung heavy in the air. The sunshine that did peek through the windows, broken into stripes by your blinds had painted everything it landed on a deep orange, dimming the later it’d gotten.

You sighed as you rinsed off your dishes from dinner, loading everything in the dishwasher for the night. When the doorbell rings your brows furrow, gaze shifting to the clock on the microwave. 8:14 pm.

You dry your hands on a tea towel, trying your best to avoid your bandages as you smoothed down your clothes, heading to the front door in curiosity to who could have been at your door at this time of day.

When you unlock the door and open it a crack, the crease between your brows deepens, the door opening wider once you see who’s standing on the other side of it.

“Dean?”

He stood there, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He’s got a change of clothes on now, a pair of jeans on that have a rip in one of the knees and a t-shirt that’s free of black grease stains and sweat. And despite the summer weather he’s got a flannel on over top the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in true Dean Winchester fashion. But perhaps the most noticeable thing was the half-smile he wore as he looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You uh—you left this at work today,” he says, lifting his hand as your sweater dangled from the tip of his finger.

You laughed softly at the sight of it, eyes rolling at the sight of the sweater you never failed to show up with should you get cold at work or anywhere you are. Odds are, you didn’t need it most times but sometimes you do.

You tilt your head and raise your brow, knowing full well that he himself knew he could have just left it there overnight.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted an excuse to come and see me.” He rolls his eyes then, tossing the sweater at you as his lips purse. “Spit it out, Winchester.”

“Just wanted to see how your hand’s holdin’ up, that’s all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he glances down at the bandage still wrapped around your hand. It’s got a few dirt smudges on it from his hands earlier that day, but that was the least of your concerns.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

He nods, hands stuffed in his pockets before his brows furrow.

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks, and you follow his gaze to the suitcase and duffel bags still sitting where they’d been in the corner by the doorway. The same spot you’d left them the day you came back home.

You turn back to him, breathing out a sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a half smile.

“Is this your way of inviting yourself inside, Dean?”

“Is it working?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you squint up at him, a few moments passing before you let out a huff and step to the side as his grin widens.

“Nice place. Who would’ve thought you’ve got decent taste,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“That’s not exactly a compliment, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” He says, eyeing the records you’ve got stacked by the tv.

You shake your head as you make your way to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab two beers off the shelf. When you spin on your heel you find him leaning against the little kitchen table you’ve got, his gaze bouncing around the room as if to take everything in as his fingers tap against the hardwood.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” he says, taking it from your outstretched hand.

“I’ve tried to keep it that way,” you jest, catching the way he laughs at first, his expression falling neutral once he realizes your words before he follows you out to your back porch.

It’s quiet when you take a seat, the colors of the sunset becoming more muted the lower the sun dips into the horizon. It’s become routine for you to come out here in the evenings, taking a moment for yourself to unwind at the end of the day. Your apartment back with Sam doesn’t have a backyard, not even a balcony though you suppose it wasn’t quite so bad. But it wasn’t this.

He took a seat by you, cracking open his beer and taking a long swig or two as he looked out at the trees.

“I wasn’t worried about you ruining my car earlier, you know,” he says after a few beats of silence.

You laugh softly to yourself, nodding at his words. “Either you’ve gotten good at lying, or you really mean that.”

“What do you think?” He asks, amusement in his tone.

“With you, I can never tell.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he says, nudging your foot with his boot as he shakes his head and looks forward.

You knew he meant it, by the way he’d looked at you when he said it you knew he did. Dean Winchester might not outright say how he’s feeling unless it’s in the form of his teasing at you in particular, but his looks give it away every single time.

“So why did you come back,” he asks, tipping his head back and taking a sip from his beer. You chuckle at the question, soft and half of humor, half not. “Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

You tilt your head as you look at him, lips pursed for a moment as you shake your head. You were hesitant as you mulled it over in your head, but you found there was no use in playing it off. There was no way around it.

“It doesn’t exactly feel good being a twenty-four year old running away from college to come back home because they decide they don’t like the degree they’re studying a year before graduation. ‘Sides, I also ran back to a job where I’m stuck working with a green eyed dork,” you say, eyes glimmering with mischief as you hide your smile behind your beer bottle.

“Speak for yourself, I’m a joy to be around!” He scoffs into his own bottle, his smile in his voice. You sigh, resting your head against the back of your chair as your eyes fall closed for a moment. “It ain’t that bad. Can’t blame you for leaving if you didn’t like it.”

“Whatever you say, Winchester.”

It’s quiet save for his chuckle, the crickets singing and the lightning bugs flashing whenever they so pleased amongst the backyard.

“Have you told Sam?” He asks after a little while, watching as you pick at the label on the tinted bottle.

“No,” you say, softer as you exhale a sigh. “Not yet.”

“Wow,” he says, brows raised slightly in surprise as he nods. “I thought you told him everything.”

There’s a laugh in his words, quiet and it held something a little different than humor, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you didn’t question it too much as he looked at his feet.

“Yeah, well, not this,” you say, swiping your tongue over your lips as you thought about just how you were supposed to do it. You didn’t know. “Speaking of Sam, why’d you get all broody when he called earlier?”

“Broody?” He asks, brow raised slightly.

“Yeah. You had that pout goin’ on like you do when you sulk.”

He chuckles then, shaking his head as he fumbles and twists the bottle in his hands. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n/n.”

You only nod, eyeing that look on his face.

“He’s coming up here to visit in a couple weeks,” you say, your smile evident the more you talk about it. The more you think about you the more your face lights up. The more you beam.

That’s what it was.

The thing that had him all broody. He sees the way your face lights up when you talk about him, when you talk to him. He sees that smile, the one that makes him weak in the knees so much that he’d never ever admit it because there isn’t ever a reason to. Because you smile just like that over his brother. He doesn’t even have to be there for you to do it. He gets it though, he does.

He was excited to see his baby brother, there was no doubt in that, but he couldn’t help the feeling that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

His mouth opens and closes once, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. He clears his throat then, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

“I uh—I gotta head home. Wanna get an early start tomorrow,” he says, standing to his feet.

“Oh,” you say, watching as he flashes you a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding as he stands there and looks at you a moment more. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

You watch as he slips through the door and back into your apartment, setting his empty bottle in the sink before walking out of view. It wasn’t long before you heard the rumble of his car when he started it as you sat by yourself on your back porch, that familiar rumble heightening as he put it in drive before he drove off.

You bit the inside of your cheek then, resting your head against the back of your chair as you sighed. You sighed because as you sat there by yourself, you found yourself wishing maybe he’d have stayed a little bit longer.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

#dean winchester #dean winchester series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic

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angsty-omi · 3 years

Text

second best.

tanaka ryūnosuke x reader; tanaka ryūnosuke x kyoko shimizu

genre: angst, heartbreak, cheating

word count: 1.5k

cw: insecurity

She was beautiful. Her silky black hair, perfect nose, nicely framed glasses, and a cute mole on her chin. Anyone could see it, every volleyball team in the tri-state area attempted to get her number. Kiyoko Shimuzu was her name, and you could not help but see the way your boyfriend looks at her.

The three of you went to school together, since primary. A trio, one would call it ever since the third grade. At recess, kids would say, “It’s no surprise that Y/N, Kiyoko, and Tanaka are all partnered together.” and during a specific game of soccer, you accidentally tripped over the ball and skid your knee. You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry in front of everyone. Your eyes were watery, at the fact that your knee hurt like hell and now everyone was staring at you. To your surprise, Tanaka ran over to you to help you up and guide you to the clinic. When you got there, the nurse sat you down and poured alcohol onto cotton balls. Tanaka offered his hand, and you gripped it lightly, with a slight shade of pink on your cheeks. It was a cute moment until the nurse dabbed onto your joint. Then, you tightly squeezed Tanaka’s hand and screamed some very colorful words. That night, your mom scolded you and sent you straight to your room. While you lay on your bed, you could not help but smile at the event that happened that afternoon. This was the start of your attraction towards Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

When you got to middle school, puberty started to hit you like a truck. The rapid growth of hormones made your face acne-infested. While everyone told you it was normal, you could not help but question why does Kiyoko’s face not look like this then? Her skin was clear and had a nice dew to it. The amount of money spent on drug store products could buy you a whole store. Acne was inevitable, already eating at your brain, and planting their seed called insecurity. Tanaka would always call Kiyoko terms like, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘goddess’ while you had what- ‘funny’? The summer going into high school, you decided to get medical help. Immediately, you were put on accutane. You did not want to see anyone during that whole summer, especially Tanaka. Accutane made your face very dry, crackled, and forced you to put on chapstick every minute. Locking yourself into your room all summer, made you lonely.

Sometimes, you could hear Tanaka and Kiyoko walk by your house and hear them say, “Has Y/N ever responded to your texts? It’s like she’s a ghost.” Tanaka asked.

“Nope, she hasn’t even answered to get our nails done, she must seriously be ghosting us,” Kiyoko responded.

You tear up at the guilt of ignoring your closest friends, but it’s hard when you’re in love with one of them and envious of the other. You did not want your toxic mindset upheld against them, so you justified that it was just for the best.

When fall came around, it was back to school. Your first year. The Accutane, though traumatizing, worked. In addition, being trapped in your room all day introduced you to makeup. Looking in the mirror, you actually started to like what you saw in the mirror. You’ve learned self-care and it paid off. Scanning the sheets on the wall, it looked like Tanaka was in your class and Kiyoko was in the honors one.

“Class 2-B” you read aloud to yourself and sat down at a desk. You left the one seat open next to you, just for Tanaka. When you saw him walk in, your heart skipped a beat. He looked different, in a good way. His hair was shaved, taller, and looked more mature. When you waved over to him, he just glared at you and sat at the seat farthest from you. This made your heart drop. Why was he acting like this? Did I do something? Does he not want to be my friend anymore? Questions rambling in your head. During lunch, you headed over to his desk and pulled the chair behind you to sit down. He just stared at you intently, furrowing his brows signifying anger.

“Ryo-channn, look what I brought,” you gleefully rang, knowing that he would never in a million years refuse your mom’s onigiris. When you took out your bento, you grabbed the onigiri with your hand and put it near his mouth. Still looking at you angrily, he took a bite from the onigiri in your hand and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you worried. He did not respond, so you asked again. “You can’t just act like I don’t exist Ryo, especially if you’re eating from my invisible hand.”

“That’s funny, me acting like YOU don’t exist when you ghosted me for three months? I thought we were best friends, Y/N.” Now, you finally understood why he was so upset. Before you could speak up, there was a knock at the entrance, “Ryo, want to grab lunch together?” Kiyoko said in a monotone voice. It seems that Kiyoko too was also mad at you. You could not help it though, you and Kiyoko were basically sisters up until that summer. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff,” Ryo picked up all his belongings and left you in the dust.

That day, you waited for both of them after practice. Kiyoko was a manager and Tanaka was on the team. Two birds, one stone. When they walked out together, they both saw you. Murmuring to each other. You took a deep breath, “Listen, I’m sorry for not texting you guys back and not spending time with you during the summer. I-it’s just that I felt so i-insecure with myself, I didn’t want to bring you guys down with me y’know?” Tears started welling up in your eyes, you continued, “I would hear you guys talk about me when you passed by my house, and it took everything I had to not just run out and hug you guys. But, I couldn’t. I hated myself for the longest time and I was scared that you two would start to notice it. So, I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you guys needed an explanation.” You sighed and started to turn around and leave. You fell to your feet, with two bodies tackling you down. “G-guys?” your eyes are still watery. Laughter emitted from their voices, “Don’t do it again or else we will kill you,” Kiyoko threatened.

It was the final set, both teams were tied. Yamaguchi was serving and Aoba Johsai hit it back with ease. The rally probably lasted around a minute, but to everyone, it was slowed down. Until, Tanaka passed the ball to Kageyama, and everyone thought he’d set it Hinata. Instead, he setter dumped. The crowd was silent, not realizing what just happened. Karasuno just won the preliminaries. Every student screamed and chanted at them. You and a couple of other people ran down to congratulate. You ran up to Tanaka’s arms and squeezed him. He swung you around joyfully, and you pulled your face back. There was a moment where it felt like it was just the two of you. The adrenaline of winning finally got to you, and you impulsively kissed him. It lasted maybe around a second or two before you finally realized what you were doing. Mortified, you were rambling with apologies.

“Can you please just forget this ever happen-” he cut you off. Warm lips were pressed onto your lips. You were shocked at first but slowly sunk into the kiss. This was the start of your relationship with Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

Kiyoko never spoke about her feelings about her best friends dating. In fact, she hated it. But it was out of character for her to be so opinionated. She could not stand the fact that you guys would cuddle during movie night nor how he would hold your hand during the walk home. She did not necessarily like Tanaka that way, but she did miss the attention he gave her. Who wouldn’t want someone calling you pretty 24/7? And to reject them was a power move. No one would ever know, but he was the reason why her confidence shot up. The confidence to reject handsome men on different teams. All started because of Tanaka. Although, now that he was with you, the flirting stopped. She could feel herself start to become jealous and it started to infect her brain. During practice, Yachi would gush about how cute you and Tanaka were while Kiyoko just had to listen.

“Y/N is too cute,” Yachi cheesed. Kiyoko couldn't take it anymore, “Listen, I am way prettier than Y/N and Tanaka could do much better” it just slipped out. She was surprised at what she just said, and even more surprised that she didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt.

“Like you?” a voice appeared. It was Tanaka. “R-Ryo,” she muttered. “We should talk outside.”

Once they were both outside, Tanaka spoke first.

“You don’t get to do this. You rejected me countless times and now t-that I’m with someone you can’t just profess your feelings for me.” Tanaka hissed.

“I-I know, it’s just- I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. Imagine how I feel seeing you guys together, the man I love with someone else. Someone who is inferior to me.” Tears welled up in Kiyoko’s eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? Love? Please. You don’t love me. You never will.” He bit his lip sharply.

Silence.

“Then look at me and tell me you don’t love me. Because not once have you said that you didn’t feel the same way, you only said that you were dating Y/N” Kiyoko sobbed.

“You know I can’t do that,” Tanaka whispered. Then, Kiyoko leeched on him, pressing her lips against his. He wasn’t kissing back, but he wasn’t pulling away either. He was conflicted. He was too dazed and decided to just give in.

Little did they both know, there you were watching at the scene. Well, now you were hiding behind a wall, peeking at them, kissing. You could physically hear your heart-shattering. After wiping the nonstop tears flowing on your face, you left.

Grief turned into anger. You threw every picture, gift, and sweater into the trash bag. Your eyes only saw red. Your room was left bare and cold. The bedroom door knocked in a rhythmic beat that only one person did. When he walked in, his eyes gazed at every spot in your room. It was empty.

You looked down at the ground, “I always knew I was second best in your heart.” You whispered, tears threatening your eyes. “What?” His face contorted in a confused stance. “I should’ve seen it coming y’know? But I just thought maybe— maybe he’d pick me.” You continued. He started getting worried, “What’re you talking about?” The fact that he was here, blatantly lying to you, gives you all the answers you needed.

“Please don’t act like that, not with me”

“Act like what?”

“Clueless. Ry-Tanaka,” you corrected yourself. “If you love her, then go for it. But don’t act like you’re still in love with me. It hurts-” Your voice broke mid-sentence.

“It was a mistake,” He pleaded.

“A mistake? No, mistakes happen impulsively. T-This whole thing with Kiyoko was premeditated. All my life, I have been trying to compete with her. Grades, appearances, and even you. And when I had you, I thought, I had won. I won the best prize ever. You. But now-” You dropped to your knees, “I don’t even have you.”

He wiped your tears with his hands, “But you do, you do have me,”

“No, no I don’t,” you denied.

“Yes you do baby, I’m right here. I choose you.”

You were not some decision, you were his girlfriend and yet, he thought that would make you happier. “Nonono, you don’t get it. I don’t want you anymore. These tears aren’t for you, they’re for me. Seeing you kiss Kiyoko? I felt nothing and that scared me. Maybe I wasn’t in love with you, maybe I just wanted to beat Shimizu that bad. Who knows? But, by the looks of it, I did win. I got to you first.” You punctuated every word, prying his hands off your face. Of course, you were lying your ass off. You’ve loved this man ever since that day in recess. Revenge had poisoned your heart though, and you wanted him to feel an ounce of you were feeling.

“We’re done. There I have let you go, now you are free to do anything you want with Kiyoko. Date her or reject her, it’s not my issue anymore.” Tanaka couldn’t even recognize you anymore. Though it was your voice and your physical look, it was like your soul had been drained, and in replacement was someone who was cold and emotionless.

A/N: I’m back! I’ve fixed my writing style so everything is capitalized properly. Requests are greatly appreciated! Just shoot a message. Also, this story was inspired by my drabble and a person actually asked me to write one for Tanaka, so here you go @aestheticno !

likes & repubs are greatly appreciated. :D

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #tanaka x you #hq tanaka #tanaka angst #hq kiyoko #tanaka fluff

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melzula · 3 years

Text

Refined Taste

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: an anon requested some more Iroh and Princess content so I delivered hehe

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The soft whistle of the boiling tea pot is a welcomed sound that brings you a great sense of peace and comfort as you work in the kitchen of the Jasmine Dragon. Few customers occupy the shop as they sit and chat over cups of tea and mini cakes— a limited time only delicacy curtesy of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe— and with a lull in the crowd after a very busy day at work, you’re happy to spend your free time chatting away with Iroh.

Today marked the fourth day of Zuko’s much needed slumber, so while you waited for him to wake you spent your time revisiting old friends and places in Ba Sing Se. You said hello to Miss Tai and bought three new dresses to help support her small business, you went out for a pleasant lunch date with Jin, and, something you were admittedly embarrassed about doing, you spent your evenings wistfully gazing out your window in hopes of spotting the Blue Spirit. It was odd being back in the place that held some of your happiest and some of your darkest memories, but you loved it all the same. During the day you made sure to check on Zuko as he slept, and when your presence was no longer needed you made yourself useful by helping Iroh run the Jasmine Dragon.

The events that had occurred in Yu Dao had almost been disastrous, but with the help of Katara and the residents of the colony Aang was finally able to see that Zuko had been right all along. You stayed on the sidelines just as you had told Zuko you would, it wasn’t your place to interfere, but now that things had settled and King Kue was willing to negotiate you would be attending the meeting as a representative for the South and to offer any aid you could. However, such a council could not take place until Zuko awoke, and so you found yourself in the company of Uncle Iroh.

“I don’t even want to imagine what my nephew’s life would be like without your courage and support,” Iroh says over the boiling water. “Thank you again for bringing him to me, y/n. Spirits know he wouldn’t have come on his own, he’s too stubborn.”

“Well, I did have some help from Aang,” you admit with a quiet laugh, “but you don’t need to thank me. I love Zuko, and I’ll always look out for his best interests.”

“So you’ve proven time and time again. He is lucky to have you, you know. Very lucky.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you smile, gazing down bashfully at the sleeves of your dress. “But Zuko’s also lucky to have you.”

“He is lucky to have both of us. I mean, we are an excellent team,” Iroh says with a wink. Your shared laughter quiets at the sound of careful footsteps making their way into the room, and you feel your heart swell with love and adoration at the sight of a sleepy Zuko standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up!”

“Hi sleepyhead,” you say with a smile, rising from your seat to meet him halfway. Zuko is grateful for your touch as you rest a hand upon his cheek and press your lips against his own in a delicate kiss. You taste of honey and ginger, your intoxicating scent of fire lilies invading his senses, and though Zuko wishes he could kiss you with fervency, he settles for one last lingering kiss before finally parting from you; making out in front of his Uncle is something he’d rather not do, so he composes himself.

“How are you feeling?” Iroh asks, watching with an amused smile on his face as you and Zuko immediately cling to each other. Your arms wind around one another and hold each other close, and the love you share is enough to warm the old man’s heart. Yes, Zuko is in very good hands.

“Better,” Zuko notes faintly, “but tired.”

“I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea to wake you up a bit,” the man says as he immediately gets to work.

“Let’s go sit down,” you suggest, taking Zuko’s hand and guiding him towards one of the empty tables in the shop. He seats himself with a yawn and smiles gratefully as you take off your warm shawl and drape it over his shoulders before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Hungry? There’s still some mini cakes left over.”

“Are there any strawberry cakes?” He asks with a meek smile.

“But of course! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t make my boyfriend his favorite kind of mini cakes? I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Zuko calls after your retreating form, hearts in his eyes as he watches you disappear behind the curtains. Would it be selfish of him to ask you to be his Fire Lady right now?

Iroh leaves the kitchen with a pot of tea just as you walk in to fetch Zuko his cake. You make sure to grab the one with the most strawberries and extra frosting, the way he likes it, and set it neatly onto a plate before returning to your beloved. Aang is now seated across from him, and so you say nothing as you place his food before him and sit down beside Zuko.

“—Since Roku’s my past life, in a way you’re my family, Zuko. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to detach myself from those sorts of bonds,” Aang laments. “It’s a flaw, I know, but it’s one I’ve decided to accept, for this life at least.”

“You’re not the one who’s flawed, Aang,” Zuko sighs. “Why can’t the struggle get easier for me? Even just a little? Sometimes I wonder how long I’ll last.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze when the confession leave his lips, but the way in which Zuko reaches over and tightly grabs hold of your hand is enough. Your heart breaks at his words and you desperately wish you could ease his pain and worries, but you know that being here by his side is enough for now. And you’ll be by his side whenever he needs you to be.

“You know, in that dream, a woman stood with us on that mountaintop watching from the shadows. I think she was my mother...”

“Sometimes, dreams are the way a person’s spirit reveals the answer to his own problems,” Iroh notes wisely. Then, with a humorous smile on his face, “but, then again, sometimes they are just the result of eating spicy food before going to bed.”

“Maybe finding my mother would connect me to a part of my heritage that isn’t so murky and confusing,” Zuko notes thoughtfully. “Maybe then I’d finally find peace. I’ve never told anyone this, but right after I became Fire Lord I sent out search party after search party looking for her. I even hired June and her shirshu. They all came back empty handed. What can I do now that I haven already tried?”

“It’s a new world, Zuko. You need to take some new risks,” Aang says wisely.

“We all do,” you agree, your mind already beginning to drift elsewhere as you calculate how long you can stay away from home without being missed too much.

“Speaking of risks,” Iroh cuts in with a smile as he presents three glass of odd looking to your trio, “why don’t you all try this brand-new beverage I invented?”

“What is it?” You ask curiously, taking the glass Zuko hands to you and swirling the odd looking balls at the bottom of it with your straw.

“Well first, I cook tapioca balls until they’re soft and tender. Then I put them in the tea, where they sit like little pearl-sized snacks at the bottom of each cup! Add a little milk and— ta-da!— a revolution in tea is born!”

Zuko and Aang share uneasy glances with each other before slowly taking sips from their glasses only to immediately cringe the moment the tapioca balls hit their their tongues.

“What is that trying to sneak into my mouth?!” Zuko exclaims after promptly spitting out the pearls.

“Wow,” Aang chuckles nervously, “I’ve never had tea that’s quite so... chewy.”

“It seems I am a man ahead of my time,” Iroh says sadly, his eyes casted downward to the floor. However, the noisy sound of a straw directs all attention towards the smiling Princess and interrupts his bout of sadness. Oblivious to the gazes of your friends set upon you, you happily suck the last of your tea from the glass until it’s completely empty. It’s only once your drink is gone do you finally notice the strange looks sent your way by Zuko and Aang.

“What?” You retort with furrowed brows. “It’s really good.”

“Finally, someone with taste!” Iroh exclaims happily at your praise. “It appears I am a revolutionary after all.”

“You actually like that stuff?” Zuko says flabbergasted.

“It’s just tea, but different,” you shrug, grinning when Zuko hands you his leftover drink to finish for him. “However, the only thing I would add is some ice. It tastes better cold.”

“Genius!” The tea maker compliments, watching in awe as you bend ice cubes of your own to plop into the glass. “Y/n, you must come to the Jasmine Dragon more often, I could use your refined taste.”

“‘Refined’ is a strong word,” Zuko murmurs only for you to elbow his side. “Ow! What did I say?”

“I’d be happy to, Uncle,” you say with a sweet smile.

“I think I know who the new favorite is,” Aang jokes only for Zuko to roll his eyes. However, he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as he watches you and his Uncle interact together. It was safe to say you hadn’t made a good impression on his sister or his father, but the only thing Zuko really cared about was his Uncle, and from what he could see the two of you were like peas in a pod. Faintly, Zuko wondered if you would be the same way with his mother.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper to the Fire Lord, immediately taking notice of his far off look.

“About you,” Zuko admits to your surprise, “and how much I love you. And how I’m really glad you’re here.”

Heat spreads its way across your face and you smile bashfully at his profession, resting your head upon his shoulder as you converse with Aang. Though Zuko hates to keep you away from home longer than you need to be, he knows he’ll need your help with something else. But before he can ask you, there’s one person he still needs to see before he can begin his next journey.

He needs to talk to Azula.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @draqondance @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis--with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

#avatar: the last airbender #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko imagine #uncle iroh #iroh #aang #aang x reader #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #the promise #fire lilies

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127-mile · 3 years

Text

How to find a dead witch.

Pairing: Slytherin!Ten x Slytherin!female reader.

Genre: Hogwarts!au, best friends to lovers | Fluff, angst.

Warnings: A lot of inaccuracy when it comes to the Harry Potter universe, strong language, use of a curse against the reader, light mention of drugs being sold.

Plot: Ten’s mother left one morning. Something that always bothered him. One day, he found a letter. A clue on what could have happened. He needs to find her, he needs to understand, but for that, he has to be expelled from Hogwarts. Enters his best friend, ready to help him: you.

Word count: +13k.

A/N: This is part of the Of witchcraft and wizardry collab hosted by @danishmiilk.

"Are you aware that you are bothering everyone standing like an idiot in the middle of the fucking hallway?" you ask, and Ten looks up from his charms book. "Are you all right? Is someone threatening your life to the point where you actually have to read what is inside this book?" he stays quiet, so you take the opportunity to speak again. "If you need help, please, blink twice."

"Why are you bothering me?" he asks in a sigh, and you tilt your head to the side.

"I would not be talking to you if I had the choice, but you are pissing everyone off, so me talking to you is what is needed to keep you from being punched in the face by Yuta." you answer. "So you should thank me instead of running your dirty snake tongue."

"You think I care about the other students? That's cute." maybe you should let Yuta punch him in the face, he serves it.

"You clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so see you later." you turn on your heels, and you head for the Great Hall for breakfast. As usual, the room is noisy, but you do not mind, after almost seven years, you learnt how to block them.

"Where's Ten?" Yangyang asks as you settle down next to him, and you shrug.

"Standing in the middle of the hallway, reading and being a bitch to anyone who apparently dares to talk to him." the young Slytherin chuckles.

"Yeah, sounds like Ten to me." you take a piece of toast, and you barely have time to bite into it when you feel someone sit next to you.

"Sorry." Ten mumbles, and you know it probably hurts him to say this, and that he is only saying it because he does not want to spend the day alone, but it still feels nice to hear him say that.

"You are not, but it's okay. What is wrong with you? Did something happen? Did someone try to lock you in your trunk again?"

"Oh come on, that was one time, and it was a week after being transferred here." the week Ten officially became an Hogwarts student was extremely funny, because the seventh years tried to see if he really belonged with the snakes, and they realized that he did, but only after a week of light and fun torture. Fun for you, definitely not for him.

"Then what happened? You know you can tell me everything, I'm not one to judge." Ten turns his face towards you, and you can't quite describe the emotion on his face. Dumbfounded, maybe?

"You judge everything, and everyone around you! That's why I never tell you anything." well, that hurts, but you do not say it out loud, instead, you sip on your cup of pumpkin juice.

"It's too early to force you to talk with a spell, Ten, so you should do it, and right now." the young man sighs, and you hear a giggle beside you. Yangyang is watching you, and he is having a great time. You do not know why, but the second year took a liking to the both of you, maybe because you have no idea what you are doing, and he can relate? Or because you are actually nice on good days? Eh, you don’t know, and you do not mind one bit, he is cute. And he knows how to sneak into the kitchen to bring snacks.

"I found something strange in my room when I woke up," he starts, and you turn on the wooden bench to face him. "it was a letter I've never seen before." you shrug, it is not unusual to find letters in the morning if one's owl did not have time to bring them mail the day before. "Before you start telling me I am being dramatic, hear me out."

You hate how long he takes to open his mouth again, does he want to create suspense? Because you hate suspense, you do not need it, you need to know, and right now! "This is not just a simple letter, it's..." he takes a deep breath and you have to physically restrain yourself from slapping him. "it's a letter from my mother, she wrote it when she was pregnant with me."

"How is that possible? Didn't you say she left without leaving any of her stuff behind?" he nods.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking! She took absolutely everything that belonged to her, and how come one of the letters ended up in my room, here, in Hogwarts?" this is weird, you think.

"Do you think your father could have sent it to you? Maybe he found it, and thought it could make you happy to have something from her, even if it's just a letter?" he shakes his head, playing with his toast.

"He found a picture of her once, and he immediately threw it in the fireplace, so I don’t think he would have sent it to me."

"Did you read it?" you ask, and he takes the letter our of the charms book he was reading in the hallway earlier. Now you understand that he was reading the letter, not the book. "A few times." he answers, and you look up when you hear noises around you.

"It's time to go to class."

"I don't feel like going." he mumbles, and honestly, you don’t feel like going either, so you look around. You stand up when you find one of the slytherin in your year, and you smile sweetly.

"Hi, could you do me a favor?" you ask, and the young man flushes at the sudden attention.

"Y-yes?"

"Could you tell profession Kim that Ten and I are not feeling well? That we'll catch up on the class tomorrow, please?" he frowns, and you put your hand on his shoulder. "If you do it, and make it believable, of course, I'll go on that library date you asked me for a few months ago."

The way his eyes open wide is funny, but you do not laugh, he is already ready to tell you to fuck off, you don’t need to ruin your chance. "Alright, I'll tell him." you lean in, and you kiss his cheek.

"You are the best, I'll owe you one, I promise." when he starts talking about the date, you turn on your heels to join Ten again.

"Let's go back to the common room." you say, and he does not ask question, he knows better than to do that.

The refreshing smell of mind invades your senses as soon as you step inside the common room, and you smile. You never thought you would feel at home in Hogwarts, but you were wrong, you do feel at home when you are in the common room, when the fire crackles in the fireplace.

You sit on the armchair, and Ten slumps down on the old leather couch, the letter clutched to his chest. "So, tell me about the letter." you say, and he inhales, coughing because of the cloud of dust coming from the couch each time he moves.

"My love," he starts to read out loud. "the nurse told me the baby was a boy, can you imagine? A little boy is growing inside of me, our little boy. I feel sad knowing you will not be there to see him grow as beautiful and as strong as you. To be honest with you, I do not think I will be able to do that either, do not ask me why, I have a bad feeling."

He stops to catch his breath, and you hear how it hitches in his throat. "I wish the situation was different. I wish I was with you. I wish you could see our little boy. I wish so many things, and unfortunately, I know it is impossible. If I ever miss our monthly letter, please, look for me. If I ever miss our monthly letter, it means he did it, he finally acted on his thoughts. Tenderly, your love."

You straighten up on the armchair, eyes narrowed. "What the fuck?" that's not what Ten wanted to hear, but he takes it. This is what he thought after reading it for the first time. "So, if I understand everything corretly, your father is not your father, and your not-so-father could be the reason your mother left?"

"The reason my mother disappeared." Ten corrects, and you hum. That's a lot to take in, and you understand why he was so distraught this morning. You would be too, if you were in his situation. You do not even want to think about how he might feel inside. His head is probably such a mess, a mess you'll never be able to comprehend.

"If your mother disappeared, don't you think your father would have thrown away or burnt every little thing? Finding this letter doesn’t make any sense, maybe she really left, for her safety?" Ten shakes his head, he tried to think about all of the possiblities, but nothing seems plausible.

"If she was scared for her safety, she should have taken me with her!" he exclaims. "This guy she was sending letters to was my biological father, she wanted him to be with us, to see me grow, so if she left, she should have taken me because if she did leave, it was to find him." he stands up, and you follow him around the common room with your eyes.

"Maybe she didn’t have time? Maybe she had to leave suddenly?"

"I don't fucking know!" he yells, and you wince when he throws the letter in the fireplace. The paper turns into ashes right away, and you know he is going to regret this. "I don't fucking care either." he goes up the stairs to his room, mumbling something between clenched teeth, and you feel bad for him, you feel bad because he is your best friend, you are supposed to help him, and yet, you are useless.

You stand up, and you gather the ashes of the letter, and with a quick movement of your wand, the letter is back to what it used to be. Parchment damaged by the years, beautiful handwriting, and so much more to discover.

"Why do you look live you've just seen a ghost?" you ask when Ten enters the common room. "You know Peeves can't actually hurt you, right?" he pushes your legs out of the couch and he sits down, the poor boy looks so lost in his thought, you nudge him hard enough for him to whine and turn his head.

"Peeves is a little shit, I want to kick his poor poltergesist's ass." he mumbles and you chuckle, you want that too. "My wand is acting strange, I almost jinxed myself earlier!" you shake your head.

"What were you trying to jinx, you absolut idiot? You know we can't use jinx in the school!"

"That is not the most important! What is important is that my wand seems to want to run away from me!" you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

"Did you take something from Johnny? You know it is bad for your health, the guy doesn’t know what he is doing, or selling for that matter, he just wants some money for Hogsmeade."

"Why are you always jumping to the dumbest conclusions? Oh my god, why am I even friend with you!" he says in the most dramatic way he can musters.

"I am your only friend, so it's not like you have much of a choice here, so suck it up."

"I'm serious, my wand is trying to fucking run away from me!" he takes his wand out of his robe, and he puts it on the coffee table. Right away, the wand falls down to the ground, and you put it on some air flow coming from the frame, but it starts to move farther away from them.

"What the fuck?"

"Are you sure you did not try to piss off Peeves? Maybe he is possessing your wand or some shit!" you do not see any other explanation, to be honest. But can poltergeists even possess wands?

"I didn't do anything! It's just been acting like that ever since I woke up this morning."

"Maybe we should follow it?" you propose, and he things about it.

"We are going to look stupid if we follow a want around, don't you think?" yes, he is not wrong.

"If you hold it, does it try to lead you somewhere? Like push you to walk?" he shrugs but he stands up to grab the wand.

At first, nothing happens, but then, he has the weird impression of being projected towards the frame. "I guess it does." you stand up too, you are not going to let Ten wander in the castle without you. The frame opens, and he keeps walking where the wand is pulling him.

"That's so fucking weird." you whisper, following him closely and he shakes his head.

"Everything been weird ever since I found that letter." yes, the letter. The letter you have been hiding inside of your trunk ever since he tried to burn it, but you do not really think about it, you don’t want to think about the reaction Ten would have if he knew.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Yangyang asks, stopping in the middle of the staircase, and you both shrug.

"Following a possessed wand around, nothing crazy." he giggles, but he stops when he sees the wand in Ten's hands move around.

"Can I come? I'm supposed to join Hendery and Dejun in the library to study, but I don't feel like it."

You and Ten share a look, and you both shrug. "Yeah, sure." he squeals with delight at the idea of having a reason to forget about his homework, and he follows you. If he is normally really loud and giggly, this time, he is quite calm, maybe because he understood the tension in between Ten and you. He knowns something is going on.

"What is in this room?" Yangyang asks when you stop in front of a door, and you heave a sigh.

"Nothing. A potion accident happened a few years ago, and it was never used again. Something about fumes they could not get rid of even with magic." if the professors refuse to use this room, this is probably not safe for you to enter.

"Alohomora." you say, your own wand pointed to the lock that opens right away. Well, that was not so hard, which could be dangerous in case wizards would like to hook up somewhere. The room is bathed in sunlight, so it is not hard to see what is inside.

A few tables and chairs are pushed on one side, a weird-looking stain on the ground and on the ceiling, and dust. A lot of dust, to the point whre it becomes hard to breathe inside. "So, what are we looking for?" Yangyang cloes his mouth to avoid swallowing too much dust, and he looks around him. There is nothing out of the ordinary.

You walk in the old classroom, and...oh! "I think that's what we are looking for." from under one of the desks, you pull a letter. You were expecting to see the same pretty handwritting on the old parchment, but no, the writing is more rough, and the ink is bleeding on the paper, maybe from tears, or rain.

"What does it say?" Ten asks, and you did not think he would trust you enough to read a letter that is clearly intented for him before having a loot at it himself.

"Ew!" you almost gag when you see a lock of hair attached to the letter. The hair is black, the same shade of black as Ten's hair used to be before he found the spell to turn it blonde. "That is disgusting, who would attach hair to a fucking letter!"

"I think I know why." Ten says, and he lets himself slide down one of the walls, to the ground and you keep yourself from gaggin again. The floor is dirty to the point where it is impossible to see the color of the carpet underneath. "My mother was a veela."

Yeah, that does not answer your question in the slightest, but he opens his mouth again, so you close yours. "There is a lock of my mother's hair in my wand, just like there is horned serpent horn in your wand, which is why my wand was attracted to this room, because this is a lock of my mother's hair. It needed to find its other half."

That makes a lot of sense, and more than for the wand, or why they are here. That explains why Ten's face looks unreal. "I thought they stopped putting veela's hair in wands because it was unstable?" Yangyang asks, head tilted to the side. His eyes shine with excitement and it is adorable.

"My mother personally asked for it, and paid the price for it to be done."

"Do you think she did it on purpose? For you to have a way to find her when time comes?" he did not think about it this way, but that could be possible.

"Read the letter, maybe we'll know more about it."

"My love, I wish I could ask for this letter to find you in good health, and surrounded by love and happiness, but I know this is not the case, and I am truly sorry. I will keep the lock of your hair like my most precious possession, and use it when you will deem it right. Even though I hope I will never have to use it. My heart hurts just thinking about using it, the possibilities behind the use it will have. Kiss our beautiful boy for me, tell him his father loves him and can't wait to meet him. I love you."

Before Ten can react, Yangyang raises his hand to stop him, and he speaks so quick you have to ask him to repeat more calmly this time. "If Ten's mother gave this man a lock of her hair for you to find the letter with your wand, maybe you could find her with your wand too?"

That's actually a good idea, and it is actually the first time you saw him so serious about something he does not really know anything about, just what he heard today. "And how am I supposed to do that? My mother is not hiding in the castle for all I know!"

"You could wait for the school break, but your father is not going to let you leave the house." you mutter and he nods. You know his father, and he is weirdly protective over his son. There is the regular protective parents, like yours, and then you have Ten's father, and his step-mother. They are protective to the point where it becomes weird, and a tad unhealthy.

"Leave while we are in Hogsmeade this weekend?" Yangyang asks, and you both shake your heads. "Ten's father didn’t sign the papers for him to go to Hogsmeade." the younger wizard gasps, a hand on his mouth.

"What? Why? Man, your father is weird."

"Maybe because he is not my biological father." he has a point.

"Get expelled, like that you can go and look for your mother, or for this guy. Maybe he has another lock of hair, and is waiting for you, who knows!" Ten puts his head in between his hands, and he sighs.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get expelled from Hogwarts of all places?"

"That's not hard, I can help you with that." Yangyang puffs up his chest with pride, and Ten laughs softly. At least he looks like he is relaxing. "No, but for real, the headmistress threatened to kick me out so many times since I arrived in Hogwarts, I'm pretty sure I can help you with that."

"You better not get in trouble because of that. You can't get kicked out, or I'm kicking your ass, alright?" Ten asks, and of course, Yangyang nods. The smile on his face is so bright that you can't help but to smile too. "And you," Ten starts, looking at you. "you are not doing anything stupid, before, or after I'm gone, alright? I can't lose my place in this school, and you."

You laugh, head thrown back. "Bold of you to assume I'm not coming with you."

"You are not coming with me, and that's final!" Ten exclaims as he pushes the door to the great hall open and you heave yet another sigh.

"I do not remember asking for your opinion. I am your best friend, of course I'm coming with you!" you sit down around the table, and Ten takes the spot in front of you. You are far away from the other students to be able to talk freely.

"This is my mother, Y/n, I have to do it alone." you pick an apple, and you shrug.

"I know that, Ten, but you can't do it alone. You will eventually need help. And what are you going to do if you can't find anything? You'll need me to figure things out, so I am coming, and you can't say no."

"A portable swamp!"

Yangyang puts a device on the table, and you jump because you were not expecting anyone to be behind you. "What is that?" Ten asks, at the same time as you. "Where did you get that?" Yangyang flops down on the bench, and there is so much mischief in his eyes that you fear for his answer.

"I bought it in Diagon Alley before the year started, but I never came around to use it, so I thought it would be useful for your little situation." he explains briefly, and you take it in your hand with caution, you do not want to set it up in the middle of the great hall.

"What does it do?"

"Like the name says, it is a portable swamp! Activate it, and it creates a swamp." you don’t even bother asking why he thought it could be a good idea to buy this kind of stuff. You are not even sure it is legal for him to have it here. "Do it in a classroom! I heard it is impossible to clean with magic, so it'll take a while to clean out."

"Do I dare to ask what you were planning on doing with this?" Ten asks, narrowing his eyes and the young wizard shrugs.

"I didn’t have a precise plan, I just thought it could be a good idea to use during class, or to make the library impossible to access for a while. Maybe destroy a couple of my books inside."

"We can try it out." Ten says, and Yangyang is beaming, even though he will not be able to see the damage of his little toy, but it is alright, he knows he'll hear about it.

"If it works well, you can just buy another one next time you'll go to Diagon Alley, you know." so he is talking about a payment, and honestly, that's only fair.

"Will do kid, thank you."

Two hours later, you find yourself in the potions' room, sitting in front of Ten. "Are we really doing this?" you ask Ten above the fumes coming out of the cauldron.

"I guess so?" he is not sure this is worth it, but he has nothing to lose trying. Well, he does have something to lose, his place here at Hogwarts.

"Did Yangyang explain how to use it?"

Ten shakes his head, that's what you thought. So he just drops it to the floor, under the table, and when nothing happens, he kicks it hard enough for the devide to activate. "Oh, shit!" the result is immediate. The floor is flooded with dark and dirty water, mud, grass, and some nasty-looking objects and dead animals. You put your feet on the stool to avoid stepping on it.

"What's that smell?" someone asks, and yes, it does smell strong. It smells like a fucking swamp, and you feel bile going up your throat. Ten is no better, he pinches his nose with his fingers and his eyes are filled with tears. This is absolutely disgusting.

"What happened?" the professor asks when he notices that he is wading in dirty water.

"Uh, I don't know, I think something went wrong with our potion." Ten says sheepishly and you look around. Most of the Slytherin are on the tables, making disgusted noise, but they do not have the reaction you thought they would have, even the teacher seems relaxed.

"I asked for a wound-cleaning potion, not a swamp."

You share a look of disbelief at the reaction. This is not how you are going to get expelled, you think as the professor helps the students out of the classroom one after the other. "It's fine, don’t worry, I'll clean it, I have mastered the spell to clean a swamp. You can all thank mister Lee, because class is over." a few Slytherins pat his back on their way out of the hallway, and he whines high in his throat when you are alone.

"That was a fail. Yangyang is going to be disappointed, we wasted his toy for nothing." you can't get rid of the smell of the swamp, and it look like it clinges to your clothes and you hate it. "I need a shower, I feel dirty, and I'm pretty sure worms are in my shoes." he grimaces at the thought, but he starts to squirm.

"Shut up, I can feel them now!"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you ask when you step out of the girls' bathroom. Ten is on the floor, back against the wall, and he looks rather annoyed.

"What took you so long? I've been here for thirty minutes!" he stands up, dusting his robe.

"It took me forever to stop smelling that stupid swamp."

"I saw Yangyang, he is disappointed that his toy did not work, or at least did not create chaos like he was expecting, so he is looking for another idea." you fear what he might come up with.

"Do you have an idea on what to do next?"

"He did propose something," Ten starts and you follow him. "he said we should make out after curfew in the quidditch field." you heave a long sigh, why were you expecting a real idea from Yangyang, but he is not wrong. Being outside of the castle after curfew is wrong, and making out with someone when it is forbidden? That could work to give you detention, not to get you expelled.

"That's not extra enough, our asses are just going to stay in detention for the weekend." you mumble, and he agrees but then he turns his head to watch you.

"But you are not saying no to make out with me in the quidditch field?" you push him hard enough for his shoulder to hit the wall and he scowls. "What was that for?"

"I rather drink some of the swamp water than kiss your dirty snake mouth." you answer and he rolls his eyes, but he is smirking like the little shit he is.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night I guess."

Alright, you are not blind, you know Ten is gorgeous and that he has beautiful lips that would be nice to kiss, but still, he is your best friend, and you do not spend hours thinking about how it would feel to kiss him, to run your fingers through his hair. No. Never happened, and will never happen.

"So, what are we doing?"

Getting expelled sounded so easy when Yangyang mentioned it, but now that you are actually trying, it is way harder. Because the professors know you, they know you are not the kind to get in trouble, or to do weird shit, so they always try to find an excuse for your behavior, and each time, you try something else, you slip through the cracks.

A month passed by, and nothing happened.

Ten found a few more letters between his mother and his biological father, but nothing else. He did find a ribbon once, a green one, like the ones she liked to wear in her hair when he was young, but it could have belonged to anyone in the school, but he kept it around his wrist just in case. Even if it is not hers, it gives him something that is not paper to feel closer to his mother.

"We can't go on like this forever." you say, and Ten agrees. It is tiring to come up with plans, and even Yangyang looks even more defeated each day. The poor boy spends more time thinking about ways for you to get expelled than he spends on his own homework, not that he minds, but you do, you do not want him to ruin his year because of you.

"I brought some backup!" Yangyang says, and this time he is not alone, he is with his friends. Haechan, another Slytherin, and Hendery, a Gryffindor.

"Where is Dejun?" you ask, it is rare to see Yangyang without his third friend, and yet.

"He is studying, and he wants nothing to do with what we are doing."

"And you do?" Ten asks Hendery. If Haechan was on board to help them, because he is a sneaky Slytherin, he was not expecting a Gryffindor to help them. Even if friendship is possible between the two houses, there are still some tension remaining between them. And Gryffindors are not the kind to get into trouble, especially for Slytherins.

"Yeah, I'm bored."

"This time, you are sure to get expelled." Yangyang starts to say, in a low voice. He doesn’t want the students around to hear him and if they are outside.

"Then speak, idiot!" Ten exclaims, and you did notice how quick he is to lose his temper lately, but you don’t say anything, you would do the same if you were in a similar situation.

"Calm down, little snake, I'm going to." Ten is close to punch him, you see it, so you grab his hand in yours, and squeeze it gently. "Ten, you'll have to hurt Y/n." you both open your eyes wide, shaking your head.

"What?"

"Hear me out. You don’t have to hurt her badly, just throw a little spell that will send her to the infirmary. You will be expelled right away because it is forbidden to attack another student. But before, you will have to pretend to fight, or the headmistress is not going to believe any of it."

"Yeah, and I'll be stuck in the infirmary while Ten will be outside, that's not what we want." yes, because after some time, Ten accepted that you were coming with him no matter if he wants it or not.

"Yes, but that's when we come. We'll make the infirmary impossible to be used, so they'll have no choice but to send you to St Mungo's because even if it's an innocent spell, they have to get you checked out by a doctor."

"Ten will be back in London in no time, he'll leave his home at night, and he'll go to St Mungo. Of course, he won't be inside, because he'll be suspicious, but you, Y/n, will have to leave during the night to join him, without being caught, and then, you'll be free to go look for your mother."

"That's a good plan." you concede, and Yangyang nods.

"We thought about it for a very long time, and with how much the professors love you both, it is honestly the only way for you to get expelled." you turn to face Ten, and he nods.

"Let's do it, I guess."

The boys high five, and you roll your eyes. "We have to fight now." that's not going to be hard, as you love to bicker for fun, it'll be easily believable. "And you have to help us out," you say to the three boys. "be there when we fight, try to calm things down, try to keep up from jumping at each other's throats, act like we constantly fight even in the common room."

Haechan smiles. "That we can do, trust us."

Ten and you never had any kind of fight, you do bicker but that's about it, but you are surprised to see how easy it is for the both of you to actually fight. Even if it is not real, it comes easy, and it is actually scary.

"You are such a fucking bitch!" Ten yells, and he feels all of the students' eyes on him as soon as he closes his mouth. "You thought I would not find out that you've been playing with me this whole time?" Ten scoffs, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek so as not to laugh.

"I mean, you are kind of slow when it comes to things like that, so yes, that's what I thought." you answer, and you see the way he squeezes his fists. "It was so easy to make you believe everything, that I wonder if you did it on purpose or not."

You lock eyes with Yangyang on the side, and his cheeks are bright red because he is trying so hard not to laugh either. And also because he tries to find a sense of what is happening, and the truth is, you did not rehearse the argument, so there is no sense at all.

"Are you calling me dumb?" Ten asks, and you nod, smiling softly.

"If you have to ask that, then what I'm saying is right!" you throw your head back, and you laugh, which seems to be enough for Ten who takes a few steps forwards.

"You'll see what the dumb wizard is going to do to you!"

That was the less treatening sentence you have ever heard, and yet, Yangyang and Hendery are the firsts to stand up and to block Ten. "What are you doing? Move!" Ten yells, and Yangyang has to make it believable, so he takes a step back, raising his hands.

"Eh, I don't want to do anything, but you do not want to fight with her, come on, that's stupid."

"Stupid, that's also a word that would work well to describe Ten." You say to Hendery who is facing you, you are acting like Ten is not here, can't hear you, and it is almost amusing. You hear a few "ohhh" around, and you know it's coming from your fellow Slytherin.

"I'm going to fucking punch you if you keep talking, you bitch!"

"Go ahead, I can't wait." you answer, and you see him looking inside of his robe, and when he takes his wand out, the laughs stop immediately. "Oh, what are you going to do? Jinx me? Can you even do that?" he raises his wand, but someone stands up, and gets in between the two of you.

Yuta, another Slytherin, faces Ten with a frown. "Come on big boy, you don't want to get in trouble, over a stupid fight with your best friend, don't you?" alright, Ten is ready to do a lot to get expelled, but he does not want to have his ass beaten by someone like Yuta.

"She fucking deserves it!"

"Maybe she does, maybe she does not, who knows. Come on, put that wand down and go take a breather outside." Ten heaves a long sidh, and he puts his wand back into his robe before turning on his heels to leave the great hall.

"Go on, coward!" you say in a loud voice to be sure he hears you even outside of the room.

"Coward, for real?" Yuta asks when he turns to look at you, head cocked to the side.

"I'm just saying the truth, don't blame me." you mumble, and when all of the students start going back to their occupations, you leave the great hall too.

"Don't go bother him right now, I can't protect you everywhere." Yuta says, and you nod.

You are sitting in front of the fireplace when you hear footsteps behind you. "That was a mess." Ten says as he drops down next to you and you chuckle.

"Yeah, maybe we should have rehearsed before or something, because I don't think anyone believed in our little dispute."

"The less sense it makes, the more believable it becomes." he answers, and you roll your eyes, and he puts his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "This is tiring." his voice breaks your heart, and you understand even though it must be even more tiring for him. The letters and his mother always on his mind.

"I know it is, but it'll be worth it in the end." you say in a small voice, and the young man straightens up.

"You don't know that, maybe it won't be worth it. What if I don't find her, or my biological father, then it'll be a waste of time, and nothing else." you shake your head, turning to face him.

"We are going to find something, I promise you. We are going to find answers, and we will make everything we did worth it. And then I'll help you come back to school, finish the year and succeed on your exams. I'm here, no matter what happens, we are in this together."

"Do you promise?" he asks, and you tilt your head, confused. "Do you promise to still be there, no matter what happens?" this is the first time you've ever seen him so vulnerable, and it hurts. But it also shows that he trusts you enough to show a side of himself that you did not know existed.

"I promise you, Ten. It's you and me against everyone else."

He does not know why he opens his mouth, and he asks. “Can I kiss you?” when you nod, he leans over and he puts his lips against yours. He did not think before asking, he just felt like it, like he needed it. He half expects you to push him away and laugh at him, but instead, you put your hands on his cheeks, and you kiss him back.

The kiss is gentle, and soft, nothing is rushed and it feels right.

Today is the day.

You and Ten spent the last two weeks constantly fighting. Some fights looked harmless, some looked more dangerous. Every time, a student had to stand in between to keep you from destroying each other. Threats were being throws each time, every time a little bit more serious threats, and jinxes close to being thrown too.

When you are walking around the school, you ignore each other, you throw each other glances that could kill and curse at each other during classes. It is now impossible for anyone to not believe that something is actually going on.

Which means, it is the perfect time to act on your plan.

"Did you think of a spell?" Yangyang asks, trying to keep up with Ten's fast walk.

"Yes, I even practiced to be sure I won't be making a fool of myself. What about the infirmary?" Yangyang's walk is light, and he looks so excited to finally put one of his many tricks into action.

"Do not worry, it'll only take a couple of minutes to make it impossible to enter. But for that, I need you to tell me how long it'll take you to attack her, so we can do it while the nurse is gone."

"I don't know Yangyang, a couple of minutes? Why don't you stay with us, and when I attack her, you can be the one running to get the nurse so you don't have to worry about the timeframe to mess up the room?"

Yangyang's smile is even brighter now. "That's a good idea!"

When he enters the great hall, he is scared. His hands are sweating, and shaking to the point where he wonders if he will be able to use his wand the right way. What if he messes up and send the spell on another student? What if he actually hurts you more than what was intented?

"Wait, wait, wait." he grabs Yangyang's hand, and the boy gasps when he is pulled away from the great hall. "I can't do it. I can't hurt her. What if it goes wrong?"

Yangyang sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It'll not go wrong, and you are not going to hurt her. You like her too much to hurt her, even if you think you are going to mess it up, your heart is not going to let you do it."

"I'm blaming you if something bad happens." he mumbles as he goes back inside the great hall. You stood up when you saw them enter, and you started to wonder if the plan was cancelled when Ten rushed out of the room, but when he comes back, he looks more determined which is pretty scary.

"You bitch, I know you took it!" he suddenly yells, and you try to look annoyed. And you could be if you were really fighting, because his voice can be a tad annoying when he is yelling.

"What are you on about?" he takes a few steps forwards, and you stay still. You are starting to hate the attention the other students are giving you each time to pretend to fight, but you know it is what is needed if you want the headmistress to kick Ten out.

"You know what I'm talking about! You came into my room and you took it! You fucking thief!" you laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Oh, are you talking about that little love letter you got the other day? Are you sad that you don't have it? You can't fall asleep without reading the lies written inside? Poor little wizard."

"That's it, I'm so fucking done with your bullshit." he takes out his wand, and you take yours. You have no idea what is going to hit you, and in a way, you are grateful for that, because if you knew, you would have chickened out or tried to avoid it.

"What are you going to do? You can't even use spells properly in class, and you want to do it here, in front of everyone? Over a fucking love letter? That is pathetic, even from you."

"Flagrante!" he says, and the spell hits you right in the chest. Because of the speed of the spell, you did not have time to think about what the spell was, or what it was going to cause, but you understand pretty quickly.

The wand in your hand starts to burn to the point where you have to drop it to the ground, a sob leaving your lips. "It burns!" you have the imprint of the wand on the palm of your hand, and even thought the wand is on the ground, it keeps fucking burning. Putting your hand in the fireplace would probably feel the same.

But it does not stop here, everything starts to burn. Your clothes feels like they are on fire, and you drop to the ground, peeling your robe off. "Go get the nurse!" someone yells, and of course, Yangyang runs at full speed towards the infirmary.

Ten hates the scene that plays in front of his eyes, he wants to help, but when he tries to take a step towards you, someone stops him. "You are not going anywhere, you have done enough damages!" the voice says through clenched teeth. Yuta. Again.

From where he is standing, he sees tears rolling down your cheeks, and he wishes he never had done this. He could have picked another spell, something better that would have caused a lot less harm. He could have used something to make you fall, or something, but no, he was dumb and picked a fucking burning spell.

A couple of people help you, but you squrim so much on the ground that it is almost impossible for them to ease the pain. But fortunately enough, the nurse arrives and she finds a way to stop the curse to burn you further. "Bring him to the headmistress, this is unacceptable!" she says as she gets out of the great hall with you.

Of course, it is a pleasure for Yuta to force Ten out of the great hall and to the headmistress"s office, and you are sad you will not be able to see what is going on. But that would be useless, and you can't seem to think about anything else than the heat radiating from your body. The burning sensation is mostly gone, and the nurse tries to reassure you, saying you will not have any burn marks, which is good.

But she stops in the middle of her sentence when she sees the door to the infirmary laying on the ground. "On Merlin's beard!" when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat. The room is a mess. The beds are thrown out, the mattresses are ripped open and the floor is filled with...with frogs?

"I can't do my work in these conditions!" she exclaims, helping you against the wall to see if anything can be done, but when she tries to step inside, an invisible barrier keeps her from entering. "That is not good. I can clean, but I can't force a protective barrier. If I catch the rascals who did that!"

"Alright, you still need to be checked out by a doctor, so I'm going to send you to St Mungo, alright?" you do nothing but nod, it is not like you have a say in this. "Come on, just a few more steps and it'll be all over."

You do not know how, but when you open your eyes, you are in a bed, in a white room. You are in St Mungo's hospital. You do not remember how you got here, and when you turn your head, you are surprised to find the nurse sitting on a chair, close to your bed.

"Y/n, welcome back. You passed out, and been asleep for over three hours." you straighten up but wince at the pain. It's not a sharp pain, not even a burning one, but it is uncomfortable, your skin feels tight and still warm to the touch, like a really bad sunburn.

"What happened?" you ask, feigning igorance, and the nurse stands up after checking her watch.

"Mister Lee attacked you with the flagrante spell, which causes objects to burn. Your wand, and your clothes too." you hum, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands.

"What happened to him?" she heaves a long sigh.

"I went back to the school while you were asleep, and the headmistress told me she had no choice but to expel him. What he did was wrong, and he could have hurt a lot more people around." you frown.

"Is he going to get in trouble?" she shakes her head, taking her cape from the back of the chair.

"The headmistress knows it is bad to use magic outside of class, especially to attack another student, but she decided to only expel him. It's enough of a punishement."

You try not to look too relaxed, because for a second, you thought he would get in trouble with the ministry of magic or something. "You should rest. The doctor will check on you in the morning, and if you feel better, they'll send you back to Hogwarts. Come see me when you are back, I'll give you something if the pain remains." you nod, and you look the nurse as she leaves the bedroom.

Now, you wait.

When you open your eyes, it is still dark outside, and for a second, you wonder why you woke up. But then, you find the source of the sound coming to your ears.

You turn your head, and you see a paper bird tapping against the glass with its paper snout so you stand up, trying to ignore the soreness in your legs and you walk to the window. You open it as much as you can, and you lean over the edge and smile when you see Ten.

He is not wearing his uniform, but casual clothes, and he looks rather pretty without so much green. He even wears glasses. He can blend in with the crowd without any problem, you think. "I'm coming." you say, and he nods. Fortunately, you are only on the second floor, which means you do not have to yell to be heard, and you do not need to attract the attention of the night nurses.

You uniform is neatly placed on the back of a chair, but you know you will get caught if you wear it outside. You have to find something. You grab the white shirt that you pull over the weird gown you are wearing, and you open the door to look around. The hallway is dark and silent, but you can hear hushed conversation further away.

You take a deep breath, and you get out of the room to walk through the hallway. The tiles are cold under your feet, and you feel a shiver goes up your spine, which only makes the slight pain worse. "Bingo!" you whisper-yell when you find the resting room. Maybe you can find something there.

The door is obviously open, and you stop dead in your tracks when you hear the regular breathing of a sleeping nurse. There is enough light coming in the room for you to see your surroundings, and a bag laying near the bed. You do not have your wand, so you have no choice than to step inside, and tip-toe your way to the bag.

You crouch down, and you open the zipper, tooth after tooth, to make the less noise possible. When it is open, you listen but the nurse is still soundly sleeping. You only need a pants, and you find a pair of sweatpant. You stand up, get rid of the shirt and the gown, and put the clothes back on, leaving the gown inside the bad that you leave open.

Before leaving the room, you grab your pair of shoes that you left by the door, it is ridiculous, but it's better than nothing. All you need right now is to join Ten. And maybe punch him, you have not decided yet.

You don’t know if it's luck, or someone watching over you, but you don’t meet anyone on your way to the hospital's sliding doors. It opens in front of you, and soon enough, you find yourself outside and you almost want to cry when you feel the cold wind against your heated cheeks.

"Y/n!"

You turn and you see him, you see Ten and you walk to him. Before he can open his mouth, you hit his chest multiple times. "What the fuck was that spell? It hurts so bad!" you say, but your voice is way softer than the punches.

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't think the spell would attack your clothes too, I wouldn't have done it otherwise!"

"I don't like you very much right now, but I have to ask, how did it go with your father?"

Ten pouts, and he grabs your hand to hide behind the building when he hears voices, they can't stay here for too long because they'll go and look for you as soon as they'll notice you are gone. "He is travelling, so my step-mother came. She promised to not tell him before he came back."

"Does she know you left?" he shakes his head, lacing his fingers with yours when you do not do anything to free yourself.

"No, I left as soon as she fell asleep." you hum, yeah, if he can't trust his father, who knows if he should trust his step-mother, she could be involved with his mother's disappearance for all they know.

"We should get going before someone catches us." he finally says, and you nod. You don’t know where you are going but you follow him, you trust him. At least you think you do.

"Do you have an idea of where we are supposed to go?" you ask, and he stops when you are far enough from St Mungo's.

"One of the letters for my biological father had an address on the envelope. The address was illegible, but it was in London." you scoff, and he looks away, the shadow of a smile on his face. "London has what, 9 million inhabitants? Yeah, this is going to be a piece of cake!"

"Don't be like that, at least we know where to look for, and we won't have to apparate." that's true, because you are not experienced enough, and you do not feel like losing a limb. "Do you have your wand with you?" he takes the wand out of the back pocket of his pants.

"Of course, and oh, I got yours from the headmistress office before leaving." he takes the wand out of the other pocket, and you take it.

"You are the best, thank you."

"I know, I know." you nudge him, and he waits for the wand to reacts, but nothing happens.

"It's tired to having to lead you around." you mumbles, and he sighs.

"I've been using it too much, or my mother is not around."

"Tell you what, until we find something concrete, we are going to think positively! Negativity is not going to lead us anywhere." he says something but a car passes and it is impossible for you to hear him, but it must not be important or he would have said it again. "Let's try to walk."

And that's how you find yourself walking around London at 4 in the morning. It is not bad, you think. You have never been in London so late with no one around, not a soul, and not a sound. It is weird, but it's also kind of pleasant.

"How are you feeling?" Ten asks after an hour long of comfortable silence between.

"Tired, hungry, cold." you answer and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I guessed as much, let's stop for a minute." he finds a bench down the street, and you sit down, covering your mouth when you yawn.

Ten take his backpack off, and he takes off a bunch of snacks that he puts on the bench in between them. "I thought about it! I also took some money from my father, so we'll buy some stuff tomorrow when the stores open." what's good about being in London, is that there is no way an amber alert will be broadcasted for either of them, because they'll have to explain that one left an hospital the muggles do not know about, and that the other one left after being expelled from some weird boarding school they never heard of.

You hope so at least.

Even though you should get going before the sun rises, you both need a break. To let your bodies rest, as much as your minds. Because even if you are thinking about Ten's mother, you are also thinking about the consequences of your acts even if you do not voice it. You can't help but to think of the disappointment your parents are going to feel when they learn about everything.

But like you said a few weeks ago, it's Ten and you against everyone else. You promised to be there, and you will keep your promise, no matter what happens. You will become an hermit if your parents decide to disown you.

"People are coming our way, we should get going." you hear Ten whispers close to your ear, and you nod. You stand up, and you help Ten puts everything back in his backpack, and he lets a little scream when he feels the wand move in his hand. "Yes, finally!"

"We must be close." you start walking again, and this time, you don't walk aimlessly, you are leaded somewhere. Hopefully not into a trap, because that would suck.

"If we only find your biological father, do you know what you are going to tell him?"

Ten remains silent for a while, probably thinking about it. "I don't really know, I guess I'll introduce myself, and ask him to tell me everything. Not finding my mother is one thing, but I at least deserve to know the truth. I need to know if I can trust my father or not."

"And what if you can't?"

"I have no idea. It was always my father, my mother and I. I never met any family member, and my grandparents passed away before I was even born, on both sides, so I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do when it happens."

You hum. "You know I'm not leaving you alone after, right? We'll figure things out together."

"Thank you." Ten says softly, and you shake your head, taking his hand in yours.

"You do not have to thank me, that's what friends are for." he stops.

"No, friends don't let themselves be burnt because they want to help someone. Friends help as much as they can, they do not take the risk to see their lives being ruined. You are different."

You do not think you are any different, but if Ten says you are, then you are not going to tell him otherwise. "I want the best for you, that's it." he smiles softly, and you don’t remember the last time you saw him smile so genuinely and it warms your heart. "You have a lifetime to tell me how perfect I am, but now, we have a mission!"

He rolls his eyes, and he starts walking again.

The sun is already high in the sky when the wand stops pulling him into the unknown. "Tired again?" Ten wonders, and you shrug, finally letting go of his hand to look around. You are in a suburb, all of the houses look the same, and an old lady is walking her dog, looking at you suspiciously.

You must be quite the sight.

You, with your white shirt and a pants you stole from her nurse and the face of someone who did not sleep for a week, and Ten who keeps threading his fingers in his hair out of frustration, dark bags under his eyes and a wooden stick in his hand. "Or maybe it's here. Maybe one of these houses belong to one of them."

"Wait here." you say, and you cross the road to the old lady who stops in her track, grabbing her small dog in her arms.

"I don't have anything on me." she says in defense, and you shake your head.

"I am so sorry to bother you, but do you live in this area?" the old lady hesitate but she nods. "Do you happen to know if someone named Lee lives around? A lady in her forties, probably very beautiful, black hair."

Ten told you that when he was born, he took his mother's last name, not his father, and it could be of help right now. The old lady thinks about it. "There is a woman in her forties here with her children and husband, but I am not sure her name is Lee." you hum, maybe it is her, maybe it is not.

"Could you show me which house it is? It would help us greatly."

"Can I ask you why? I don't want to give you her house for you to go and break-in or do something bad!" you shake your head with vigor.

"Do you see my friend over there? We believe this is where his mother lives, unfortunately, his father did not give us a lot of informations, we are just following hints without being sure we are on the right track."

"I see. This is the third house after the one your friend is standing in front. If you do something out of the ordinary, I will remember your faces when the police comes." fair enough.

"Thank you so much, and promise, no funny business."

You run back to Ten who looks at you expectantly. "Come on." you grab his hand and you lead him to the right house. You stop in front of the door, and you turn to face him. "So, I am not sure this is the house, as I only gave the lady what I knew about your mother, but she said it might be here." before Ten can open his mouth, you raise your hand to stop him. "Don't get your hopes up, it might not be the right place, maybe the wand is just tired."

"Let's do it." Ten stands back from the door, so you doubt anyone opening the door would see him. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see how much his hands are shaking, he is so close to his goal. You take a deep breath, and you knock.

You take a small step back when a dog barks on the other side of the door, and you put a hand on your heart, you were not expecting it. You hear rustling and you hear the lock before the door opens. You choke on your saliva when you meet the woman's eyes. It's like looking at Ten, but older, with long hair and more feminine features.

"Oh my, are you all right darling?" she asks, worried about a complete stranger on the step of her door.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. This might sound weird, but are you miss Lee?" the lady's eyes open wide, and it looks like she has not heard this name in years.

"Yes, it's me. Who are you?"

"I'm-" what are you supposed to say, especially with Ten not moving a limb to show himself. He is frozen in place, and you can't really blame him. "I'm a friend of your son, Ten." Ten's mother puts a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob, and you honestly want to burry yourself in the ground. Not that you are uncomfortable with burst of emotions, it's just that you do not know what to do.

"We, we found a letter in Hogwarts, and then another one with a lock of your hair. And one thing leading to another, we decided to look for you." you explain, as slowly as you can, and the lady straightens up.

"We?" she asks, and you look to the side, and prompts Ten to move before you force him out of his spot.

"Hey mom." Ten says, now standing beside you.

Ten's mother is quick to pull him against her chest, and he wraps his arms around her. They don't say anything, they just hug and for a second, you wonder if you should turn around. It feels like you are intruding on something that should be private.

"My boy, my sweet boy." she whispers, hands on Ten's cheeks. His cheeks are shining with tears, same as her and you feel relief crash onto you to the point where you could fall to the ground and cry too. Not because you are happy, but because you are exhausted, and that it is finally over.

"Come on in!" she pushes herself from the door, pushing the dog at the same time and she leads you to the living room. There are pictures on the walls, of her, of a man Ten does not recognize, and two children. Ten stops when he sees a photo of him and his mother when he was barely 5 years old.

"You kept them?" he asks.

"Of course! I could never gave gotten rid of the photos, they were the last things I had to remind me of you." you sit down on the sofa and it takes you everything not to close your eyes and let yourself be lulled to sleep. You want to hear the story, you want to know more, then you'll let yourself fall unconscious.

"You must have a lot of questions." she says when she comes back with three cups of tea, and Ten nods. You thank her, letting the warmth of the cup invade your hands.

"But I have one important question, is dad my biological father?"

She shakes her head, yes, he guessed as much. "He is not, and if you read the letters, you probably already knew." Ten stays silent, it is not a surprise to him, but now, he needs to know more.

"When I met your father for the first time, it was through my family. At first, I did not think anything of it, but I quickly understood why they made me become acquainted with him. My family, and his had this sort of pact where they had to marry their first borns."

"So, I had no choice than to accept it, but at that time, I had a boyfriend, we were planning on getting married, but then it happened and I had no choice than to break up with him." Ten frowns, as he sips on his tea. "We found each other again a few years later after the wedding, and I got pregnant."

"Of course, everyone thought it was from your father, but it was not. I had a weak moment when we reunited with your biological father, and you happened. I thought your father would be stupid enough to accept you as his, but he caught one of the letters one day, and oh, all hell broke loose."

"He made it his personal mission to make my life a living hell, that's when I told your biological father that if I ever missed a letter, it was because he did something. But he would not have done it before you were born, because blood is important, and he needed an heir, no matter if it was his blood running in their veins or not."

"After you were born, I did not have time to write, or to read letters, so he thought I had forgotten about him, and stopped trying to contact me, so your father thought I had broken things up and were ready to start being an actual family, that's why I stayed with you most of your childhood."

"And then, as you must have guessed, he found out he was wrong, and threatened me. I had no choice than to leave while he was at work."

Ten shakes his head. "Why didn't you take me?" she sighs, looking at Ten.

"I didn’t have enough time. He would have found us, and merlin knows what he would have done to me, or worse, to you. He did not want or need a wife, but he needed an heir."

"I tried to contact you, but when I received no answer, I understood that your father caught the letters before you did. Then I learned he got remarried, and moved to London. I assumed you transfered to Hogwarts, so that's when I decided to send the letters."

"I could not send them through the regular mail as I was scared your mail would be checked by someone else before being delivered, so I sent them via a magic portal."

Ten would not be surprised to have his mail being checked by someone paid by his father, or by his father himself. As he explained earlier, his father is overprotective, and now, he understand why. He did not want him to find his mother, to know the truth. He wanted Ten to keep believing that she just decided to abandon them.

"It was not my idea at first, but my husband's. He saw how sad I was and he actually found the spell to send the first letter. When he told me about it, I decided to keep going. In a way, that's maybe why I kept all of the letters, and he kept his. Memories, yes, but to find you when the time was right."

"Even though I thought you would wait for the school break to start looking for me." she says, a tad disappointed, and Ten lowers his head, ashamed.

"I knew dad would never let me leave, so I had to act. Maybe it was not a good idea, because I had to get expelled, and she probably will be too, but I didn't have much of a choice. I needed answers."

"How did you leave the castle if you were not expelled?" she asks, looking at you and you do not feel like answer, but Ten does before you.

"I used a spell that would send her to the infirmary, asked friends to make the infirmary useless so she would be sent to St Mungo's, and she left in the middle of the night."

His mother chuckles, but she is also astonished. "You did all that, just to find me?" her voice is small, and vulnerable, and it is like listening to Ten that night, in front of the fireplace, the night you kissed for the first, and last time.

"Of course! I would have done worst if it meant I could find you, or at least finally have answers."

The front door opens in a creak, and you turn your head towards the sound. The woman stands up, and she smiles sweetly before disappearing in the hallway. "Is she how you remember?" you ask Ten in a whisper, and the young man nods.

"Everything is like I remember. Her face, her voice, her smile." you can hear so many emotions in his voice that you have to keep yourself from hugging him.

"Ten, I have someone to introduce you." Ten stands up when a man enters the living room, he is a stranger to him, and yet, he feels something deep within him. "This is Jun, your biological father."

"I am happy to finally meet you, Ten." the man says, and his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

You finally stand up, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder, whisper into his ear. "You have a lot to catch up on, I'll be outside." he is ready to say no, but you shake your head, they need some alone time together, together, as a family. Or what you hope will become a real family in the future.

"I am listening, what do you have to say?"

The headmistress is short, and rather petite, but she is intimidating. You sink deeper into your seat, and you notice that Ten does the same. "Do you have any idea how scared we were when the nurse did not find you in your bed in the morning?" she asks before you have time to think about what to say. "And you, we received a letter from your step-mother when she could not find you in the morning either. She thought you came back here."

Ten looks over his shoulder, and his mother smiles at him with a nod of her head. It is because of her if you are both here, ready to plead for the school to take you back. Your parents are there too, but you are too scared to look at them, even though you know you won't see anger in their eyes, but rather disappointment. They were scared, that's all.

"First of all, I would like to say that Y/n had nothing to do with this. She wanted to be a good friend, and decided to follow me. I should be the one being blamed, not her." you turn your had, but he does not let you the time to speak. "My mother tried to find me for years, and she finally succeeded this time, without my father being in the way. She wanted me to find her during the school break, but my impatience had the better of me."

"The fights were fake, we just needed a way to be expelled, so we could look for her. Even though I have to admit, the spell I threw was beyond unacceptable, I should have known better, and I will apologize as much as needed for Y/n to forgive me. I understand that what I did is unforgivable, and that I deserve to be expelled, if not for the fight, but for leading Y/n into this."

"You do not have to take me back, it's okay, but you have to take her back. She did not ask for anything, all she did was becoming my friend and now that I think about it, it was a really bad idea to accept her proposition. She wanted to help, and I was desperate." he closes his mouth, and the headmistress hums.

"I would like to say that I left from my own will, Ten did not force me. I made the decision to leave St Mungo's and I should be punished too."

Ten sighs, he doesn’t want you to pay the consequences of his actions but he is not surprised, like you said, you are in this together.

"May I speak?" Ten's mother asks, and the headmistress agrees.

“I am to blamed too. I should have waited for the school year to end to send the letters, I should have found a better way to do it, because my Ten always acted a little reckless even when he was a child, so I should have known he would be looking for me before the school ends. I was desperate to find him, as much as he was to find me to answer the tons of questions he had since he was young.”

The conversation goes on for another hour, and the headmistress dismisses you and Ten in the hallway. She needs to think about it. She, on the other hand, asked the parents to stay in her office.

"What do you think is going to happen?" you ask Ten, sliding down the wall and he shrugs.

"I don't know, but whathever happens, I want you to know that I'll be forever grateful for what you did. I could never have asked for a better person by my side to find my mother." he sits down next to you, and you put your head on his shoulder.

"It was my pleasure."

He kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes. Once again, you have to wait.

And when the door opens on your parents, you stand up, and you are quick to find Ten's hand to squeeze it gently. "So?" he asks, looking at his mother.

"It was hard, but she decided to give you two a second chance. You will have to stay in detention every night until the end of the school year, but you can come back to class tomorrow."

You break into a smile when your parents smile, that's what you needed. You never thought you would be so happy to learn that you will have to go back to class, but here you are.

"Thank you, Y/n, for everything you did for my sweet boy. I owe you a big one." Ten's smile is so bright that you have to look away, but when he takes a step towards you, you have no choice to meet his gaze.

"Thank you." he whispers, cupping your face and he lins in to kiss you sweetly.

It is a simple kiss, but it holds so much. So much words that you probably will never able to say out loud even though you are dying to. Words that could never be strong enough to be said. But it is enough for you, for Ten. It is way more than what you both thought you could ever have. So you kiss him again, and again, ignoring the world around you.

"I love you" you try to say each time your lips press against his.

"I love you too." Ten answers each time he kisses you back.

#nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #ten imagines #ten scenarios

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Battle Scars and Wedding Rings // H.P.

Request: Hi lovely! Would you be able to write a harry potter x reader where reader is a healer and takes care of Harry after he comes back home injured from a mission? (Harry and reader are married) thanks in advance! I love your fics so much 💕 - anon

A/N: God, I love writing healer fics. I love writing healing fics. I’m so happy with how this turned out, I haven't written anything this long in a while so it makes a nice change. I hope you like!

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of procedures and hospitals she/her pronouns, use of ‘wife’ and ‘woman’. FLUFF AND COMFORT FOR OUR MAN, HARRY.

Word count: 4.1k

Harry blinks up at the fluorescent light dizzily; a headache starting to form behind his eyes. Gingerly, he reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing at his eyes to see if that improves his vision.

It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse.

He groans as the pounding in his head becomes worse. Now, he can hear his pulse sounding in his ears and he wonders briefly how to silence it. He’s a wizard who in his teens conquered the darkest wizard to have ever roamed the earth, yet right now, he can’t seem to remember a simply numbing spell to ease the effects of his headache.

Harry flinches as the curtain to his exam room is pulled back, but he relaxes the moment he hears your voice. “Love?” You ask, “Is this why you couldn’t make it home for dinner?”

Harry groans as he pulls himself to a sitting position; pausing partway to stave off the wave of dizziness overtaking him. He hadn’t felt this bad since he fell off his broom in Third Year; waking up in the hospital wing of Hogwarts with little to no recollection of the match and his injury.

You titter as you rush over to him; forming incomplete words as you help him sit up. Gently, you run a hand through his too long hair, dropping a kiss to the forever messy locks.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry sighs, “Malfoy checked me over. I have a concussion and a few broken ribs. Looks like I’m taking it easy for the next few weeks.”

You frown, “Did Draco leave your x-rays?”

Harry nods, not seeing the point in fighting with you. He knew Draco knew his stuff; he also knew that you knew Draco was far more than qualified for his job in the emergency room, but as a Healer yourself and someone in love with the patient, you saw it fit to check out the scans yourself.

You hold his x-rays up to the lightbox, inhaling deeply when you see the breaks in three ribs on his right and two ribs on his left. Clamping your lips against the wave of tears that threaten to appear, you turn to your husband, “Do I want to know what happened this time?”

Harry shakes his head, but he answers all the same, unable to keep anything from you, “A damned raid went wrong. I got blown back against a wall; hit my head and felt my ribs crack.”

You hold your hand to your mouth; worry alight in your eyes. “You’re not in pain anywhere else?” You ask; your Healer hat on for the time being until you’re at home and in private where you can let yourself feel the near loss of your husband without the prying eyes and ears of your colleagues and patients.

“No, just my head and ribs,” He replies wincing at the pain growing ever larger inside of his head.

Panic settles over his for just a moment; it’s been years since he felt this sort of pain. It’s been years since his head had hurt so bad that he wondered whether the faded scar on his forehead was truly coming back to life. He rushes the very thought from his mind; instead, honing his attention back in on your worried but loving face.

It wasn’t the first time you had been called away from home or a patient to see to him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. However, with each call, you get more worried. The little voice in the back of your head taunts you with questions of which injury will finally be the one to make him stop; which injury will be the one that finally comes too close to taking him from you for good.

You had already experienced the numb sensation of what losing Harry would feel like. You were there that day when the Dark Lord had his body carried into the courtyard for the remaining student body and teachers of Hogwarts to see. You watched as the twisted wizard gleefully declared his death.

You could never forget the numbness that settled over you like a weighted blanket. Never in your days had you experienced a feeling like it, and with Harry’s risky choice in profession, you could only pray to Merlin that you would never feel it again. It would be too soon; it would always be too soon.

Your attention comes back to the small exam room at the feel of Harry’s hand on yours. He watches you with a quizzical expression, “Where did you go just now?”

You shake your head, “Nowhere of importance.”

He brings your left hand up to his lips; kissing the finger upon which a golden band sat, “Everything you do and everywhere you go is of importance to me.”

You roll your eyes with a smile; stepping closer to your husband, “Don’t try to get on my good side, Potter. I’m still pissed at you.”

Harry huffs a laugh before stopping abruptly at the pain lancing through both sides of his body. He smiles weakly, “You have every right to be pissed, but can you be pissed off at home? I really want to go to bed.”

Fondness for the man in front of you rushes through your body. You caress his cheek; your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, taking in the scratches that litter his face. A consequence of hitting the ground. You smile softly at him, “Let’s go home, Harry.”

-----

You decide against apparition. The swiftness of it would be too much pressure on Harry’s ribs and any further injury was something he, and your sanity, could not afford.

Instead, you wander slowly to the tube, helping Harry down the stairs to the platform and giving him the only empty seat on the carriage. He begins to protest – ever the gentleman – but a stern look from you has his argument dying on his tongue.

He remains quiet on the ride home; his mind caught in his earlier panic. Truthfully, he’s had two panics tonight. One in the exam room when the pain in his head started to become too much for him to manage, and two, earlier when he was blown back against a wall and started to lose consciousness. His only thought in those final few moments before darkness descended was of you – your eyes, your smile, your kiss. They were all of you.

When he came too in the emergency room with Draco Malfoy sitting in the corner of the room, he wondered briefly whether this was it. However, soothing words from the friend he once considered an enemy had him calming down enough for his ribs to stop screaming in agony.

The fresh air helps as the two of you walk from the tube station home. The summer evening air helping him take deeper breaths as he inhales the heady floral scents coming from the numerous gardens lining their street.

He keeps a hand on his right side as he steps up to the front door. Harry watches you rifle in your bag for your keys; thinking that your bag reminds him of the one Hermione charmed in their Seventh Year. You flash Harry a wide, triumphant smile as you pull the set of keys from your bag. The keyrings clink together as you unlock the front door and sigh, turning to him, barring him from entry for one moment.

You look him up and down, “What do you want to do? Bed or couch?”

Harry glances inside the house; his eyes flicker to the stairs and then to the living room door. He sighs painfully as he answers, “Bed, please.”

You nod, smiling reassuringly as the man you have loved since you were sixteen. You hold your hand out to him which he takes gratefully. “Bed it is,” You smile.

It’s slow going; pausing every two or three steps for Harry to catch his breath and to ride out the wave of pain that brings it with nausea and dizziness. You walk behind him; your hands at the ready should you need to catch him if he should trip or fall backwards.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of your shared bed; a pained expression leeching all colour from his face.

“I take it you don’t want the bath I’m about to offer?” You ask; hands on your hips as you take in the pale face of your husband.

He shakes his head wordlessly; apologies written in his green eyes.

You frown as you wander over to his dresser, pulling out the comfiest pieces of clothing he owns as well as a shirt for yourself. Quickly, you change out of your shirt and throw Harry’s on; the familiar and welcoming scent of broom oil and sweet orange washing over you.

Turning back to your injured husband, you find him watching you with a faint blush on his face. Harry’s pain forgotten for an instant as he watched you change into his clothing; it was his weakness, seeing you in his shirt or his jumper. He loved how his clothing melded itself to your every dip and curve; he adored the feel of the material against your skin when he slid the hem of shirt that little bit higher on your waist.

You hold up the items of clothing; letting Harry inspect them before wandering back to bed where he sits patiently waiting. He nods at your choices; not overly fussed as to what he’s going to be dressed in to sleep so long as he’s comfy.

“Lift your arms as high as they can go, and I’ll do the rest.”

Harry does so; lifting his arms to the point where his ribs begin to scream for mercy. He hates the fact that his bottom lip begins to wibble form the effort, but he’s had enough broken bones and other injuries to warrant a wobbly bottom lip should he want to.

Dark purple bruises litter both sides of his body; they spread to his back and you can’t help but feel sick at the sight of them. As you peel off his work shirt, you think back to the month leading up to your wedding where the majority of the time was spent in deliberation over your vows. You had written all what you wanted to say; covered all what you felt for the Boy Who Lived and yet you still had one more vow to make. It was a vow of protection; to keep him from harm a soften as you do. It didn’t help that he had chosen to train in one of the riskiest professions within the wizarding world, but as you were training to become aa Healer, you never gave it much thought.

Now, years down the line, you couldn’t help but wonder whether your vow of protection had been faulty. The voice of doubt within your head pestering you about it until you finally snap back at it; claiming that no, it was you who nursed him back to health after any injury and it was you who waited up at night for him to return from a mission. If that wasn’t a spell of protection, you didn’t know what was.

Fighting back tears, you reach for the t-shirt you had discarded the moment you reached Harry’s side. With some adjusting, you slide the t-shirt over his head and help pull his arms through the holes before settling it over his bruised and battered body. After that, you have him stand for a minute so you can pull of his trousers and help him stand into his joggers. By the time, he’s out of breath and squeezing his eyes shut from the pain.

However, he doesn’t miss how your breathing hitches and your hands falter on the fastenings of his joggers. He doesn’t miss the silver lining your eyes and the slight wobble to your bottom lip.

“Hey,” Harry starts; voice quiet and full of love, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head; letting a single sob leave your mouth as you fold up his work clothes, making a mental note to throw them in the washing box. A hand on your arm has you stopping this action. You meet his eyes; seeing nothing but love and concern for your welfare.

You want to laugh, because of course. Of course with a concussion and five broken ribs, Harry’s concerned about you; about how you’re feeling.

In an equally concerned voice, Harry repeats his question, “Love, what’s wrong?”

In a fit of helplessness, you gesture to his entire body to which he responds by furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m going to need more than that,” He prompts; smile wane.

“I just,” You start; pausing for breath and to think of the words, “I didn’t expect to see you so bruised. You’ve been injured before and I’ve healed you before but seeing the extent of your bruising just makes it all the more real.”

“Love…” Harry whispers, patting the empty bed next to him.

Sniffling, you sit next to him gingerly, careful not to jostle him too much for the fear of exacerbating his wounds. “Have you ever thought of stepping back from the missions?”

“Darling…” Harry starts, comfort already resounding in his voice, “This is what I’m trained for.”

You sniffle, fiddling with your fingers, “I know that, I do, but I can’t help but be worried each time you tell me you’re going on a mission.”

Harry sighs; turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your temple, “If we look on the bright side, this has the been the worst injury I’ve had for months.”

You groan, “You’ve jinxed us now, love.”

Harry laughs; stopping abruptly at the lance of pain in his right side, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

You hum, “We’ve been through worse.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Harry echoes; the very words that had become a mantra through your marriage and each injury. Whenever it seemed bad; whenever the dark cloud of grief or sadness loomed, you reminded each other, you’ve been through worse and survived – so why should this time be any different?

You shake your head; swiping away the freshly fallen tears and plaster a smile on your face. You lean over, gently placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek before saying, “I have an idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued at your words.

“How about I go make us some hot water bottles? Then we don’t need to worry about too much jostling in the night to get warm,” You suggest; eyes darting between the scratches on his face to the way he holds himself up on the bed. Heat would help relax the muscles that are surely to get stiff overnight and will help distract him from any pain that flares up as he sleeps.

Harry nods; a small smile on his lips as he answers, “I could go for a hot water bottle right now, but don’t take too long, please?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Why? Got big plans for me, Potter?”

Harry smirks, patting the bed. His humour still alive despite the pain, “Massive plans and they all involve this bed.”

You cackle as you head towards the door, practically singing your reply, “I’ll try not to be too long then.”

You’re gone for a few minutes. Harry uses this time to think back over the long and winding course of your relationship.

He remembers being seventeen years old, in love and terrified. He remembers stuttering through his explanation as to why he couldn’t love you the way he wanted to right now.

He thought that that would have been the end of this; you would wash your hands of him then and there, but instead you kissed him. You kissed him and made him promise to return to you in one piece.

A promise he barely kept; a promise he barely keeps today, he now thinks as he glances down at his aching body.

Harry thinks of after the war; of how you chose healing as your discipline after seeing the dead and injured lined up in the Great Hall. The stark contrast between the groans of the wounded and silence of the dead something that has stayed with the both of you since.

He thinks of how he almost proposed to you then and there. Covered in blood and dust, barely eighteen, but he’s happy that he chose to wait. He’s happy he had the two years with you before getting down on one knee and asking for your hand.

You re-enter the room with two heavily filled hot water bottles; each are wrapped in towels to keep from burning your feet as the both of you shuffle towards each other instinctively throughout the night.

You smile peacefully at Harry as you slide the hot water bottles into each side of the bed; Harry can tell that you’ve used this time to collect yourself. To have that moment you need after each injury to process what had happened and just how to move forward.

Harry knew all too well how much you hated seeing him hurt; after all, he felt the same way with you when you let a particular patient and their case get to you over the course of your shift. Harry doesn’t like to see you hurting over something you know you can fix.

It’s a balance that you both play off; that was how your marriage worked. You both took from the other but gave back just as much, if not more. Harry can’t think of a simple thing he wouldn’t do for you; he’s already won a war to not only save the wizarding world, but to love you without fear of a target on your back.

You pull the quilt back into place; patting the spot where the hot water bottles now lay, warming up the ends of the bed to stave off cold feet through the night. You make your way back to your husband; watching him with tired eyes, but eyes still filled with the same amount of love and adoration as there was at seventeen years old.

Running a hand through his hair, you glance at the clock on your bedside table and ask, “Do you remember what time you had a pain potion?”

Harry pushes his head into your hand; desperate to keep the contact between you two, “Long enough to need another.”

You nod your head; dipping slightly to brush your lips against his before rushing to the bathroom. Harry smiles like a fool in love as he brings a hand to his mouth whilst listening to your rifle around in the bathroom, opening drawers and cupboards looking for a pain potion.

Harry supposes he is a fool in love. He has been since he was seventeen years old and watching you from afar in the Great Hall at meal times. He’s been a fool for you for so long that he knows no other form, nor does he desire to know.

“Ha!” You shout from the bathroom; dancing into the bedroom with the familiar shaped bottle of pain potion in your hand with a small measuring cup in the other. Carefully, with a trained eye, you pour out the right amount before handing it to Harry.

Harry grimaces as he down the potion; immediately feeling its effects. The pain potion had been around for centuries, and yet, no witch or wizard had been able to find a cure for the acrid lingering aftertaste.

“How does that feel?” You ask; placing the dark blue glass bottle on the bedside table by Harry’s side, knowing he would need more through the night and wanting close by.

Harry takes a breath, enjoying the painlessness of it. He smiles at you, “Good, for now.”

You grin at him, “So good that you think you could manage getting into bed?”

Harry chuckles, “Broken ribs will not stop me from sleeping by my wife. Not now, not ever.”

You bite your lip against the wave of adoration that washes over you. There were times in your relationship and then your marriage where the simplest things said by Harry nearly always turned out to be what you cherished most. You know that he most likely didn’t think twice before saying what he said, but those words settle into your heart, making a home there for you to pull out and revisit should you ever feel low. Simple words that leave your husband’s mouth but affect you so much.

You hold your hands for him to take which he does. You take bis weight as he pulls himself up, standing, pressed against you. Harry takes this opportunity to draw you into a longer kiss; a languid kiss that has you dropping his hands in favour for winding them around his neck to tug him closer. However, right at the last minute, you remember his broken ribs and you pull back with a sigh.

You caress his cheek, “I know what you were trying to do, Potter, and it isn’t working tonight.”

Harry smiles cheekily; the pain potion taking full effect now, “I’m not sure what you mean, Potter.”

You beam at the use of your married name. With a fond shake of your head, you gesture to the bed, “Come on, let’s get comfy before we fall asleep.”

It doesn’t take half as long to get Harry settled into bed; propped up against a wall of pillows and your headboard before you make your way to your side of bed, propping yourself up just as high. Childishly, you rub your feet against the bedsheet, revelling in the warmth being spread by the hot water bottles placed there only moments ago.

Harry chuckles at your action before mimicking it; happy to have some warmth seeping through his body instead of the air conditioned emergency room at St. Mungo’s.

Harry shuffles for a second more before finally uttering ‘Nox’ and plunging the room into darkness.

In the dark of the room, you reach for his hand. Tangling your fingers together, you say, “I’m not asking for you to quit your job, Harry. You love it too much to do so, but I’m asking you to think about slowing down a little. To not jump at each offer of a mission, to think about what could happen,” You pause, “I’m rather fond of you coming home, you know.”

Harry releases a shuddering breath. His sides aching with the effort. He lets himself breathe for a minute or two, counting the breaths in and out of his body. Eventually, as the pain lessens slightly, he says, “I think you’re right.”

“You do?”

Harry nods, “I’m rather fond of coming home to you too as it happens.”

Carefully, cautious of not jostling the bed too much, you shift onto your side, facing him in the dark. “What do you want to do?” You ask; curious to his thoughts on the matter.

Harry sighs, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “I don’t know,” He starts, “I want to continue working, but I don’t think I can continue if getting this injured is part of the job.”

You purse your lips; attempting to think of a solution when it hits you all at once. You grip Harry’s hand tighter in the dark, “Didn’t you say that Auror Clare is retiring next month?”

“Yes…” Harry comments; voice apprehensive and curious to see where you’re going.

“Why don’t you put your name forward for his job? They haven’t found anyone yet, right?”

Harry blinks once, twice, three times as the idea settles in his mind. Soon enough, a large smile spreads across his face as he begins to nod rapidly, “Love, that’s an excellent idea. I’ve done more than enough field work to prepare me to train new recruits.”

You smile into the dark, “What do you think? Will you put your name forward?”

Slowly, taking care not to stretch too much, Harry reaches for your left hand and places kiss after kiss to the wedding band sitting there. “I think it’s a great idea, I’m going to send an owl to Auror Michaels tomorrow and put my name forward,” Harry pauses for a single second before whispering – something akin to awe in his voice, “How did I get so lucky to have someone like you fall in love with me?”

Feeling nothing but sheer yearning to be close to your husband, you slide over to him, resting your head gingerly on his shoulder. You tilt your face up, placing a kiss to the jawline that has only become more defined over the years. As your eyes begin to droop and a yawn overtakes your body, you whisper to him, “How did we get so lucky to find each other?”

**********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @xfirstfemale-marauderx @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

The War Has Begun

Masterlist

Mind of a Monster | Next

Katsuki had been quiet as a mouse since the meeting, and even as he handled the investigation and information he was being relayed by those part of the mission, he looked more in thought than exploding with anger at his current situation. Usually, he would be patrolling the streets, taking down any petty thug or idiotic villain that dared to cause a scene in his area, but he found himself patrolling for as long as many other heroes he knew that preferred to take this profession slow. It didn’t even matter to him that he was seeing icy-hot on the news more than him now when he sat in the living room with his son.

His son.

Those words felt so right now despite the fact that children were at the bottom of his list of things to deal with. Seeing that blonde boy with the same blown out ashy blonde hair as his, sharing the same eyes with that damn sparkle of the girl he was forever intertwined with, he felt nothing but pure satisfaction and peace. The same satisfaction and peace he believed he could only have by being the number one hero, which was the reason why he spent so much overtime as a hero to try and surpass Deku, and to never be lumped into the same category as Todoroki. When he thought of being number one now, he couldn’t find that same passion for it.

“You should feel honored that the future number one hero lets you talk to him.” Katsuki boasted, grinning like a maniac while you sat across from him at the mall food court.

“Being number one is a sham, you know. My dad said that all those heroes at the top do it for money and fame, with the only exception being All Might. I prefer heroes like Gang Orca, he’s super cool and he actually cares about the people he’s saving.” You mentioned casually, picking up another fry from your tray of food and chewing on it.

Katsuki simmered down enough to take in what you said, and felt the slight shade you threw at his goal. “What’s that supposed to mean?! You think I’m a bad hero or something?!” He shouted, and you shrugged while ignoring the stares that you two were getting.

“That isn’t my dream to pick at, but it’s not hard to see that Endeavor doesn’t save lives because he cares about people. . You said the reason you want to be a hero was to make a lot of money and show off that you were better than everyone else. Do you really think you’re an All Might and not an Endeavor?”

He stood up with his hair casting a shadow over his eyes, and before you could even say another word, he walked away from you. You stared after him in shock at such a negative reaction from the truth, but you knew that he wouldn’t take that well. It was the truth that he’d been facing since starting UA that he wasn’t like his classmates who all shared his goal, but you knew he didn’t understand what you truly meant. The heaviness of your words weighed Katsuki down as he walked away from, his insecurities that he’d hide from you shining through in that moment. You were right in that moment; Katsuki didn’t understand what you meant, but he can’t pretend like it didn’t hurt.

“Real heroes don’t care about being number one as long as they’re helping someone. . what a dumbass.” Katsuki mumbled the moral of your words as they hit him like a train wreck.

‘She’s always been that damn wise, huh?’ He thought as he turned away from watching the television with his son to you.

You sat not too far away from them on his recliner, your legs crossed and eyes intently focused on your phone as you typed away. All morning you had been like that when you weren’t talking or doing something with Ryu. The two of you had not moved forward since his apology, but there were no longer small acts of aggression towards him when you spoke, and in your constant teasing of his short temper, there was no longer any comments about the past riddled in your humor. Though that didn’t ease his mind about the unspoken rivalry that had sprung from your reappearance.

He refused to lose you again, and damn sure not to shitty hair.

Without warning, Katsuki stood up and stalked towards you. His sudden movements took your attention away from your emails with your assistant and you looked up at him as he towered over you, and you’d never admit that the butterflies in your stomach weren’t from fear. In a simple tank top and shorts standing above you was a man that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you’d much rather burn the image in the back of your mind and keep your hormones to yourself than embarrass yourself.

“We’re going out.” He said as if stating a fact, and in his mind, it very much was.

“. . . Who the fuck is we? Ryu, you didn’t hear me say that.” You blinked at Katsuki as if he had grown three heads, before looking to Ryu who’s attention had moved to the both of you when he heard the foul word fall from your mouth.

“When I burn stuff I’m bad, but you can say bad words,” you heard your five year old huff.

“I mean you and I,” Katsuki explained with slight irritation at you. “Pinky’s been bugging me anyway, so she can-“

You cut him off and turned your phone off, “there’s no need to call her. My assistant will watch him and I’ll babysit you.”

“Pain in my ass,” Katsuki mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as you stood up, and you smiled in return.

Being stuck in Katsuki’s house most of the time made you appreciate the outdoors more, and maybe a few weeks ago you’d complain about being in the park without Ryu, but it felt like a stilled moment in time now where you could pretend there was a sense of normalcy. You could pretend like you and Katsuki were just frenemies with complicated emotions, and he could take a breath from that world of constant ridicule and popularity contests. It was never spoken between you two, but it was clear that it wasn’t just you that was causing him to be stressed and consistently explosive; the hero community was wearing him down for a while now.

It only took finding out he had a child, rivaling the girl he lost, and having them both be targeted by her father, for him to realize being number one wasn’t that important.

“So, why did you want to take me to the park . without the child that loves the park?” You said with mild amusement, you two walking side by side in your hoodies and sweats to be at least slightly concealed in public.

Truthfully, in his moment of haste to get a leg up on his own friend, he hadn’t fully thought out an idea to get close to you. It wasn’t until he made it out of the apartment, after barely casting a glance at your assistant, Nanami, that you allowed into his home, that he realized this may not have been the smartest course of action. And he’d never admit that to you.

“You looked like you needed some time away, and I’m tired of looking at you working when you’re not even there.” He said gruffly, avoiding your face and doing his best to fight the small blush he could feel heat up his cheeks.

You chuckled lowly, “some things never change. . Speaking of that, how are things with Midoriya? I was surprised to hear that you didn’t full on murder him when he was announced the number one hero.” You said, giving him a sideways glance to gauge his reaction.

That was quite a blow to his ego. It took him a while to recover from losing to the boy he had looked down on his entire childhood, and then underestimated in his later years until he was forced to realize that Deku was his equal. What he lacked, Deku excelled, and there was nothing he could do about that other than to work harder. It took a long time for Katsuki to truly accept that there was something special about that nerd, and the world needed him.

“He’ll always be a loser to me. . but he’s a decent hero. I’d be a dumbass like the rest of you to kick his ass about it.” Katsuki said and looked you in the eyes, showing that he meant every word. “You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or care too damn much sometimes.”

You hummed with a smile creeping up on your face, “It’s a healthy balance of both. . I’m not ready

to overthink us right now when I can’t be completely open with you, or anyone else for that matter.” The smile that grew had withered near the end of your sentence, and you felt a flash of guilt in you for dragging him into a battle that had little to do with him. You dragged an entire army of heroes into this, and you couldn’t even guarantee they’d have their jobs. . without using them like pawns.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone. I don’t care how much you try to push me away, your shitty ass is stuck with me.” He said without missing a beat.

For a moment you smiled again, and Katsuki accepted the uncontrollable beating of his heart around you. Your bodies had inches closer during your walk, and though your hand never touched nor did your arms link, you felt close to another. It was possible that it was a toxic attachment neither of you should be so content within, neither of you wasted another breath to question it.

You both arrived back at the apartment a mere few hours later. Walking in public together in broad daylight wasn’t the safest idea at this time even in hoodies, so it wasn’t long before you both agreed to turn back. The sun was still shining outside when Katsuki opened the door, yet the eerie silence that welcomed him made a chill run down his spine and every alarm in his body went off at once.

His body reacted before his mind when he stalked towards the living room, then to the kitchen, and lastly to Ryu’s bedroom to find absolutely no one. There were things of Ryu’s missing — some clothes and toys that he took with him wherever he could. There were signs that a child had once been here still scattered around the house, but there wasn’t any sign that Nanami had ever been here.

Rage, fear, and sadness were running rampant in Bakugou’s mind as he frantically searched Ryu’s room for anything that would tell him where they went and that this was some misunderstanding. He was cursing himself for not taking a second look at that girl, and he cursed himself for leaving his only son with her when he knew nothing about her. Had he stopped and checked her out he might have been able to tell something was off — he might have been able to stop his son from going missing and be a good father like he should have.

His frantic thoughts stopped suddenly, along with his movements and time. He remembered who else was here and wasn’t making a sound while he tore the room apart. Who hadn’t made a single sound since leaving the park.

“Y/N.”

The way your name fell from his lips felt like venom being injected straight into your veins, but your face remained neural even as his manic eyes made contact with yours. You didn’t speak in fear that any response would cause him to spur completely out of control, and you knew that whatever response you gave him wouldn’t be good enough. This wasn’t a battle you’d win.

“Where. . Is he?” Katsuki asked slowly through gritted teeth.

“I think you need to-“ you attempted to reach out to him and de escalate this enough to explain, but he cut you off with more fury than a scorned man.

“Where is my son?!”

Before any answer could be given the front door was slammed opened with a deafening smack, sending you whirling around at the sudden action. Thundering footsteps came down the hall and before you could even let the anxiety consume you, men dressed in riot gear appeared in the doorway of the room with guns pointed in your direction. Your hands flew up automatically, and they wasted no time swarming you.

“Y/N L/N, you’re under arrest for conspiracy and premeditated murder.”

A/N: A missing mother, a missing son, and an arrest. What a wholesome story. Anyways, the angst never stops and the tables keep turning, LETS GET CRAZY!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha angst #anime x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kiri

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mysticpetals · 3 years

Note

Sorry for bothering you, but I had another idea! :D If you don't mind me sending two requests, how about a headcanon (or imagine if you want, you can choose what you like best) where Jake will meet MC's parents and he is super nervous because he is afraid of what they will think of him and if they knew that he is a hacker. But when Jake and MC arrive at her parents' house, they are quite different than Jake thought.

I'm sooooo sorry that this is super late but life got in the way and I just couldn't bring myself to write. And when I did have the time, I was almost ashamed of how long it had been and delayed it even further.

So this is me, finally writing what I should have done months ago. Thank you so much for your patience!!! ❤️

Jake and f!MC headcannons

(meeting the parents)

There aren't a lot of things that phase Jake

In fact, he's seen so much over the years he was on the run, done some illegal things too

But nothing and he meant nothing, could terrify him more than when his girlfriend told him that her parents had invited them over to have dinner together the next week

"next week? Like....like seven days later?"

"yes." she nodded and his brain short circuited.

"oh my god, oh my god."

MC amused herself by looking at Jake panicking about it for a few minutes and then grabbed his shoulders and made him look at her

"relax, babe. You don't have to. I can tell them that you're busy or something."

Jake calmed down for a moment but then he noticed the sad smile on MC's face

And he doesn't like seeing her sad

At all.

So despite his nervousness, he steeled himself to do this

"why don't we go? I think it'll be fun."

MC's face was priceless.

Shocked beyond belief, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned forward, eyes wide

"are you sure, honey? You don't have to force yourself."

She looked so hopeful and excited to hear his answer

And they had been dating for a while. So it was only natural that they meet each other's families

And since MC had already pretty much met his (only the people he considered as one!), it wouldn't be fair if he didn't make an effort too

"yes. We should go," he smiled and MC squealed excitedly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips

"oh my gosh, I'm so excited!! I'll go call them right now!!"

:))))

Did he make the right decision?

Wellllll, standing in front of MC's house, he was sweating profusely

He had worn his best outfit, a white button up shirt and black jeans

And they had already been late because MC liked his look a little too much

Anyway!!!

He was anxious about making the best impression and he really hoped that they wouldn't be put off by his shyness

Or his profession

About which they didn't know

It's fine it's fine it's fine—

MC's hand slips into his, she gives him a soft smile and the world around them fades away

"I'll be with you the whole time. Tell me if it becomes too much."

Jake swears he's never been more in love

Okay, he can do this!! Absolutely!!

He nods resolutely and MC leads them to her parent's doorstep

Jake's heart is pounding but he's ready

The door opens and he's immediately engulfed in a bone crushing hug

He thinks he can't breath and he looks at MC with wide eyes, asking what to do and she just rolls her eyes in fond exasperation

"really feeling the love here, dad. Not like your daughter is here."

And the weight immediately lifts off of him and turns towards his girlfriend who is laughing as her father hugs her to himself

She squeezes him tight in return and Jake feels himself smile

"it's been too long. I wish you'd come by more. And Jake! Welcome home, son!"

Jake is flabbergasted by the warm welcome. Especially coming from MC's father.

Aren't fathers supposed to threaten the boyfriend?

The flashcards he used to prepare for today did not cover this

"Um, thank you," he stammers out somehow and the man laughs

"My daughter here did say you were shy but no matter! Come on in, I won't bite."

He led them inside and Jake just knew that MC was enjoying all this a little too much judging by the amused tilt of her lips

He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw a stern woman sitting on the couch, watching them walk in

"mom! How have you been?"

MC immediately went in for a hug while the older woman kept staring at him and MC's father leaned close to him and whispered

"She's a tough cookie to crack. Good luck, son."

He was so screwed

Jake gulped and watched the smallest of smiles cross her lips as she regarded her daughter, who was talking excitedly

"and this is Jake! My boyfriend!"

Jake literally felt the temperature inside the room drop, when her mother looked him in the eyes

"h-hello ma'am."

She nodded at him and well, that meant she acknowledged who he was, right?

She immediately turned away from him and started asking her daughter how she had been

Well, apparently not

"sorry, Jake. She's not trying to exclude you. She's just....a little hard around the edges."

He appreciated MC's dad because at least one parent didn't seem to hate him

"I appreciate that, sir."

He looked horrified at being called sir

"please don't call me that. Makes me feel old. Call me dad!"

Jake was once again astounded by the man's openness and not wanting to offend him, nodded hesitantly

He smiled widely and Jake was immediately reminded of MC's face when she laughed

"that's more like it! Come on now, the ladies shouldn't be left alone, they'll talk the night away."

MC smiled as soon as Jake entered in the kitchen where both the women were cooking and bringing out the cutlery

"had a nice chat, you two?" MC asked and her father nodded enthusiastically

"I like him! He's very nice, I approve."

"you've known him for two seconds." MC's mom deadpans and Jake smiles nervously

"can I help you with anything ma'am?"

She appraises him for a few moments and then nods

"then please help MC set the table."

Jake literally sighs in relief when the two of them come out from the kitchen

"your mom is scary."

MC laughs and pinches his cheek

"only because you look terrified of her. She enjoys making you squirm."

"well I almost wet myself because she looked at me like I murdered her dog or something"

MC laughs loudly and her father pokes his head out of the kitchen

"alright you two?"

Jake fights off the blush he knows he's sporting and prays that neither of her parents heard what he had said

Table was set quickly, with MC telling Jake about her childhood memories and her parents brought out the food

Jake thought he might have seen MC's mother smile when he made MC laugh but he wasn't sure

Dinner was a loud affair, with MC and her dad competing about who remembers the most about MC's childhood and Jake and her mother listening quietly

He definitely knew where MC got her charisma from

MC's dad was sweet to include Jake in their conversation, addressing him directly and asking him about his own experiences

He slowly found himself relaxing in their presence and telling them about his own hobbies and pet cat

MC's mother gave an approving nod at his choice of pet and asked him to bring him along the next time

Next time

Jake's brain short circuited at the thought that she wanted Jake to come over again

Does that mean tonight was successful?

"so Jake, you didn't say what you do for a living."

Ahhh

Well, it had to go wrong somewhere, right?

Jake froze and looked to MC to see her in a similar state and immediately deduced that she had not told them about his profession

Well

He knew this was going to come up eventually

"I'm a hacker."

Pin drop silence

You couldn't even hear anyone breath over the quietness

MC's mother put down her spoon slowly and opened her mouth to say something but Jake interrupted her before that

"I know you might think it's not a respectful job but it's what makes me happy. And MC supports me every step of the way and I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to honor her confidence in me. Keeping her safe and happy and healthy is my priority and I'll give my all to make sure that she's never unhappy with me."

Everyone at the table looked at him, MC with tears in her eyes and her father looking very proud

Her mother's expression was still unreadable until she smiled at him

The first smile directed at him

"I was going to say that's very interesting. I myself work in cyber security so I've had dealings with hackers. I've found that they're usually very polite."

What

The

Fuck

Jake blinked slowly and MC shifted guiltily in her seat

"haha what a coincidence, right?" She smiled nervously and her dad picked up quickly at her hint

"oh definitely! Why don't you two talk about work stuff and MC and I can clear up the table?"

MC and her father practically fly out of the dining room and Jake and her mom are the only ones left

It was MC's mother who initiated the conversation this time and Jake replied to her questions

He found it quite pleasant to be honest

It was not a regular occurrence that he could chat with someone who knew about computers so this was a nice change

And MC's mom was quite knowledgeable

She even offered to hire him the next time her company had a need of someone to check their software

Jake had no problem agreeing to her wish

He found that she was actually a very kind but fair woman who loved her family dearly, judging by the way she spoke of MC and her father

His heart warmed to know that MC had grown up in such a loving household, even if his heart gave a twinge at never having felt something akin to parental affection

"okay, you two. I think that's enough chatting for today," MC's father said and Jake looked at the time

Holy shit

How is it so late??

MC gave him a discreet thumbs up behind her mother's back and he had to stifle a laugh

"as much as we loved having you two, you should probably get going if you want to reach the city before midnight."

The goodbyes were a little sad and Jake found himself getting a bit emotional too

He really felt like he belonged here and not like an outsider

And MC's parents are so nice and inclusive

No he did not cry

Not at all

To Jake's surprise, MC's mom pulls him into a hug

"take care of my daughter."

And then he's getting roped into another hug, this one much tighter by her dad

"you hurt her, I'll kill you."

And when he stepped back, he was smiling as usual and Jake almost thought that he imagined his words

Anyway!!!

They are in the car and MC is already planning their next trip

And before he would have been scared but now, after spending time with her family, he knew he had found people worth considering his family

#duskwood #duskwood jake #everbyte duskwood #duskwood game #everbyte #jake × mc #duskwood jake × mc #jake × player #duskwood headcannons #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fic #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake fic #everbyte studios #everbyte game #duskwood player

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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years

Text

The Five Times (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader recounts the first moments she shared with her new neighbor.

A/N: I finally wrote a pure fluffy fic! This is a complete 180 from my previous fics. I hope I did the genre justice. As always, thank you to the lovely @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for being an awesome beta! Enjoy.

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The first time I met my neighbor, I was moving into my new apartment. The movers from the company I hired were kind enough to bring up my heavier furniture, but I was stuck with the boxes holding my miscellaneous objects.

This was my fifth trip up to my apartment and I still had at least ten boxes lying around in the lobby. My body was starting to get tired from all of the excessive movement.

I heard the familiar ding of the elevator, signaling its arrival. With my current pace, I wouldn’t be able to get in before it closed.

“Hold the elevator!” I quickened my stride, hoping whoever on the other side of the door would be kind enough to adhere to my plea. Luckily that was the case, as I saw a hand shoot out to keep the doors from closing.

Once I made my way inside, I placed the boxes down, allowing my arms a few seconds of rest. I turned to my companion, noticing his tall figure, kind eyes, and small smile.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, what floor?” His voice was soft and sweet. He smelled like cinnamon and coffee. The words that immediately came to mind when I took all of him in were cozy and home.

“Second floor, thanks.” Just then, I noticed that the button was already lit up, signaling that it has already been pressed. “Oh, I guess we’re floor mates,” I commented with a light laugh.

“I guess we are.” There was a momentary silence as the elevator rose up the two floors. I saw him observe the boxes scattered on my feet. “I’m assuming the other packages downstairs are yours,” he stated.

“You got that right.” The doors opened with a ding as I tried to quickly pick up and balance the items in my arms once again. Before I could say something, the kind stranger grabbed one of my boxes and held it in his hands.

“You don’t have to,” I started to protest, “I don’t want to be wasting your time.”

“It’s fine. Helping people is what I do.”

I wanted to complain, to put up more of a fight but my body was already starting to feel weak. It’s been hours since I’ve rested and the heat was not helping my current situation.

With that in mind, I begrudgingly accepted his help. “Okay, but I owe you one.” I led us down the hallway, taking a turn until we were in front of door #24.

“Wow,” I heard him whisper to himself. I was confused as to why he made that comment. Did I do something weird? Is there something embarrassing on my pants?

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that I live across from you. I’ve never had a neighbor my age before.” He pointed to the door that was behind us, a small smile adorning his face. I couldn’t help but reciprocate with a grin of my own.

“Wow indeed. I promise you I won’t have loud music or multiple visitors.” I open the door, pushing it wide enough for my neighbor to easily go through. I gestured for him to place the box on the floor while I put mine on top of the kitchen’s table.

“Do you want help with the rest of your stuff?” he asked, taking note of the disarray in the small space.

“Yes, I’d appreciate that.”

We finished bringing the rest of my stuff back to my apartment in record time. What would have taken me five trips was cut down to two. I thanked him profusely throughout the whole ordeal and he laughed every time I did so. Once we had all the boxes inside, I made sure to see him out the door, thanking him a final time for his help.

“It’s not a problem, really,” he said, his voice getting slightly higher in pitch. “Uh, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid by the way. Y-you can call me Spencer. It’s less of a mouthful. Or Reid, whichever you prefer. I answer to all three.”

He had the shy smile on his face once more and I couldn’t help but repeat his name in my head. Dr. Spencer Reid. “Pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

It was at that moment that I associated Spencer with kindness.

●●●

The second time I saw Dr. Reid, I was jogging at the park. It has been two months since I last spoke to him and I felt a twinge of sadness at our lack of interactions. I figured since I was the first neighbor he had his age, that we would be seeing each other more often. Guess that was wishful thinking on my part. I shouldn’t be too upset, he’s a doctor after all; his hours must be crazy.

I was slowing down on my run, searching for a nearby fountain to fill up my bottle. Instead, I found Dr. Reid sitting on a bench, skimming through a thick book. The happiness that filled my body should be embarrassing, I only talked to the guy once. Nevertheless, I made my way too him.

“Dr. Reid!” He startled a bit, almost dropping his book. He looked up, a smile gracing his face when he recognized it was me.

“Hi (Y/N). How are you?”

“I’m pretty good, long time no see,” I stated, hoping he’ll hear the humor in my tone. He gazed at me and for a moment I felt self-conscious. I’m a sweaty mess right now. Loose strands of my hair were sticking to my forehead and my face was red.

“You-uh-went for a run?” he stammered out. A slight pink tint crept on to his cheeks, which I am pretty sure was due to the sun’s rays.

“Yeah, I try to get some exercise here and there when I can. How’s everything going at the hospital by the way?” Maybe if I find out what his schedule is like, I’ll be able to see him more.

“Pardon me?” Crap, did I say something wrong? I tried to recollect the small amount of information I gathered from him when we first met. I don’t recall him mentioning where he works. Maybe he has his own clinic.

“Sorry. Do you have a private practice?” I hated how nervous my voice sounded as I asked him. Spencer’s look of confusion quickly morphed into one of mirth. He let out a small laugh and I became more perplexed by his actions.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” he clarified. “I hold PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering as well as BAs in Philosophy, Sociology, and Psychology.” His voice lowered a bit at the end and he started looking elsewhere once he finished his statement. Was he ashamed of his accomplishments? I hope not. If I were him, I’d be bragging to anyone within listening distance of my achievements.

“That’s very impressive, I barely know what’s going on in my own profession. You must be some kind of genius,” I remarked with awe. His head snapped back at me, probably trying to figure out if I was pulling his leg.

“Well, I do have an IQ of 187 as well as an eidetic memory. I can also read 20,000 words per minute,” he stated, his voice returning to its usual octave. I glanced at the book on his lap, he probably was reading the text instead of skimming through it like I initially thought.

“So if you’re not a medical doctor, what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking,” I wondered.

“I work for the FBI, with the BAU. Behavioral Analysis Unit. We catch serial killers, terrorists, rapists, and other criminals by analyzing their personalities.” I would have never guessed this man was a federal agent.

“Wow, so you’re a professional hero then.”

He laughed once more before shaking his head, “I’m far from a hero. I just use my skills to my advantage. It’s all in a day’s work.”

I can now add humility to my mental list when describing Spencer Reid. With every moment I spend with him, my infatuation seems to grow.

I was going to continue talking when an insistent cough came out from the man to our left. He sat in front of the chess table, staring at us expectantly. His eyes kept on dashing between Spencer and myself. I scowled at him, wondering what his problem was.

“Uh this is my friend Eric,” Spencer said to me, gesturing to the coughing man. “Eric, this is (Y/N), my neighbor.” Great, now I feel like a jerk for thinking of his friend in such a rude manner.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Likewise.” His eyes returned to Spencer, gawking at him as if he had a secret. However, Spencer’s attention was on his phone and I saw his features change to a stoic expression.

“I have to go; it's work,” he said to the both of us. He gathered his items and stood up from the bench. He turned to me, “Hopefully I can see you by the apartment more often.”

“Hopefully,” I agreed, “See you soon, neighbor.” I flashed him a smile and waved goodbye. He returned the gestures as he walked away.

At that moment I associated Spencer with bravery.

●●●

The third time I saw Spencer Reid, I baked too many cookies. It’s been two weeks since I last saw him, but I knew he was working hard. I heard him come in pretty late last night when I was finishing some chores and decided to come up with a reason to see him. Hence the cookies.

I tried to make sure I appeared decent this time around. So far, the only times he has seen me, I’ve been sweaty and tired. After applying a small amount of makeup and putting on my favorite sundress, I was ready to go.

I made my way across the hallway, balancing the plate with one hand while knocking on his door with my other. I didn’t need to wait that long before the door opened. Only the person I was expecting was not behind it. My smile immediately left my face.

“Hi, can I help you?” asked the beautiful petite blonde woman. Oh god, this is probably his girlfriend. And I am over here pinning over him like a pathetic little girl. If the ground could have swallowed me up, that would’ve been a blessing.

“I made these for Spe- uh Dr. Reid. As a thank you for helping me move,” I quickly stated, hoping she doesn’t hear the dejection in my voice. “Can you please give these to him?” I stared down at my shoes as I pushed the plate towards her hands, cursing my own for being a bit shaky.

“(Y/N)?” I heard a lowly voice whisper. I turned back towards the door and saw Spencer standing behind his girlfriend. He whispered something in her ear before motioning for her to go inside. She glanced at me quickly before doing as he requested. Great, so they both know about my little crush and now he has to come let me down gently.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, although I am sure he had an inkling with the way he was eyeing the plate still in my hand.

“I baked some cookies. Chocolate chip.” I cleared my throat, hating the way it clogged up so fast. “As a thank you for helping me. Had I known your girlfriend was over, I would have given you some more.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my colleague,” he corrected, that shy smile that I grew to love on his face once again.

“Oh.” A sigh of relief left my body only for it to stiffen once more. Sure she��s not his girlfriend but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one.

I debated whether I should ask him if he's single or not, but figured that would be pushing boundaries. I shouldn’t be asking someone such intimate details about their personal life, especially on the third encounter. But then again, it’ll be nice to know his relationship status before I dig myself too deep in this hole. However, he deserves to tell me that kind of information without me pestering him. Although he migh---

My thought process was interrupted when I saw a hand, Spencer’s hand, waving in front of my face. He had an expression of confusion yet amusement on his face. He was the only person I know who was able to pull off the look.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” He asked with slight concern in his voice. Or at least I’d like to imagine that there was slight concern. I’d like to think he cared over my well-being. I shook myself out of my stupor, returning my attention back to him.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted. What was it that you were saying?” I noticed I was still holding the plate so I quickly placed them in his waiting hands. Gosh, how many times am I going to embarrass myself in front of this man?

“I said that it’s a good thing that I don’t have a girlfriend. I wouldn’t want to share these with her.” Spencer’s voice had that timid tone once again, the one that reminded me of when he was talking about his accomplishments. I saw the redness on his cheeks which I’m sure matched my own.

“You never know Dr. Reid, these may be the worst cookies you’ve ever had,” I teased. I couldn’t hide my current contentment no matter how hard I tried. The more I talked to him, the more I wanted to spend time with him.

“I highly doubt that. If they’re as sweet as you I’m sure I’ll enjoy them.” I felt butterflies in my stomach at his statement. I’m pretty sure my face got even redder because all I felt was heat enveloping my form.

“Well, my door is always open if you want more,” I responded. And to think that I wanted to drop dead on the floor a few minutes ago.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on the offer,” he smiled, this one bigger than the others I have seen so far. My heartbeat picked up a little and I prayed that he didn’t know the effect he had on me.

I needed to go back to my sanctuary. I can only handle so much before I internally implode and that’ll do neither of us any good.

“See you around Dr. Reid.” I started a slow retreat to my door. Once I made it inside, I turned to see he was still staring at me.

“See you (Y/N).” He waved to me before closing the door.

At that moment I associated Spencer with warmth.

●●●

The fourth time I saw Reid, I wasn’t prepared. The day was going on pretty normally. I did my daily routine and made a trip to the grocery store. Thankfully, it wasn’t packed so I was able to go in and out within minutes.

I was placing my purchased items in my car when I heard a noise behind me. I couldn’t figure out what it was. I’d typically ignore it, but my mind was screaming at me that something was off.

When I turned around, I saw a man with a bloody knife in his hand staring at me a few feet away. He seemed as if he came straight out of a horror film, the crazed look on his face made me very uneasy. I thought that this had to be someone’s idea of a sick joke.

He slowly made his way towards me, knife up ready to strike. I didn’t bother closing my trunk before I jumped into my car, thanking the angels above that I left it on and running. I turned my key in the ignition, preparing to drive off when all of a sudden this man was at the driver’s window.

He was pounding hard against the glass repeatedly, leaving bloody prints in his wake. I screamed as I saw cracks forming, knowing it was a matter of time before he would hurt me. Pure adrenaline kicked in as I stomped on the gas pedal. I zipped by him, feeling a bump as I most likely ran over his foot.

I kept driving, not stopping until I thought I was in a safe area, which happened to be a relatively deserted dead end. I called 911 and told them about the situation. How they understood me through my hysteria is beyond me but I was informed that help was on the way.

I watched around my surroundings, noting the few people that did walk by. They stared at my car with concern but I didn’t care. I was hyper-vigilant now, holding my keys as if they can offer me a smudge of protection. All I could hear was the sound of his footsteps, the sight of the bloody knife occupying my mind.

Even when the cop cars and black vans pulled up, I did not feel safe. I stayed inside, not daring to come out. Despite seeing a middle-aged cop approach my passenger door, I still jumped when she tapped on the window. It reminded me of the pounding I heard barely fifteen minutes ago.

Tears streamed down my face as I felt myself hyperventilate. Oh my gosh. oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I could have died just now. I could have been dead. It would have taken a few seconds for him to plunge the knife into me, taking away my life. My body would have probably been cold before anyone would have notified the authorities.

The driver’s door opened and I held my keys closer to my chest. I know that it was irrational of me to get defensive over the people that I called for help but I couldn’t help it. My body was still on fight or flight mode and there was nowhere else for me to run to.

“(Y/N). It’s me, Spencer.” What? Is my mind playing tricks on me? Bringing forth the person that could offer me the best comfort at this moment. But as I turned my head, I took in the sight of him. Spencer was here, he was actually here.

“Sp-Spe-Spencer,” I cried out, tears still trailing down my face.

“Yes, I’m here. Can you grab my hand? Can I take you out of there?”

All of sudden, I wanted out of this car. I quickly jumped into his arms, holding him as close to me as possible. The scent of coffee and cinnamon helped to relax me.

I felt his arms wrapped around me, his hands running soft circles against my back. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Proud? Of me? I didn’t do anything remarkable. I panicked and ran.

“Do me a favor. Breathe with me. Follow the way that I breathe,” he stated, his voice offering me serenity and calmness. He could have asked me to jump over a bridge or deep dive into the Atlantic Ocean and I would have done it at the moment.

I obeyed his instructions; inhaling and exhaling the same way he was. I followed the movement of his chest, captivated by the soothing rhythm. The adrenaline slowly started to leave my body. The blood rushing in my ears gradually decreased in volume and my breathing began to lengthen once again.

“Reid, the ambulance is here. They can examine her.” I heard a deep baritone voice say. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want Spencer to leave me. I tightened my hands around him and buried my face even deeper into his chest, enveloping myself in his scent even more.

“It’s okay Hotch, I’ll take care of it,” I heard Spencer say. The vibration of his chest as he spoke brought warmth to me once again. I wish we could be in this position under different circumstances.

“The paramedics need to check you,” he whispered to me. “But I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I’m not going to let you go.” I peeked over at the ambulance, feeling my heartbeat picking up once more. I didn’t want to go, but I had to have faith in Spencer. I gazed up at him, needing affirmation of his previous statement.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He offered me that small smile of his. The one that is full of comfort and tenderness.

I believed him. I trusted Spencer more than I feared the unknown.

He kept his word. Spencer stayed by my side the whole time I was with the paramedics, the car ride back to the precinct, and the duration of the questioning I received from some of his teammates. He even drove me back home and walked me to my door, promising to check on me in the morning.

At that moment I associated Spencer with safety.

●●●

The fifth time I saw Spencer, I was making dinner. It’s been a couple of days since I last saw him and my life was slowly returning to normal. I still flinched when I heard loud noises and I strayed from using my bigger knives. However, the nightmares have decreased and the therapist I’m seeing is very helpful. I hope I can go back to being the person I was before this incident.

I heard a gentle knock on my door. I made sure to calm myself down before answering. Unexpected loud noises still frighten me but I am slowly moving past it. I made my way to the entrance, checking the peephole before answering.

I unlocked the door, welcoming the sight of Spencer on the other side. It amazes me how fast my lips tug upwards just from looking at him.

“Hi (Y/N).” He gave me a small wave and an even smaller smile. “We caught him. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone ever again,” he promises.

Something tells me that he didn’t have to come over here to personally deliver this message. Sure, we’re neighbors, but he didn’t have to go out of his way to tell me information that can be delivered with a phone call or a text.

“Thank you. I really appreciate you telling me this.” I took in his form. He appeared tired, more so than usual. I guess he just got out of work, especially since he still had his satchel on him. He didn’t even go back to his place before coming to mine.

The small pause lingered between us. Spencer looked like he was debating on what to say next. “Well, enjoy the rest of your evening.” He started taking small steps towards his door.

“Wait,” I shouted. The word came out louder than anticipated in the quiet hall. He startled a little but stopped walking to focus his attention on me.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked, hopeful that he would accept my request. “I assure you there is plenty of food. Plus, it’ll be nice to be in your company again,” I finished. His head tilted as he stared at me, a bewildered expression on his face. I felt mine heating up as I realized the mistake I made.

“Uh I-I mean to have company. It’ll be n-nice to have company again,” I rushed out. I anxiously waited for his response as he contemplated my invitation. His hands were fiddling with one another and I saw a slight blush decorating his cheeks.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal,” he stated with a smile that I returned. I moved out the way, allowing him to enter my lovely abode.

“You can place your jacket and satchel on the coat rack. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” I made my way back to the kitchen, checking on the food to make sure it hadn't burned. I then opened the fridge, grabbing my pitcher of water.

“I like the way you arranged your furniture. Your living room looks a lot more spacious than mine.” I heard Spencer commented. I poured the water into a glass before walking back to where he was standing. He was admiring the small stack of books I had on my shelf.

“Thank you, I tried to make the most of what I got. I’m glad it worked out.” I handed him the glass of water which he graciously took from me. I cursed myself for staring at the way he drank the cool liquid, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow.

“Dinner is almost ready,” I stated, my pitch coming out higher than normal. I hoped my face was not as red as it felt.

“It smells amazing. Would you like me to set the table?” he asked.

I looked at Spencer again, noticing that he had a different smile on him. This one was wider and more genuine. I could see his white teeth peeking through. This smile gave me a sense of domesticity, affection, purity, and more. I am sure the grin on my face matched all the emotions I felt for him as we stood in front of one another in my living room.

At that moment I associated Spencer with love.

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 7

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: school’s a bitch, but nothing’s stopping me from having a fuck ton of fun with this series. and with this chapter, I had loads of it.

WORDS: 11,289 (I’m not even sorry) WARNINGS: batarella’s funeral

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

First, it was the light.

You always slept with your curtains drawn, so the light almost never reached your room when you wake up in the early or late hours in the morning. So when you awoke with your eyelids red and bright, like the sun was a foot away from your nose, you knew something was wrong.

Second, the sheets. They were clean, but obviously different from the cottony light comforter you liked to wrap yourself with in the winter. The ones you had around your body right then, on the other hand, was just a thin, white sheet, warm yet not nearly as warm as your quilt.

Then the bed felt off as well. Stiff. Firm. Not at all wrecked like the mess you often left behind even after making your bed, or in your case just draping the blanket over the whole mattress before you went off for the day.

And when you were awake enough to have the rest of your senses snap out of your dreary, groggy vision of a dream that faded as soon as the sting in your temple kicked in, you realized that it was bacon being cooked somewhere within a few meters from where you lied down, warm smoke and all.

Forcing your throbbing eyelids apart, you confirmed that you were, in fact, not in your studio loft.

And you almost had a heart attack when the next thing that graced your line of sight was a large, shirtless man with roughed up dark hair and a pair of gray sweatpants, facing the stove from whence the sweet smell of bacon came.

You didn’t have the sober senses to linger on such eye candy for long, not when you went straight to clutching your clothes, your jeans, your leg, everywhere else. No, they hadn’t been taken off. Not for the whole night, it seems. And you didn’t feel anything funny down there.

Almost jumping off the edge of the bed, Jason spoke. “’Morning, pretty bird.”

Okay. It’s just Jason. At least you did not end up having drunken sex with a stranger and overslept.

And now that that was out of the question, the thoughts, the panic, eventually into this blissful yet brief momentous relief, the horrific migraine came along.

You grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over to cover your face with your bent knees.

“I’m assuming that hangover isn’t a good one.”

“I can't believe I stayed the night-“

“Relax. It’s no big deal.”

Seeing with the room so bright definitely didn’t help when you looked up at Jason. “Did I-“

“No, you didn’t do anything regretful, or memorable, and I was the one who insisted you stay over.”

“I remember…” Your palms stuck to your face. “Talking and burritos and Dick and Tim and-ugh…”

“Yeah that’s… basically it.”

“I didn’t tell you anything embarrassing, did I?”

Jason poured his pan of bacon onto a plate. “Define embarrassing.”

“Something you wouldn’t have wanted to hear.”

“If anything, pretty bird, you told me everything I needed to hear. My brothers sure have it bad for you.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. “What did I say?”

“A lot. Dick talking to you right before the wedding. Tim telling you he loved you right after. I told you some stuff, too. Remember those?”

“It’ll probably come back to me. Soon enough.” You swung your legs over the bed and saw that you, unfortunately, only had one.

You exposed yourself to Jason.

So hurriedly you reached for your prosthetic and latched it on at a record five seconds. Fuck, you showed yourself to him. That was the drunken move of the night. You could have said shit all, and it wouldn’t have mattered, yet you just had to take off that stupid robot leg.

You coughed, and it only made that stupid headache throb worse.

“Bottoms up.”

Jason placed a plate of his cooking with a fork for you to take onto the coffee table, then he made his way to you, stretching out his hand. You looked at him and you were sure you looked like some sorry excuse of a human being with your hair up in all directions and your eyes as dead as a rotting corpse’s. But Jason just shrugged, pulled on your shoulder when you didn’t take his hand, and led you to the couch.

You probably would have had something else to say other than a wordless mumble if he’d just made himself look a bit more presentable and not to overly distracting with his brick wall of a chiseled body. You picked at his bacon and forced it down your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

The bacon tasted great.

“I feel pathetic.”

“It sure seemed like you needed a talk.”

“I know -“

“Who else would you have talked to?” He took a bite for himself. “Steph? Cass? Bruce? They don’t know half the shit I do about Dick and Tim. And trust me, you deserved to know the truth.”

Yeah. Dick wanting to chicken out of his wedding to profess his love for you was something you definitely needed to hear.

“Yeah,” you snarled. “But then I got drunk and slept here… and you know I hate being an inconvenience.”

“It’s alright, pretty bird. If anything I had a good time last night.”

Then, so unexpectedly, he placed his arm around you and never have you felt a naked body press so tenderly against yourself that you froze at the contact. Then you looked up at his face, eyes so wide, then he looked back at you and smiled.

You smiled back, slowly easing in.

Your smile. That same smile.

It made Jason lose his, then you saw his throat hitch.

Your lips were flat and practically gone when you looked away, picked up your fork and stuffed your mouth with more bacon so he’d pull his arm off you.

“What did I say before I passed out?”

“About Dick and Tim?” Jason inched himself away and everything felt too cold. “A lot.”

“Was I pathetic?”

“No. I don’t blame you for being so confused.”

Okay. You were many things. Stupid was one of them. But confused wouldn’t exactly be the right thing to define that horrific typhoon devastation that was left of all logical thought. You weren’t confused per se, not when you understood everything with the timing with Dick and the break up with Tim. You knew exactly what went on with either of them, it’s just that you didn’t know how to make all these directions weeded out into this one, straight line so you’d know how to go through the rest of your days as smooth as you possibly could.

“I’m not confused.”

Jason sighed. “When you said you didn’t know if you should even choose, I just assumed.”

Maybe, in a way, you were confused.

But indecisive felt more like it.

“I just don’t want to-“

“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to upset either of them anymore.”

Jason stood up, and slowly, he went over to the fridge for a glass of water. He poured it into a glass, then he gave it to you.

“You called yourself selfish, too. But I don’t think you are. You don’t want to choose between them ‘cuz you want to do what’s best for both of them. Not for you.”

You’ve never seen him look at you like that. And even if he didn’t already look enough like his brothers, he had that same wide-eyed softness that often got to you. That look that made them all look the most beautiful.

He sat next to you again, elbows on his knees.

“My brothers were fucking assholes with what they did, but they’re good people. And they’re lucky, that you’re even considering them to be the one who gets to be with you. They deserve forgiveness. They’ll bend the world for you. I’m sure of it.”

If he wasn’t sitting so close, or watching your face like he wanted to note every detail you had on, you would have taken much longer just to shut your dangling mouth, because all there was right then was silence. Not just with your words, which you didn’t have even one, but that typhoon that raged, that indecisiveness, it was all quiet.

“Thank you…” you swallowed your food. “I showed you my… leg, too… didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Jason hunched over and grabbed his hair, running his own fingers through his locks. “You don’t have to worry about that, though. But if it means anything, I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t ready to show me, yet.”

You shouldn’t have been biting your lips so much before you’d eventually be tasting your own blood. But that, with that comfort you once had with him last night now this tension that you could pick apart with a needle, you were surprised your palms weren’t bleeding with the way you were digging your nails into them.

“I was ready…”

“Really?”

He was trying to bite back a smile. It was cute.

“Yeah…”

You finished the food, which you probably shouldn’t have done. You should have left before you even took a bite or said anything more than just a sentence.

His eyes were slightly squinted when he looked up at you, head craned down. This bashfulness you don’t often see. Then his brow was up and he was chuckling.

It made you smile back.

Jason stood up and went over to his closet to get a shirt. Finally.

Your bag was already on the couch, and even when you looked like aa troll had thrown up on you, you didn’t look absolutely horrific that people would stop and stare. So after a few brushes down your hair with your own fingers, you went for the door.

“I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Really. It’s all good, pretty bird.”

Jason walked up to you, held out the door, then you stood just outside to pull on your coat.

“Thank you so much, Jay.”

“I swear. Don’t sweat it. Hit me up when you need anything.”

Jason was beautiful.

And he had the kindest heart tucked behind this façade of street and trauma. You swallowed, laughed, then you opened your arms to invite him for a hug. Jason rolled his eyes and let you.

Nose to his shoulder, you ran your hand down his clothed back, and with just one hand he wrapped it around you.

Then you left. Back home. Back to that inevitable loneliness and the thinking you could foresee that was as good in occupying the spaces in your mind as music in the background, which you should probably be resorting to just to have some kind of attempt at peace. When you got to your apartment, the unfinished canvas was staring daggers at you, screaming and demanding your attention away from boys.

You rolled up your sleeves. A shower can wait, after you go through this whole painting that was big enough to be a wall. This will distract you, hopefully. At least your hands will be busy.

A fashion magazine’s editor wanted a piece for her office. You ran frantically about in your studio and picked up your basket full of paint and brushes to use for the piece, which already stained your hands just holding it up. And you set it on the floor. You’ll work on the floor for now. An easel can suck it.

The canvas was right up against the wall and the blank strokes of yellow and blue for the background were practically growling at you to just finish it off, demanding apologies in the form of touch ups and polishes over its now dried up surface.

You started with the biggest brush and violently dried it off, slapped it onto your palette for the mustard yellow you’d concocted, then you swiped that brush over for the background swirling it around the roughed-up edges of the left side to creating this wind-like surface. There were whites, so it looked a lot like wind, and even with it so dark on your palette, it had lightened up the moment it hit the canvas. So light, and soft, like the bickering remnants of sunlight when barely would it pierce through roughened glass.

That, and with your brush smaller and more precise, you drew on with a tone a bit darker the curving lines to signify direction. Then you lightly tapped it on.

You placed more paint onto your own jeans and mixed it with white, over and over with your brush. Sitting cross legged on the floor, you could tell from the sun that it had only just passed noon. Hair up in a mess, you went on with sketching out the sky with an even lighter color, letting the mix play around and form these strips of clouds.

Yellow was safe. Warmth. Something you could rely on and a color so close to your heart, comfort when you hadn’t an idea where to start. The color that was still, calm, light. It was the sun. It was the wind. Often the horizon. The leaves when it was autumn.

You always managed to find a place for yellow in every painting you did, because it calmed you, like a blanket over your shoulders when you were curled up in your couch.

Done. Now onto the right side.

Your brush sinking into a cup of water, you started with a new shade. Cobalt.

Not your usual choice when you painted the sky, but this wasn’t so much of a sky as it was just an abstract excuse of a wall that went with the yellows and all. But it should look good. At least, in your head it did. You swept your brush onto your jeans and didn’t even curse when you got paint onto your shirt, so you rolled your sleeves some more, scratched your chin despite your hand covered in paint and went to town.

The cobalt did look good, but the blending with the yellow was going to take more work. You just went with it, let the pressure control the shades for different parts of the right side and let it splatter a bit, messily enough to look casual and unintentional.

It was yellow that calmed you and blue that brightened up your days when you felt the most… well… blue. When you often felt like anything you destroyed everything you laid your hands on when all you were supposed to do was create, on those days, those days, that you just couldn’t hold back from taking control of the best of you, it was often blue, and all the different shades of it, that gave you the foundation of a brightly lit sky, and you’d go on from there.

When nothing comes to mind, that color was what pushed you to move forward, inspired you, gave your creative juices that needed startup so you’d know where to go on from there and take you on until it all ends. You loved landscapes especially, and what other color was there more than blue. It was the sky. It was the water. It was shared, and most other people loved it as well. But so often did it brighten your work, it was what your eyes would turn to at first glance.

You were done with the background, and only had it been hours since you started. Your arm to your forehead, you backed away and eyed what you’d finished.

A dress. Of course. That, and the woman wearing it. You’d start with the woman for now.

Beautifully tanned skin, almost a dark orange even. You painted her hair and her head was slightly turned to the side. A sharp, small nose. Eyes were shut but soft, watching the ground beside her. Then you went on to outline her slender body, her leg in front of the other, then you placed her hands on her front. They won't be seen with the dress and all, anyway. So that’s what you went. She looked shy, like she was covering herself. And sad.

You wanted her hair flowing over her shoulders and her back, but you needed the dress first. A flowy, fiery statement dress.

A can of red paint was staring at you from all the way across the room, and with it definitely going to contrast against the yellow and blue, you decided for it and stood up, wiping your hands all over your jeans, then you picked up your paint. Barely anything left, but it should be enough for the dress.

You sat back down, mixed it on your palette for the shade you wanted, then you dabbed it lightly over the woman’s breast.

Then you backed up, eyed the whole painting from some distance away.

You weren’t often the one for red, especially not really bright tones that just wouldn’t look natural with your scenery paintings of either the country or the city. You don’t use it often, though it did look exquisitely beautiful when it was fiery and loud and would pop up over anything else painted onto the same plane, and it was beautiful. Mesmerizing. It called for attention and it was romantic and lustful and so awfully did it want your touch.

Not long after, your round tip brush was all over the woman, covering her with a skirt that flowed from one end of the canvas to the other so much like fire, the same ones from your dreams and nightmares. You hated fire, despised it, but it was beautiful. It didn’t spark a trigger or made you flinch. So seldom were you so mesmerized with your own work as you were in the middle of doing it. It was beautiful. Warm like yellow, bright like blue, but red had this sense of danger, darkness that just called out to you. And you just wanted to jump into it.

It was exciting. And its intensity called out to your darkest sides and somehow that intensity was what pulled the whole painting together.

You even gasped when you finished that last stroke, and with that, and the sun so close to setting, you put your brush down.

Your clothes looked like they’d just gone through a washing machine filled with red, blue, and yellow paint instead of detergent, and the rest of you looked no better than if you’d just climbed out of a drainage pipe. You wiped your sweat off your forehead, pulled the canvas off the wall, and set it on an easel.

She looked beautiful. The woman. Sad, but beautiful. You used that last bit of sunlight to look at how it set into the fabric, how it was practically its own world apart from the real one.

And after you decided you were content with it, and with it, ridding you from an otherwise horrible start with a hangover and all, you took a shower, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The next morning, you sent it over to your client, who told you that somehow, the painting told her a story.

A story, it could be.

Though even with the painting telling it, it was clear it was far from ending.

-----

You prayed to the deity above that it was Sunday, the only day you allowed yourself to sleep in now with you having three ongoing clients at that moment. And with the room so freezing, since you left the window open the night before, you’d rather wallow into the depths of your sheets than to pull yourself up from the bed and actually function like a normal human being. You forced just one eye open and openly cursed at how bright it was that day. You pulled on the blankets, right over your head, and forced your eyes shut to let your brain believe it was still well into the night.

But then your phone rang, and now you really wanted to beat yourself up for forgetting to put it on silent and leave it all the way over to the kitchen. You muffled the noise with your pillow but even after long minutes, the ringing just wouldn’t stop.

Throwing the blankets violently off of you, you reached for your phone, eyes adjusting to the light. You rubbed your eyelids open.

‘Dick’ it read on the screen.

Deciding that call wasn’t such a bad start for your day, you set yourself on the little table in front of your fridge and accepted it.

“Hey…” you yawned.

“Mornin’, night owl.” Dick sounded enthusiastic. “Did I wake you up?”

You yawned some more and it made Dick laugh.

“Obviously, you’d know when you call at this hour.”

“Y/N, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Oh,” you said. “Explains why I’m starving.”

“How are you?”

You stood up from your chair and went over to make yourself a cup of coffee, anything to make that morning, or afternoon, just a bit more bearable. “I’m alright. I sent a new piece over to a client that other day. One of my biggest sales yet.”

“Oh? What of?”

“This one’s funny. And borderline illegal. This guy enrolled in some course over at Arts College needed a boost for his finals and he paid me to do his work for him.”

“Good thing they don’t run plagiarism checks on paintings.”

“Even if that was possible, I made sure to do it the way this guy usually does from a few pictures he’d sent me. He’s not bad. Not too good. But he must have needed that A or else he wouldn’t have paid me almost a thousand dollars for a small piece.”

“A thousand dollars?”

“I know. The guy’s rich.”

“No kidding.”

Dick laughed, and you missed hearing it in person so terribly. You could imagine the dimples that must have been on his cheeks right at that moment, knowing how beautiful they must have looked and you couldn’t even see them.

“I’m really proud of what you’ve done for yourself,” he said. “Just look at you.”

You felt your face all weird and you wanted to look away even when there wasn’t a ghost around you at all. You felt like a straight up moron.

“Thanks,” you coughed. “What about you? How are you?”

“God, you don’t wanna ask,” he grunted. “It’s a mess. Not everyone got along back when I was Robin, but it wasn’t anything as messed up as this. I don’t know what happened while I was out, but they can't keep off of each others’ throats for a second.”

“And you said you’d be home by the time you were done dealing with Deathstroke.”

“As long as that man’s alive, we’re never actually done with dealing with him. And even if he wasn’t almost immortal, we can't do much outside sending him over to Blackgate.”

“Is he in Blackgate?”

“For now.”

You swallowed. “Then what’s keeping you back there?”

Dick shuffled with the phone, and you heard voices. Gar’s, most probably. Dick was making his way out of the room, to a balcony of some sort away from other people, because then it was quiet.

“Everything else.”

Even with just a few sips from you mug, already you were wide awake. Your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you sighed.

“You really are quite the leader…” you said. “I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who can do it like you do.”

Dick snorted. “I doubt it.”

“Look what happened with you being out even for just a few months. It’s amazing, really, how people just listen to you.”

“Yeah… Except when it’s my siblings. It’s like tying bears down with dog leashes.”

“It’s not your fault. No one, not even Darkseid, can make Damian Wayne submit.”

“Almost as if he’s Bruce Wayne’s son.”

You laughed and sat back against your chair.

“Anything interesting happen lately?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t bore you to death.”

“Try me,” you said. “Just let me hear your voice.”

You heard him sigh. You heard him smile. From cheek to cheek. You wanted to see him, but you just calmed.

Then Dick started talking about this incident with Gar and Raven, how one catty little comment turned into this jungle fest between an overpowered demon and a green tiger wrestling it out in the living room. Dick was in the middle of it, of course, but his pleas weren’t nearly enough to calm either of them down.

And even when you were laughing and giving all these fun little remarks that often made him chuckle, it was all too difficult how you had to hold yourself back from spilling the mounds stuck at the back of your throat, everything you wanted to talk to him about, and you couldn’t, can't, say a thing. The things that had to be said, that had been waiting in this old shed stuck at the farthest corner of the earth for days too long. One that you were both too afraid to surface, because you were a coward yourself. What do you even say to him? How do you even begin?

And as Dick went on, the more you just wanted everything lash out of you, even when talking about it through the phone wouldn’t be the best idea.

You needed to look at him in the face, see how he’ll react to all the things you had to pour out of your heart and scream whatever you wanted to scream at him for. Your anger, the frustrations for his cowardice and how he just let Tim have you without so much as a fight or even try to find out who really had your heart, even when you yourself couldn’t even say. And even more did you want to tell him all that despite it not being his fault how the worst enemy there was to your story with Dick was timing.

But you didn’t do any of that and instead, you kept your silence. You pretended that this little conversation of yours was enough to get you through the day to keep all that sinking pit in your stomach at bay and not let anything bother you anymore. Even though, more than anything else at that moment, you desperately just wanted to get back to work without having so much to think about.

Dick finished the story, and by the end, you hadn’t even an idea what he’d said, when all those years you never even missed just one word out of his mouth when he spoke to you.

“What about you?” Dick asked. “Anything interesting happen other than work?”

The only thing interesting that happened lately that wasn’t work was Jason, and the last thing you wanted was to get away from that even when you hadn’t placed a thought on that night since, well, that night. You didn’t want to.

“Not much, really. I’m usually just at home painting.”

“Have you been outside to paint?”

“Just once. I wanted a view of the skyline. I went to the rooftop of the Gotham City Plaza just to paint for a few hours and finished it at home.”

“For a client?”

“No…” you said. “Just for me.”

“That’s so great. I’d take you to this place just an hour away from Jersey. It’s this farmland, but it has this really pretty view of a valley at the far end.”

“Dick, how do you know all these places?” You stuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you cleaned up and went over to the sink.

“What places?”

“The ones out of the city. It’s not like you go out on vacation much.”

“Well, I-“ Dick mumbled, and you heard him shuffle his phone over to the other ear and his breath hitched. “I guess… I don’t know. I know you like painting the countryside. I look them up on the internet. Sometimes I ask around. Sometimes, most of the time, really, when I drive from Bludhaven to Gotham, I go through the route near the ocean. That’s where I found that cliff I took you last time.”

His voice was so soft at the end that you could barely even make out his words.

And, once again, you didn’t even have a breath you could take in to calm your throbbing chest.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“That’s-“ you placed your other hand on the kitchen counter. “That’s really sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Your cheeks were hurting, again, and you wanted to wash yourself with a bucket of cold water.

“Dick,” you croaked. “When are you coming back?”

You knew something was wrong the minute you didn’t hear a word out of him even several seconds after. You heard him walk around. You heard him cough. You could even hear him breathe a lot louder than he usually does, but when all that was from his silence, you knew it won't be for a long time.

“I don’t know…”

Then you heard him breathe faster, like he was running, like he was nervous.

“B-but, if you ask me to come home right now, I will. I’ll be there by tonight. If you need me at all…”

Something was picking at your neck like the knife you had laying around in your kitchen, and you wanted to drive it all the way up so you’d actually have an excuse not to have a response at all. Because you didn’t have one, not when your face felt like exploding from how much you’ve had to hold in.

“Or even if you just say you miss me, I’ll come back. Wait, no, that sounds… wrong. I’m sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You shut your eyes.

You want him home because you wanted to talk about how he’d just changed the course of your whole life in just one single letter and made you doubt all the waterfalls and rivers of feelings you’ve had for him all these years.

“Of course, I miss you. But…” You dipped your head down and faced the bottom of your sink.

“Stay there, Dick. The Titans need you…”

Silence. And you wanted to choke the air out of you when you couldn’t even hear him breathe anymore.

Something echoed from behind Dick, and you heard his muffled voice from his hand blocking the phone’s receiver. You swallowed, looked up at the window just to let the melting snow on the ground outside fill that frightening blank in your head.

You heard Dick clear his throat. “I’m really sorry. I have to go.”

“It’s alright,” you softly sighed. “You going out tonight?”

“No. I’m trying to let the Titans do the work by themselves. I’ll be sitting it out the next few days.”

“Alright, then. Be safe.”

“I will.”

You hung up first, and with that, you turned on the faucet and let the water flow out from the rim of your coffee cup, watching the brown dilute with the water so painfully slow.

Maybe Jason was right, you were confused.

You had to talk to Tim.

Maybe he can change all that.

-----

It probably was a mistake to come all the way to the manor, to talk to someone about things you didn’t even know in the hopes of clearing up a picture you weren’t sure you wanted to see.

But you’ve been holding out on talking to Tim, really talking to him without it turning into some pity fest for the both of you and it was obviously one you both really needed. And, without a doubt, you missed him. The days without even getting to text him was taking its sweet toll on you. You couldn’t be apart from him even if you tried.

Alfred welcomed you in, telling you that Tim was about to wake up anytime soon since he got home from the office at fucking twelve in the afternoon that day because he spent the whole night, and morning, working when even Bruce was telling him to come home. You started to take off your coat, but with it being so empty in the parlor, the fireplace dark and gritty and the walls so silent, it was eerie, you wanted to stay outside.

You went over to the back, through the kitchen where there was a backdoor, then you went outside in the light orange pasture where the snow had melted and the trees and bushes sticking up with just their trunks of wood. There were leaves around, drenched and muddy with the soil, and the grounds were unkept. But it was wonderful to see, nonetheless. You stayed outside at the gardens, grass under your boots, and waited despite the breezing chill.

Not long after, you heard him come up from behind you.

“Y/N.” Tim sounded relieved. “Christ, I was just about to call.”

And it wasn’t even awkward, hesitant, or at all unusual when he rushed to you and pulled you to his chest. You hugged him back immediately, eyes closed, ignored how the last time you saw him you were so close to just breaking down and focused instead that you hadn’t seen your best friend in weeks and none of you had the courage to even call. And already, that void within you felt infinitely better. And you didn’t pull away even after so long. And for such a moment, you pleaded that it wouldn’t end, that you wouldn’t have to pull away and face the realities don’t even want to go into. And after all you’ve been through, being here, being in his arms, it was too good to even be a part of your fantasies, the resort, or a distraction perhaps, of what was really going on.

But it wasn’t like you were revealing some long-forgotten truth that would crush him out of unexpectedness, because he already knew. You just didn’t know what it’s going to be right after.

Eventually, unfortunately, you both pulled away, but not without Tim brushing his thumb across your cheek which made you want to just melt in his arms. His hair was swept back and he looked like he’d just gone out of bed, but his eyes looked absolutely striking against the white of the snow left over on the ground, and the way he looked at you made you want to regret ever looking away from him after the last time, which, frankly, you couldn’t even remember.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out-“

He hushed you down. “It’s alright. How are you?”

Still in his hold around your waist, your faint arms enjoyed themselves resting against his chest.

“I could be better.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You were so close to just blurting out ‘yes’, but that could possibly make him want to pull away, which you didn’t want to happen at all. At least, not for a bit longer. You needed to be held.

But Tim must have known, because he slowly pulled away, and you were in no place to just ask to be held one more when you were about to, possibly, rip his heart out.

You didn’t even have a clue on how he’s going to react.

“Tell me about you first,” you said. “Anything happen lately?”

“No. Nothing at all. I’m at the office when I’m not asleep at home and god, I really need you to make me stop drinking ten cups of coffee everyday because it’s driving me nuts.”

“You did not-“

“Oh, I am. And it’s so boring as well. I swear I’ve been wanting to just call you and have a car sent over so you could hang out with me in the office.”

You smiled and watched how the dark circles under his otherwise bright blue eyes were even more eminent now than even before, which you hadn’t thought to be possible. You straightened his shirt. “You should have called me.”

“Yeah. I know. I should have.” He roughed up his hair and placed his other hand on his hip. He looked tired. “I just thought you needed some time alone.”

Hands in your coat, you pretended that it was the cold that made you want to curl up into a ball and roll away on the ground, but your eyes were on your boots and you breathed out a bit of smoke past your lips because you really did not want to keep staring into his eyes, out of guilt or in awe. “I… I guess I did. But I would have gone to you if you wanted me to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Then call me next time.”

Tim’s adorable smile. It was amazing how quickly it got to you.

“I will.”

You couldn’t possibly hold this for long. You got your hands out of your coat, which didn’t actually need to be housed like that when you had gloves on to protect them, then you licked your lips.

“So… Did you come to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah…”

“We can head inside.”

“No, Tim.”

It won't be long. It shouldn’t have to be long. You’ll stay here, outside, so this agony wouldn’t have to last and you’d have an excuse to cut to the chase. He didn’t deserve to stand out here while you waltz around in circles because of your cowardice.

“It’s about Dick.”

The way his face fell.

And as much as you wanted to look away before it got to you, you had to face him now.

“What about him?”

“About two weeks ago,” you said. “That day I left the manor.”

The day you last spoke to each other.

Tim listened intently, stepped closer to you, almost as if he already knew where this was going.

“Dick and I… kissed.” Fuck, you wanted to cut open your mouth saying all this to Tim. “Then when I got home, he left me a letter telling me everything.”

“Everything?”

You saw his neck tighten, even with his collar covering most of it. “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

His face, what you thought to have been anger slowly building up when you first mentioned Dick’s name, all dropped into this soft, unmoving silence. Tim looked away from you, watching the empty branches stay still as if they were so much more interesting than having to look at you in the eye.

“That’s, uhm,” he whispered, voice harsh and forced. “That’s great.”

It didn’t sound so great when he said it that way.

“Are you… together now?”

“No. We haven’t exactly talked about it since then.”

He nodded, pulling on his hair a bit too hard when he ran it across his scalp.

“Tim, you knew about him, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly doing much to hide it.”

Now, he looked mad. He turned away from you, walking down to the gardens further away from the manor, where the others might hear. You walked with him, stayed by his side. He spoke so softly, yet you knew it came straight from his darkest thoughts too painful to bring up.

“I always knew. Back when we were together. He didn’t try to get too close to you back then, but I just… had a hunch, you know? I think every boyfriend can tell when other guys try to get too close with their girl.”

“Tim, I swear, I didn’t feel anything for him at all back then-“

“I know, I know.” His sad smile broke you. “A part of me was always afraid he’d just steal you away from me, but I knew he cared about you a lot. When I…” he bit his lip. “When we broke up, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Dick didn’t know if I was fine with him going to you so soon, but I knew you’d feel better if he was there for you, and I knew he wanted to be there for you, too, so I sent him.”

Just when you thought none of this could possibly get worse.

“You sent Dick?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“No…” you said. “Don’t be sorry.”

You stepped on a melted puddle and almost slipped on the mud. Tim held your shoulder, pulled you up, then kept his hand on the small of your back. You let him.

“It was the right thing to do. You were okay. It was my fa-“ He was choking on his own words by then. “I had it coming, after how I left you…”

“Dick had Kori then,” you said, and that only made Tim snort.

“I was honestly surprised he didn’t leave Kori the moment he saw you needed him. Idiot even made it through a wedding.”

“He thought I was still in love with you.”

That’s when he stopped walking right in front of you so you’d stop, too. You looked up at him, wide eyed, and somehow you couldn’t tell if it was hope or horror staring back at you from his eyes.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes, and wished he’d instead asked if you loved him and not if you were in love with him. Because if there was anything this experience taught you, it was that it made a hell lot of a difference.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he shook his head. “Y/N, why are you even here?”

You wanted to cry. He wanted to cry even more. His voice broke and with how his uneasy shoulders were shrugging, you didn’t know if pulling him close would be the right thing to do.

“I thought I’d talk to you about this-“

“And I told you we were over…”

If he were someone else you would have slammed your fist up in his gut.

“Are you-“

“Be with Dick,” he said. “Please. Go to him now and be with him. I’ll be okay. Is that what you came here for? To make sure I’ll be okay with it?”

“I-“ you swallowed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Mouth parted, watching your face, possibly to see how your eyes were moving and your lips were shaking for any signs of lying or whatever it was detectives do to read faces. And Tim was smart. You didn’t have to tell him any more.

And when it came to him, he backed away. He looked like he’d just seen his own murder.

“Y/N, I can't believe you're-“

“You said you knew I loved you.”

“Listen,” he growled. He was angry now. Tim barely gets angry. “I can barely even live with myself after what I’d done to you. Why should you?”

Tim held your shoulders and squeezed them so tight, you couldn’t do much else but stare up at him so breathlessly. “I hurt you and you should have gotten rid of me the moment I walked out your door. You’re supposed to hate me, Y/N.”

“Is that what you really think?” you breathed.

He laughed, raised his arms up in disbelief. “I love you. For Christ’s sake, I love you so much and it’s going to kill me when I see you with someone else. Believe me. But this is what I get. I left you, and I hurt you.”

You tried holding his face, but he wouldn’t let you.

“You’re not even supposed to let me be your friend anymore. And here you are. You keep coming back. You’re not supposed to keep coming back. Are you actually choosing between me and Dick?”

Not a tear down your face, even when you thought you’d be breaking down by now. You were without breath and still not even your own body was processing all this the way it should already be and not be stuck in utter disbelief when clearly this was all happening.

“You are…” Tim whispered. He was shaking his head, and you just felt ashamed of yourself. “I can't believe this… You should be with Dick right now…”

“I can't.”

“That night we kissed.” He stepped back closer to you. “Christmas Eve. You told me you couldn’t handle being with me anymore because of what happened.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m over you,” You didn’t realize you sounded angry. “You don’t think I hate myself for that?”

“Y/N, just be with him. You can't keep torturing yourself like this.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?”

None of you were screaming. None of you could scream. Not at each other. Not even when you were supposed to.

“I can't forget what I did…”

“You’re not just talking about our breakup, are you?”

Tim’s mouth stopped trembling. His voice didn’t crack. He took a step back, never breaking away from your stare. Then you saw how he flattened his lips, biting them behind his mouth.

“Tim…” you swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault-“

“Stop it.”

His jaw clenched, hands crushing each other with his fingers locked. His eyes were on the ground.

“It’s true-“

“Y/N,” he croaked. “It was my fault.”

“It’s-“

No longer did he look so vulnerable. His forehead was creased up the way it did when he was firm. He stared at you so soullessly and so exhausted.

“If it weren’t for what I did that night, you wouldn’t have to worry about going out in the summer wearing shorts or getting to join the rest of the family in a pool party or anything at all. All this is because of me. We both know it’s true.”

You should have said something.

Anything.

But he wasn’t letting you.

His eyes darted to your hidden prosthetic and immediately he looked away. But you caught that glance. You always caught glances.

“I love you, Y/N. But choose Dick. Please. I saw how happy he makes you, and I’ll be damned if I held you back from even that. Just forget about us, Y/N. Please.”

From behind him, you could see Alfred waiting for you both by the library windows. Tim turned around, nodded, then couldn’t even look at you in the eye.

His plea was what broke you. It didn’t sound like a plea you could reason with.

Tim didn’t walk away this time. Instead, he waited for you to leave first. And when you did, with him trailing behind, you fought all the demons left within to not look back. You went straight to the foyer, to the door. Not even a minute after, you were out of the manor.

-----

A call wasn’t what you needed. Not even close.

But it had been days, and wallowing in your own sadness wasn’t exactly doing you any good.

And now, after what happened with Tim, it shouldn’t have to mean you’ll run to Dick just because you were freed from the confines of a choice.

You still had to decide whether you wanted to be with Dick or not. To stay alone or be with the man who’d done nothing but love you from afar, never failing to make sure you were smiling.

And with that, after you’d spent the past few days dwelling on what’d happened, you picked up your phone, sat on the little nook by the window in your studio, then called Dick.

He didn’t answer.

It was still well into the evening. You’ll wait it out.

An hour later, still no answer.

Three, four more hours. At twelve am, having to wake yourself up from dozing off, your own fault after days of having absolutely no sleep, was exhausting. You kept staring out the window and hoped to whoever was watching you from above, ancestors or a god or whatever there was, that Dick was at least still alive. It should be a crime for vigilantes to not answer their phone in the middle of the night.

Then, at one am that night, Dick finally called you back.

“Hey…” you forced yourself to sound awake.

“Hey.”

You heard him walking. He didn’t sound injured, or even tired at all. “I’m so sorry I missed your calls.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you still awake?”

You laid back against the wall. “I was waiting for you.”

He snickered. You heard a door open and close behind him, and he must have crashed into bed right then because you heard bed springs from his weight.

“Where were you tonight?”

“With the Titans. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your head was against the window’s glass and you watched the snow almost completely melt on the roads in front of you. “You poor thing. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m alone now…” You rolled your eyes at his tone. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” you lied.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?”

That made you smile. His voice. His tone. Already it made things a lot more bearable.

“I just… thought you should know. I talked to Tim the other day…”

He didn’t sound like you had to say anything more for him to understand. You heard him breathe louder, heavier.

“What did he say?”

“Well… He said I should be with you…”

“He did?”

“Yeah…”

Then there was even more silence. You should have thought about this a lot more.

“I was going to ask when you’re coming home but it sounds like the Titans need you a lot more than I do.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I want to go home more than anything.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“You know what…” he breathed.

The glass was freezing being pressed up against your skin, but you just let it. It didn’t even bother you.

“Dick…” Your finger traced the glass. “We haven’t exactly talked about… what happened.”

“I just… I thought talking about it over the phone makes it even more… I don’t know… cowardly.”

“It’s been weeks.”

“I know...”

You threw your head back, up against the wall, then you closed your eyes. You let the cold seep in all the way down your toes. You let it calm you.

“I’m sorry if it was too much…”

“It wasn’t.”

“I was-“ He was a nervous wreck. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, or that I forced my feelings down your throat. I hope I didn’t upset you…”

You couldn’t say it didn’t upset you. “It’s fine…”

“Y/N… You don’t have to do anything about it. I swear. We can just go on like nothing happened.”

Dick let out an agonizingly long sigh, then you heard his head fall to a pillow.

“That’s going to be hard…”

“I know… I don’t even know what to say to you when I come back…”

“You can say it to me now… if it makes things easier.”

Then there was silence.

Nothing at all. Not even the sheets moving. You could have sworn he was cut out for a minute. But then, when you heard him take a breath, then clear his throat, you just closed your eyes and hoped nothing he’d say would break you any further.

“I love you, Y/N…”

And despite the hurt, with everything else that went on, you let those three words be the only thing in your own little bubble of a universe. You smiled. You were never going to forget the way he said it so softly.

Then he was laughing. “I love you…” he said again. “God, it feels good to say that…”

You smiled so much; your face started to hurt.

“I read your letter like… fifty times…” you snorted.

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a good thing.”

He giggled. You’ve never heard him giggle before. It was the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard.

“I love you. I meant everything I wrote. Everything.”

Your head met your palm, and you had to stop yourself before this was going to get the better of you.

“If it means I have to wait longer for you to sort things out, I will. Take as long as you need, and we… I can take this as slow as you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I just don’t want to rush you into anything…”

Maybe, in a way, this was the right choice. He could be the right choice. And it’ll take a while to prove that, but it was a start.

“Dick, I-“

From his end of the phone, you heard a door swing open, then there was his phone shuffling in his hand, then all the other noises were incoherent and muffled. Voices. There was more than one.

And Dick’s hand was shaking because you managed to pick out a few of them.

“………… thank you……… Dick……”

“……………alright………”

“………. You………. sure?.........”

“………. Yeah……..”

“…….good….. talk……… understand……”

“thanks………….. rest up……..”

No. Not a few. Just one other voice. A sweet, melodic voice, much like singing.

You never thought you could feel losing a smile so quickly, your chest being pulled all the way down to the earth’s core.

The door closed, then it was Dick’s voice again.

“Hey… sorry-“

“Dick,” you croaked. “Where did you say you were tonight again?”

You heard how confused he was. “I was… the Titans…”

“You were with Kori, weren’t you?”

“I…”

“You said you were gonna sit it out the next few nights. You weren’t out on patrol with the Titans. You were in the tower with Kori. Alone. Weren’t you?”

“Y/N, I know that sounds bad, but it’s not what you think-“

“What were you talking about?”

“Y/N… We just talked…”

“About what?”

“I told you I had to come talk to her about what happened. The wedding. She deserves some closure-“

“It’s been weeks, Dick. And you spent what, five hours talking to her just tonight?”

“You know it’s not that easy.” His mouth sounded trembling. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened. Kori and I are friends.”

“I find it hard to believe that you could be friends with someone you almost married. Why didn’t you tell me you were with her tonight? After I told you I waited for you?”

“I didn’t- I don’t know… Y/N, it’s not like you don’t talk to Tim…”

“Then why did you tell me you were with the Titans?” You scoffed. “At least I don’t lie to you when I talk to Tim.”

“I wasn’t… We were at the control room alone to watch them from the cams. I didn’t think I was… I promise you, nothing happened.”

“It isn’t about that, Dick. It would have been fine if you’d just told me about it. Now I can't stop thinking about what you tried to hide from me. I know you. You're honest until you think the truth hurts a lot worse than a lie.”

It’s funny how quickly that high you went through just two minutes ago could blow over so quickly and leave you down at the bottom of an infernal pit you couldn’t climb out of, because that’s where you were right then. You were tired. You didn’t want to go through any of this. You weren’t even surprised, and that was what hurt the most. And even more so wouldn’t you be surprised if at any of those days he’d spent in that tower, they’d slept together.

“I don’t even know what I’m so upset about,” you sighed. “You don’t have to promise me anything, Dick. We’re not together. Stay there. Take as long as you like.”

You hung up on the phone.

You were done thinking.

You were done sulking.

You were done dwelling over those two boys and let them take so much control over you that barely could you even take control over yourself.

You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

You wouldn’t let the thoughts take over, at least, just for that night. There was no darkness, nor light.

There was just… nothing.

And for four whole weeks, it was just that.

Nothing.

-----

The world was kind enough to give you four weeks after that to prepare for what was possibly the worst fucking holiday there could possibly exist. And it wasn’t always so bad, not when at one point, you had a boyfriend who spoiled you with everything you could possibly wish for, and even after that, you woke up with a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for you at your doorstep full of art supplies. So not at all was Valentine’s day the absolute worse. Not always.

Just this year, you dreaded it. You woke up and already you wanted to sleep through the whole day if you could, which you did. If not for getting up to prepare yourself a lunch and eventually an early dinner, you managed to successfully sleep through the most horrific day of the year.

Eventually, it took its toll on you, because your head was throbbing by the time it was eight o’ clock that night.

When you heard the bell outside your door ring, you took it as an excuse to actually get up and at least be a human being for the day. You strapped on your leg and walked to the door. The bell rang again, and you screamed “Coming!”

Which you probably shouldn’t have done. You really were out of your own head that day, because there could only be two people outside waiting for you on Valentine’s day and neither of them you wanted to see possibly for the next few years.

Frozen, ever so slowly moving, you peeked through the eyehole.

Then that ice that froze you into the ground broke apart and you groaned when you saw it was just Jason with a shit-eating grin staring back at you at the peephole.

You opened the door.

“Happy Valentine’s day, pretty bird.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t want to be mean or unwelcoming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning and rolling your eyes all over the ceiling as you swung the door wide open. Jason, knowing exactly what went on, just snickered and took off his coat.

“You brought booze?”

“I brought booze.”

Two bottles. He held them up and that same shit-eating grin still hadn’t left his face. You shut the door behind you and went with him to the kitchen.

He opened one for you and you went through a quarter of the whole thing in one go.

“Woah, woah, slow down there.”

“You know what you got yourself into coming here on Valentine’s day. You come to mock me?”

He opened his own bottle and drank. “No. Maybe. But I thought it’d be better than being alone after four whole weeks of you practically disappearing from the face of the earth.”

“So I changed my number,” you shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, except Bruce doesn’t exactly want to pry on you like he does with me. And with Tim and Dick laying low, I thought I’d take one for the team.”

“Take one for the team?” You scoffed. “What are you, some goat they sacrificed?”

“Come on, don’t see it that way. We’re all worried about you.”

“If you wanted to know how I was, your whole family of vigilantes could just easily follow me around the whole of Gotham.”

“I know, but we wanted to know how you really were.”

You took a long, much needed swig, then something pulled you to the floor. You sat on the edge of your bed.

Then you slipped, your ass landing on the floor. You laid your back against the bed frame and sighed with the bottle of booze in your hand.

“Fine. I lied. No one sent me here. I just thought I’d come by today. I know how much this day probably took its toll on you.”

“Believe me, it did,” you drank some more. Jason walked over and sat right beside you on the floor. “I haven’t gotten out of bed until you came.”

Jason chortled. “I don’t blame you. I’m not exactly a fan of heart’s day, either.”

“Really?”

“Nah. Not one gift. Never sent anything to anyone.”

“Not even to Rose?”

Jason took a swig at that. “We spent Valentine’s massacring an entire ship’s worth of goons.”

“Romantic.”

“Better than some date serving this capitalist excuse to consume.”

“You’re too cynical for your own good.”

“And you’re not cynical when you probably should be.”

“I am,” you drank. “In a way.”

Your empty bottle was on the ground, and you looked up at the ceiling. You were there an hour, maybe more. Jason let himself get drunk as well and laid his elbows on the bed since he was tall enough.

“This probably isn’t what you want to talk about,” he burped. “But I’m assuming what happened with Tim and Dick wasn’t what you expected.”

“I hate them,” you growled. “God, I fucking hate them both.”

“Shit. How bad was it?”

“Those two assholes must have thought I was dead after how much I ignored their calls, texts, emails, everything.”

“It’s been four weeks. They probably found out by now that you’re… well… alive.”

“I can't believe their own kindness and selflessness brought this out. Tim wants nothing to do with me and Dick’s having the time of his life in California with his perfect would-have-been wife.”

“That bad, huh?”

Your bottle tipped over on the floor and you didn’t pick it up. “I hope you don’t hate me for wanting to murder both your brothers.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason laughed. “I’m not exactly far off from your loathing for those two nutjobs.”

You raised a brow. “Something happen?”

“They told on Bruce, and he practically disowned me that last time we went on patrol. I crossed the line, or whatever it is they like to call it. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Haven’t called them either. They say they want me on the family and they pull shit like that ‘cuz apparently the consequences will help.”

“Makes two of us.”

“Exactly why I’m here.”

He nudged your shoulder, and you were surprised you were still sober after all that when you didn’t exactly feel like throwing up just yet. You groaned, head against the mattress.

And with that, you turned over to face him, who had the same, exhausted look on his face. Eyes closed. Arms up on the bed. Really veiny looking arms that made his shirt pull up and tighten around his chest.

“You don’t have to choose, you know…”

“I know. But it doesn’t help how-“

“You want to choose.”

You wanted to drive that bottle down your throat at that question.

“I want to. I don’t want to. You know I can't answer that.”

“And they’re lucky you can’t.”

Your head against your sheets, you watched him face you in turn. He was so close to you right then. You could smell his breath. You could feel his breath. And it was there. That beauty. The one that understood so much about you that you hadn’t understood yourself.

“You don’t have to choose if you don’t want to…” he whispered. “Fuck them. You’ve been hurt too much. You don’t have to get hurt any more. Choose to not get hurt.”

Eyes on him, quietly lingering on every scar on his skin.

If there was one thing that separated Jason from his brothers, it was his scars. The ones that littered his face. They had the same hair. Same blue eyes.

But Jason had marks on his eyebrow, his cheek, his lips. And he was so beautiful because of those.

“You understand…” you breathed against his mouth.

Jason’s eyes were on yours, but you saw how they darted over to your lips.

“I understand hurting myself… for others…”

His arm, it found its way past your head. And you knew because you felt his fingers sneak onto your hair behind you. You bit your lip, turned your torso so you could face him better.

“I can't blame them…” He started playing with your hair. “If I was in love with you, I’d be as god-awfully stupid as they are, no doubt.”

That made you laugh. “Thank you, then. For not being in love with me.”

“You're welcome.”

Oh God, the way he said that. His low, breathy, husky voice. It made you fucking vibrate and your hair starting sticking out the back of your neck. And then, all you could see, all you could feel, was how close he was to you. He was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. It might have been the booze, which you doubted. Because you felt so lightheaded and all the pain was just sitting there and all you wanted was just some kind of release.

Jason’s eyes, as obvious as they were, couldn’t keep darting down your shirt, as well. And you realized you weren’t even wearing a bra.

It made you stick your chest out even further, so you’d watch him watch you.

Booze breath against booze breath. Your lips met so sloppily and messily, and only for the shortest, briefest moment, because Jason was already making his way down your jaw, your neck, biting onto your skin.

There. The blur. That silent, ringing noise. Jason’s tongue lapped over the skin on your collar bone and everything that went on in your head for the past few months were just thrown out the window that very instant. His hands were on you. All over you.

And finally, the body you’ve lusted after for so many years¸ the body you’ve only gotten to see and drool over and fantasize on nights when you were lonely and all those days of wanting to touch every part, every ripple of his chest when you see him fresh from the gym. You practically ripped his shirt off and your hands couldn’t stop for a second ravishing every bit of his skin. And it was just as good as you’ve always longed and imagined.

Jason squeezed onto your hip, and with how he touched you, you thought maybe he’d felt the same. It hurt to pull away, but Jason was holding you, hoisting you up on the bed, then you were kneeling on the mattress, his hands on your waist just begging for you to be against him so close. You were there for so long, watching, touching, enjoying his body just as he did with yours. He held your face so gently and kissed you.

You held his arms, barely being able to hold them with how large they were compared to yours. And even with the light so dim, this orange, unintentionally beautiful dim, you took off your shirt. And for a second, just for a second, he watched how your breasts looked being held in his hands.

Everything was moving way too fast but you couldn’t have wanted it any other way. None of this needed a build-up, or a slow burning of a wick. Anything more, any longer and it would actually have to mean something, and with that, it brought hurt. It wasn’t a bomb that needed days just to explode. It just needed to happen, at least for just that moment.

You moaned, but he kissed you before you could cry out anything more. Lips first, then it didn’t take long for him to trail down to your nipples. Your arms were around his neck and you pulled him back up, kissing him because you just needed it. This sweet, all too sweet release.

“Wait…” Jason whispered. He held your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. He looked at you and his forehead was all creased up.

“This your first time?”

You nodded, swallowed, then hoped it wouldn’t drive him away.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You kissed him in response.

Then he pushed you onto bed.

------

A/N: WHERE MY TEAM JAY BABIES AT

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

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thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 3

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7. Homemade Gifts

Marinette prided herself in not caring about the looks of others. After all, beauty meant nothing if their heart was trash. They’d always just be a pig in lipstick.

Unfortunately, if they did have a good heart, Marinette discovered that she did care for their looks a little more than she would have cared to admit. Particularly when it came to a former model turned baker.

Which was why, much to her chagrin, she’d ended up losing the bet.

It was just a pair of glasses. A simple, functional accessory. However, with the frame he had, ones that held a dark green hue that accented his eyes and were square in form—somehow, a perfect match for his angular face—she couldn’t help but to have stared a bit.

By the time she caught herself, Adrien was already grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

She hoped beyond all hope her cheeks hadn’t colored, or at the very least, Adrien hadn’t caught it.

And now, she was having to bite the bullet and watch an anime of his choosing. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad loss.

Hopefully.

Depending on what he chose…

Oh, please don’t be anything stupid.

Marinette finished her work, then clocked out, hurrying to go shower quickly before Adrien came over. Not that Adrien hadn’t seen her covered in flour and looking like a hot mess already, but she’d rather be clean and comfy if she was going to have to suffer through her punishment for losing the bet. They had planned to meet at her house for the viewing. Adrien would bring over his computer and cables to hook it up to their tv so that he could easily access his anime accounts. He said it would be a piece of cake.

She threw on a comfy t-shirt and lounge pants, then she dried her hair. Once that was done, she went downstairs to begin preparing the dinner she’d prepped earlier that day.

Halfway through, a knock sounded on the door, signaling Adrien’s arrival. She answered, only for her gaze to fall to the box in his hands. “What’s that?”

One of his hands reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I wanted to bring some homemade food since I knew you’d be working all day. And I need to practice my cooking skills, anyway.”

She smiled, taking the offered gift. “Thanks, but I actually started making something thinking that it was the least I could do since you were bringing everything over.”

Adrien looked surprised for a moment before he chuckled. “We should have planned that better.”

“Oh well. Left overs for days, right?” she said with a shrug, stepping aside to let him in.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

8. Commissions

“Can I ask a question?”

“I don’t know? Can you?”

Adrien looked up from his computer screen to shoot a grinning Marinette a flat look. This was the fourth time he’d come over so they could continue the anime he’d chosen. He had known from Mr. Dupain that he and his daughter both loved video games, and henceforth, he’d chosen accordingly in hopes to get Marinette hooked.

He knew he’d succeeded when they binged the first four episodes the first day. He’d then hung it over her head that “why would he come back again? He’d won the bet, and she’d paid her price, so for what reason did he have to come over again?”

He had had fun teasing her, because her huffy, unamused expression was too darn endearing.

“Look,” she’d said. “I just need to know what happens to Princess Bitch.”

He’d snorted, trying and failing to withhold his laugh. “You don’t get to call her that yet.”

“Why not? You don’t get to pull that level of manipulative bullshit, ruining the other person’s life like that, and not be dubbed with the title ‘Princess Bitch’.”

“So…” he drawled out, teasingly. “Are you saying you care about this anime?”

She’d fallen silent, and he couldn’t help but to laugh once more.

In the end, after more teasing on his part, he’d caved and said he’d come over again so they could finish it out.

Hence why he was here now.

“Haha, funny,” Adrien deadpanned, turning back to his screen.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice,” she said a little too sweetly, placing two plates of food on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

He took a second to log into his account before turning back to her. “I don’t know if this is overstepping, but… are you happy working at your parents’ bakery?”

Marinette froze, and for a moment, Adrien grew worried.

Thankfully, she seemed to take it well, although it was clear she was confused. “What brought that on?”

Adrien shrugged, looking at his screen again to select their anime of choice. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I feel like we’re close enough to be friends. Right?”

Marinette didn’t hesitate to nod. “Yeah, I would consider you one.”

Adrien pushed aside the very happy feeling that blossomed in his chest. “I guess I’m just… curious… about you… as a friend, of course.”

“No, I get it,” she assured. “Now that you mention it, I guess I could say the same for you.”

Adrien felt extra warm now. “So, do I get an answer to my question?”

Marinette paused, her expression falling as she bit her lip. “Only if you promise to keep it secret from my parents.”

“Yeah, totally,” he promised, smile falling from his face. “Cat’s honor.”

Marinette sighed. “I… I am happy,” she said. “Really. It’s not an issue of me being happy here. But running my parents’ bakery wasn’t my dream, you know?”

With the episode loading, Adrien decided to take a seat next to Marinette. “What was your dream?”

“I wanted to be a fashion designer.”

That came as a surprise to Adrien. “Really? What stopped you?”

“Chloe.”

Somehow… that answer shouldn’t have surprised him. “Chloe?”

“She got her mom to block me from going to any fashion or design school.”

“She what?!”

“Shhh!” Marinette shushed, finger over his lips. “Not so loud.”

Adrien felt his face heat at her touch. “Er…sorry.”

She then took her finger away, and Adrien tried not to think about why he was disappointed. “Chloe did that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “How? And how’d you know?”

“Um…” She suddenly turned sheepish, and that spitfire edge he’d come to love diminished a bit. It made her look younger and sweeter. He didn’t mind that change. “Well, due to the methods used to acquire such information, I must refrain from answering that. Just know I trust my source and the information that was found.”

Adrien sighed. Honestly, even if he wanted to come to Chloe’s defense, he couldn’t. She ran in a pretty elite crowd and had some powerful connections. If she wanted to block someone from entering a fashion school, she could. And since Adrien knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be above such tricks, Adrien accepted Marinette’s word as truth.

Besides, he knew Marinette well enough by now to know she hated liars. He doubted she’d lie about this.

“So, have you thought about applying outside the country?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “I just… didn’t. It felt too overwhelming.”

“So, what about skipping the education entirely? Find a niche and start your own business taking commissions or what not?”

Marinette paused, her eyes glazing over a moment as she thought. “I… it’s an idea that’s come up before.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” Adrien asked. “Even if you got an education later, you’d at least have a reputation you’re building up now.”

Again, Marinette was silent. “You know…” she began, her tone softer and more earnest than he’d ever heard before. It felt raw. Open. And that did something to his heart.

Protect her. The words popped up in his head, and his heart clenched onto them before he could even realize it. But all he could do at the moment was listen. So he would.

“I decided I’d step back and do a lot of thinking.”

“About?”

She sighed. “It’s easy to say ‘I love fashion so I want to be a designer’. It’s easy to have those dreams. It’s easy to think that your hobby can become your profession. But the easy stuff isn’t all the fashion world consists of. It’s a competitive world filled with both nice people and people like Audrey Bourgeois. It’s filled with more than fashion, and when faced with the reality that I’d been barred from fashion college because one person in the industry had that much power, I had to do some reflecting. If I accept fashion as my career, I get to set foot into that world. And I had to face the question of ‘am I ready and willing to accept that?’”

When Marinette came to a pause, Adrien stopped to think of his response. “Honestly, as someone who comes from that world, I completely understand your feelings. I’ve seen the good, and I’ve seen the bad. I’ve watched people succeed and climb the ladder, and I’ve watched people crash and burn. And I think there’s such a fine line between the two.”

“See, that just feels validating,” Marinette said, small smile on her face. “I understand that that is basically every job field. I understand some are better than others. But with what I’ve seen from the fashion world… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m as adamant about it as I was when I was in high school.”

Adrien sighed. “I don’t understand what it’s like to have a passion,” he admitted. “I’ve never had one, so this might not mean anything coming from me, but I think… it would be better to keep your passion a hobby… if the profession will burn you out. Because then you’re not just loosing your profession, but the hobby meant to bring you joy.”

Marinette was silent for a minute, and Adrien thought he’d said something wrong. But that tension in his chest eased hen a small smile crept up on her lips. “That’s good advice,” she finally said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Adrien reached out to pat her shoulder, surprising her a moment. When she turned to him, eyes wide and clear once again, he gave her a smile. “I’ll be rooting for you. And if there’s anything I can help you with, I’d be happy to assist.”

Slowly, her small smile grew. “Thanks,” she said, her voice surprisingly sweet. But she soon turned away, and Adrien pulled his hand back. “So, um… fair’s fair,” she started up again. “Are you happy working here?”

Adrien didn’t hesitate to nod. “Honestly, it’s hard work, but it’s something that I chose, for once. This is something I myself am doing. I don’t want to say the novelty of doing this hasn’t worn off yet, but it feels… worthwhile.”

Marinette nodded. “Have you considered other paths or what you want to do for the future? Or do you see this being long term?”

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know, yet,” he said. “Honestly, this whole ‘I’m my own person and on my own’ thing still hasn’t fully caught up to me yet. I feel like I’m still playing pretend. It’s… weird.” He turned back to her, forcing a smile. “Hazard of growing up super sheltered, I guess.”

Marinette hummed. “Well, I think you know Papa will love having you around as long as you plan to stay.”

He smiled, a genuine grin this time. “Yeah, I know. And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you mind having Asshole Agreste around?”

Her expression changed from shock to irritation. “Are you really gonna dredge up that old nickname? No, wait!” Her brow furrowed in a mix of anger and confusion. “Where did you even hear that? I never called you that here!”

He grinned a little wider than he’d thought he would. “Chloe.”

Marinette growled.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know I don’t think of you like that anymore, right?”

He couldn’t help teasing her a bit more. “I don’t know. Do I?”

Marinette glowered at him, and he burst into laughter again.

With a growl, she turned away, crossing her arms with a huff. “Just turn on the anime again. I need to see Princess Bitch get her comeuppance.”

Adrien laughed. “We’re only on episode fourteen. You still don’t get to call her that yet.”

“Why?” she cried. “What’s gonna happen in the next few episodes that changes? Does she get worse? And if so, how? She’s already about as low as she can go. Like, almost past Chloe-level.”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. Just wait and see.”

9. Baking Lessons

Marinette felt like she was up to her ears in information.

After her talk with Adrien, she decided that she should do her research on the fashion industry as much as she could. But she also knew to take everything with a grain of salt. Only once she felt prepared enough would she make a decision on her future.

On one hand, it was satisfying to pick up her dreams again, dust them off, and put plans to them. On the other, it was overwhelming, and more did once did Adrien’s warning of “don’t burn out your passion” cross her mind.

It was well into the afternoon that she realized a break might be in order and food would be beneficial.

She headed down into kitchen, only to startle at the unfamiliar face there.

“Um… what are you doing in my house?”

Adrien glanced over his shoulder to look at her, then shot her a smile. “Your parents asked me to. They each had their break and said you hadn’t been down all day. So now it’s my turn for a break, and they asked if I’d take a minute to make sure you ate.”

Marinette looked at the sandwich on the plate he extended towards her. After staring at it a moment, she realized she should take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Busy?”

“Yeah. I… kinda forgot the last time I was so engrossed in something that I forgot to eat like this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… I decided to dig into researching the fashion industry.”

Adrien turned back around, glancing at her with surprise. “Oh? How’s it going?”

Marinette’s lips pursed in thought. “Up and down. Every other article seems to pull me the opposite direction.”

“Fair,” he said with a nod. “Which way are you leaning now?”

“The ‘This is bullshit. Why do I want to be in this hellish industry?’ direction.”

A lopsided grin flashed across Adrien’s face. “I feel that on a personal level.”

“I’m sure you do,” she muttered, walking over to the table to have a seat. “But enough of me griping. You? Have you thought of your future at all since our talk?”

He grabbed a paper bag on the counter, pulling out a tupperware container with a sandwich of his own inside. “Not really.”

“Not really?” she probed, pointing at the seat directly across from her.

He took the hint and took a seat. “I haven’t given much thought to anything beyond the baking lessons your father has been giving me. I mean, maybe one day I’ll go to school for something, but I’ve really decided to give myself a full year of this before committing to anything. Let me learn how to be an adult on my own first before I move forward, you know? It’s easier to start running when your feet are solidly under you.”

“Understandable,” Marinette said. “But just so you know, I’m going to hold you to that, now.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. I’d like you to know you have six months, three weeks, and five days remaining before you have to make a decision.”

Adrien froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth.

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle.

“Is that a legit number or one you just threw out.”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think that when it comes to you, I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

She giggled, feeling a little too giddy for her liking. She played it off with a wink. “Got to keep you on your toes somehow.”

Adrien scoffed. “Don’t worry about that,” he dismissed with a charming smile that she hated to admit could knock her off her feet if she were standing. “You already do.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #teasing #fluff #and a heart to heart talk #Bonus points to whoever guesses the anime XD

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