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husbandohunter · 3 years

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May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

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Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons

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auroranotsogreat · 3 years

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GOJO MEETS NANAMI'S GIRLFRIEND

AN: Since this is my first fanfic for the first time in forever, there may be mistakes, and this is a subjective work, so it may not fit your own sense. Thank you!

warnings: none.

“It will be okay.” She said. “I know you think he is really charming and all but nothing can change my mind. You should trust me on this one. This makes me very upset. Do I have no say in my feelings?”

He turns his gaze to her. Before saying anything, his eyes trailed on her lip line, her eyelashes, and he made it stop when his eyes met hers. “you don’t know him.” He returned his laptop.

“So what?”

“hm?”

“I said,” she raised her voice, “so what?”

“well,” he gasped uncomfortably, “he is nothing like me. He is everything that I am not, and can’t be. He is fun and easy going, he can always make you laugh. Hell, he is even better than me as a sorcerer. He could protect you better than me. You wouldn’t even realize.”

“Jeez. I should’ve met him before you then.” She chuckled.

“Don’t.” he spat.

“It was just a joke!”

“Not a good one apparently. Do you see me laughing?”

“You never laugh anyway.”

“Auch, dear.”

“Truth hurts, Ken. Deal with it.”

/ / /

“I guess this is the mystery girl!” Gojo shouted with the sight of her. “Nanami, my man! At last! I thought you were going to marry me or something. You always had that look on your face.”

Puzzled, “what look?” Nanami said.

“The one that ‘I want you just for me’ look.” He imitated Nanami’s squint.

Without waiting for an answer from Nanami, Gojo turned his gaze into the girlfriend. “You must be….. . I’m Gojo Satoru. But you can call me love.”

She laughed at his audacity. “Hahah, you are funny. It is very nice to meet you.”

“It is my pleasure.” Gojo kissed her hand and waited for a while to release it. Not too much, just to enough to make Nanami jealous. “So, what did you learn about me? Did he say that I was the best jujutsu sorcerer? And not just that, I am those kids’ teacher, too. He said you are not familiar with our kind.” He said while he was pointing out Itadori and his friends. “How did you two meet, then? Give me all of the juicy details! Nanami is a black box, it is almost impossible to learn about you!”

He turned to Nanami. “Actually, why don’t I and her take a quick walk without you? Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He chuckled. “Maybe I will. No promises.”

Nanami took a step right in front of him. “Manners, Gojo.”

“Ahem. You two talking like I am not even here.” She took Gojo’s arm and started to move the opposite direction. “Gojo, I accept your request. And I will answer your every question. Just leave my boyfriend alone.”

Gojo turned to her and gasped. “Boyfriend, huh? How cute!”

/ / /

“So, tell me girl, how did you meet?”

“Well, my family, especially my sister had a “curse” problem. Something was attached to her and lived with her for a while. One time we were in a train to our house, he approached us and ask all kinds of bizarre questions. Then, he gave his number to me and told me to call him if anything weird happens to my sister. By the way, I never called him for my sister anyway.” She gave him a knowing look.

“I knew it. You were the one who initiated it!” Gojo clapped his hands with joy. “And then, and then?!”

“Well, I was curious how he actually managed to heal my sister, and after a week or two, I called him to ask about it. He didn’t remember me at first, and he said I should forget what I saw. But then, with a big sigh, he accepted to give me some information. And without even realizing, we talked for hours. I guess you know the rest.”

“I know he didn’t want anything to do with you.” Gojo said bluntly.

She opened her eyes with shock. “Wait, seriously?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry hehe!” he raised his hand apologetically.

“Elaborate. Now.”

“You are weird.” Gojo said. “If you want to learn, okay.” Gojo slowed his pace for her to reach him. “You know now, our job is not very safe your kind. You can’t see, you can’t even feel the curse around you. You can be in a mood easily, and attract one or two cursed spirits. And it’s not like a peaceful branch, either. Thus, Nanami’s enemies can go after you. And at the very beginning, you were making him work overtime. Less demons to fight, more chance for you to survive. What an idiot.” He laughed as if he said something really funny.

“What’s so funny about that?” she looked at him, puzzled.”

“He came to me you know. To protect you. And more.” There was the knowing look again, but now it was on his eyes. “Without even seeing you, I rejected him. But now that I saw you live and breathe, well can’t say that I have no regret.”

She slapped his arm lightly, “Not funny!”

“I am not joking. You are beautiful, interesting. And ADORABLY weird. I can see why he loves you. But if he had tried his chance with me, we would’ve been better couple. I AM beautiful. Definitely more than you.” He winked. That audacity!

“I pretend I didn’t hear the last words.” She laughed. “well, it is good to know at least some of you. He never lets me visit here.”

“Can you blame him, girl?”

“Nah.”

“Good.” He held her hand and picked his phone with the other. “Give me your brightest smile. I am gonna send this one to Ken.” *click* “Let’s go quick to see his reaction.”

/ / /

After having a nice meal together, Nanami reached out to her waist and pulled her on his lap. “Hello, beautiful.”

“hi, handsome.”

“You didn’t tell me what did you talk about this morning.”

“hm?”

He squirmed on his seat. “with Gojo.”

“Nothing significant.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he asked me all the cliché questions like how we met and why you an-”

He paused her with a quick question. “Why me?”

“Are you really asking me this?”

“Yeah.” He waited patiently to have an answer.

She stood up and sat beside him. Her lower leg under her butt was a clear signal that they were about to have a serios talk.

She put her finger under his chin and lifted his face to meet him eye to eye.

“Ken, this is the most ridiculous question you’ve ever asked me. Of course the answer is ‘I don’t know’.”

He looked very tense. She could even feel the tense muscles under his skin. But he didn’t say anything. He let her continue.

“You have many pros and cons. You are the best kisser I’ve ever felt, but you are the most jealous. You always put the first place the ones you love, but you forget about yourself. You always talk about how you hate your job and working overtime, but I see the joy when you meet the little ones.” She clasped his hand into hers. “You care too much, but you undervalue yourself.”

She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Kento Nanami, and I don’t need a reason to love you. I do, and I always will.” She smiled. “Do you have any objections?”

“No.” he kissed her passionately. “Hit me when I ask again.”

“I wouldn’t dare!” she laughed. “But I have a question.”

“Whatever you please.”

“Did you really ask Gojo to protect me and more?”

Silence.

“Ken?”

“Did he really say that to you?”

“yeah.”

Silence again. “I am gonna kill that man seriously.”

“It’s true, then.”

He sighed. “yes.”

“why?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t need his protection. I have you.” She continued with a frown. “and more? Really Kento, very respectful.”

“I was afraid of letting you down. There is a reason why we don’t have close relationships. I was scared of love. It terrified me. It was your personality that frightened me most. Now I am loving it but it was different at first. I always thought Gojo would be better fit for you.”

“A man whore would suit better than you huh? I thought you were smart.”

He chuckled. “Not a good choice for you?”

“Not even the slightest. I prefer self-pitying selfless idiots.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Idiot? Really?”

She bit his lip and smiled “hhm.”

“now you need a punishment.” He pulled her lifted her up. With laughs and giggles, the happy couple vanished behind their bedroom door.

#nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #gojo satoru

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

—————————————————

The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it. It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too. I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one.

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #h2m #spencer reid self insert #angst #smut

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moonlightserenadeeznutz · 3 years

Text

Remus shows Sirius around Wales.

(Part 1) for @daylily-evans

~ It was during Sirius’s sixth year that Remus asked him if he wanted to spend the holidays with him and his parents in Wales. Sirius was rather surprised by the invitation, as Remus had never brought up the subject of Sirius meeting his parents before, but it didn’t take Sirius long to enthusiastically agree to the invitation.

Sirius spent the last week or so of the school term worrying. He didn’t know much about Remus’s parents, only the facts, and he knew even less about Wales. He knew Remus was from an area that was mostly Welsh speaking, and that it was very rural. Sirius didn’t expect that he’d fit in very well. But Remus had always spoken well of his parents, especially his mother. From what Sirius had gathered, they were basically the opposite of Sirius’s own parents: happy, loving, accepting. So Sirius hoped that this would mean they’d like him.

“You don’t need to be so nervous. They’ll love you. My mam loves everyone,” comforted Remus one night. Sirius had crawled into Remus’s bed, as was his custom, and expressed his concerns about the upcoming visit to Wales. Remus stroked his hair, and wasn’t really concentrating, too focused was he on just looking at his friend, tracing Sirius’s pink lips and olive skin with his fingertip. Sirius himself couldn’t focus either. Remus’s voice and his touch were just so relaxing. He was fast asleep before you could say nos da, cariad.

~ The journey from Hogwarts back to King’s Cross felt quicker than usual, or at least it did so for Sirius. He mentioned this to Remus, who raised his eyebrows and said: “For you, perhaps.” And Sirius had to apologise- to Remus, James and Peter, who had all had the misfortune of sharing a compartment with him- for having asked question after question for approximately four hours. He was a nervous speaker. He was an everything speaker.

“Do I need to know any Welsh?” Sirius had asked. “Like, will they understand me?” Remus looked at him incredulously.

“Sirius... my father is literally English.”

“Your mum then.” Remus blinked.

“You do know that people in Wales speak English, don’t you? In fact... a lot of Welsh people don’t even speak Welsh. You’ll be fine, Padfoot.”

~ The train screeched to a halt. The four boys gathered their trunks and their pets and exited onto the platform in a haze of steam and whistles.

James was the first through the barrier, then Sirius, then Remus, and lastly Peter towing behind.

James caught sight of his family pretty quickly and rushed over, waving. His parents waved back, grinning from ear to ear. Peter too, quickly scuttled off to his grandparents who were standing by one of the benches. The two boys turned around just before leaving the station and waved their goodbyes to Sirius and Remus.

Sirius waited with Remus. He hadn’t greeted his own family for years, mainly because he never went home for the holidays, except during the Summer, and for the past three years his home had been with the Potters.

Remus turned to him a little awkwardly.

“They’re always late,” he explained. “It’s not very fair that they have to drive all the way from Wales to London.” Sirius just smiled lazily at him.

“S’alright. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Remus’s parents turned up around ten minutes later, looking rather flustered, but cheerful nonetheless when Remus waved them over.

“Sut wyt ti, Cariad! Collais i chi gymaint!” Remus’s mother hugged him with an embarrassing passion that made Sirius silently giggle. Remus’s father, Lyall, was more stoic, and stuck to ruffling Remus’s hair in an affectionate manner.

“Hello, son,” he greeted. “The house has been awfully empty without you.” Remus smiled, the kind of smile that Sirius loved. He could tell that Remus was relaxed and happy, and he was glad that Remus’s family could provide that. Sirius didn’t know if he should introduce himself, not knowing how much they knew about him, but Remus’s mother, Hope, greeted him with just as much enthusiasm than she had with her son.

“Hello, sweetheart, you must be Sirius!” She said, in a wonderfully thick Welsh accent. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Remus talks about you all the time!” She hugged him. She actually hugged him! It was nice, really nice. He’d never been hugged with such maternity before. He shot a look at Remus, who was blushing at Hope’s last statement, and grinned.

“Does he now? All good things I imagine.” Lyall held out his hand for Sirius to shake. Sirius took it, suppressing his grin in order to appear as respectful as possible. “Hello, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sirius. Remus tells us you’ll be staying. We’ve set up a spare bed in Remus’s room. You two don’t mind sharing, do you?” Sirius almost choked trying to contain a laugh.

“Of course not, sir. We’re certainly used to it -ahem- what with... the dorms and everything.” Lyall nodded, and picked up the two trunks. “We’re taking the car. I’m afraid it’ll be a bit of a squeeze.”

~ The car was a bit of a squeeze, but Sirius didn’t mind. Lyall and Hope were in the front, he and Remus were in the back, and their legs were almost touching. Almost. Until Remus slid over a little to the left. Then they were pressed up against each other. His parents never noticed.

For the next four hours, Remus mainly slept. He was catching up on the sleep he’d missed on the train, while Sirius was asking all of his incessant questions. Sirius felt a pang of guilt that he’d taken away Remus’s time to catch up with his parents, but they didn’t seem to be bothered by it. They were used to their son’s almost permanent exhaustion.

As they crossed the border from England to Wales, Sirius kept his eyes fixed out of the window, eager to see the country where his friend had grown up. All of the signs were both in English and Welsh: “Welcome to Wales. Croeso i Gymru.” He liked that. He wasn’t sure why, but he did.

They went through cities first of all, lots of shops and houses and cars. But all the bustle soon filtered out into countryside. Houses became fewer and farther between and a car was spotted every ten minutes or so. Remus had woken up by then, and he pointed at various places and offered descriptions about how they fit into his life.

“That shop’s owned by Mrs. Hughes.” He pointed at a small, grey-stone building with a few chairs and tables outside, with signs in the window and a pink frilled canopy. “She’s nice. Widowed. Kids grown up. Hardly speaks a word of English, but she doesn’t need to. She’s lived here all her life. Never had any desire to leave. I think she’s been out of the country maybe... three times? And she’s sixty three! But she makes the best cakes in Wales. No competition. She used to give me these tiny little muffins when I was a kid, free of charge. She still does sometimes.”

“Over there is the little school house.” Another small, grey-stoned building, but this one had an adjoining playground, with a swing and a slide and some monkey bars. “I never went there myself but it only goes up to Year 1... that is.. five and six year olds. Then they go to the primary school down the road. Mam wanted to send me, but... well. Me being a werewolf and a wizard... dad didn’t think it would be very wise.”

More and more buildings were pointed out, more neighbours, more houses, more shops, more stories. In the space of an hour, Remus had managed to paint a vivid picture of his entire childhood, and Sirius listened to every word. He could see a six year old Remus carrying a muffin on the way back from Mrs. Hughes shop, stopping in front of the school house playground, looking in wistfully at the noisy, lively children. Walking across fields towards his own house, cutting through pathways, climbing over fences. Sirius hoped Remus had been happy back then.

————

Part 2

Welsh translation:

Nos da, cariad (nos dah, ka-ree-ad): Good night, sweetheart.

Sut wyt ti, cariad? Collais i chi gymaint (sit wit ti, ka-ree-ad? Ko-ll*-eye ee kh-ee gih-m-eye-nt): How are you, sweetheart? I missed you so much!

Croeso i Gymru (Kreh-sho ee guh-m-ree): Welcome to Wales.

*The double L sound is hard to describe: basically, form the L sound with your tongue, as in, put your tongue to the roof of your mouth, but instead of saying it, blow air through your mouth.

#wolfstar #sirius x remus #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #oneshot #welsh Remus lupin #welsh remus #remus living in wales #sirius meeting Remus’s parents #harry potter #Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter oneshot

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Because @jrob64 asked for another chapter and I can’t tell her no.

Midnight

Chapter 5 — The Pumpkin

Summary: In which our heroine really gets into it

Chapter 5 of 7 on AO3

“I had the craziest dream last night, yes I did.

I never dreamt it could be

Yet there you were, in love with me.”

-I Had the Craziest Dream, Harry James and His Orchestra and Helen Forrest

Emma may as well have been glued to his side. His hand was planted firmly on her hip, keeping her cradled next to him as he made the rounds like a seasoned politician. She should have been upset at his overbearing manner, forcing his way into her life and nearly ruining the biggest payday she was ever likely to see.

Instead, she curled into him and realized that instead of bacon, he carried the scent of cocoa with cinnamon. She wasn’t disappointed, though. Not even when he looked at her with a knowing glance after she took a long sniff at a particularly tempting patch of skin just above his collar.

She tried to tell herself it was simply because that was what a wife would do when reunited with her husband and she didn’t want to make a scene.

The party was winding down when the dreaded introduction to Lance happened. He stayed in the shadows, burning holes through her as she clung to the husband who was supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic. Even from a distance, she could see the challenge in his stare. Instead of being discouraged, the other man was planning to fight his way into her affections.

She had hoped to bypass the whole thing, but Guinevere was determined since her other method of entertainment was spoiled, she was due a different kind. She stopped them with a bright smile and hard eyes as Killian was attempting to maneuver away from the breaking crowd. When Guin waved at someone behind them, Emma caught Arthur’s wandering gaze and silently summoned him to help. “Baron Jones, I’m so glad you’re able to join us for the weekend. Lancelot did his best to keep your wife company, but I’m sure he’s no replacement for you. Lance, do come over and meet the baron.”

With a rueful smile, Lance joined the group and nodded tightly at Killian. “Baron Jones, you’re the envy of every man here. You’re quite lucky in your choice of wife.”

“Oh, it wasn’t luck. Some said the Baroness would do anything for a piece of the pie, even take the name of a man she barely knows. But we both know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart? It was love at first sight.” His fingers moved further down her hip and she felt his body shake with contained laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort, growing bolder in his caresses with the knowledge they had an audience expecting her to be eager for his touch.

Arthur choked on the shrimp he had just eaten, breaking the tension and causing the posturing males to quit glaring at each other and Guin to abandon her machinations to thump her husband on the back. Arthur was too busy trying to breathe to notice his wayward wife had a look of true concern on her face as her pounding turned to a light caress while he regained his breath.

Calling a waiter over for a glass of water, Guin continued to rub Arthur’s back as she addressed Killian. “We’ll move you to a larger room where you will be more comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. The Baron and I are used to sleeping apart while one or the other of us are traveling and we don’t want to cause you any trouble. Tomorrow is soon enough,” Emma assured the woman even as Killian’s arm tightened around her. By then, she will have convinced him to leave quietly. She turned to him with adoring eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “Isn’t that right, Captain?”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. It’s why we have staff,” Guin said before Killian could answer, her tone distracted. For once, Emma thought she wasn’t causing trouble on purpose. The woman’s attention was still on Arthur, whose face had yet to return to its normal color.

“Did you hear that, love? No trouble at all,” Killian echoed, his touch flittering lightly along the exposed skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He was wrong, of course. It was all kinds of trouble.

—

“What a wonderful room,” Killian observed, ushering her into the large group of rooms ahead of him. He hadn’t spoken two words to her since they entered the home with their hosts, focusing instead on debating the merits of Neoclassical versus Georgian architecture with Guin. The other woman was charmed, her expression warm and open as she hung on his every word, neither of them noticing their partners wore matching scowls.

“It’s the bridal suite. I’m so glad you approve, Baron Jones. It’s not often we get visitors of your stature in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Perfect. In many ways, this is like a honeymoon for us, isn’t it, darling?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering how much longer he planned to play the part of doting husband. He remained in constant contact with her, his fingers gripping her elbow, his hand brushing her cheek or lingering at her waist. It made it impossible to think. Now they were in a bedroom, staring down a long night of complete isolation once the Soberanos left them to their own devices.

“Ahem, yes, my dear Baroness, there is a panic button on the end table. One push and it will wake the entire household,” Arthur explained, addressing Emma but giving Killian a look that threatened retribution for any shenanigans. She could tell the man was uncomfortable leaving her with him. His gaze kept seeking hers as if to get some reassurance she would be okay.

Guin reached out and swatted his arm. “Arthur, don’t scare the poor girl. We’ve never had any trouble here. You will be perfectly safe and I look forward to getting to know you both better over breakfast.”

Killian smiled as they walked out, shutting the door behind them. Walking over to the minibar, he commented, “Lovely couple. So glad you ran into them.”

His calm attempt at normalcy made her want to scream. So she did. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How did you find me? Why did you find me? What do you want?”

“Which one of those would you like me to tackle first, Swan?” His back was to her as he poured a drink. “Although after all the sleepless nights you caused me with your little runaway stunt and whatever the hell this charade is supposed to be, perhaps I deserve to have my questions answered first.”

He downed the rum in one gulp and turned back to face her. He looked hollow, his gaze searching for something, his hand outstretched before he thought better of it and ran it through his already wild hair. “Why did you run, love? I wasn’t going to hurt you. And what are we doing here?”

“I did it for your own good,” she insisted, moving to the other side of the room because the temptation to touch him was so strong she could taste it, along with the lingering flavor of his kiss. “As for why we’re here, I’m trying to start a new life. I have no idea what brought you to this neck of the woods.”

“I’m trying to do the same thing. But my version doesn’t involve false titles and cozying up to obnoxious cads.” He crossed the room in four quick strides and pulled her into his arms. “Why did you do it, Emma?”

If he had tried to push for more, she would have been able to resist. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he just always knew what she needed, so he simply held her. She couldn’t help but relax into it. The weight and stress of the last few days melted away as she listened to his steady heartbeat drumming under her cheek. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He chuckled, pressing a featherlight kiss on the top of her head. “Why did you pick my name when you don’t even seem happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Captain. I…I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair when you’d been nothing but decent to me. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Door Number One once or twice since then.”

“You’re dodging the question, Swan. Or should I say Jones?”

“I know you want it to mean something, but it doesn’t. I needed a name and yours was the first that popped into my mind,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Why do you think mine was the one on the tip of your tongue, Swan?”

She was stubborn enough not to answer but not strong enough to pull away.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman who has been alone for a long time, even when she’s not. You muscle your way through life on grit and nerve because it’s the only way you know how to survive, and you crumble at the first hint of softness, not because you don’t crave it with every fiber of your being, but because you don’t trust it to be real. The only part I can’t figure out is how long it will take to admit to yourself you took my name because I mean something to you.”

“Captain…you need to leave.”

“You can’t run away from what started between us. You’ve tried repeatedly, but it’s useless. We’re right for each other; I know it deep down in my bones. Don’t you?” The soft kisses he brushed against her forehead made her feel like she was on fire. Warmth flooded her skin and pooled in all the places she wanted to feel his touch. “Do you really think love is easier in a place like this? Don’t be a fool, Emma.”

Her name came out like a breathless prayer, and despite her best intentions to step away, to make him understand they were a mistake waiting to happen, she couldn’t resist cradling his jaw and bringing his lips to hers again.

It was all the encouragement he needed. The next thing Emma knew, her back was against the wall, his hands running the length of her form. His mouth soon followed, abandoning hers and trailing down her throat. She could feel the way his muscles tensed, his body hard and unyielding as she fought to get closer.

She would climb inside him if she could figure out how.

“The bed. Now.” His voice was a ragged command she wanted to obey but couldn’t quite manage as she felt his hands gliding beneath her dress and slowly tugging the silk up along her hypersensitive skin. He pulled back and gazed at her through hooded eyes, his mouth red from the heated combination of her passion and lipstick. “Or better yet, let’s go. Leave and never look back.”

It was like he doused her with cold water. What was it about this man that made her lose her mind? And her heart, for that matter. She gaped at him, disheveled from head to toe, and whispered, “No.”

“No? To the bed or to leaving?”

“Both. I’m sorry,” Emma said, pushing his chest gently to add distance between them.

He moved at the light pressure she used but captured her hands before she could lift them. Placing a reverent kiss on the inside of her wrist, he murmured, “Your kiss tells a different story, Swan.”

“I kiss everybody that way.” She was lying, and they both knew it, but she felt she needed to try to regain control of the situation.

With an exasperated expression at odds with his adorably wrecked appearance, he asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Does that include your new friend Lancelot du Lac?”

She didn’t need any more evidence that Killian Jones was not like Neal Cassidy, but if she did, his measured voice and probing question about Lance would do it. Neal was an incredibly jealous person, probably because he was cheating during their entire relationship. She couldn’t imagine having a calm conversation with her ex about a man who practically tried to pee on her leg while being introduced to him. He would have accused, he would have pouted, then he would have made her feel like garbage. But this man in front of her simply asked. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like a ticking time bomb that will blow up in your face.”

Maybe it was precisely what it looked like then. “That’s not your concern. It’s my face, and it won’t be the first time.”

“But your face is quite dear to me, Swan. I’d do anything to put a smile on it.” He pressed another one of those barely-there kisses on her wrist, this time letting his lips move further up the inside of her arm slowly.

“Then you should leave. Tonight.” Even she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. It didn’t help that her head had fallen back against the wall, eyes tightly shut so she could savor the feelings he was inducing without pesky things like lights or coherent thoughts getting in the way.

“Not a chance, love. We’re a package deal. We stay or go together. Now come to bed, and let’s work on that smile.”

She allowed herself to move but was surprised when he went to his bag and tossed a shirt in her direction, grabbing one for himself as well. Turning around to give her privacy, he didn’t join her until she clicked off the light on her bedside table. Wrapping her in his arms again, he buried his face in her hair and murmured, “We’re leaving tomorrow if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

“If believing that will help you sleep tonight, I won’t be the one to burst your bubble,” she answered with a yawn. “About that smile…”

“You’ll have to keep it in your pants, Swan. I’ve changed my mind. Our first time won’t be on a bed of lies. I’m not going to let you lump me in with the rest of this fantasy land you’re playing in and then be dismissed when it’s all over. Besides, I need some kind of carrot to dangle in front of you to convince you to leave.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Maybe your carrot isn’t big enough to make me abandon my plans.”

“I’ve had no complaints, love, but I look forward to earning your opinion on the matter.” She felt his laugh more than heard it, the mattress shaking slightly and her hair rustling. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Of what?”

“Seeing you in my shirts.”

It wasn’t the way she thought he would put a smile on her face, but she couldn’t grumble when the last sound she heard before falling asleep was his gentle snore.

—

The lightness to her step she attributed to the man still passed out in her bed. Their bed. In the bridal suite.

When had life gotten so beautifully complicated?

The weather was bright and clear, the air pleasantly warm. Emma followed the sound of voices out to the terrace and saw most of the guests were already dining al fresco from buffet tables running the entire length of the house and laden with every manner of food one could imagine. She was filling up two plates when she felt someone approach her from behind.

“If you’re going to lurk, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder to verify the identity of her visitor. The brooding silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Hold this plate.”

Lance took it from her and held it aloft with all the patience of a toddler who had his favorite toy taken away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, and yourself?”

“Miserably.”

“That’s too bad. You should ask them to put you in the bridal suite next time. The mattress is great.”

“Only if you agree to join me,” he retorted, a hint of his former confidence resurfacing.

She actually started feeling sorry for him. It was hard going through life so scared of love you only made connections with unavailable people. She would know. “You’ll have to take that up with my husband. Although I warn you, he’s the jealous sort.”

Glumly, he picked at the stem of a strawberry and muttered, “I eat husbands for breakfast.”

“How odd. Are they better with toast or fruit?” She snorted at her joke, but he remained impassive. “Come on, Lance, it’s not the end of the world. We had our fun, but the cat is back. Behave.”

They ended up at the head table with Arthur, Guin, and Sidney. It was the last place she wanted to sit, but since it was also the only place and she was hungry, she decided to bear it as best she could. The conversation flowed easily; plans for the day were discussed and discounted in the same breath.

As she contemplated a third plate, Killian rushed to her side. Kneeling in front of her and wrapping her hand in both of his, he announced, “Darling, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Torn between amusement and anxiety, she responded with a single syllable. “Oh?”

“Yes, I didn’t check my email before I arrived last night, but it must have downloaded while I still had a signal. Thank goodness, because I had a message from my mother. Little Hope is sick, and we need to get home right away.”

Looking unconcerned with the newest development, Sidney asked around a mouth full of French toast, “Who’s Hope?”

“You didn’t tell them about Hope?”

“Well, you know how it is…new friends have so many things to talk about it’s hard to fit it all in,” she said with a half-hearted smile, wondering what he was up to.

Ignoring her, he focused his attention on Lance. “Hope is our three-year-old daughter, the light of our lives. And she’s running a high fever and has a horrible rash.”

She had been attempting to swallow, but when he announced the existence of their imaginary daughter to the group, she managed to dribble most of her mimosa down her chin. “Crap.”

“I know, darling. It’s terrible news.” He ran his hand up and down her back in soothing circles, but when she looked at him, he had a dare in his eyes.

Challenge accepted.

“Maybe she has measles. Or chickenpox. Do those still exist? I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sidney responded, dismissing the drama and helping himself to some of the biscuits from the basket at the center of the table.

“We can only hope so. At times like these, a child needs her parents. We should leave. Now.”

“You’re absolutely right, Captain. But your poor mother. Where’s the nearest phone? I need to call immediately and check-in,” she said, making a show of squeezing Killian’s hand and then turning to her friend and adding, “Arthur, would you ask some of your staff to meet us at our room in a few minutes to help us pack while I make a call?”

With a wink, he was off. Emma followed shortly thereafter, hoping she was giving him enough time and that he had glommed on to her plan. Guin had her taken her arm and was leading her into the hallway while everyone else trailed behind. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry about your little girl.”

Emma believed her, and for the first time, she could see why Arthur would forgive her anything.

“What are you doing, love? With the time difference, they’ll be napping. Better to let them sleep. We can call from the airport.”

“No, I couldn’t bear to leave without an update.”

Reaching the old-fashioned hallway phone, she picked it up and dialed the number for her room, ensuring her body concealed the keypad from view. It rang twice, and then Arthur answered. “Your fake husband is a troublemaker. I think I may have found a new best friend.”

“Oh, Mother, thank goodness we reached you! How is our little Hope?” With a side-eyed glance at Killian, she continued, “What did the doctor say?”

She could hear Arthur’s smile as he continued, “No worries, Emma. She doesn’t have measles at all. It’s just a plain old case of a bad hangover. Hope got into her daddy’s rum, and we found her in the gutter this morning.”

With a guffaw she tried to pass off as relieved laughter, she responded, “Oh, how cute of her! Like father, like daughter. She loves it so…” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and told the group, “She’s all better. The fever broke, and the spots are practically gone.”

She heard Arthur giggle like the little girl her daughter supposedly was and ask, “Is it safe to hang up?”

“What was that, Mother? Hope wants to talk with her Daddy? Of course, he’s right here.” She turned to him, a smile on her face when she noted his grudging respect, and handed him the phone.

He reached for the device as if it were a venomous snake and placed it against his ear. Emma wasn’t sure what Arthur was saying, but Killian’s eyes got wider and wider until he replied, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better dear heart. We’ll see you soon. Listen to your Nana.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? It wasn’t anything serious. Just a heat rash. We don’t have to leave after all.” Impetuously, she threw her arms around him.

He kissed her temple and whispered, “I’ll make you pay for that, love. This isn’t over.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (Prologue)

“I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

It was an ordinary day of work. I’d just gotten to the office when Li Man’man opened the door and entered the room.

Li Man'man: No way, no way! You’ll never believe it! I’m doing all of you a favour by reminding you to behave today.

Brother Mao: Huh? What’s gotten you into such a tizzy?

Li Man’man rubbed the goosebumps that had arisen on her arms, shivering as she recalled what she’d seen.

Li Man'man: I saw Mr. Lu in the elevator just now! He was acting different from his usual self and the look on his face was absolutely frigid…

Li Man'man: I thought I’d turn into a block of ice in no time flat the moment our gazes met!

MC: What?

Hearing her recollection, I couldn’t help but to suddenly think back to what happened yesterday during lunch hour.

❖☆———————————★❖

At noon, I’d compiled a set of documents related to jewellery designs, just as Evan had requested and brought it up to his office.

A voice sounded from within when I knocked on the door of his office. It sounded unusually indifferent.

Evan: Come in.

❖☆———————————★❖

Pushing the door open, I saw Evan leaning against his chair, his brows were furrowed, hanging low, and there seemed to be thick storm clouds brewing in his eyes.

He was still staring blankly out the window in a daze when I went up to his desk.

Evan: Just leave it there.

MC: Okay.

Hearing me, he turned. The dark look on his face instantly lightened up.

Evan: Hm? Oh, it's you.

Evan: Sorry, I was just thinking about something.

Recalling the unusual look he had on his face when I entered, I couldn’t help but step on eggshells around him.

MC: Don't worry about it. Here are the documents you requested. Are you… okay?

Before he could reply, however, the landline on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting our conversation.

MC: I'll leave you to it!

Evan nodded apologetically at me and I took my leave from his office.

❖☆———————————★❖

Did something happen to make him unhappy…?

With his personality, he wouldn’t tell anyone about his troubles even if something WAS troubling him, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

When I got home at night, I switched on the TV. It was coincidentally broadcasting a camping-related program.

The lush green forest, the joyous chirruping of birds and their songs… Everything there was powered by Mother Nature’s power of healing, capable of washing away all exhaustion in one’s body and mind.

I didn't know why I thought of Evan again, but I did.

MC: There’s a gigantic forest at the outskirts of Guangqi City and it’s clear weather out all the time now.

MC: Maybe he might feel better if I can somehow get him out to the forest for a walk...

An idea popped into my head and I scrambled to fetch my phone, searching for the familiar name in my contacts.

I was just about to hit the call button when I suddenly thought of a plausible issue.

MC: I don’t think he’ll reject me regardless if he wants to go or not if I invite him directly like that.

MC: Maybe I should feel around for his thoughts about it so that I don’t unknowingly coerce him into anything.

After pondering it for a while, I hit the dial button.

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan: (Y/n)? What's the matter?

MC: … Evan, I… err, have gotten interested in coffee lately.

Evan: Really? What flavour of coffee do you like? I'll be glad to recommend you things.

MC: Oh… I haven't decided yet.

MC: Ahem, have you ever seen a coffee tree? I've never seen it myself with my own two eyes! I really want to go see one~

Evan: About that…

He sounded hesitant, there was no doubt about it. I awkwardly scratched my head.

Did I come off too strange by bringing up that question out of the blue!?

Evan: Coffee trees have strict requirements when it comes to the environment they’re grown in. And as far as I’m aware, the PH levels of the soil and the amount of rainfall here in Guangqi City do not fit their criteria.

Evan: So, I'm afraid it'll be hard for you to spot one in Guangqi City.

Evan: But we can go see one together in Africa during your next vacation if you'd like.

MC: Eh? Africa? No need then.

MC: Ahaha… then, how about...

When there’s a will, there’s a way. I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the dark path in my mind.

MC: Then, what about a bamboo pith?

MC: I had some bamboo piths while eating hotpot a couple of days ago! I find that it’s a very amazing fungus! I really want to see one growing for myself!

Evan: It is. Although information is now widely accessible, it still hits different when you see it with your own eyes.

Evan: When are you free? We can go check it out together.

MC: Brilliant!

That's what I've been waiting for you to say!

MC: Are you free next weekend?

Evan: Yes, my weekends are open.

Evan: You… Are you this happy just to go to the forest for a walk?

MC: Hahaha, yeah! Super happy!

Evan: I'll come fetch you in my car next Saturday at 10 AM. Will that be alright?

MC: Sure! We're all set then!

Evan: Then, have you ever hiked or camped out before?

MC: No… but don't worry!

MC: I’ve watched lots of videos about camping on the internet! I’ll prepare all the equipment we’ll need this time!

Evan: Alright. I'll be leaving it all to you then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Soon, the appointed day arrived.

When I came downstairs lugging along a rucksack that towered about half a person tall, Evan, who was waiting by his car, looked slightly taken aback.

Evan: You…

I found myself blanking out as I stared at Evan, standing not too far away,

This was my first time seeing Evan dressed in such a casual manner. The soft and form-fitting material of his clothes made his shoulders appear wider and him, much more reliable. It was reassuring, to say so in the least.

MC: Haha, did I bring one too many things? Actually, I think so too.

MC: In case we don't find a bamboo pith today, we can still camp overnight in the forest with this.

MC: Don't you think?

He smiled as he approached, taking the heavy bag off my shoulders.

Evan: Sounds good.

Evan: You must have fun and enjoy your first camping trip, if anything.

The tenderness in his countenance was the same as always. Where was that coldness to him that a certain someone had mentioned?

I secretly felt a wave of relief wash over me.

MC: Let's head out then!

❖☆———————————★❖

After driving on the suburban roads for nearly an hour, we finally reached an area near the forest on the outskirts of the City.

Evan gently took my bag out of the trunk, slinging it over his shoulder.

MC: That's pretty heavy. How about you let me carry it myself?

Evan: Since we're going to be travelling together anyway, how about we both give it our best?

MC: Alright then. Thanks!

❖☆———————————★❖

Stepping into the forest, lush green foliage surrounded us all around.

The ubiquitous noise and lights were all isolated from here, creating a secluded and serene atmosphere.

The air was warm, humid, and carried the sweet refreshing scent of vegetation. Relaxation was literally oozing out of my pores.

I turned around to look back at Evan. He was standing ramrod straight as usual with a blank expression on his face.

MC: Evan, we're here to relax!

Evan: Thank you. I am very relaxed.

MC: You can afford to be more relaxed. Here, follow me. Open your arms like this, take a deep breath, and go "Ahh…"

He smiled helplessly at me. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he mimicked my stance, opening his arms wide.

Evan: Ahh…

MC: Hahaha. Yup, just like that.

I took out a map and a compass from the bag.

MC: I will be the leader for today! I’ve already marked all the routes we can take. Let’s see… let’s go this way first!

Evan: Alright. As you say, leader.

We proceeded through the forest according to the directions shown on the map.

We chatted about the animals and plants that we saw as we walked. Or more accurately, Evan was the one introducing them all to me.

Evan: Sorry. It must be boring hearing me talk about all these.

MC: Nope. I’m actually even more interested after hearing you talk about them.

MC: Also, your expression changes into something a little different from what I’m used to whenever you talk about something you like.

Evan: Something that I like? I’m not really sure if it constitutes as me liking it, but I think I’ll like it if you do.

He smiled in a manner as if he didn’t mind it at all, stopping as he took out some tissues and a bottle of water from his bag.

Evan: Here. Wipe your sweat and hydrate yourself.

MC: Thanks.

The soft bubbling of running water entered our ears as we stopped to rest.

MC: Looks like there's a small rover up ahead, just like how it's drawn in the map!

Evan: Looks like the leader's leading well.

❖☆———————————★❖

Following the sound of running water, we soon found the river.

The clear stream rushed across the pebbles, the crystalline liquid glittering under the golden light of the sun. The wind that blew past the waters was very cool and very refreshing. It felt great on my slightly worn-out body.

MC: The cool breeze here by the river’s really nice! And the sound of dripping water’s also very calming.

Evan: Looks like there’s a flat rock over there where we can sit.

Evan: Do you want to rest for a bit?

I want to…

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

Build Me Up Buttercup *Part 5*

WARNING: This chapter contains mention of sexual assault, please read at your own discretion. Also, I’m sorry these last two chapters have been kind of dark but next chapter will be super fluff I promise!

If you need to catch up:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

....And you just ran out?”

Your roommate’s judgement came through loud and clear, even through the phone.

“Yes! What the hell was I supposed to do?!” You tried defending your actions. You called them to feel better, not worse.

“Well, first of all you shouldn’t have LIED,” They kept their snarky tone.

“I didn’t LIE….per say,” You paced back and forth, twirling your hair in your fingers nervously. The silence after your statement was like you could SEE their faces just giving you “that” look.

“Oh okay what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hey yeah you’re right Fin, I was an absolute party wreck until I couldn’t be anymore’?”

“I mean I don’t--” You heard footsteps coming up behind you, so you swung your phone to your side, cutting off their sentence.

You turned to see Rafael standing there, that permanent concerned look for you pasted on his face.

“Hey...are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just needed some air,” You tried your best to stay calm and nonchalant.

“Are you sure? Because you--” He started to say something but you quickly interjected.

“Actually you know what Barba I’m kind of on the phone right now, can I meet you back inside?” You motioned with your phone, kicking yourself for being cold to him right now but you couldn’t deal with anything else at the moment.

“I...uh...yeah, sure,” He shook his head with an awkward smile, and walked back inside. Relieved, you put the phone back up to your ear.

“Aww, how cute. Barba cares!” your BFF’s voice cooed through the speaker.

“Yeah, in like a ‘dad caring’ kind of way,” you rolled your eyes.

“Oooof, I wouldn’t start throwing that term around, we might have to start talking about ‘daddy issues’, Y/N,” they giggled.

“SERIOUSLY?” You practically screeched into the phone, thanking every god you could think of that Rafael had gone inside before that comment.

“I’m just sayin! I’m ALSO saying that you need to go back in there and tell your squad the truth,” they returned to a very serious tone.

“Yeah I guess…” You sighed, knowing they were right.

“And I’m sorry I can’t be there with you holding your hand while you do it babe. But…”

“But what?”

“But maybe Rafael can?”

“Jesus, can you please be serious right now?”

“I am being serious! You just told me he helped you calm down earlier, and that wasn’t even half traumatic as this is gonna be,” They insisted.

“I don’t….how…?” Your face scrunched up trying to think of NON creepy ways you'd ask for someone's hand.

“Whatever, do what you want; But I do suggest telling them. Clearly you're not going to be able to keep this under wraps, and I doubt you want to keep freaking out on your co-workers. Trust them, trust RAFAEL,”

You sighed again, you knew they were right. Olivia said it herself, it was important to have a squad you trusted.

“Alright I’ll call you later,”

“You better!”

You took a deep breath and walked back into the bar, your hands shaking as you reached your booth. The group all started to speak, but you put your hand up.

“No just-- Let me talk. Fin, I am so sorry,” You addressed Fin, who shook his head in a “don't worry about it” manner.

“No, I really am. I’m sorry I freaked out on you and I’m sorry...I lied. Kind of,” the squad again looked at you in total confusion.

“God….okay, how do I….? Um….”

You started trying to form sentences in your head, words jumbled around in your brain. You started to panic again, when you felt a hand grip yours under the table. You snapped your eyes open and looked next to you where Rafael had taken your hand. He gave a small, supportive smile making you suddenly feel at ease.

“Okay. So, like I said I was pretty much a ‘caged’ child. I was homeschooled, I didn’t have any friends, just academics. Being born a ‘prodigy’ sounds good on paper, but I just always felt like a show pony. Or an alien experiment. People were always coming by to check out the ‘genius 5 year old’ play Mozart, or ‘the brilliant 10 year old finish calculus problems in under 30 seconds’.”

You took a deep breath, watching their listening faces. Too much detail hon, get there faster.

“Um, anyway. I graduated ‘high school’ at fifteen years old. I had barely made it through puberty, and I was already done with my academic childhood. Obviously, I wanted to immediately enroll in college, if for no other reason than to get away from my insanely controlling parents. But big surprise, they had a problem with it. It took me a minute to convince them that it was the right next step, full ride scholarships to literally any school in the country helped. And I mean, ANY school. All the Ivy leagues sent out their top recruiters to speak with my parents about having the ‘prodigy’ attending their establishment.

So with that, I was able to convince my parents that I knew what was best for me. I told them I was smarter than them, so clearly I could parent myself better. And God help them, they believed me,” You had to pause again, tears catching your throat. Rafael gently started rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“So, I started at NYU that fall, just after my sixteenth birthday. Sixteen years old, the only child in a university full of adults,”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Sonny whispered to Amanda who nodded in agreement.

“So I got paired with this room mate Layla, who was the polar opposite of myself. She was gorgeous, totally socially gifted, but dumb as a rock. Her daddy had paid her way into the school,” you rolled your eyes just thinking about her.

“And truth be told I loved her at first, because she was the sweetest girl. My first ever real friend. She took me under her wing and gave me a complete makeover; socially and physically. I had NEVER had guys look at me the way they did after she helped me. It was....intoxicating.” You paused in shame, picking at your jacket.

“So, naturally, I wanted to hang out with my friend. My ONLY friend. And hanging out with her meant going to all the coolest parties, frats and sororities. I was SIXTEEN, I didn’t….I didn’t think,” You bit your lip and stared at the floor for a moment before continuing.

“I lost my virginity at those parties,” you muttered quietly, and to your surprise the team started reacting.

“Wha-- Wait wait wait, guys that’s….that’s not even the bad part yet,” you gulped. Jesus the judgement was quickly getting real.

“Anyway I...was pretty much a huge party girl slut,” you shrugged. “I’d go and party, and hook up with random guys, and never thought twice about it because I thought ‘that’s what college girls do’,” You scoffed at your younger self for even having that notion. How could you be that smart and that stupid at the same time? It was baffling.

“And one night, it bit me in the ass,” You sighed, here comes the hard part.

“I don’t...I usually got so wasted that I didn’t CARE who I was having sex with and most of the time never remembered WHO it was anyway but-- but I’m pretty sure that night I didn’t want to,” You breathed out and looked up, willing the tears on the rims of your eyes to go back in where they came from. Rafael’s hand gripped yours tighter, making you feel safe.

“But it is what it is, this guy did what he did and left me on the floor in a frat house,” You scoffed again, this time tears dripping down your face. You couldn’t believe there was a time that you had been that pathetic, to just be left laying on the floor like a blow up doll.

“I guess Layla found me and took me home, because I woke up in my own bed. But I had bruises and hickeys ALL over my body, and just….brutal stuff,” You trailed off while you picked at your food, not wanting to go into any more detail.

Suddenly, as if turning on a light switch, your entire demeanor snapped back into ‘normal mode’, you wiped the stray tears away and cleared your throat. You were

“AHEM So...anyway, after….that, I told Layla that I couldn’t hang out with her anymore if that’s all we were going to do, and she understood. She didn’t like it, but she understood. The next semester I got a new roommate who was pretty much like myself, boring and socially inept, so I went back to the thing I knew best-- academics. I changed my major from biochemical engineering to law, because I didn’t want anyone else to go through what I went through without a voice. And after that, and a WHOLE lotta therapy, I just pushed that whole semester I lost deep, DEEP down, you know like a totally healthy person,” You tried playing it off with a laugh, but they weren’t amused.

“But...just thinking about Mary Fahey,” you sighed. “That girl had everything going for her, she was probably really smart and had a whole life ahead of her. She made the bad decision ONCE, to go to a frat party and she’s DEAD. Meanwhile, I was a stupid slut for a whole semester and the worst I got was bruised up and a pregnancy scare.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” Amanda gave you a look.

“What? That I should have been killed? Well why not? Why HER?” You protested, sipping your hurricane. It was unsettling to the squad how little you seemed to care about yourself.

“....I knew there was more to it in the bathroom,” you heard Rafael’s soft voice beside you.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t know how to tell you,” You looked at him with apologetic eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I was...trashy,”

“Ok now hold up” Fin interrupted.

“First of all, you need to stop throwing words like ‘slut’ and ‘trash’ around, especially about yourself, Y/N,” he took your hand.

“You said it yourself, people make mistakes. Hell if I worried about the amount of dumb shit I did when I was a kid I wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning,”

You had to break into a small sad smile after he said that, nodding your head in an understanding manner.

“And whether or not it was a one time thing or a ‘phase’, no one ever deserves to be assaulted for overdoing it at a party, or anywhere else,” Olivia chimed in. “EVER.”

“Exactly what the Sarge said. Assault is NEVER ok, in ANY circumstance. Even when you think you were ‘slutty’ by sleeping around, those guys are accountable too.” Sonny added. “Taking advantage of an inebriated woman is not okay,”

“AND it was statutory!” Rafael finally spoke up, his fists clenched. It was as if it had taken this entire time for him to fully process your story, and now that he did he was PISSED.

“Okay, Rafa, calm down,” Olivia placed a hand over his.

“No Liv, these guys should all be in prison for having sex with an incapacitated SIXTEEN YEAR OLD”

“Will you knock it off, counselor?” You hit his arm. “I didn’t tell you that story so you would go after a bunch of random idiots for something that happened over 10 years ago!”

“Well they should pay!” Rafael yelled again, but after you softly stroked his shoulder, he seemed to calm down.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Rafa,” you warily threw out the pet name, happy when he responded with a small smile. “But I’m over it. Mostly. On days that aren’t like this,” you added with a joking laugh, trying to ease the tension.

“Well, I really appreciate you telling us the truth, N/A,” Olivia nodded at you, the others followed suit.

You gave the first genuine smile since you came back in, looking at Rafael. He took your hand once again under the table, giving it three small squeezes. Before you knew what you were doing, your head was dropping onto his shoulder and you were scooting closer into him.

“Get a squad you can trust, right?”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #build me up buttercup

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needdatbag · 3 years

Text

Drinking You/II

Notes: Soooo....Here’s part 2..Thanx for the notes guyssss <3 ♥

Summary: You encounter a stranger on your way back from the grocery shop and everything about him pulls you in.

Pairings: Eren Yeager x Reader; Various pairings eventually

Warnings: NSFW(not today tho); mentions of smoking.

Part II

’’Kid….Am I not interesting enough for your small, forgetful brain?’’ asked Levi from his desk, his grey eyes expressing the dissatisfaction he had about your mistake.

THE FILE. The Eren Yeager file. The file he stole from your bag after he finished...well...screwing you. To say that you were upset about the fact that you were used as a mere excuse for theft was an understatement. You were pissed as hell.

But your boss came first, as his death glare made you snap out of your one sided grudge with the memory of the charming terrorist you encountered. It was definitely wrong and probably a bad move but you couldn’t tell Levi what happened. So….you lied.

’’For the 27th time, I am so sorry that I ‘accidentally’ threw an important file into the shredder..I was cleaning my desk and I wasn’t paying attention.’’ you sounded honest but a little mechanical as you said the same excuse for awhile now.

Levi raised one of his brows at your nonchalance but sighed and said:

’’At least you didn't lose it. That would have been a big ass problem.’’

You clenched your fist behind your back. This was not ending well for you.

’’Please..I’m not that idiotic.’’ somehow your tone didn’t betray you but a small voice in your mind retorted immediately, ‘You are more than idiotic and you’re definetley screwed.’. You gulped.

A soft knock interrupted the beginning of your inner mental breakdown. Armin entered Levi’s office carrying a stack of files in one arm and holding what looked like a coffee cup in the other. He placed the files on Levi’s desk and handed him the cup. You suddenly blurted out your first thought.

’’But you don’t drink coffee.’’

Levi’s death glare almost made you take a step back. Well, maybe Eren Yeager took more than the file...he stole your brain too as you suddenly find yourself incapable of thinking. You want to slap a hand over your mouth. What the hell was wrong with you lately?

Armin watched you curiously for a moment. You feared his intuition, he was too sharp sometimes and that made you anxious in the current situation, but you tried to play it off anyway.

’’Ahem, yes, I heard it from Mrs. Zoe? Ha, am I wrong ?’’ you laughed awkwardly at the end of your sentence.

Armin shook his head, his short blonde hair hitting his face in the process. ’’That is right. As expected of you, Y/N, your mind always picks up the smallest details. The Captain drinks tea. I got a few extra cups to go, just 10 minutes ago. You can help yourself from the kitchen...Though I’m pretty sure you love coffee more.’’ he said while giving you a kind, small smile. You smiled back trying not to break eye contact.

‘You might be my best friend’s soulmate.’

You cringed internally. Not because you didn't find Armin attractive, because you thought the boy could even model if he wanted to, but because of what happened later after Eren said that phrase. You shook your head trying to banish the image of a long haired, 6ft man on top of your naked body. ‘Not the time, not the time.’

You wondered what Armin would think about the fact that you got to meet his best friend before he did. As you found out today, turns out they have not met in more than a year. You felt guilty for keeping your mouth shut. But it seemed like the best course of action. You needed to act solo for a while.

In a safe way, of course.

Levi motioned for Armin to leave but as he got closer to the door you saw his eyes discreetly peering at your neck and then at your face. Your hair was covering most of your hickeys but Armin might have noticed something anyway.

Once he left the room, Levi got up from his seat and approached the window.

He was wearing a plain white dress shirt and black pants with a pair of dark brown leather shoes. He was not going on the field today, you could tell that much because of his outfit. He was in his thirties now but his looks still caused many casualties between the female officers, especially the MPs who were more than enthusiastic when Levi passed them by. He was one of the best at his job and his handsome face was obviously a bonus.

You always said it was the mix between his good looks and his cold attitude that was pulling people in, but he was far from an unfeeling person. He usually cared too much about everything. Seeming distant was just his way of preserving himself. People were impressed just by hearing stories about him. But most of them had no idea how much he suffered. You knew. Not that he liked that. He never liked the fact that fate seemed to always make you meet again and again.

The first time, as his student when he was teaching in highschool. The second time as his blind date, Hange’s courtesy. The third time as the new member of his team, fate’s courtesy this time.

Each time you look at him you remember how selfish you’ve always been. You hate the thought but you know and can’t deny the fact that one way or another you always became a burden for the man sitting right across you. Right from the start.

----------------------------------------------------------------------- ’’Sir, is she worth it?’’ an eighteen years old you asked a younger Levi who was just exiting through the school’s gates. As he whipped his head back to match the voice to the person, his stern look softened just a bit. It was late and you were supposed to be home long ago. Instead you were only leaving now, a bag full of books in your right hand. You always stayed in the library until the school closed. You didn’t want to go home anyway.

’’That’s not an ideal question to ask about your sister, is it, brat?’’

You started laughing. He knew better than to refer to his fiance as your sister. You hated the bitch and there was no bond whatsoever between the two of you. She was just the awful daughter of the amazing woman who took you in after your parents kicked you out.

’’Can you give me a ride home, sir? I am afraid my frail arms are unable to carry these books until I reach the nearest bus stop.’’ you said in a dramatic tone while Levi just massaged his temples out of frustration but made a gesture towards his car anyway.

You smiled at him as you entered the car. He was driving in silence, without any radio music in the background, without any small talk. You wanted to tell him so many things, you wanted to express your indignation regarding the fact that your ‘sister’ was cheating on him and using him as an alibi so her mother won’t ever suspect she’s dating one of the biggest drug dealers in the region, you wanted to complain about the fact that he wasted his good heart on someone who wronged him before, you wanted to ask him why was he clinging to unhappiness so desperately. You could never understand. Even as you watched as the road light travelled on his face while he drove, you could only think about how well he managed to hide his pain. People didn’t notice that he was alone most of the time. Or that he rarely smiled.

It made you sad, it made you think of a part of yourself. Except you constantly fought for your right at happiness even if sadness never left your side. No matter how annoying that made you, you still kept going. But he didn’t even seem like he tried. He looked like the loneliest person on earth and he hid it so well that if you said what you thought out loud, people would just think you're looking into it too much.

You reached your house and his car stopped. Somehow, only now you noticed the pleasant smell inside the car. It smelled like fruity tea-bags which you assumed came from a spare ’stash’ he had somewhere around. You smiled. He always drinks tea during the breaks. It makes him look so refined too. Without any intention you giggled. He noticed and raised a brow, asking:

’’What makes you so happy that you’re hesitating to get out of my car? Hm? Move it, you didn’t even had dinner yet.’’

You turned your whole body towards him while you spoke in an excited manner.

’’I was thinking about you, sir. The way you enjoy your tea during breaks and how that’s the most happy I saw you since I came to this school.’’

With a confused look on his face he tilted his head but let you speak nonetheless. Your voice became softer while you looked down, your hair falling over your face.

’’You see, I believe that happiness can only come from being honest with yourself. Lie to the world, lie to people but if you lie to yourself you’ll just tint your soul to the point even the tea you love so much won’t taste the same anymore.’’

Levi’s eyes widened slightly. He knew you were outspoken and that sometimes you caused trouble because you meddled in things that were none of your business and you spoke way too much but he couldn’t deny the way you arranged your words. He knew you had a kind heart and that you were trying to reach his. He almost wanted to smile. ‘Stupid kid.’

He didn't say anything as you exited the car but watched you until you entered the house. You were right, he knew he was cheated on, he knew he was used but there was another side to his truth too. He used the idea of a fiance to run away from both his past and future.

But looking at you who had nothing but wanted everything, he thought that maybe, just maybe...he became a coward. And he always hated cowards.

As you watched him drive away, that was the last time you met him as a teacher, as he would lose his job in two weeks due to murder acusations regarding his fiance. Your ‘sister’.

You’d hear from your classmates how a tall, blonde detective cuffed him in front of the whole school while he put up a fight.

Then he would be gone and you wouldn't hear anything about him for a few years. -------------------------------------------------

’’So, care to explain why you are so distracted today?’’ he was gazing outside the window but you couldn’t help notice the way his voice was softer now that you were alone again.

’’I was unable to rest well last night, however you don’t need to worry, sir. I’ll snap back as soon as I drink some coffee, just as Armin suggested.’’

Another lie. You actually slept like a baby because you were so exhausted. The bed felt so warm and the man next to you smelt so good that you felt like you were floating. Only your dumb ass could sleep so relaxed next to a criminal.

You pondered before asking the next question.

’’What type of person used to be.....Eren Yeager?’’

His name sounded so different from your mouth or maybe that was your own perception. You recognised a little stinginess in your tone.

You pulled out your phone and started a voice recording. You were allowed to do so when it came to declarations. You were a profiler afterall. You needed to go over conversations and details, multiple times to complete your work.

Levi turned away from the window and took a few steps closer to you. His expression looked indifferent but you knew better. There was regret mixed in his feelings.

’’That brat wasn’t the most talented nor the smartest agent around, I actually often thought he was more of an idiot than most people I knew..’’

You stopped yourself from laughing. ’Unprofessional...Don’t do it. Let him continue.’

’’He was too much of a hot head for his own good but he listened to my orders and tried to look at things from a more mature perspective, perhaps we might have asked too much from him. Our department was in trouble and we lost more people than you could count, in a very short amount of time. We had an operation that lasted for more than 2 years. Eren was the key to that operation. Everything circled around him. We wanted to find answers so badly, we sacrificed so much that we never saw the fact that we had spies among us and the whole operation became more than a national issue. You said you read the file before you shredded it, right? I also mentioned it in the meeting before. You know what’s the issue I’m talking about, right?’’

Your breathing becomes more alert and a bitter feeling takes over your heart. Memories from your distant childhood try to resurface but you push them away. The past always catches up.

Your voice becomes more serious when you answer.

’’After 14 years of peace we might have another war with the neighbour nation, Marley, is that right?’’

Silence fills the room as Levi only nods. He seems lost in his own mind for a while and you can only guess what he might be thinking about. He was a soldier back then and this whole deal pissed him off.

’’Eren betrayed us. No warning, just a vague explanation. He almost wiped out their whole capital, one of the biggest cities in Marley, he killed VERY important people and now we are threatened left and right. This dumbass is very close to starting the biggest international conflict this country ever faced. Can’t believe that brat had the nerve to come back and now he’s under our jurisdiction again. We have to catch him and fast. Everyone you’ll ask will say he changed, but I always knew he had it in him. He might just destroy the world...no one can cage him. He’s that type of monster.’’

Your body suddenly felt numb, a weird sense of fear trying to take over you. His face, his expressions, everything flashed in your mind repeatedly, pieces of the conversation you had, the way he touched you, the note he left. For the first time in a very long time, you felt lost in translation.

Things were not adding up. Someone was wrong here. Something was definitely missing. You paused the recording and exhaled while rubbing your temples.

’’This should not be handled by a departament full of people that know him. Someone must really want to bury the Survey unit in shit.’’

A humourless laugh escaped your mouth.

’’Sorry Levi, you always hated when I cursed. Forgot about that.’’ you said, a sad look plastered on your face remembering many of the arguments you two had mostly because of you.

He frowned and took another step closer to you, unconsciously wanting to pat your head but you were already heading for the door. He snapped out of it and looked at his hand. He got carried away for a second, wanting to comfort you.

’’I guess you’ll always have a soft spot for me, sir...but we shouldn’t be very comfortable around each other. You were always the better man and I was always the wicked little girl.’’

’’L/N..’’

You exited his office. ‘Unfortunately, I’m still the same.’ you thought while walking to your desk and getting ready to work on the details of some cases that became piled up in the last week.

As you sat down and flipped through various lists of criminals, you tried to silence your mind. Sometimes your mental state was just like a furious sea storm. You have the tendency to drown in your own dark and poisonous thoughts until your identity becomes foggy. But work was a great distraction and thankfully...you sure had plenty of it. So you rolled up your sleeves, took a sip of the coffee Armin put on your desk (somehow the fact that he did sweet gestures like this made you very warm inside) and started working on your reports ignoring intentionally a certain criminal whose face you really didn’t wanna see again today, not on a screen, not printed...you'll deal with the Yeager case at home. You had to catch up on your work anyway.

Right? You weren’t running away or anything...right?

People around you became colorful shadows that moved around exiting or entering the headquarters while you were scribbling furiously details about different cases. When your phone rang, an hour before the end of your shift, you almost jumped out of your chair. You looked around and realised everyone was out and you were the only one left. Probably investigating, or some kind of emergency.

On the screen of your phone Jean’s face was popping up with the incoming call. When he first gave you his contact number he took a selfie of himself because he thought he looked ‘cool’ in that moment and you ‘had to have his handsomeness on your phone’, his words not yours. You rolled your eyes at the memory.

’’ ‘Sup Kirschtein? I’m busy and I swear to God if you call me ‘cause you're bored while being on some stakeout I will…’’ He burst into laughter and answered: ’’Calm down Y/N, I only did that like five or six times and you might’ve even liked it, don’t lie to me now.’’ he said in a charming yet joking voice and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the people who could easily put you in a good mood. ’’Wanna get out to get some ‘’fresh air’’ on the roof? It turns out we sorted out what we had to do sooner than expected….well sooner than I thought. That damn Floch will kill me one day...His attitude might just get us both killed.’’

Of course he wanted to smoke and complain about his partner, Floch. Jean didn’t seem like the type to think a lot, especially when you first got to meet him. He’s loud, a little bit of a bragger and has lots of opinions on anything but he was an exceptionally capable man in times of crises. You witnessed that a few times but you also heard it from Sasha: ’’Marco, Jean’s ex-partner, always said that Jean was the one most capable of leading us out of trouble and Marco’s intuition about people was as good as my instincts about danger. He knew what he was saying.’’

When you reached the roof, Jean was already smoking while looking at the red sky. The sun was almost gone. He looked lost in thought, barely noticing you until he heard the sound of your lighter. You took a long puff and exhaled. For some reason you felt exhausted and even if the silence somehow pleased you, it felt unlike Jean. He always liked to talk a lot around you, your smoking breaks being full of gossiping. It was almost always the two of you, given the fact that you and him were the only smokers in the department. You had a hunch that Armin smoked too but only when he was truly bothered by something, Connie tried it once and said he liked it but you knew he lied, Sasha said she didn't like the taste(did not surprise you at all there) and Mikasa thought it was stupid and unhealthy and you honestly agreed.

’’Why do you smoke, Jean?’’ you asked out of the blue. You realised you never asked him that. For some reason the image of Eren staring at you while holding his pack of cigarettes in one hand flashed in your mind. You took another inhale of smoke trying to push the image away. Jean didn’t respond immediately but when his eyes fixed on the cigarette he was holding.

’’Marco used to smoke here. It was so unlike him. He really didn’t seem like the type and he tried to hide it all the time...he was even carrying perfume around.’’ he said and let out a short bitter laugh. For some reason he placed a hand on his face trying to hide his expression. ’’I started smoking after he died. I guess..well fuck...I miss being with my friend. When I’m holding this cigarette it feels as if he’s still here. As if I could …’’ he hesitated before continuing,’’....ask him for advice about what I should do..’’

You got closer to him and bumped your shoulder into his in a friendly manner. He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you. You could see he was emotionally drained but you flashed him a cheerful smile even though you felt like shit as well. You looked up at the now, darker sky and said in a loud voice:

’’By smoking this cigarette I dare ask the amazing Marco Bott from heaven to lend me some of his wisdom. Please let me give our friend here a good answer to the question troubling his, not so young anymore, soul.’’

’’I’m only a year older than you, Y/N.’’ he said, his voice a little amused now. You rolled your eyes.

’’You’re an old soul, Jean. My shift will be over soon so spit it out...What’s bothering yo-’’

’’Did you study Eren’s file?’’ he asked out of the blue. You sighed and took another cigarette out and placed it in your mouth.

’’Not yet. Tonight I plan on looking over it. Why? Wanna tell me something about him that might help me in writing his profile?’’

Jean shook his head and took a puff out of his cigarette.

’’Once you look over it, after you read our statements about him that are also included there, before writing any report, I want you to tell me something that might help me.’’ you raised a brow in confusion but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was staring straight ahead at the city covered in the red light of the sunset.

’’Who do you think will hesitate when shooting? Us or Eren ?’’

You ran a hand through your hair and looked at the city too. As the night approached, it suddenly looked more dangerous.

‘Who indeed…?’ . . . . . Before leaving you stopped by Hange’s office to drop some of the work you completed for the day. Moblit, her assistant, the guy who you knew for a fact was the only one besides Levi to be able to control your workaholic Director, was trying to force feed her some pizza while she insisted that she had to look over some DNA samples found at a random crime scene.

’’M’am, I know you worked in the lab for most of your life but now you should be dealing only with the work Erwin had to do when he had your position. He didn't try to be in ten places at once! Come on, eat this slice. You didn't eat all day! Do I really have to message Levi right now? You know he always gets pissed when you act like this.’’

When Hange noticed you at the door she took the opportunity and sprinted to the lab leaving a stressed Moblit behind who was still holding a pizza slice in his right hand staring at you in disbelief . Poor man. You placed your work on Hange’s desk and eyed Moblit and then the pizza. You smiled like a cunning, old, hungry dog.

’’I’ll call The Captain for you if you give me two slices of that pizza. Deal?’’ Moblit sighed. ’’Deal.’’

So there you were now, walking out of the building towards your car, while happily munching on your pizza slice. You planned on eating the other one at home, later, if you’d get hungry while working late. You entered your car and threw your stuff on the passenger seat. You started the engine and drove home while listening to the radio. Weirdly enough there was a radio podcast about astrology. You found it weird because this type of podcast would usually be broadcast in the morning. When you heard your zodiac sign being mentioned you couldn’t help but pay a little attention. You were curious afterall and maybe some luck was ahead of you. ’You never know.’

’’As I said John, the (your zodiac) sign should really be careful about what they say and do...The ruler of divine punishment, Jupiter seems to have entered a rare conjunction. The past is catching up to them and it looks like they can’t run away from certain confrontations anymore. It could be with someone else or maybe with themselves. Also, it would be especially good to avoid Fire Signs around this time for (your zodiac), as all three, Aries, Leo and Sagittarius are chaos bringers in this Jupiter conjunction. So you heard me? Don’t try to dig into anything too much these days...You might just bury yourself.’’

You started laughing.

’’Pfft, yeah right... What a load of crap.’’ you said displeased as you turn off the radio.

You finally reach home. After you park and lock your car you enter your apartment building and as always you take the elevator, too lazy to drag your tired body on the stairs. You only think about soaking yourself in a warm bath as soon as possible. You might even use the new bubble bath stuff you got last week. ’Yeah, I think I will do just that. My body aches everywhere anyway, I need some relaxation.’

So immediately after you unlocked your door, you dropped your stuff, and went straight to the bathroom to turn on the warm water. Hell, you might’ve even skipped on the way as you were so happy to finally just have a moment of forgetting everything about anything and just indulge in the warmth and the nice smell of a warm bath.

So happy that you didn’t even bother to turn on the light in the living room.

Because if you did, you would have noticed Eren Yeager, sitting on your couch with a gun by his side.

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

Preview:

You looked at Eren. You looked at the gun. You looked at the gun. You looked at Eren.

There were many things you wanted to say in that moment but strangely enough a rather unusual question was bothering you more than anything.

’’You never mentioned your birthday,’’ you said not believing you were actually asking this out of all things, ’’not that you forgot to mention things like your name or the fact that you’re right now, probably the most wanted criminal in the...world ...ha ha ....but who keeps track, am I right?’’ you laughed nervously.

’’My birthday..?’’ he asked while watching you suspiciously but calm at the same time. ’’Why?’’

You kept your distance. Your position was stiff and you couldn’t help but be surprised that he was right in front of you. In your house ...again...in less than 24h. Why in Isayama’s name was he here?

’’Nothing important really...Just something silly.’’ again, you let out a nervous laugh. You were in trouble and you didn’t have your fucking gun on you and your phone was in the bag.

Eren let out a sigh and shook his head.

’’Hm, shouldn’t you, miss profiler, know that about me already?’’ He placed his hands behind his head and leaned deeper on one of the back pillows. His position was relaxed but something told you to not risk going for the gun. It might even be a trap anyway.

’’March, 30.’’ he surprisingly answered after a short silence.

‘March...Weren’t Pisces in March? Nah, this man ain’t no Pisces...Too unhinged...What’s next...Oh.’ you closed your eyes in frustration, ’... Aries.’

’’Great, freaking Fire Sign. Of course you are.'’

You weren’t sure if you should listen to that type of radio podcast more often or

never again.

when you find out your signs are not the greatest match ever

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #jean kirstein #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #connie springer #sasha braus #hange zoe

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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Thanks a lot for answering! I wonder could you please give examples of everyday deeds/types of behavior of different primaries and secondaries? Like what are they like when there's a school test or when they need to visit a doctor? The more the better. Something more down-to-earth than the situations from the fantasy movies listed on the website that may never take place in the real world, something found in everyday life that will help someone identify themselves and mb others around them

I’m not sure I can do that, because frankly, your Primary House is a state of mind. It’s what you want and how you feel about things (or do not feel, in the case of Ravenclaws, ahem). But I can talk about a few things, particularly in response to Harry Potter, that can shed light on the state of mind of the Primary.

What I have most noticed about people in general is that we all have a built-in bias, and in order to find our true type—whether that is our MBTI type, our Enneagram core and tritype, or our Hogwarts House combination—we must abandon our ego defenses. What does that mean? We have to overcome our biases and want to know our true self, and own it, more than we want to fight against an answer that might not please us. In the Enneagram, I’ve noticed particular biases against being a 2 or a 6. Everyone wants to be the more “glamorous” 4 or the elusive, bookworm 5.

Harry Potter, for better or worse, introduced us to the concept of Hogwarts Houses, but also introduced us to a bias, because it made Gryffindor the most glamorous House, due to all the main characters (however unrealistically) hailing from that House. Or, at least, all the main characters we like. Ravenclaw is full of wise weirdos like Luna Lovegood, who irrationally believes in things no one can prove. Slytherin is host to mostly back-stabbing, snobbish cheaters. And Hufflepuff is an “afterthought” where all “the boring, nice people are.”

What I like about Sorting Hat Chats is… they made the entire system more interesting and a lot fairer. Now, Slytherin isn’t the only House with villains automatically placed in it: their villains have to be specific in their love (and not betray their family, because it is the house of My Family is My Life). This also means people, fictional or real, who prioritize their loved ones, are Slytherins. Such as Mr. Darcy, or Katniss Everdeen. Suddenly, being a Slytherin doesn’t seem so bad, right? Not if you are loyal to the ones you love! That alone will appeal to the mindset of a Slytherin, because they will think, “Of COURSE I am. Of COURSE my loved ones come first! They SHOULD!”

I have friends in all four Primary Houses, but I will use myself as an example of the Ravenclaw. When I was reading the books, having all the main characters in Gryffindor bothered me, because not only did it show a bias, but I felt some of the main characters ‘belonged’ in other Houses—such as Remus Lupin being a Hufflepuff rather than a Gryffindor. I also felt like Hermione belonged in Ravenclaw. But that is neither here nor there… my objections to the system came from the logical flaws in how she arranged it. It wasn’t realistic to have everyone ‘important’ or ‘admirable’ within the story come from Gryffindor. It was easier to have them share Common Rooms, but people don’t isolate like that and only befriend someone from their House. They look for like-minded friends who share interests, and would make them all over the place. It was my little Ravenclaw brain, pulling away at her system and finding flaws in its logic, but reacting from a place of logical reasoning rather than moral indignation.

When I took the SHC test, it placed me in Slytherin. And I was not opposed to that. In fact, I explored it for a long time, as I thought about how I respond in various situations. Slytherin appealed to me, because… I wish I could stand up for my family automatically. I wish I could prioritize my loved ones all the time. But I kept hitting upon the fact that – I like to think about things in a detached manner, and come to what I feel is a rational consensus. It’s more clinical and less emotional than Slytherins are—and it helped at the time that I knew a Slytherin, and could easily see both how possessive she was of people (they are “mine to protect” – she always reminded me of Slytherin Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings, with his “MY MR. FRODO”) and how, without fail, her sister came before even me, her best friend. Through comparison, I knew I had to be something else. So in typical Ravenclaw fashion, I went through and considered them all. Because, as a Ravenclaw, I want to be RIGHT more than protect my ego. I am always looking for the truth, even when it hurts. And I am always measuring the world against an ideal in my head, built up of my belief system. I do not go against my beliefs; I mold myself to them. And it shocks me to find others who do not, but who claim to be the same as I am. I take, for example, my Christian faith seriously—so what do you mean you are ignoring what your faith says, and doing whatever you want??? YOU MOLD TO YOUR BELIEFS, DON’T YOU? Well, yes, if you are a Ravenclaw, you do. If you are any other House, you do not.

The Hufflepuff Primary I know has a far more ‘felt’ opinion of the books and their sorting system. She got livid reading them, and thinking about how constantly unfair it all was, how biased Rowling was, and how Dumbledore was clearly playing favorites constantly with Gryffindor House. She developed a bad attitude about him as a result… which, of course, is coming from her being a Hufflepuff. To a Hufflepuff, people come first. They are all treated fairly and seen as equals. You do not discriminate, you do not alienate, you do not give unfair favors to Harry and his friends, just so Gryffindor can win the House Cup over and over again. She was actually so angry about this, from a Hufflepuff perspective, that she was willing to be a Slytherin in defiance of ‘The System’ until she realized that kind of mindset is… pure Hufflepuff. “You are not being fair about this, I will oppose you.” It’s all instinctual, it’s all emotional, and it’s all loyalty to the human race, which includes Slytherins. (This caused us some friction for awhile, until I realized it was “just a Hufflepuff” objection, because... how can you be mad at Dumbledore for that? It’s just a convenient plot device in the book! ... says the Ravenclaw who isn’t getting too emotionally involved. ;)

The Slytherin I know, by the way, denied being a Slytherin at first, because she felt ashamed of it. She has been taught to act like a Hufflepuff, that she SHOULD care about everyone all the time, but… she does not. She cares about her loved ones the most, and she would protect them above other people, every time. I pointed out to her that Hufflepuff fits her less than Slytherin, because “You ARE Katniss. You told me that once. That you identified so heavily with her, because you would go into the arena for your Prim.” And then she admitted it, and saw the gloriousness that is being a loyal Slytherin.

The Gryffindor I know is always looking for a Cause, and… as a Ravenclaw, I find that exhausting. She wants to be mad about things, because that anger gives her the fire she needs to do something about it. She has taken on big Causes by financially supporting the Causes she cares about, and done physical things about smaller Causes. For example, as a teenager, she came upon three guys tormenting a dog. It made her so livid, she charged straight at them, swearing and screaming at them to leave the animal alone, and it scared them all so much, they turned tail and ran. She just knew it was the right thing to do, and she and I often butt heads a lot, because she expects everyone else (meaning me) to be as passionate as she is about doing the ‘right thing.’ My more detached “well, let’s look at both sides of this issue” has no place in her black and white Gryffindor mind (no, that is WRONG).

Secondary Houses are… something that may take a little more time to figure out, as you think about how you handle the ‘unexpected.’

Gryffindors… have to speak up if they see an injustice, or hear something they disagree with. They are they person who cannot keep their mouth shut, they need to voice their opinion. They don’t care if you don’t like it or don’t agree, to not state their views would be antagonistic to their central self. My Hufflepuff friend is a Gryffindor Secondary. Not only did she get mad about the biases in Harry Potter, she complained loudly about it, to me, and to other people, and even in a blog post, because the injustice of it needed drawn-attention to, and dealt with, and she doesn’t really care if you disagree. That’s just how she rolls, about EVERYTHING. Because Gryffindor Secondaries state their views. They see an injustice, and they rush toward it. (My Gryffindor friend is also a Gryffindor Secondary: see dog being abused, rush in to do something about it!)

Ravenclaws… want to prepare for everything, and then rely on their own skill set to handle problems as they arise. They are the person who, when their bike breaks down halfway home, consider what they know about bikes (can they fix this easily?), and what they know about public transportation (am I going to be able to catch a bus home?), and make decisions from there. Or who study for a test in advance and show up, only to panic because they found out they read the wrong chapter in the book and know nothing about it. My father is a Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw Secondary, and he over-prepares himself with any useful knowledge he thinks he might need to combat a wide variety of situations—and then is stumped if confronted by something he did not prepare for, and knows nothing about. He is always trying to think ahead and prepare so that he doesn’t have to improvise anything at the last second—because he sucks at it.

It was a comparison with him that actually shifted me away from assuming I had a Ravenclaw Secondary, because… I don’t suck at improvising. I’m actually quite good at it. And I don’t over-prepare, because in true Hufflepuff Secondary position, I figure I can ask someone for help. And they always give it to me. But what really cemented the deal for me, in terms of recognizing my Puff Secondary House, were two—no, make that three, truths from my life. 1) Ravenpuffs distill complex information and put it back out into the world for others to enjoy (hello, Funky!). 2) Puff Secondaries show up and do the tireless work, clock the hours, and are highly reliable, which is… me. I have run this site day in and day out for years. I am punctual, fastidious, I put my responsibilities ahead of all else (even turning down fun occasions because I need to work), and I will painstakingly work on perfecting something, finishing something, improving something, or polishing something (even when I’m bored). In short, I show up and do the work. And 3) the truth that Puff Secondaries have friends to stand up for them, because they have proven themselves reliable and trustworthy, is no joke. A few years ago, I had trouble with someone online and, without being asked, three of our mutual friends came to my defense. Proof of the Puff.

Lastly, Slytherin Secondaries are highly adaptable. It’s no problem for them to shift their approach given the needs of the situation. It’s the equivalent of a friend you admire, but who puzzles you (if you don’t share their Slytherin Secondary trait) because… it seems like they are a different person everywhere you go, because whatever is needed, they can become it. They are the person who has no trouble with change and no need to plan, because they just trust that it’s all going to work out fine, based on their ability to adapt. It’s the person who shows up at a friend’s birthday party expecting it to be formal, finds out it’s casual, sneaks into the bathroom to rearrange their attire, and emerges ready to play Twister. Or who will be serious with you, joke constantly with your brother, and behave like a saint around your mom, according to whatever works and appeals to you the best.

Hope some of that helps, though it wasn’t explicitly what you asked for. Best this ENFP can do, since in-depth sensory specific examples require a heck of a lot more Si than I’ve got. :P

#question #hogwarts houses #ravenclaw #gryffindor #slytherin #hufflepuff #submission

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

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The Critique of Manners Part IV

~Or~

A Very Amused Review of Emma (1972)

One doesn’t really know where to begin with this one. I’ve watched a few of these 70’s/80’s period drama adaptations, but I’ve never written a review for one. I think the tricky thing is it doesn’t feel fair to judge them against more recent adaptations because the approach and quality are so very different to modern television making.

But people do. I’m sure it’s different for people who grew up watching these, who are just used to them and their objectively terrible, stagey quality and can look past that particular weakness on the sheer power of nostalgia.

So I’m going to try and find a middle-ground here where I ignore the stagey and obviously dated aspects and judge it primarily on its value as an adaptation – is it faithful to the book?

Let’s dive in.

Cast & Characterization

Normally I would start with Emma and Knightley but this time I’m gonna switch it up a bit and do them last because… well we’ll get there in a bit.

Let’s start instead with Mr. Woodhouse. I have to say, I kind of like this take. The 1996-7 and 2009 adaptations all kind of went for the same type of older man: a bit stout, or in Michael Gambon’s case… however you would describe Michael Gambon. With Donald Eccles, however, this version goes for a rather more frail looking Mr. Woodhouse; in fact to compare him to any recent Mr. Woodhouse, I suppose he comes closest to Bill Nighy (although the general characterization is of course very different.) He’s a ridiculous but lovable soul who seems always, of course, worried about his own health and comfort, but in his own selfish way, concerned for his friends and family as well. My only complaint is that maybe they over-utilized him.

I thought the casting of a plump Mrs. Weston (Ellen Dryden) was an interesting choice, and definitely different from other versions. Her acting was actually really good too.

I wasn’t quite so pleased with the characterization of Mr. Weston, on the other hand. I have huge issues with this script vis-à-vis the men, but Mr. Weston and Knightley in particular. The problem with Mr. Weston is how he’s written as just verging on uncouth at some points. There are way too many rustic contractions here: “Ain’t I looking well too, Miss Emma?!’ “’Ark at that eh? The sly young rogue!” “Oh I think it looks tolerably gay and festive, don’t it?” and then just throwing himself back on the grass and chortling when Emma makes her fateful Box Hill faux pas? Like, what the hell? I’m not saying he shouldn’t use a few casual contractions (“How d’you do?” for example) but he seems almost like a positive country bumpkin and I don’t think it’s appropriate; he doesn’t talk like that in the book and I’m just all-around not here for it.

Constance Chapman, a well-respected character actress of the time was cast as Miss Bates, while Molly Sugden, of Are You Being Served? fame was WASTED in the bit-part of Mrs. Goddard. If you ask me, they should have swapped this casting, since I think Sugden, an outstanding comedienne, could have done so much more with the Miss Bates role than the usual wittery-old-lady style chattering Chapman delivered.

Mr. Elton was played by Timothy Peters (Right) and was, eh, adequate. They did slime him up a bit by having him over-eagerly offer to fix Emma’s bootlace, which she points out isn’t entirely appropriate for a man to do, especially the vicar and it’s pretty funny; but other than that, he has all the appearance of being a pleasant young man, as Mr. Elton should – becoming less pleasant as the story progresses.

One John Alkin (left) played Mr. Robert Martin, and he, too, was adequate. There’s not much of him and, since Mr. Martin wasn’t one of those characters this version decided to approach more three-dimensionally, there’s not much to say about him.

Frank Churchill is… OMG IT’S PRINCE HARRY FROM BLACKADDER!

Ahem. Yes, Robert East (BETTER KNOWN AS PRINCE HARRY FROM BLACKADDER) plays a very agreeable (and smarmy, but not too smarmy) Frank. I think honestly this is as good as this part could get in the 70’s, although at 29 he was a little too old for the part.

John and Isabella, in an interesting (?) casting choice, were played by brother and sister duo, Yves and Belinda Tighe. I actually really liked Yves’s John Knightley (he’s actually one of the more handsome John’s, in a 70’s kind of way; for note-taking purposes I have nicknamed him “Not-Harrison-Ford”), but his sister as Isabella seemed kind of old and had just a really annoying voice. Also she doesn’t look at all like Doran Godwin, and Emma and Isabella are supposed to look somewhat alike.

The real casting stand out for me in this version is Fiona Walker as Mrs. Elton, although she too was a little old for her role, I’ve said before that there are no bad Mrs. Eltons (only bad accents) and she just absolutely nailed the insufferable chatter to a definitive standard (until the recent adaptations – 2009 onward).

I did however, get the feeling in this version that they kind of wrote in a through-line where Mrs. Elton is putting the moves on Mr. Knightley (to the point where they actually wrote out Mr. Elton from scenes he should be in) which was one of those unnecessary deviations which made me raise an eyebrow and also was just… weird.

Now my question is – why do all of the young women in this series kind of look like evil dolls?

Debbie Bowen, from a strictly book accuracy perspective is one of the most accurate Harriet Smiths I’ve seen – in fact we don’t get another this accurate (to my way of thinking) until Louise Dylan in 2009, who fits roughly the same model (fair and shapely). Its Bowen’s acting I don’t like, but I know that in the 70’s, this kind of simpering acting for this kind of character was just unavoidable. It was the style at the time, so I’m cutting her a break critically; but the performance just doesn’t cut it for me.

This Jane Fairfax (played by Ania Marson) is not my favorite interpretation of this character. At first I thought she was going to be alright, but in her first scene she bursts out and actually shouts in frustration at her chattering aunt (which she has some basis for, I’ll admit, since Miss Bates, in her muddle-headed way, could very well have unwittingly spilled the beans about Jane and Frank) but this is far more feeling than we should even have a hint of from Jane at this point. The whole reason Emma doesn’t like Jane (other than the fact that Emma is an attention whore and Jane steals her thunder by being so admired and accomplished) is because she’s timid and demure and reserved.

But the biggest problem I have with this Jane is that she can’t even fucking sing. I know they write it away as her having a sore throat (Which I think is a pull from a different part of the book?) but this was just egregiously bad to me. This is the only time in the series they show Jane singing so it’s never actually established that Jane really is more accomplished than Emma (although they don’t show Emma herself singing or even playing at all either.) Could the actresses just not sing well so they decided to write around it? You could have dubbed it; you had that technology in the 70’s!

OK. Now it’s time to talk about Doran Godwin. I’ve never seen her in anything else so I don’t know if it’s just that she can’t act, but I have no idea what she was going for with this portrayal of Emma, and this is something so consistent and unique to her that I, for once, can’t justify blaming it solely on the director because you can’t direct crazy-eyes. They just happen; and they happen A LOT in this series.

I’ve struggled to find the words to sufficiently describe my feeling about Doran Godwin’s facial expressions and her acting in this adaptation. In my ribbon rating notes I think I describe her as a “witchy automaton”? I stand by it. Every time she talks to someone her eyes go very wide and she sort of looks like she’s trying to hypnotize everyone in Highbury. The effect is just absolutely inhuman. I never thought I’d ever see anyone with more patently crazed Crazy-Eyes than Timothy “Crazy-Eyes” Dalton – but man, Doran “Hypno-Witch” Godwin just stole the prize. Perhaps she escaped from the set of a Doctor Who? telling of the story where Miss Woodhouse has been replaced by an android.

You have scenes such as this in episode 2 , where Harriet is trying to get Emma to acknowledge Mr. Elton calling after them as they walk past the vicarage, and Emma ignores her by mechanically continuing to talk, looking straight ahead with laser focus. Of course, Emma is intentionally ignoring Harriet because she wants Mr. Elton to follow them, but that wasn’t quite apparent to me until the end of her ramble – which I had assumed she was forced to complete due to some directive in her programming. I have more to say on her characterization, but we’ll get to that in a dedicated section of the review.

John Carson might actually be one of the better Knightley’s, but I’m sorry – at 45 he was just too old. This is something you can play around with in other characters (Mr. Weston and Miss Bates after all, have no stated ages in the book) but not only do we know how old Mr. Knightley is in the book, they state in the show that Emma is 21 (Doran Godwin was actually 28) and that Mr. Knightley is sixteen years older than her – 37 or 38 – and John Carson is CLEARLY no 38. This obviously-over-forty appearance does have an effect on how I view his banter with Emma, and it’s more avuncular than the older-brother feel that Mr. Knightley and Emma should have.

Whether by direction or actor’s choice, Carson’s Mr. Knightley speaks in a way that just doesn’t feel period to me. He has a very sort of 20th Century, stock British, hearty-good-fellow manner, that dates this adaptation pretty badly and feels old-fashioned (but not in a Regency/Georgian way) even in the 70’s.

Sets & Surroundings

Normally at this point in the review I would talk about the British manor houses and estates used and how they measure up to the book descriptions but the publicly funded BBC ran on a much tighter budget in the 70’s (apparent in the production values and number of obviously bad takes that they just decided to leave in, in everything they made) and as such they couldn’t afford to film in and rent out large estates quite as much, so this has the trademark 70’s/80’s BBC sound-stage quality of all of their other productions of the period. That said, this production actually has some of the better sets I’ve seen and that’s saying something, for being made in the 70’s. The walls didn’t actually shake when doors were closed, and it didn’t feel as stagey as some other Austen serials of the time. (This doesn’t improve the very “on-cue” acting in the series, but I have to give credit where it’s due.) I believe they may used a real manor house for the exterior of Hartfield (and not a landscape pastel) and maybe some of the interiors too? I can’t say for sure, and I would love to tell you what house and where it is but I can’t find any credits on it. I’ll just say that I think it’s very suitable and leave it at that.

Costumes

Much like today, the BBC almost exclusively used, re-used and rented costumes for their period productions. Almost every costume in this series was also used in the 70’s and 80’s BBC productions of Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, and Pride and Prejudice (P&P being the overwhelming common denominator – almost every one of Emma’s evening dresses and pelisses was seen, primarily on Caroline Bingley.) Some of the shawls have been picked out in BBC Austens as recently as 2008.

For being made in the 70’s the costumes in this production are really kind of nice. They don’t date themselves too badly. The ones that do feel 70’s retro, in fact, were mostly styles borrowed from period accurate fashions that just happened to coincide with contemporary 70’s tastes, and which aren’t often used in Regency costumes today because, well they don’t coincide with our modern tastes. For the most part, they look well-made (although some of them do have that stiff, dingy polyester look to them and there are definitely some plastic pearls here and there).

I’m quite pleased with the silhouettes which don’t suffer from Square Bust/Boob Droop syndrome the way the 1980 P&P does. All of the assets seem to be lifted and shifted in the right places.

Daywear

I like Emma’s blue day dress the best of all her day-wear looks. It’s a rich color and has pleated cups (Also on her white day dress) which is a style I really love.

Emma wears the gauzy… let’s be kind and say ivory instead of “Yellowish” ruff during the day A LOT (Emma Pic 2). It’s a popular look on Jane Fairfax too (Jane Pic 2) and I just… I don’t like it. Not that it’s not period appropriate (because it unfortunately is) it just makes them look like Dr. Seuss characters to me, especially worn with short sleeves which is something these dramas do a lot and I hate it. It just makes the person in question look very awkwardly disproportionate to me, especially because. if they had long sleeves to go with it (which would be more correct from a historical authenticity standpoint) it would even it out so much better. Compare Jane and Emma to see what I mean. The single layer ruffle (Emma Pic 1) is much more agreeable to me. (I wanna point out that Jane wears the same green dress without any partlet or undersleeves for strawberry picking at Donwell, which is blatant Eveningwear-For-Daywear™ and looked really out of place since everyone else was wearing day-appropriate attire).

Emma’s wider, cuffed, long sleeves and Mrs. Elton’s puffy segmented Renaissance sleeves are exactly what I mean about period accurate styles that suit the 70’s in a way that they just don’t jive today. Even Harriet gets some.

Mrs. Elton Orange ™ is another crayon color Crayola should consider I think.

Harriet gets stuck with a lot of brown outer wear but her day clothes are otherwise pretty nice. I especially like the ivory and blue number (Bottom right) and her white day dress with blue accents (Top right) which I think is the nicest thing she wears in this whole series.

Evening Wear

Emma’s evening wear confines itself pretty exclusively to cool purples and blues except for her white ball gown. I find this interesting because other versions tend to dress Emma in warmer colors and pinks (As I’m very partial to purples and blues, I love all of them). I can’t say it’s inconsistent with Emma’s cold characterization in this version. Mrs. Weston’s evening gowns are uniformly amazing. I especially love her blue party dress, which is my favorite in the series.

Both of Harriet’s party dresses are characteristically pretty and girlish. The pink is a bit fussy for me but I love the blue one (which has a lot more detail but I couldn’t get a full length shot of it.)

I’m pleased that Jane is given a bit of a break from the Jane Fairfax Blue ™ trope with her evening wear. She has one light blue evening gown and gets a few green numbers, most notable being her mint ball gown. Her beige party dress is absolutely tragic though.

Mrs. Elton’s evening color seems to be chartreuse (Which I think was also the case in the ITV version? ITV fans back me up.) Her black overlay/spiky number is iconic of the Austen Bad Girl, but her ball gown is a bit disappointing in its simplicity to me.

I would love to have seen a full length shot of Isabella’s black and purple number because I have a suspicion THAT would have been my favorite but I just can’t make out enough detail on it.

Zig-zag patterns on the skirt are a huge theme in this version, which is so of the period. Mrs. Cole (shout out to another future Are You Being Served? familiar, Hilda Fenemore) looks straight out of a fashion plate in her dark green party dress, which has (drumroll please…) a padded hem!

Outerwear

This version has SO MANY PELISSES AND REDINGOTES. Are they all nice? No. No they are not; I particularly hate Emma’s fugly salmon number that she wears for Strawberry picking/Box Hill. Mostly because she looks SO over-dressed compared to everyone else who’s wearing loose fitting light clothes (except Jane, who’s wearing an evening dress). Just looking at her makes me hot. I’m also NOT a huge fan of her pink winter cloak. The one trimmed with… faux ermine? One can only assume. It looks awfully tacky.

That russet pelisse tho! This is one of my all-time favorites. It’s SO. PRETTY and so detailed (See this number on Jane in P&P ’80). I think her gray fur-trimmed pelisse is pretty fabulous too, but I do not like the hat she wears with it. The brim is kind of a funky shape to me.

I know I’ve criticized brown before, but I do like it in moderation and this version is astonishingly brown-free for being made in the 70’s, so I really like her red/brown velvet spencer, especially with the cream dress and gloves, and her hat has some amazing decoration.

Jane and Mrs. Weston are the only other characters who get pelisses/redingotes. I’m not a fan of Mrs. Weston’s fuchsia number, and while I like Jane’s, it does put itself solidly in the Jane Fairfax Blue™ category.

Harriet gets pretty much only one form of outer-wear, her brown school cloak (a different brown school cloak from the one in the ‘97 version, in case you were wondering) and while it’s pretty dull, it’s hardly unexpected. Here it is paired with her rather ugly blue bonnet, with yellow ribbon. The bonnet features heavily in this episode.

To be honest for the most part I totally forgot about the…

because a lot of it is very standard. No dandy standouts here, but overall it’s pretty okay and I’m really pleased to say that there are no bib-cravats. That’s not usually so much a problem in Regency Era stuff (Since ruffles were going out at around this time), but you can really distinctly see that the ruffles (where ruffles there are – usually on older men which is good) are part of the shirt and distinctly separate from the cravat. Also there are LOTS of high collars and they’re not comically high to the point where they get wrinkled, like they were in Emma. (2020), so points for that also. These are the screencaps I gathered going back over it for posterity.

Mr. Knightley doesn’t really get a lot of cool outfits. His best is his purple velvet evening jacket which somehow manages to not look ostentatious (but is his only dress jacket), and his gold-topped Prussian boots (which you should just be able to see bottom right.) The worst though… I’m sorry, (looks up costumer’s name) Joan Ellacott – do you really expect me to feel the weight of Emma’s cock-ups when Mr. Knightley is rebuking her in such a cartoonishly proportioned top hat? It’s like being scolded by the Mad Hatter. All of the men’s hats are pretty flared in this series too, and I’m not totally sure but, I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that flared top hats are not right for this period?

I think Mr. Weston only has one day outfit (which, in keeping with his characterization is pretty farmer-chic) and one evening outfit. Frank’s dark green day-jacket is a pretty standard look on him and I don’t think we get a fresh look until his fabulous blue jacket/yellow waistcoat combo that he wears for Strawberry Picking/Box Hill. I believe his evening jacket is also dark green but it was tough to tell. Again I think he has only one set of evening-wear. I would expect Frank to have more, since he’s such a dandy.

Mr. John Knightley doesn’t have much to write home about in terms of evening kit, but DAYUM, his blue traveling coat is DOOOOOPE.

Let’s Talk Script

This adaptation was directed by John Glenister and Dramatized by Denis Constanduros.

Now I’ve seen a lot of positive reviews for this on IMDB calling it the… let’s see here… “The best Emma I’ve ever seen” and “The most true to the novel”… *Takes off spectacles and sighs heavily* I’m afraid I have to disagree. Several people also really love Doran Godwin’s Emma (We’ve already gone over why I don’t, and I have also seen reviews that name her and her lack of charisma as the main sticking point preventing them from really enjoying it, so I’m not alone). I’ve also heard it described as “sensitively handled” “Intimate” and “The most faithful to the spirit of Austen” and so forth, and again maybe it’s that prejudice against the stagey production and… no there’s definitely some other reason I have a problem with this version.

Let me make this clear – I don’t totally hate it, and I’m not here to shame the people who really love this version. Once again – if this version gives you what you want from the story I think that’s great for you. I, myself, like it pretty well and I think it’s one of the better early BBC Austen serials. It’s certainly not boring; but I do want to go over some of the changes that were made and choices in the script.

Some of them aren’t really that egregious, but they’re annoying in that I think they didn’t need to be made and don’t really add anything. Characters being added to scenes where they didn’t need to be and written out of scenes where their presence was missed. Like writing Mr. Elton out of Box Hill (And really the whole second half of the series, to facilitate Mrs. Elton flirting with Knightley), and adding Miss Bates into the after-dinner scene, I think at the Randalls Christmas party? I’m sure this was done for expediency but you have six episodes. It’s not as though you’re strapped for time.

Particularly praised, as far as I’ve seen, is the scene at Christmas when Knightley and Emma make up after their argument over Harriet. It takes place in the nursery, which I suppose isn’t an unreasonable place for Emma to be fawning over her niece (in the dramatization she seems to have been feeding the baby, where in the book she is playing with her). The book doesn’t specify where the scene takes place, although I assumed it to be a downstairs room, and I’m not sure that it’s entirely appropriate for Emma and a man (even one connected to her family through marriage) to be alone in an upstairs room together with the door closed and no more chaperone than a baby. But in spite of this, perhaps inappropriate, level of privacy, the scene feels less intimate to me than the book, where in the course of the conversation, where Mr. Knightley takes the baby from Emma “in the manner of perfect amity” and holds her himself and it is very adorable and sweet. In the dramatization, Knightley sort of just stands next to Emma’s chair and leans down a bit. After this conversation in the book, John comes into the room to talk to George, while in the show Emma puts the baby in the cradle and they leave the room to go downstairs.

But there are more outstanding changes that just feel wrong to me. When confronting Emma about her meddling in Harriet’s response to Mr. Martin’s proposal, Constanduros changes “What is the foolish girl about?” to “What is the stupid girl about?” it’s not that big a change, but it makes Mr. Knightley sound unnecessarily mean.

I’ve already mentioned the, er, additions regarding Mr. Weston’s dialogue and Mrs. Elton, and Jane shouting at Miss Bates; but by far the biggest, worst additions were made with Emma. The worst, I think, is the handling of this scene in Episode 4 when Harriet is feeling heartsick following Mr. Elton’s marriage.

And for those of you who don’t wanna follow the link, here’s a transcription:

Emma: Now Harriet! Your allowing yourself to become so upset over Mr. Elton’s marriage is the strongest possible reproach you could make to me!

Harriet: Miss Woodhouse –

Emma: Yes it is! You could not more constantly remind me of the mistake I made, which is most hurtful!

Harriet: Oh Miss Woodhouse, it was not intended to be!

Emma: I have not said “think and talk less of Mr. Elton” for my sake, Harriet, because it is for yours I wish it. My being hurt is a very… secondary consideration, but please, please Harriet, do learn to exert a little more self-discipline in this matter.

Harriet: {Looks down} Yes, Miss Woodhouse.

Emma: We are all creatures of feeling; we all suffer disappointments, it is how we learn to suffer them that forms our character. If you continue in this way, Harriet, I shall think you wanting in true friendship for me!

Harriet: Oh, Miss Woodhouse! You, who are the best friend I’ve ever had? Oh what a horrid, horrid wretch I’ve been!”

Emma: Oh now Harriet – (She’s gonna console her now, right?)

Harriet: Oh yes, I have, I have!

Emma: Harriet, control yourself! (ha ha bitch, u thought) Now, you will tie your bonnet, and you are coming with me to call on Mr. And Mrs. Elton at the Vicarage…

Harriet: Oh, Miss Woodhouse –

Emma: Yes you are! And I’m sure you will find it far less distressing than you think.

Harriet: Oh, Miss Woodhouse, must I?

Emma: Yes, Harriet; but you may borrow my lace ruff if you wish.

Harriet: Oh may I, Miss Woodhouse? Oh, thank you!

(Look how evil she looks! She looks like she’s planning on baking Harriet into a pie!)

While this scene is in the book and much of the dialogue is also from the book, it’s the lines that were added that stick out to me. Emma does tell Harriet that her allowing herself to become upset over the Eltons is a reproach on Emma more than anything else and reminds her miserably of the “Mistake [Emma] fell into” but from this point, the script takes a left turn from the firm but kind appeal to Harriet to move on for both her happiness and Emma’s own comfort, to a far more manipulative strain.

Even after Harriet apologizes, she goes from simply appealing to Harriet to let herself move on, to basically telling her that she’s a bad friend. She treats Harriet like she’s unreasonable for feeling this way, where in the book Emma is very understanding and feels that “she could not do too much for her; that Harriet had every right to all her ingenuity and patience…” and only after Harriet goes all afternoon with Emma soothing her and no improvement in her spirits does Emma take any kind of reproachful tack whatsoever.

In this scene, Emma says that her own happiness is a secondary consideration (this is stressed much more in the book) but from the way she says it, it seems more like she just wants Harriet to shut up about it rather than actually meaning it. (This is a very prominent example of Emma’s not seeming to really like Harriet at all in this version, only tolerating her presence.)

AND THEN she does something which Emma in the book most certainly did NOT do and forces Harriet to come with her to visit the Eltons, as if to put her on the spot and test how good a little friend she will be. I can’t express how disgusted I am by the changes and interpretation here. This is the culmination of the general through-line of Emma’s manipulative characterization being taken to an extreme. She looms over Harriet sounding, by turns, like a school marm and a saccharine nanny. She’s like a (very) low budget version of Tilda Swinton as the White Witch in The Chronicles of Narnia.

My question about all of these changes is simply: Why? They don’t improve the story or the characters. They’re not big, but a lot of them just strike me as weird and unnecessary, but I guess there’s no accounting for artistic license.

Final Thoughts

So is it a faithful adaptation? I often find this a more complex question to answer for myself than one would think, since inflection and line delivery and even, at some points, intention behind what the characters say tends to be up to the interpretation of the person reading the book.

Is the dialogue faithful? Other than the many changes I’ve mentioned (and the numerous cuts and edits I didn’t – and besides no screenplay can be 100% faithful), for the most part yes.

Are the characters accurate to description / faithful in their portrayal – again this tends to be subjective and opinions vary. In my opinion, Emma is not. I’ve mentioned that Knightley is too old, and Emma not only seems more intentionally manipulative than I believe she’s meant to be, and also just does not seem 21. She acts and looks like a much older woman, especially when preaching at Harriet) but she’s also very gawky, and Emma is supposed to look very healthy and glowing.

So my book accuracy rating meets in the middle at a 4.5. It’s NOT the most faithful adaptation I’ve seen, nor is it the most fun or the most intimate, but it’s not totally a travesty either and there are good things in it, even with a robot witch playing the main lead.

Ribbon Rating: Tolerable (43 Ribbons )

Tone: 4

Casting: 5 (Witchy automaton Doran Goodwin plays opposite avuncular good-fellow John Carson. Fiona Walker stands out as Mrs. Elton.)

Acting: 5 (Doran Goodwin is by turns crazed and mechanical with some momentary touches of what might be actual emotion. Raymond Adamson way over-acts Mr. Weston as a hobbeldy-hoi, verging on uncouth.)

Scripting: 4

Pacing: 4

Cinematography: 4 (A bump up from the usual 1 or 2 for TV dramas of the time. Surprisingly less stagey than expected.)

Sets and Settings: 5

Costumes: 7 (Very clearly of the 70’s but drawing on perfectly accurate styles that jived well with contemporary taste)

Music: 1 (Plinky, poorly played piano music. Only used for intro and outro I think? Jane Fairfax can neither play nor sing.)

Book Accuracy: 5 (They changed a lot of small details. Lines are changed unnecessarily (Calling Harriet “Stupid” rather than “Foolish” – Why?) Mrs. Elton seems to have a thing for Knightley? People present when they shouldn’t be, others absent when they should be present, again without any apparent reason.)

#jane austen emma #jane austen #regency #period drama #costume drama #emma 1972

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starburnedfarrago · 3 years

Text

of songbirds & vultures

starter for @welcome-to-the-sin-zone

"Geany." A gruff voice at the edge of his cell. "Visitor."

Neil sat up abruptly, his back a knot from the stiff, threadbare mattress. He thought that after four months (two days, fourteen hours) he would have acclimated to the hard surfaces and sharp edges of this place. But perhaps some people just weren't cut out for prison. He sure as hell wasn't. For all of his desperate grasps at recognition, he was more than happy to take on notoriety from behind the safety of an alias. However, even in that regard, he let his pride get the better of him. Someone with a lot less to prove would have disseminated their attacks, planting viruses and trojans with enough tact that they weren't noticed until long after the damage had been done. But Neil was not this sort of someone. Neil liked the limelight, even if it was by proxy. And he had all but trademarked his particular brand of digital scourge, the most terminal of which was known for how completely and thoroughly bricked it left the systems it infiltrated. The phenomenon had come to co-opt the infamy of the Blue Screen of Death, the cyber-terrorist (or terrorists, as some conspiracy-leaning techie sites alleged) becoming known as the blunted Blue Screen.

It was a bit lazy. A bit cartoon villain-y. But Neil relished it. He reveled in the idea that he was being spoken about-- directly or in-- in a manner more flattering than water cooler chats about 'that weird skinny guy in IT.' He was Blue Screen; a force to be reckoned with, a harbinger of indiscriminate destruction (for an OS, anyway). His persona was feared, awed; people in the know, knew the damage of which he was capable, and they knew that he deserved their respect. Oh, he covered his tracks well, but should he be caught, he could have found himself neatly boxed away with a lifetime sentence and a glowing reputation as one of the most notorious criminals to ever maraud the world wide web.

So it came as something of a slap in the face when some throwaway malware came back to bite him in the ass.

It was something he had cooked up in a matter of hours. A generally benign little black hat program he had dispatched once the freelance requests began to dry up. It had been sloppily done, he realized that in retrospect. He had gotten too cocky, too greedy. He had done this sort of thing before, and practically operated on rote memory as he dusted off the code and unleashed his little binary monster into cyberspace.

But, fuck, it's not like he was stealing and ransoming off data (again), it was just a little... safety net. A couple of dollars here and there to brace him against the intrusions of real life-- bills, car payments, rent, rent, rent, rent, so much fucking rent. Not to mention that miserable little "preening" kick he had gone on, racking up something to the tune of three grand in suits and "grooming supplies" that he had yet to fully grasp the use of. Little, subtle ways to peacock for the new girl; the pretty bottle-blonde that seemed to have dropped from the sky, right into his drab little corner of the office. The infatuation had been instant. She had introduced herself as Luna, politely offering her hand, and Neil all but choked on his own tongue as he tried to remember what he had been calling himself for the past twenty-eight years. The nerve to strike up a conversation notwithstanding (he had never been great at smalltalk, or regular talk for that matter), he strung together some feeble hope that he could woo her in a well-dressed silence. At least the suits had some use in court.

Two years. Two fucking years for an innocuous little probe. Facebook was pulling shit like this everyday, why the hell was the gavel coming down on him? What a joke. He was almost mortified enough to come clean about the rest; at least give a little more flare to his conviction. Give them something interesting to talk about besides a little petty larceny. But upon meeting him, his lawyer had made the immediate decision that Neil's part in all of this was to shut the fuck up and look apologetic, and he wasn't about to break his vow of silence for something as meritless as his dignity. He hoisted himself from his cot, instinctively avoiding eye contact with the guard as he allowed himself to be shuffled from his cell and down the narrow, stark-white hallway.

A visitor. He hadn't had any visitors-- y'know, barring that initial holding period, in which he entertained a small rotation of reporters and, of course, his lawyer, who seemed to have always been on the brink of a caffeine-induced heart attack. But that cavalcade had long since lost interest in him, especially once they realized they wouldn't get anything more salacious than some technical jargon about advanced methods of coding. Hacking apparently wasn't as high-octane and sexy as every fucking heist movie would have the public believe. Whatever. Their loss.

He racked his brain, going up and down his shortlist of-- well, friends was probably a bit generous a nomination-- acquaintances, wondering who the hell would be bothering with him at this stage.

His lawyer, coming to harangue him about a bounced check perhaps? Unlikely. He knew he had squirreled away enough (ahem) ill-gotten funds to deal with those unprecedented fees.

Definitely not his parents. They had mutually written each other off the second his internal clock ticked 18.

Who did that leave--?

And in a moment of baseless optimism, his mind kicked up the name Luna. His back straightened instinctively, and his eyes pried at the far door, as though trying to scout ahead and catch a glimpse of her.

Luna. It must've been. They hadn't been "close," per se, but-- but there was something there, something she must have sensed, surely? Yes. Yes, she must have been going back and forth all of these months, fighting herself on whether or not to see him. It made perfect sense. His heart fluttered, and he tried to push aside the vague regret that he hadn't done a little more byway of push-ups. Perhaps impress her by how prison had hardened him. Whatever, whatever. It didn't matter. Especially if she was here now, of her own volition.

Neil practically swaggered as he was escorted through the reinforced door, his eyes scanning each plate-glass window, silently willing his delusion into reality.

#welcome to delirium puppet theatre lolol #@welcome-to-the-sin-zone #muse : neil ;;#this is such a long winded mess 😭😭😭#of songbirds & vultures ;;#relationship : starcrossed (neil/stella) ;;

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evil-slytherin-queen · 4 years

Text

Must've Been the Wind

warning: physical abuse, abuse, violence, Vernon Dursley is an asshole

Draco lugged the last two boxes into his new flat. One pushed through the door by his foot and the other in his arms. He settled them both on the ground and sighed with content. Finally, he had all of the boxes out of his car, even if it had taken all day.

This was going to be brilliant. A new start. Far away from his family, their dirty money and nothing stopping him from pursuing whatever and whoever he bloody well pleased. All he had to do was unpack.

Draco scanned the floor of his newly bought flat and suppressed a groan at all the boxes laid about. He'd definitely have to ring up Pansy, and the boys to help him unpack and organize everything. Speaking of, Draco grinned at the thought and swiped to answer his ringing cell.

"I was just thinking of you," Draco hummed, as he walked into the kitchen, hoping to put on some tea.

"Lovely, I wanted to see how you were, darling. How's the flat? Not too common I hope?"

Draco snorted at that, of course Pansy would be worried about it being 'too common'. He glanced around the flat once more and realized how common Pansy would certainly find it. It wasn't overly cheap, or run down but it was nothing compared to either of their childhood homes. The flat had only three rooms: a bedroom and bath, the living and dining area, and the kitchen. She would be mortified.

"You do realize, I bought this on my salary, Pans?" He said, rummaging through one of the boxes labeled kitchen to find his kettle, mugs, and some tea.

"Yes, yes, I suppose I'll simply have to get used to it then."

Draco finally managed to pull out what he was looking for and smiled at his success as he filled the kettle with tap water and turned the gas stove on.

"Poor, Princess Pansy, having to visit her dearest friend in squalor, so terribly close to peasants, however will she survive?" Draco cried dramatically, leaning his hip against the counter as he waited, a snooty smirk plastered on his face.

"Oi! Watch yourself, Draco, darling. Wouldn't want me to do anything unsavoury next time I see you, now would we? And it's queen not princess, thank you very much."

Draco resisted the urge to snort again as he carded a hand through his mused hair. He and Pansy both really did have quite a flare for the dramatics. It was a wonder how the world survived with the pair of them as friends.

"Speaking of seeing one another, would you like to help-"

A loud crash, one that sounded an awful lot like glass shattering, cut Draco off from finishing his statement. The sound had come from the flat above his and he drew his eyebrows up in confusion, then shrugged. Someone had most likely just dropped something, it was fine.

"Draco?"

"Right, sorry, thin w-"

-walls. Apparently, there were very thin walls between Draco's flat and the one above him seeing as he was interrupted once again, this time by two different voices. It sounded like a man shouting angrily and someone...whining or crying perhaps?

"Draco?"

Worry spiked in his chest as he turned the stove top off again. He quickly grabbed his keys and found himself locking the door and walking down the hall. Even if he was acting a bit paranoid, he couldn't ignore what sounded like a domestic gone bad, especially not when it sounded so violent.

"Hello? Draco?"

"Er, yes, sorry Pansy. I think I'm going to have to call you back." Draco sighed, as he pressed the button next to the lift.

"Alright, have a goodnight, darling. Be safe!"

"Always am, goodnight, love." And with that Draco hung up the phone.

The lift arrived and he walked in letting it take him to the second floor. He hoped he was wrong, he didn't need this sort of thing taking over his mind just as he started settling into his new life. He was far too protective over his friends as it was, he didn't need another person to worry and fret over like a nervous mother. Besides, he was supposed to be a wild and reckless nineteen-year-old, not a parent.

"Please, let this be a misunderstanding." He whispered to himself as he exited the lift and walked towards the flat that would be directly above his and knocked. A moment or so passed and Draco genuinely considered leaving before anyone answered the door. He really wasn't fond of conflict and this could definitely be a recipe for disaster. He had to learn to keep his nose out of others business but...

In that moment a young man, looking more than a bit skittish, opened the door. He was a head shorter than Draco with startlingly green eyes framed by round, crooked glasses and messy black hair.

"Yes?" The man asked, his eyes flickering over Draco for a second then landing back on the space off to the side of him. He looked so small, skin and bones. His tanned skin looked pale and he had a sweater zipped all the way up, purple and yellow smudges peaking out of the collar on his neck.

The sight unsettled Draco to say the least.

"I-ahem-sorry. I heard shouting and it sounded like someone had gotten hurt. I wanted to make sure everything was alright. I recently moved into the flat just beneath you." Draco explained with an awkward smile. He desperately resisted the urge to ask about the markings on his neck. People never seemed to appreciate his overly observant tendencies.

The man froze a little and opened his mouth and closed it a couple of time's before responding. "I broke a glass. As for the shouting, I wouldn't know anything about that." His voice shook a little and he sounded like he didn't believe himself either.

"Are you sure? You're alright?" Draco asked the doubt evident on his face as he laced his fingers together hoping to distract himself from the worry filling his stomach.

"Where're you at boy!"

A loud voice called from inside the flat and Draco saw the young man visibly flinch. This was not good. This was terrible, actually. The man swallowed and looked back at Draco.

"Thank you, for caring, sir, that's kind of you, but I've got to go back in. Wish I could explain the noise, but I didn't hear anything. It must've been the wind, it can get particularly loud around here, especially at night." The man said, with a tone that Draco could only assume was an attempt to reassure him that nothing was amiss. It wasn't working. Draco itched to press the subject further but pushed it aside and nodded. It wasn't his place. He didn't have any real clue what was going on and they were strangers.

"Right, I'm sorry to disturb you so late then. I'm Draco, by the way, and the 'sir' isn't necessary." Draco said, taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself down. No use getting worked up over the few signs of abuse this stranger was harboring. He couldn't do anything about it despite his need to fix things. And he didn't even know for sure if there was an 'it' to do anything about as it was.

"Harry. Sorry, for being so loud. I really have to-"

"Boy!"

"Coming Uncle Vernon! I have to go, sorry again." Harry replied, turning to go back in and closing the door in a rush. Draco shook his head and sighed. He could be imaging all of this. Maybe Harry was just shy and maybe nothing had truly happened. He didn't know all of the facts. He could just be over assuming and seeing something that wasn't there. Draco shook his head once more and headed back towards his flat.

•••

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold it right there, boys! Do not move." Pansy ordered throwing her hand up in a 'stop' gesture. Blaise and Theo froze holding the painting at an awkward and uncomfortable angle as she picked apart whether or not she approved of hanging it there. This was the fifth time she had done this.

"What do you think, darling?" She asked tossing her head to the side and glancing at Draco with her perfectly winged eyeliner.

Draco grinned at the irritated scowls Theo and Blaise carried and Pansy's utter obliviousness to it. He really appreciated his friends for helping him get settled into his new home and the entertainment they brought with them, too.

"Hmmm." Draco hummed quirking a mischievous eyebrow at the boys who sent him ice cold glares in response.

"Draco, if you don't like it here then I'm going to toss this out of the bloody window." Blaise snapped, looking rather bitter. How very Zabini of him, his mother would approve.

"Yeah, come on. My arms are tired, hurry it up. There's only so many places in this tiny flat to hang this!" Theo groaned, a pout settling on his face. Draco laughed loudly and waved his hands at them in a dismissive manner.

"Alright, alright, it's fine right there. Set it down and we'll have some tea and biscuits." Draco said, smiling as they put it down with grumbles and Pansy walked over swatting at both of them.

"We are trying to make Draco's home pleasant to look at and be in! Don't. You. Two. Care?!" She hissed, scowling as she finished smacking the two up a bit. The boys dodged her on the last few smacks and came back full force to tickle her. One didn't simply tickle Pansy unless they had a death wish and were prepared for violent retaliation.

Draco found himself being used as a shield on both ends as Blaise and Theo antagonized Pansy and she continued to slap at them. He shook his head fondly at his silly friends.

"Only God knows when I became the mature one of us." He mused with a wry smile, when the three of them exchanged a look. That was dangerous and he knew it.

"What makes you think you're not a part of this?" Blaise asked, stalking towards him a dangerous glint in his eye. Oh, fuck.

"Now, wait a minute. Blaise."

"Yeah, Draco, who said you got a free pass?" Theo continued from behind him. This was not going to end well. Draco suppressed the urge to try and run and turned to face his most loyal and trusted friend for help.

"Pansy?" He asked, a hopeful lilt to his voice and when she only shook her head in response he knew he was doomed. The traitor. In a flash, all three of them were on him, tickling him mercilessly. He squealed at them and tried to wriggle out of Blaise's grip but to no avail.

Laughter swirled in the room and they all ended up sprawled all along the floor, their heads resting together, making a circle. They stared at Draco's ceiling, a happy feeling floating in the air after the impromptu tickle assault.

"You are happy here. Right mate?" Theo asked quietly, after a beat or two of silence, his and Blaise's hands tangled together. Draco smiled at them out of the corner of his eye. He knew, as much as they liked to say they were casual, that they were end game for sure. Him and Pansy had even gone as far as to discuss what their future wedding might look like.

"Yes, I am. I just... I couldn't listen to their disappointment any longer." He replied softly, and he felt Pansy reach out to him, intertwining their fingers to comfort him.

"Sorry they didn't take it well. Mother barely came around to the idea and, well, you've seen her around Theo and I," Blaise hummed lightly, even if the conversation hadn't taken a light turn, "It's bloody awkward."

"Whereas, I still have the disgusting privilege of coming out to look forward to. Whoever came up with this was a right bastard." Pansy glared at the ceiling with her words and Draco gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew the feeling, he'd hardly been able to get the words out last year when he had finally decided to tell his parent he was gay.

This is why they all worked so well as friends. They all had posh, homophobic traditional, filthy-rich, old-English families. And they were all massive homos, despite how much Draco's parents tried to deny it.

"Don't worry, if worst comes to worse, we can always be roommates." Draco suggested, holding in a giggle at the idea of seeing Pansy with bed head. He couldn't imagine it, her looking anything but pristine.

"Or you could move into my house. You know my mother adores you." Blaise said as Theo nodded along.

"Or mine, Mother and Father wish you were their daughter, Pansy. I think they'd try to adopt you if they could." Theo added with a snort.

She let out an indignant huff and drew herself up off of the floor, leaving the rest of them to sit up and lean against one another, looking at her with curious expressions.

"You boys need to quit with this or I might have feelings about it." She said, with an appalled shake of her head. And they all grinned at her.

"Awe, we love you too, Ice Queen." Draco sang, jumping to his feet and pressing a wet kiss to her cheek which she promptly wiped off. Theo and Blaise chuckled behind him and shuffled to their feet.

"Now, didn't you say something about biscuits, Draco?" Theo asked waggling his eyebrows at him. His notorious sweet tooth making Draco shake his head in fond exasperation.

"Yes, I'll get started on tea, while you three finish hanging that painting." Draco said, wandering into his kitchen. A satisfied smile gracing his lips.

•••

Around two weeks after he had moved in, Draco found himself making his way up to Harry's flat for the second time. He had almost forgotten about the whole incident, seeing as things had been rather quiet ever since, but he'd still had that nagging feeling in the back of his head that something bad was going to happen.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy were over this time. All four of them huddled together on the couch with dozens of snacks, pillows, and blankets surrounding them as they watched some convoluted French horror film Pansy had brought with her. A loud thud made Theo and Pansy jump. Theo threw himself into Blaise's lap and hid his face in his neck while Blaise laughed, seemingly immune to the movie, and Pansy clung onto Draco fiercely.

Shouting came next, followed by a door slamming loudly, another thud and then what sounded like crying. The fact that all of these sounds were filtering through Draco's ceiling made it finally click for him. It was Harry's flat again. Bloody hell.

Blaise paused the movie and glanced at Draco with a look.

"What was that?" He asked, running a hand through Theo's hair. Draco nudged Pansy off of him, who went with a grumble, and stood up, looking for his slippers.

"Neighbor's. I'm not positive, but I think Harry's being abused by his uncle, at least that's what it seems like." Draco replied, successfully finding his shoes and slipping them on. He'd had time to mull over what he'd seen that night and decided he was probably correct about the domestic violence occurring above him.

"Hold on, sorry, back up a second. Who's Harry?" Pansy asked snuggling a pillow to her chest.

"And why do you think he's being abused? You can't always stick yourself into people's lives, Draco." Theo sighed, turning around to join in the conversation. Draco fought off a scowl, he wasn't sticking himself into anything if this Vernon was going to be so bloody loud about it.

"I've gone up to check before. Harry lives up there with his uncle, I suppose. He looks about our age, maybe a little younger. And he had bruises on his neck, Theo, like hands-choking-you-out sort of bruises, I doubt they were consensual." Draco said, feeling his anger simmer at the reminder of it. Blaise hushed Theo from continuing his disapproval and nodded at Draco.

"Go, on. We'll be here."

"And don't be daft about it, don't get yourself hurt!" Pansy added quickly as he slipped out the door and headed for the lift once again.

When he made it to their door, dread filled his body as he saw a fist sized dent in the wall next to it. Red staining it from whoever's bloody knuckles had met the wall. And he could hear faint whimpers coming from inside the flat. He heaved in a deep breath and knocked on the door lightly. The sound of crying stopped abruptly and he could hear scrambling just before the door opened.

Harry answered it, crooked glasses, pretty green eyes, messy hair and all. He looked distressed, his eyes red rimmed and his hands were shaking. The skin around one of his eyes was a harsh red, like he'd just taken a punch to the face and his lips quivered a little. Draco frowned.

"I-I'm sorry, Uncle-" He paused and took a step back when he finally looked up to meet Draco's eyes, "Oh, it's you."

Draco nodded minutely and studied Harry for another minute before responding.

"Yeah, I heard yelling. I wanted to check up on you. Did your...um, what happened to the wall?" Draco asked softly, trying for a comforting smile, but he only managed to lessen his frown a little. He couldn't find it in himself to smile at this.

Harry looked away from him and seemed to shrink in on himself at the question. He said nothing and Draco took that as his answer. He stifled a sigh and put his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He couldn't imagine how Harry must be feeling. It must be awful and he must be terrified.

"I-" Draco stopped himself and thought a little. He didn't just want to leave it at that. As much as he didn't want to intrude, he felt worse, leaving without offering any sort of lifeline. Then he'd be like every other occupant in this building who hadn't done anything about this.

"I won't pretend to know what you're going through," He said, carefully.

Harry glanced up at him when he spoke and bit his lip like he was stopping himself from responding. So, Draco continued,

"I simply want you to know that, you're always welcome to come over. You can stay for a couple of hours if you need to get out of here for a while. You can come over if you need a friend or you want to talk about this, or anything, really."

Harry eyed him suspiciously, like Draco might take back his words or break out into cruel laughter over what he'd just suggested. Draco reached up and ran a hand though his hair and licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say.

"I won't ask you about anything you don't want to talk about and I promise I'm not playing some cruel trick on you. You're welcome, anytime, day or night. And I mean that, Harry." Draco said firmly, putting as much sincerity in his words as he could. He truly did mean it, but he couldn't force Harry to seek out help or come to him, even if he wanted to. If anything, Draco thought that might actually make the situation worse.

Draco was met with more silence and Harry kept staring at him with those impossibly green eyes full of an emotion he couldn't place. He nodded once and finished off his little speech.

"Until you tell me otherwise, I'm sure it was just the wind. And I'm in flat 1C, in case you needed it. Have a goodnight, Harry."

With those words and one last meaningful look Draco turned to leave. There wasn't anything else he could do. He heard the man clear his throat just as he was going to step away, so he turned towards Harry quickly as to not miss his words.

"Thank you, Draco." Harry whispered softly, a small smile settling on his face. Draco grinned back and nodded again.

"Of course."

•••

A few more weeks past and Harry had shown up to Draco's flat many times for tea. The first time it had been awkward and the air felt heavy with the unspoken words, but soon enough they settled into a tentative friendship.

Draco learned that Harry was eighteen. He liked football and he could've been a star player if he hadn't gotten hurt in his 4th year playing. He had an intense passion for animals, owls specifically, and he loved the idea of starting a sanctuary. He'd just graduated the summer before, and he loved the stars, Draco being one of his favorite constellations (a fact that Draco reveled in). His favorite color was gold and his favorite dessert was treacle tarts (which Draco now had a habit of keeping on hand at all times).

Draco also had a a large suspicion that Harry wasn't straight, as he had been particularly interested in the pride flag Draco had pinned to one of his walls that read "Love Is Love". When he had asked about it Harry turned into a blushing, stuttering mess and excused himself, saying he had somewhere to be.

They never mentioned Harry's home situation. Draco never asked and Harry never offered an explanation. Although, the bruises that would appear all over Harry's body, at least the visible one's, made Draco itch to swoop in and play hero. Every time he noticed a new one he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking. Either way he enjoyed Harry's company and he wasn't about to ruin that with his compulsive need to fix everything and help people. At the very least Draco knew that Harry felt safe the few hours he spent at his flat. And for now, that was enough.

•••

The third time Draco made his way up to Harry's flat he had never dreaded it more. Whatever had happened, it had been loud. Louder than any sort of yelling he'd ever heard before. He knocked on the door and for the first time, Harry wasn't the one to answer it.

Instead, a fat, red faced, man opened the door. He had more hair on his upper lip than on his head and the moustache only served to make him look even angrier than he already did.

"You!" The man growled, his beady eyes narrowing so much that they were only slits. So that was how this was going to go.

"Sorry?" Draco replied, recognizing the voice as this so called 'Uncle Vernon' and only mildly shocked by the amount of aggression expressed in one word.

"You stay the bloody hell away from me and my family, fucking faggot!" Vernon spat, his face turning a darker shade of red as he went. Draco stared at him for a moment, wide eyed and speechless.

It wasn't like he hadn't had the slur thrown at him before, but he wasn't expecting it here. Although, he wouldn't put it passed this man to throw out slurs so casually.

"I'm only here to check on Harry, then I'll leave." Draco said, a stony expression settling on his face. He was furious with how rude this man was being but he had to play nice if he wanted to make sure Harry was alright. He said nothing else, however his glare could've burned holes into the ignorant gits face. And he'd deserve it too.

"I think not! He won't be seeing the likes of you anymore, not while he lives under my roof. You've filled that boys head with enough nonsense and I won't stand for it!" Vernon yelled, then promptly slammed the door in his face. Draco was fuming.

He stomped his way back to his flat and threw himself into angry cleaning every room. Draco hated how useless he was in this situation. He couldn't go knocking down Vernon's door and he couldn't call the police, Harry would no doubt deny it all and feel utterly betrayed, which would amount to nothing other than a broken friendship. He could do virtually nothing and it burned.

By the time he finished scrubbing every inch of his kitchen his rage had given way to worry. What had happened? How many new bruises had Harry received from this last round of beatings? Gods, Draco felt sick. He needed to tell someone before the worry ate him alive.

He dragged his way from the kitchen to his bedroom and grabbed his cell to message- he didn't know who. Pansy? No, she would go into a full rage and actually try and hurt someone. Even if the idea of hurting Vernon gave Draco great satisfaction it wouldn't help the situation. Theo would only go on about how Draco shouldn't put his nose where it wasn't wanted and leave it be. He always made it a point to tell Draco that he couldn't save everyone and trying to do so only hurt him in the end. Bloody hell, he didn't want to deal with that.

He settled on Blaise. He would listen to Draco rant and if he came over he wouldn't try anything like Pansy would. And he'd always been the best with advice, every since they were younger. He sent him a quick message asking him to come over and set the kettle on the stove.

A short fifteen minutes later, Draco had Blaise sitting at his dining table scrutinizing him with his dark eyes as he stirred his tea. He had just finished explaining the situation and Blaise's silence was killing him.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Blaise fixed him with a look and raised an eyebrow. Draco hated this. Maybe he should have let Pansy come and attack the man upstairs, instead.

"What would you like me to say, Draco?" Blaise asked, his eyes scanning over him in that calculating way that only a Zabini could pull off.

Draco deflated at that. He didn't know. He supposed he'd had some sort of childish hope that Blaise would have a magical solution even if he knew that was unrealistic.

"Lord above, I don't know, Blaise. This is all such a mess!" He groaned, dropping his head in his hands as he went. Draco heard Blaise sigh as he tugged Draco's hands off of his face.

"Draco, I know this is difficult. I can tell you care about this, about Harry, but it sounds like you've already realized that you can't do anything." Blaise said softly, as he held one of Draco's hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of it in a comforting manner. He hated when Blaise pointed things like that out, especially when he was right.

"I hate this." Draco whispered, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes. "I wish I didn't care so much."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, look at me." Blaise said firmly and Draco found himself listening to his command. He knew better than to not respond when Blaise used his full name.

"Don't ever regret caring about others the way you do. Not ever," Blaise held his gaze fiercely,"You've saved all of us from ourselves countless times and you make us better people because of who you are. Never wish to be apathetic."

Draco nodded dumbly and he hated himself a little for the tears pressing against his eyes. Why did he have to have so many bloody feelings all of the time.

"Blaise," was all he could managed to choke out before tears made their way down his face and he was swept into strong arms. They stood like that for a while, Blaise running a comforting hand up and down his back as he cried from all of the worry and the frustration he had about Harry. Sometimes he felt so bloody useless.

•••

It has been a week and three days since Draco had last seen Harry and he had counted every second of it. The last time he'd been this stressed out and high strung was when some prick at school had threatened to out him to his parents. And his friends had noticed, which is why they were all piled around his coffee table sitting on the floor in front of the sofa and playing board games.

"You can't just do that!" Theo said, slamming his hands on the table at Pansy's invasion of his part of the map. She let out a cackle and knocked more of his pieces off of the board.

"Yes, dear, Theo, I can. That is how you conquer, boys." She grinned, sitting back with a satisfied look on her face. Draco and Blaise laughed as Theo let out a scandalized huff.

They'd been playing Risk for the better part of an hour and Pansy had wiped both Blaise and Draco off of the board, leaving Theo to handle her assault. The distraction of it all was making Draco feel marginally better, not to mention the shots they'd taken earlier.

"This was a brilliant idea, Pans, my queen, thank you," Draco said, pulling her into a hug as Theo grumbled about Pansy always winning and why did they even play anymore which Blaise quickly silenced by smothering him in kisses.

"Ew! Get a room," Pansy gagged tossing throw pillows at them until they broke apart laughing, childishly sticking their tongues out at her. And all Draco could do was smile. He couldn't ask for better friends. He didn't know how he managed to grow up with the least judgmental and most kind hearted people he'd ever met, especially since they all had such horrid parents to deal with, but he was grateful.

His pleasant reverie came to an abrupt stop when someone began pounding on his front door.

"It's nearly midnight, who in their right mind," Pansy scoffed, as she stood up too more than likely yell at whoever it was.

"Hey, it's alright, Pans. It's probably nothing, why don't you pick another game," Draco said, standing up and making his way over towards the door where the knocking continued in an almost frantic way. It was probably Mrs. Figg looking for her cat again.

"Hey, what can-Harry? W-what happened?" Draco asked, his stomach dropping, suddenly, he felt stressed and anxious and sick all over again.

Harry looked terrified. He had tears running down his face, which was littered with cuts and he had a split lip that was bleeding. His chest was heaving and he kept glancing behind him like he was waiting for something or someone. His hair was more of a mess than usual and his glasses were nearly hanging off of his face.

"Draco, I didn't- I didn't know where else to," Harry gasped, "He said he was going to...he h-had a knife. I don't-I don't want to d-die."

"Oh my god, come here." Draco breathed out, pulling the trembling man into his arms and rubbing his back. He felt Harry freeze, then melt into the touch and cry harder, wrapping his arms around him in return. And Draco couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since someone had touched him without hurting him. The thought made him hold Harry tighter.

"I won't let him touch you, never again. You're safe now, Harry, I promise." Draco soothed, stroking his hair and pulling him further into the flat.

"What's happening?" Theo asked as he and Blaise stood up and Pansy walked back into the room holding a bottle of Firewiskey, scanned the room and then set it down with a questioning look.

"Where are you, boy!" A voice howled from the corridor and Draco's eyes snapped toward the still open door as Harry whimpered and burrowed himself further in his arms.

"Blaise, Theo, make sure that man doesn't get in here and lock the door. Pansy, call the police, tell them there's a man trying to break in with the means to hurt us and that he's already commited assault." Draco ordered, fire burning behind his eyes. This would be the last time Vernon ever put his hands on Harry, Draco would make sure of that.

Pansy immediately began dialing and the boys went to the door where a flash of the angry man could be seen. Draco nodded once before he brought Harry towards his bedroom and away from the yelling.

"It's going to be okay. Come now, love, let me clean you up a little, please?" Draco softy asked, when Harry refused to let go of him when he tried to pull him off. God, everything about this broke Draco's heart.

When Draco managed to get Harry off of him, he settled him on the bed and went to get his first aid kit. Before he could get more than a few steps away, Harry snatched his sleeve and Draco turned to face him.

"Please, d-don't leave me alone." Harry whispered, looking at him with those brilliant green eyes, shiny with tears. Draco's heart ached at the sight.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stay here, love." Draco sighed heavily, sitting next to Harry and wrapping an arm around him. He really wished Harry would let him fix the little cuts on his face and his bleeding lip but if this is what he wanted, Draco wouldn't take that from him. He couldn't bear the thought of Harry feeling more unsafe than he already did.

"I'm s-sorry," Harry hiccuped, leaning against Draco, "I n-never meant to drag you into this. It's all-all m-my fault."

"No, Harry, love. This isn't your fault. I should've helped you sooner and you did your best, sometimes surviving is all we can do," Draco said, tucking Harry's head under his chin and running a hand up and down his arm, "And it's okay to ask for help when we need it."

Harry sank further into Draco's side at those words and took in a shaky breath just as Pansy came into the room.

"Draco, the police are one their way and the arsehole is locked out. Blaise sent me in to tell you that we need pictures, if his mother is going to be able to convict the fucker banging on your door," She said as she shut the door on the sound of yelling and loud thuds, "He thought Harry would be more comfortable with me than another man in the room."

Draco nodded in response and he appreciated his friends more than ever in that moment. He loved that they all adopted the same vendetta against the man outside without so much as a word.

"Harry, darling, I'm Pansy. Would it be alright if I took a few photos of you?" Pansy asked, as she crouched down in front of him and he nodded, "Alright, I'll need you to sit up for a quick minute, then you can go back to leaning on Draco, hmm?"

Harry nodded again and pulled himself off of Draco, but holding onto his hands tightly. Pansy snap some photos on her phone and asked before she touched him to maneuver his face and take off his glasses, to see all of the damage and he let her without a fuss.

"There we are, darling. All done." She hummed with a small smile, patting his knee as she stood up.

"Thank you, Pansy. Would you mind grabbing the first aid kit, it's in the bathroom, under the sink?" Draco said, while Harry fell against him once more, wrapping his arms around his torso. She nodded and went off to get it taking Harry's unsalvageable glasses with her.

"What am I going to do? What if he-what if he comes back and tries to...where-where am I going to live?" Harry asked quietly and Draco found himself answering before he could think.

"I promise, we will make sure that man stays very far away from you, for a very long time. Once the police arrest him, we'll go up to the flat and take all of your things and bring them down here. And we'll figure everything else out once things have settled."

Harry nodded mutely and let Draco clean him up once Pansy came back with the supplies, although convincing him he had to let go of Draco before he could do so had been a struggle.

By the time the police arrived and had arrested Vernon Dursley, which Draco had learned was his full name from the officers and landlords conversation, Harry's face was all cleaned up, save for the busted lip and he'd finally stopped shaking. And Draco couldn't remember him ever looking so young, without his glasses, his eyes seemed ten times bigger and greener than before. It made the awful situation hurt so much more.

Theo and Blaise were left to clean up all of the games and snacks they'd had out earlier while Pansy, Draco, and Harry went to collect his things from his flat. Draco was appalled to find that Harry had been crammed into nothing more than a closet and Pansy went about taking photos before they moved anything. Draco had never felt more disgusted by another human being in his life than when Harry asked quietly if Pansy needed photos of his other injuries. He'd pulled off his shirt to reveal scars all along his chest and his back with bruises in different stages of healing and Draco felt sick to his stomach. He'd kill that man if he ever had the chance.

Once everything was said and done, the five of them were crammed together in the living room, the telly playing in the background. Draco sat drinking the tea Theo had made, running a hand through Harry's curls, who had fallen asleep with his head in Draco's lap. Theo and Blaise weren't far from passing out themselves as they lay tangle together on the other side of the sofa. Pansy took up the recliner, mindlessly flipping through the channels, a pair of Draco's silk pajamas resting loosely on her petite frame.

"You know, Draco, that was very stupid of you. Going up to their flat like you did, several times apparently. Not telling anyone." Pansy said absently, not asking for an explanation, but simply stating a fact. Draco looked at her, her eyes still focused on the telly, not bothering to look at him as she spoke. He'd hurt her. He knew he had, she was his best friend and he'd gone to Blaise and hadn't even mentioned the topic to her other than the one time they'd all heard the commotion upstairs.

He let out a heavy sigh and carded his fingers through Harry's hair once again.

"I know."

"Most people would have called the police sooner, or complained to the landlord first but you've never been most people have you, darling." Pansy said, but the question was rhetorical and they both knew the answer. Draco liked to play hero and he liked to fix people which entailed him nosing his way into others business and having no regards for himself. He said nothing.

"I'm going to give you money to help pay the rent, put Harry into therapy, whatever it is you need."

"Pansy, you don't have to-"

"I know, but I want to. You're my best friend and you are clearly head over heels for that boy. And even if you weren't, he deserves to feel happy and safe."

Draco's face flushed at the words as he stared at her wide eyed.

"I-no, I'm not...I don't..."

"Whatever you say, darling." Pansy hummed, sounding like she didn't believe him in the slightest and far too amused for his liking. He watched her flip off the screen and make herself comfortable, pulling a blanket over herself.

"I'd take Harry with you to your bed or you'll both be kicked off of the sofa by Theo in the middle of the night. Either way, goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Pans."

In the end, Draco followed her advice, carrying a sleeping Harry to his bedroom and falling asleep next to him.

•••

[6 months later]

"My love, my light, my stars!" Harry sang from his spot on their bed, one of the only things they'd managed to unpack and put together properly since they'd moved into their new flat. Moving was something Harry's therapist had suggested they do, so they had, and now it truly felt like their flat.

"Yes, love?" Draco asked as he finished buttoning up his shirt and turned to face his boyfriend of three months. Harry gave him a coy smile, his pretty green eyes, something Draco could never get enough of, full of mischief. He grabbed Draco's hand tugging him down till their faces were mere inches from each other.

"What if," Harry murmured, lacing his fingers around Draco's collar and pulling him closer, "what if we stayed in, instead of going for lunch with everyone, hmm?"

Harry kissed him deeply, nipping at his bottom lip and Draco's knees went weak. Lord, this man would be the death of him. It took all of Draco's will power and strength to untangle Harry's hands from his shirt and pull away from the kiss. Harry pouted up at him and Draco almost gave in to his request until he remembered the surprise he'd arranged with Pansy.

"Devious today, aren't we? Sorry, love, we still have to go." Draco said with a smile, landing a quick peck on his still pouting lips. "Please get dressed, I'll make you your favorite tea if you do."

Harry grinned at him and pulled him into another hot kiss.

"You'd make it for me anyway," Harry said smugly, then he stood up and went to rifle through his drawers for something to wear.

"The things you do to me, Harry James Potter." Draco sighed over dramatically pulling a laugh from Harry as he went to make tea.

•••

"Ready?" Draco asked pulling open the door of the restaurant they were meeting everyone at, including two special guests that Pansy and Draco had invited.

"What aren't you telling me, Draco?" Harry asked looking up at him, a curious smile tugging at his lips as they walked in holding hands.

"You'll see." Draco hummed happily, pulling Harry against his side as they walked towards their reserved table.

Draco and Pansy had arranged for two of Harry's old school mates to meet them there. Harry had shown Draco a photo of all three of them in his 4th year just before they'd graduated and he'd told him about how he regretted losing touch with them once school had ended. So, being the amazing boyfriend he was, Draco snapped a photo of the picture and sent it to Pansy with their names asking her to help find them. Pansy then hired a private investigator, a little over the top if you asked Draco, and made quick work of finding Hermione Jean Granger and Ronald Billius Weasley.

"Surprise, darling!" Pansy nearly shouted, pulling Harry away from Draco the second they made it to the table and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Draco and I managed to track these two lovely people down for you."

She then pushed him towards a beautiful woman with wild curls and a tall ginger haired man covered in freckles. At first it took him a moment to process, Hermione and Ronald both giving him fond smiles and a little wave.

"It's been a while, Harry." Hermione said lightly, she looked like she wanted to pull him into a hug but she didn't. Draco assumed Pansy had let them know how Harry could be about touching sometimes. Something Harry had finally gotten past with Draco and Pansy a few months ago.

"We've missed you, mate." Ronald added rubbing his neck awkwardly as Harry kept staring at them open mouthed and wide eyed.

Draco walked up next to Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist. He shook hands with Ronald and Hermione with a smile, hoping to break him out of his trance.

"It's nice to meet you both, Harry told me all about how wonderful you are. Isn't that right, love?" Draco asked, stroking his thumb also Harry's side and glancing at him. Harry seemed to come back to the present and kept glancing between Draco and his old school mates before pulling him into a fierce kiss.

"Thank you." Harry whispered against a stunned Draco's lips before he pulled away. Bloody hell, his lips were intoxicating. Then he walked straight up to Hermione and Ronald engulfing them in a hug.

By the time Blaise and Theo had joined them Harry, Ronald and Hermione were talking like they'd never stopped and Draco couldn't help but silently watch how happy his boyfriend looked.

Nothing would ever look as gorgeous as Harry, completely unguarded and smiling in this moment.

a/n I feel like this is a bit all over the place but whatever. Also it was inspired by Alec Benjamin's song Must Have Been the Wind.

#drarry #harry potter #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #drabble #ficlet #mine e.s.q #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #hurt/comfort #harry needs a hug #vernon dursley #silver trio #trauma #muggle au #muggles #non magic au #my writing

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