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kohanayaki · 3 years

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 4 .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

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starshine583 · 3 years

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New Girl on the Block (18)

(Hey, everyone! I have an announcement to make! After posting this chapter, I am going to be taking a temporary leave due to family matters. They’re fun family matters, so don’t worry! but they will prevent me from writing any further chapters at this time. I plan to post the next chapter on June 27th. Sorry for the long wait! That’s just how things worked out, but I hope I’ll get to see you all then, and please enjoy this new update! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 17 / Ch. 19 (ao3)

Chapter 18: It’s the Little Moments

Felix grumbled to himself as he picked up his tie to pull it around his neck. Valentine’s Day parties were bad enough already with all of the love-sick couples that tended to crowd around him throughout the evening. Did he really have to further his torment by dressing up as well? His previous suit was perfectly fine for an event such as this. Fashionable, sleek, formal- there was no reason to change. Especially when it came to this ridiculous, unseemly-

“Oh, lighten up.” His mother told him, shooing his hands away so she could tie the tie herself. “It’s just a Valentine’s Day suit, and you’re wearing it for one night. There’s no need to scowl over it. I’m sure the other boys will be wearing some form of pink too.”

Felix scoffed. “Mother, don’t patronize me. You know I don’t care about the pink color. It’s the fact that you’re dressing me up to match the theme.”

Bridgette eyed him. “And? You’re supposed to match the theme for parties. That’s why it’s called a theme.”

“But if I match the theme, other girls at the party will probably think I approve of the theme too.” Felix argued. “And then they’ll be asking me to dance or trying to talk with me in general. I’ll have to spend the entire evening trying to shoo them off.”

A laugh tumbled from his mother’s lips. “Aw~, it must be so exhausting having all of the girls fall in love with you.”

Felix shot her a flat look. “Would you want to spend an evening rejecting people?”

Bridgette tilted her head in a nod. “I’ll give you that one, but you know Allegra could always scare them off if they become too overbearing.”

Felix blew out a relenting sigh. He supposed that was true.

“Besides, even if the girls are chasing you, you still need to look nice Marinette, don’t you?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “No? Marinette’s not going to care what I look like, so long as I’m not a fashion disaster, that is.”

Which, in this suit, he might very well be, to be honest. Perhaps he should text her a warning.

“I thought you two were supposed to be going on a fake date tonight.” His mother replied, tugging lightly on Felix’s tie to straighten it.

Felix’s gaze snapped to her. “Where did you hear that?”

Bridgette chuckled, offering him a teasing glance as she said, “Oh, please. You know Allegra and I talk.”

Felix tisked and rolled his shoulders, making sure his suit wasn’t too tight. Of course Allegra would mention that ridiculous suggestion to his mother. Those two loved to gossip together, specifically about him.

“Well, we’re not.” He remarked, leveling out the annoyance in his tone. “That was just some frivolous idea that Claude came up with the other day.”

“Really? I thought the idea sounded rather exciting.”

Felix resisted the urge to scoff again. Her too? “Why on earth would it be exciting? You galivant around with someone, probably doing the exact same thing you would do with them on a normal basis, but you call it a ‘fake date’ for what? A good laugh when someone assumes you’re a real couple? I can’t wrap my brain around the reasoning.”

Another chuckle came from Bridgette. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t, but consider this: If you and Marinette pretend you’re dating for the evening, you might not have so many girls coming to ask you for a dance.”

Felix paused, his eyes widening slightly. That.. actually wasn’t such a bad idea. He might even consider it if the thought of asking Marinette didn’t sound so incredibly arrogant. ‘Would you mind being my fake date to help me escape the supposed hoards of girls who are going to chase after me tonight?’ You can’t convince him that that proposal didn’t sound anything less than tacky. She’d probably tease him about it the whole night.

“If it bothers you so much, though,” his mother spoke again, “why not ask Marinette out on a real date?”

Felix sputtered a bit at the comment, blurting out a bewildered, “Excuse me?”

Don’t get him wrong, Marinette was an extraordinary person and anyone who ended up with her would undoubtedly be lucky, but the very thought of him asking her out on a date felt.. strange. He couldn’t imagine asking her for anything more than what she was giving him right now, and he didn’t think there was anything she’d want from him when it came to a relationship anyway. Their dynamic was comfortable as it was. Why should they try to complicate things?

“Alright, alright, I was just asking.” his mother assured, almost seeming to laugh as she did. “You two are only friends. I understand.”

Something about the smile in her eyes told him that she didn’t understand, but he simply glanced to the side, electing to ignore it. Arguing wouldn’t change her mind either way, and in the end it was just a question. His friendship with Marinette wasn’t going to change over it, because neither of them harbored romantic feelings for each other. He was perfectly content to keep it that way.

~~~~~~

Marinette stood in front of her vanity mirror, twisting her hair into a side ponytail for the fifth time that evening. She’d spent the last hour trying over and over again to perfect the hairstyle, but she could never seem to get it right. The ponytail was always too lopsided or too messy or the braid tied into it would begin to unwind. Now, the ponytail was tied tightly enough, but the braid was crooked, and there were too many stray hairs flying around for it to look neat. How can she still be struggling after practicing this for an hour?

“Ugh! I give up!” She huffed, throwing her hands down and staring ruefully at her nearly knotted locks. This is what she gets for taking the easy route and always putting her hair in pigtails. “I’m just going to stay home.”

“No, don’t do that!” Tikki quickly spoke up, flying to her holder’s side. “You’ve worked too hard on your dress to stay home! And your hair really doesn’t look all that bad. I’m sure no one will think twice about it.”

Marinette tisked, plopping into her rolling chair and crossing her arms. “But I’ll think about it, Tikki, and I’ll be more self-conscious than I was going to be before.”

Tonight wasn’t just a Valentine’s Day party for Marinette. That was mainly what it was, of course, but she also saw it as a sort of debut. With the amount of time she spent hanging around Allegra and Claude and the others, she hadn’t had time to truly meet her other classmates at Rosemary, but tonight, they would all be gathered together for her convenience and she would finally have a chance to introduce herself to the school as a whole. It was exhilarating.. and a tad frightening. She’d seen plenty of students in passing that appeared to be less than friendly. How were they going to react to her? Were they going to be as sweet as her current friends? Or did she happen to run into the best group in the school first? There was no telling.

“Try not to overthink it.” Her kwami said softly, though they both knew she would. “Why don’t you try a different hairstyle?”

“Because I don’t know any other hairstyles.” Marinette sighed. “Well.. I know a bun, I guess, but I really wanted this hairstyle for tonight. I feel like it would really bring the dress together, you know?”

“It would.” Tikki agreed. “And it does. But if you think you can’t figure it out-”

“Marinette! Felix is here to pick you up!”

Panic seized Marinette’s chest at the call, and she leapt out of her chair to look in the mirror again. Felix was there already? The party wasn’t for another thirty minutes! Why did he always have to be early?

“Uh- j-just a second, Maman!” She called back, frantically trying to straighten her braid and smooth the wisps of hair around her ponytail. It didn’t work, unfortunately, so she threw a silver pin in her hair as a last ditch effort and made her way downstairs, trying not to whimper too much.

“Oh, Marinette, you look wonderful!” Her mother cooed as Marinette descended the stairs. “I need to go get Tom. Oh, and a camera!”

Marinette pulled a wince. They were going to have photo evidence of this failure of a hairstyle?

“Maman, are you sure that’s necessary? I get dressed up like this all the time.” She tried to dissuade, but Sabine merely waved off her comment.

“Of course it is! This is your first party at Rosemary. We must have pictures.”

“Best be prepared.” A voice cut in, catching Marinette’s attention immediately. “Claude will undoubtedly be thinking the same thing when we arrive.”

Marinette turned towards the front door with a smile, but a gasp escaped her when she saw Felix standing there. She knew it would be him, of course. She simply hadn’t expected him to be wearing a different outfit.

“You..” She paused, briefly wondering if it would be rude to finish, then continued, “you changed your suit.”

Logically, she knew he had more than one suit. No one can wear the same suit forever, and Felix seemed to be too proper to do it even if he could. However, when he didn’t wear his usual suit, he continued to maintain the black and grey color scheme, so it never quite stuck with her that he’d changed. Tonight, though, his suit was entirely red, so deep a red that she might acquate it with blood, and he had a wonderfully pink tie on, along with a pink cloth folded in his front vest pocket to complement it. The sight nearly knocked her off her feet. He was even matching the party’s theme! She didn’t think he cared for things such as that.

A smirk ghosted Felix’s lips, and he nodded. “Yes, courtesy of my mother. I see you changed your hair as well.”

A blush crept across her cheeks, and Marinette reached up to feel how horrible the hairstyle was again. Here Felix was, doing his best and looking great as always, and she was just standing there looking like a mess. Typical.

“O-Oh, yeah, I mean.. I tried to change it. I don’t think it worked out too well..” She muttered, glancing down at the ground. Maybe she still had time to take it out before they left?

Felix’s footsteps brought her gaze back upwards, and she watched him cross the room to her. His eyes were squinted ever-so-slightly, the way they always were when he was pondering something, and once he was close enough, he reached out, his hand lightly tracing over the side braid she’d attempted.

Marinette stood still, allowing him to ‘examine’ her for a moment before saying, “It’s awful, isn’t it? I couldn’t get anything to stay where it was supposed to.”

Felix hummed absently, bringing his hand down to let the tip of her ponytail slide off of his fingertips. “No, not awful. If you practice a few more times, I’m sure it would be perfect.”

Marinette blew out a small sigh. That meant it wasn’t perfect now.

“Do you have the reference you used? If I see it, I might be able to straighten the braid out before we leave at least.” Felix inquired, causing Marinette’s eyes to widen. Oh?

“You know how to do hair?”

“Not quite,” he admitted, “but I learned some of the basics during a few sleepovers. For some reason, Claude and Allegra thought it important that I had a decent grasp on the subject.”

A smile came to Marinette’s lips. That sounded like something they would do. “And you think you can fix my hairstyle from your limited knowledge?”

“Possibly, if you have reference,” Felix smirked, “but it’s alright if you prefer to keep what you have.”

“Oh no, please.” Marinette said, quickly pulling her phone out of her heart shaped purse. “Anything’s probably better than what I have in now. Are you sure we have time, though?”

Felix nodded. “I always leave around ten or fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, so we should have plenty of time.”

Marinette nodded as well and opened the reference video she’d used for her hairstyle. Felix took the phone from her and watched it once or twice as she pulled out the pins in her hair. Then, when everything was down again, Felix handed the phone back to her and let it play in her hands for a third time while he set to work. His fingers brushed through her hair, carefully separating the different locks and tying them together. The feeling behind it was quite strange, mostly because she could hardly feel it at all. His hands were so gentle, so cautious that even when he had to tug on her hair to tighten the braid, it seemed as light as a cloud. Felix was always soft like that. He spoke harshly to others and liked to scowl often, but when it came to his actions, she couldn’t recall a single time he’d been rough.

Recently, she’s been hearing that secret softness in his voice too, and it never failed to make her smile.

“Aw, did her hair fall out?”

Sabine’s voice brought the two’s gaze to the living room doorway. She was standing there with Tom, a camera in her hands and a slight, disappointed frown on her lips.

“No, I took it out.” Marinette assured over her shoulder. “Felix offered to do the hairdo himself so it would look better.”

“Oh, how gentlemanly of him.” Tom chimed in with a satisfied smile.

“Do you mind if I get a picture?” Sabine requested, prepping the camera in her hands.

“Uh..” Marinette looked to Felix as best she could. “Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t mind.” Felix shrugged. “Mother already bombarded me with pictures before I left. What’s a few more?”

Marinette chuckled. “You said she was the one who gave you the suit right?”

“No, she’s the one who made me wear it.” Felix corrected. “Something about having to match the theme.”

“Ah, I see.” Marinette said. She should have known Felix wouldn’t throw away his black and grey color scheme willingly. “She has great taste. You’ll have to let me meet her sometime so I can tell her ‘thank you’.”

A playful scoff passed his lips and brushed against her ear. “You know, I’m sure she would be delighted to do just that.”

*Click!*

The camera flash brought the two’s attention back to Sabine and Tom, who were both holding giddy smiles at this point.

“I think you both look fantastic.” Tom grinned. “Those boys will be falling over each other to get to Marinette tonight, I’m sure.”

Felix hummed as he twisted her hair to pin it into a side ponytail, muttering, “I quite agree.”

The comment was soft and absent, and it sent a blush exploding across Marinette’s face. That’s the second time he’s agreed to her being pretty and a supposed ‘boy magnet’. Does he ever think about what he’s saying or is it just some logical fact to him that shouldn’t mean anything? She’s not sure which one she prefers.

“Done.”

Felix’s hands fell back to his sides, and Marinette reached up to feel the hairstyle- gently, though, so as not to mess it up. The pull of the bobby pins was comfortable and tight, and her braid felt nice and straight as she grazed her fingers over it. Overall, it felt perfect, which was exactly what she’d wanted.

“Thanks, Felix.” She said, offering him a quick smile as she checked the reflection in her phone. “It looks great. You’re a life-saver.”

“And you two are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Her maman cut in. “Now gather together for a picture so we can send you off.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a smile and tucked her phone back in her purse, then turned to stand next to Felix. He, in turn, straightened slightly next to her and clasped his hand behind his back for the picture.

“Alright, say cheese!” Sabine coaxed, holding up her camera.

The pair smiled. “Cheese!”

*Click!*

~~~~~~~

Claude’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he watched his fellow Rosemary students pile into the Mandarin Oriental. As usual, people of all shapes and sizes were here. The ‘cool’ kids, the music kids, the nerd kids, the geeks, the dancers- anyone and everyone who had a popular status at the school, along with a good group of others who counted as the stalking crowd. The younger, less-popular students who tended to follow the social hierarchies like loyal dogs. The ‘baby paparazzis’, if you will. They were all crowding inside with an urgency that only his- and Allegra and Allan and Marinette and Felix’s -parties could bring. Soon, Marinette and Felix will be there as well, and then the fun will really begin.

“Alright, Marinette just texted.” Allegra spoke up behind him. She was currently hovering around the buffet table to ensure the punch drinks were being dispersed properly. Claude, of course, was hovering around Allegra in case she needed his help with anything.

“She said they’re parking now.” His ‘fake date’ continued, glancing over her phone screen as she re-read the text. “You remember what to do, right?”

Claude huffed out a playful scoff, reaching for the platter of shrimp as he replied, “Of course I do. Take her onto the dance floor to help her get comfortable in the ‘party atmosphere’, convince her to dance with Felix while you convince Felix to dance with her, and-”

Allegra slapped his hand, coaxing a yelp from the brunette.

“Don’t touch the shrimp until the other guests have some first.” She scolded.

Claude rubbed his hand with a pout. So touchy. Why should he have to wait for the guests to eat? If they wanted shrimp, they should come up and get some. Why can’t he have the food that he helped pay for? (Well, the food that his parents helped pay for.)

“And keep your voice down too.” Allegra added, flipping her hair over her shoulder when it fell in the way. Wearing it in a half-up-half-down style wasn’t nearly as convenient as her casual braid, but he had to admit, the free curls that fell around her shoulders were extremely nice. “Do you know the amount of people here who would love to get their grubby little hands on the fact that we’re trying to set stubborn, stuck-up, stone-faced Felix with the new, cotton-candy-sweet, bakery-girl Marinette? The gossip would reach both of them within seconds.”

“Yeah, it probably would.” He agreed. “But at least they’ll both know they like each other then. Saves us the trouble, right?”

Allegra shot him a flat look, meaning he probably said something wildly inaccurate again.

“Claude, the only gossip that would be spreading would be the fact that we’re trying to get them together. Not that they like each other. How do you think Felix is going to react when he realizes we’re playing matchmaker? What about Marinette? I think they’d probably be a little uncomfortable considering neither of them probably think that the other person likes them. Which is why we decided to be subtle about this in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yes, it does.” Allegra said, crossing her arms. “So keep your voice down when talking about it from now on, please.”

Claude nodded, leaning back on the buffet table as he faced the crowd again. “Sure, sorry.”

This was going to be a tough evening, trying to get Marinette and Felix together while not blurting the scheme out to the world. He just felt like everything would be easier if they simply talked to each other about it openly. But Allegra was more perceptive than he was. She probably knew things he didn’t about the situation. So he’ll go along with her plan and hope it works out.

Besides, this way he gets to mess with Felix as much as he wants. And he won’t get scolded, this time!

And if everything does work out, Marinette and Felix will be all the happier for it.

Win-win-win-win.

“Hey, guys.” Allan spoke up, joining them at the table and swiping a shrimp. “Do you know if Felix and Marinette are here yet? I haven’t seen them.”

Allegra opened her mouth to scold him about the shrimp as she had Claude, but Allan popped it into his mouth before she could. Claude held back a snort, watching Allegra purse her lips in annoyance. If he couldn’t have a shrimp, at least Allan got one.

“They’re on their way up now.” The blonde replied with narrowed eyes, unbeknownst to Allan. “They just parked a few minutes ago.”

“Cool. We’re still having Claude do his thing, right?”

“Yep.” Claude said, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. “And I am so ready to cause mischief.”

Allegra snorted and lightly nudged him in the arm. “Not too much mischief. This is supposed to be romantic, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude waved her off. “I’ll get them to be romantic. After I get to mess with them.”

“Claude-”

“Oh- there they are! Hey, guys!”

Claude perked up at the interruption, the familiar voice drawing his gaze to the front of the Mandarin Oriental. It was the very voice they’d been waiting for, and the source wasn’t hard to find.

Marinette and Felix were making their way through the crowd towards them, Marinette clearly excited as she waved them down with a bright smile. The designer dress she was wearing looked fantastic, as Felix had predicted, and the hearts littering it matched the theme perfectly. She even had her hair all done up tonight! (Which really brought out the elegance of the dress, in his opinion.) An outfit like that was only going to make his job of setting up a romantic thought process between the two that much easier.

(Of course, with the way Felix was staring at Marinette right now, Claude had a feeling that that thought process might already be set up.)

“Hey!” he greeted, meeting the pair halfway to give Marinette a hug. Was it the flowers on the table or did this girl actually smell like roses tonight? Did she use a special perfume? Oh, Allegra was going to love this.

“You two look awesome! I was starting to think you’d never get here.” He teased, stepping back again to get a better view of her face. She decided to go with a pinker shade of lipstick tonight, along with a glittering, light pink eyeshadow, and it’s a wonder that Felix hasn’t collapsed from swooning at this point. (Though maybe Claude can catch that when the two dance later. The video footage would be priceless!)

Marinette let out a light laugh, touching the tip of her side ponytail with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. Felix was helping me with my hair.”

“Aw, Felix!” Allegra cooed, coming up behind Claude just then to join them. “You did Marinette’s hair? It looks lovely.”

“I knew those lessons would come in handy.” Claude smirked.

“Yes, who would’ve guessed?” Felix muttered, briefly rolling his eyes, but Claude wasn’t fooled. He could hear the almost airy tone to Felix’s voice, see his eyes soften anytime he so much as glanced at Marinette. That guy had probably been ecstatic to do Marinette’s hair, and he just didn’t want to show it.

He would, though.. Soon enough.

“Hey, guys.” Allan chimed in, finally joining them as well. “You both look great. I haven’t seen Felix wear that dark of red in a while.”

“Or red in general.” Allegra remarked with a smile.

“Or pink.” Claude added, eyeing Felix’s shirt sleeves. “Actually, I haven’t seen you wear anything besides gray or black since Marinette had you wear that green, plaid shirt after the ‘flour incident’.”

“In other words.. Your mom made you wear that, didn’t she?” Allegra asked lightheartedly.

“Of course she did.” Felix said. “Why else would I wear it?”

“Well, I imagine you’d just want to look nice.” Claude joked, wrapping his arm around Felix’s shoulders and ignoring the blond’s scowl. “Either way, remind your mom how awesome she is for me when you get home.”

“I’m sure she already knows.” Felix replied curtly, shoving Claude’s arm off of him again.

A giggle brought Claude’s attention back to Marinette, who was now observing the party with sparkling interest.

“Everything looks incredible, you guys!” She nearly squealed. “The lights, the flowers, the food.. But I thought the party started at six. Did I get the times mixed up again?”

“No, it does- er, did.” Claude said. “People just get excited and like to get in as soon as they can.”

“Oh.” Marinette muttered, relief smoothing out her features. “So we’re not late?”

“Not at all. In fact..” Claude swept into a bow, offering his hand to her with a grin. “We were just about to start the dancing. Would you mind giving me the honors?”

A surprised laugh fell from Marinette’s lips. “Me? I thought Allegra was your ‘fake date’ for the evening.”

“She is, but I have to save the best for last, right?” Claude threw a wink at Allegra, who also let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. The slight blush on the her cheeks gave her away, though, and it caused his grin to widen.

Marinette gave an “Aw~.” and slipped her hand into his. “Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

“Great!” Claude cheered, pulling her close.

They glided onto the dance floor, quickly catching the attention of the room, and with that, the first part of the plan fell into place. Claude was dancing with Marinette. Now he needed to convince her to dance with Felix.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude could already see Felix starting to flounder. He simply stood there, quietly watching them dance with that neutral expression of his and occasionally looking elsewhere. Without Marinette to anchor him in a room of people, the blond would no doubt resort to being a wallflower again and wander over to some corner. A nice, hidden corner where Allegra could easily- and discreetly -convince Felix to dance with Marinette. They all knew him too well.

“Are we the only ones dancing?” Marinette asked, bringing Claude’s attention back to her.

“For now,” he confirmed, “but someone has to start it, right? Look, they’re already joining in.”

“I guess that’s true..” Marinette said, glancing at the few couples that had indeed started to join them. “I don’t normally dance all that much, to be honest. So it’s a little weird for me to be the one starting it for once.”

Claude laughed and took a step back to spin her around. “Really? You’re a natural at it!”

“Oh, thanks. That’s a relief to hear.” Marinette smiled, hobbling into a spin.

“Course. But you know who else is a natural at it?”

Marinette hummed. “Let me guess.. Is it you?”

Claude snorted. “Well, duh, but I was actually talking about Felix.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Felix?”

“Yeah! He takes waltzing classes at the school and everything, but he never dances! Can you believe it?”

A chuckle passed Marinette’s lips. “Kind of. This is Felix we’re talking about. Maybe his mom wanted him to take dance lessons like she wanted him to wear that tuxedo.”

“Maybe.. But it’s still a shame to waste such carefully crafted skills. You should try to get him to dance tonight.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh? And who would I get him to dance with? He doesn’t like getting close to random people.”

Claude hummed. “Now, that’s a question, isn’t it? Who should dance with Felix tonight..”

He made a show of looking around the dance floor as he and Marinette waltzed in a circle, then looked back to her. “..Why don’t you dance with him?”

Marinette nearly tripped over her own two feet at the suggestion, and Claude had to hold back a smile. Was she getting flustered? That’s a good sign.

“You want me to.. Are you sure he’d be comfortable with that? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even want to dance.”

“Come on, who else could get Felix to dance?” Claude insisted. “He’ll say yes if it’s you, and we can’t let him be a wallflower forever.”

Marinette let out a soft laugh, looking quite bashful as a blush curled onto her cheeks, and she glanced over at Felix. He was already standing next to the wall near the punch bowl, looking idle as he watched the dancing crowd.

“I don’t know, Claude. I think he rather enjoys being a wallflower.”

Claude chuckled. “Just say you’ll try? At the very least, it’ll make Allegra happy to see Felix out and about.”

Marinette turned her attention back to him and smiled. “..Alright. I guess I’ll try, but no promises about actually getting him to dance.”

“Deal.” Claude grinned. Mission success!

“On an entirely different note, though, your dress is incredible. You made that yourself, right?”

Marinette brightened and nodded. “Yes, I did! I had lots of fun with it so I’m glad you guys like it.”

“Aw, I’m pretty sure I’d like anything you make. You always put a cool twist on things.” Claude smiled. “By the way, how’s my prince suit coming along? Have you started it yet?”

“I have! It’s actually pretty close to being done. I’m on the ‘details’ stage.”

A gasp of delight escaped him. He hadn’t realized how close she was to finishing it!

“Oh, sweet! You’re gonna have to come over to my house when you finish it. We can even have a mini-fashion show for you!”

Marinette giggled. “That sounds like a blast.”

“Yes!” Claude briefly let go of Marinette’s waist to pump his fist. “Man, am I glad you came to Rosemary. I mean, not just because of the prince suit- even though that is pretty awesome -but also because you’re a fun person to be around, ya know? Everyone thinks so.”

“Really?” Marinette’s steps lagged slightly, clearly taken aback by the statement. “That’s.. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

For a moment, she almost looked relieved.. Or even sad. But another blinding smile appeared before he could figure out why.

“I think you guys are fun to be around too.” She said warmly.

Claude smiled, feeling his uneasiness melt away. She didn’t sound sad or solemn at all. He was probably just imagining things, or seeing a trick of the light.

“Excuse me.”

Claude and Marinette slowed to a stop, turning to another boy who had come to interrupt them.

“Mind switching off with me?” He asked, offering his hand to Marinette. Was that even allowed during an informal dance such as this?

Nevertheless, Claude caught Marinette’s eye. “What do you say, Mari? Wanna switch off?”

Marinette blinked. “Oh- uh -sure. If you’re okay with it.”

“Absolutely.” Claude smirked, jokingly spinning Marinette into the other boy’s arms. “Just don’t forget your promise to try!”

Marinette chuckled as she re-situated herself into the dance position. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Claude watched the two dance away, smiling proudly at the seed he’d sown for Marinette and Felix’s romantic evening. Allegra was surely going to be pleased with his work, and he was going to be pleased watching it unfold.

Now to get that shrimp.

~~~~~~~

Felix leaned against the wall, quietly observing the other party members dance, specifically Marinette. Her smile shined brightly as a boy twirled her, and her shoulders shook with giggles when the boy dipped her a second later. She appeared to be enjoying herself, and Felix was enjoying watching her. He had a feeling the other boys from Rosemary would be showering her with attention tonight- it was one of the rare times when she wasn’t being smothered by himself and the trio, after all -but he was admittedly surprised by the amount of stamina she possessed. It’d been at least an hour or two since the dancing started, yet she was still going as strong as ever, non-stop.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t non-stop. She had spun over to his little corner a few times to talk, which was how he ended up carrying two cups of punch instead of his one. Still, she should probably take a seat soon. Those heels she’d decided to wear were bound to be painful after a while. Perhaps he should grab her attention and find an empty table-

“U-um, excuse me, Felix?”

Felix glanced to his right, meeting the face of a girl that seemed vaguely familiar and a tad timid. She stood a certain distance away from him, her lips stretched into a nervous smile, and gave a little wave. Was that all she intended to do?

“Can I help you?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Oh- well-” The girl faltered, as though she hadn’t expected to get this far, and rubbed her arm. “A-actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to.. Dance? With me. Of course.”

Ah, Felix thought, heaving a mental sigh. He should have known that that would be her intention. Now her visible anxiety made sense.

“Apologies, but I don’t dance.” He replied smoothly.

The girl’s shoulders sank. “Oh.. really? I thought you took waltzing classes at the school.”

Felix schooled a neutral expression, if only to avoid glaring. What, was she stalking him or something?

“I assure you they are for my Mother’s pleasure only, but I myself do not dance.” He said, a flatter note in his voice than before. Take the hint.

Thankfully, she did, but not in the way Felix was hoping.

“Ah, I see.. How about I keep you company then?” The girl suggested, getting entirely too comfortable next to him. “You’ve been over here by yourself for a while now.”

Felix’s grip on the cups tightened. So she was stalking him.

“While I appreciate the gesture, it’s quite unnecessary. I’m simply waiting for my friend to get back.”

“Your friend?” The girl asked, glancing into the crowd curiously. “You mean the black-haired girl who gave you that drink, right?”

Felix held back another scowl, his eye twitching. Seriously, how long had this girl been watching him? Didn’t she have someone better to bother? There were plenty of other guys here that would be willing to dance or talk with her. Why did she have to choose to annoy him specifically?

“Her hair is raven, and yes, she’s the one that gave me this drink.” He responded curtly, taking a sip of his own punch.

The girl nodded thoughtfully, blissfully unaware of his thinning patience. “I guess her hair does have a blue shine to it. Do you want me to hold one of the drinks? I imagine they get heavy after a while.”

Felix pulled the drinks away from her grasp, finally fixing her with a look.

I want you to mind your business, you little-

“Felix!”

Marinette’s punch was plucked from his hands, and an arm settled on his left shoulder. He whipped to the new interruption, thinking what now? and about ready to snap at someone, until he saw Allegra’s smiling face. She must have noticed him getting irritated and came over to investigate.

“You look like you’re having fun.” She said brightly, swirling Marinette’s punch in her hand. “Thanks for holding my drink for me.”

Felix winced, practically feeling the gears in the girl’s head turning. He’d just told her that the drink was Marinette’s, not Allegra’s. She was no doubt going to pick up on that. (Unless she was dimmer than he gave her credit for. That could always be a possibility.)

“Wait-” The girl said, her brows furrowing. Great. “Your drink? Felix just told me that that raven-haired girl gave him the drink.”

Felix gave Allegra a tired look. Try getting out of this one now.

At least she got Marinette’s hair color right that time.

Allegra ignored Felix’s look, instead throwing the girl a sharp smile. It was a rare sight to behold, but a welcome one. (So long as it wasn’t directed at him, of course.) It meant she was preparing herself to tear someone apart.

“Yes,” She replied shortly, “I gave the drink to Marinette, so she could give it to Felix. Is there a problem?”

The girl frowned. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I saw her-”

“You don’t believe me?” Allegra cut her off. “That’s rather rude to say to the hostess of the party, don’t you think? Go ask her yourself if you’re so skeptical. I wouldn’t recommend coming back to me afterwards, though.”

The girl huffed and crossed her arms, but turned around anyway, marching right off to a small group of girls that must have encouraged her to come talk with him in the first place. They swarmed her quickly, asking what happened and glaring at Allegra, but all Felix cared to do was take Marinette’s punch back from the blonde.

“I’m grateful, but I’m still going to need this back.” He said.

Allegra laughed and straightened to throw her hands in the air as a sign of surrender. “Fine with me. I didn’t realize you’d grown so attached to the beverage.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “I didn’t. You just might drink it by accident while we’re talking.”

Allegra tilted her head in a nod. “That’s a fair assumption. So what did that girl want from you?”

He sighed. “A dance. What else would people be asking me for at this ridiculous party?”

“Hey, it’s not ridiculous.” Allegra argued. “Marinette’s having a pretty good time.”

Felix’s gaze swept over the crowd again, finding Marinette easily as she switched off to a new dance partner. Her smile was contagious as always, and it spread onto Felix’s lips with little resistance.

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He agreed, taking another sip of his punch.

Allegra leaned against the wall next to him with a light chuckle. “You know, I bet if Marinette asked you to dance with her, you would.”

Felix scoffed at the implication her tone gave. Of course he would dance with Marinette if she asked, but only because it would make her happy, not because he wanted to dance with her. (Not that he particularly minded dancing with her either-)

“She wouldn’t ask me to dance,” he said before his thoughts could get out of hand, “because she knows I don’t fancy it.”

Allegra hummed. “Maybe you should ask her then.”

Felix shot her a look. This was going to be as tiresome as the other girl, wasn’t it?

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you need to not be a total wallflower this evening.” Allegra smiled. “And it would make Marinette happy. She’s already danced with Allan and Claude tonight, but with your professional lessons, I’m sure she’d have a blast.”

“I believe we just established that she is already having a blast.” Felix remarked, to which Allegra groaned.

“Just think about it, alright?”

“Unlikely.”

Why should he have to entertain an uncomfortable idea when Marinette was already enjoying herself? Granted, dancing with her didn’t sound awful, but the thought that it might encourage others to attempt dancing with him did. People were already asking him to dance while he was hiding near a wall. Imagine how many girls would come out of the woodwork once they actually saw him dancing.

Allegra rolled her eyes and waved him off. “Alright, whatever. I’m going back to the buffet table. Feel free to walk over if you start getting the urge to snap on someone again.”

Felix smirked. “In other words, I’ll see you in a few minutes?”

Allegra snorted as she walked away, and Felix settled back against the wall.. Just in time to see Marinette making her way towards him from the midst of the crowd. She appeared to be out of breath, though she offered him a tired smile when they locked eyes, and he moved forward to meet her halfway. That way she won’t have to trek all the way across the room for a drink.

“Are you finally taking another break?” He asked, handing her her punch when they joined at the edge of the crowd.

Marinette breathed out a laugh and took her drink with a “thanks”. It amazed him how well her outfit was staying together. The bow that held the dress together over her shoulders hadn’t loosened at all, and her hair seemed to be in place as well, save for a few stray strands. One would think that that amount of dancing would have her looking more disheveled.

“Yeah, just for a second.” She panted. “I’m starting to get dizzy from spinning so much.”

Felix chuckled. “Would you like to go find a table for a bit?”

“Uh..” Marinette glanced around the room for a moment, thinking it over. “You know what? Sure. I could sit for a bit.”

Felix smiled and gestured for her to lead the way, though he did point out an empty table that he had spotted earlier.

Marinette sat down first, with Felix pulling out her chair for her, and he sat down next to her. Their position faced the party rather than the wall, which allowed them- or at least Marinette -to continue enjoying the party atmosphere while they spoke.

“So are you having a decent time?” Marinette asked, taking a quick sip of her punch. “I know parties aren’t your thing, but you’re not too miserable, right?”

A bitter laugh escaped him, and he twirled his cup on the table as he said, “Miserable is certainly a good word to describe this evening.”

“Aw~, I’m sorry. Do you think going out to get some air would help?”

Felix offered her a smile. “That sounds delightful, but it’s as you said: Parties simply aren’t my preference. This party especially.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together. “Because it’s a Valentine’s Day party or because there are so many people?”

“The Valentine’s Day theme.” Felix confirmed. “Not only are people more inclined to invade my personal space, but they also like to make the ‘Day of Love’ about romance exclusively. It diminishes the other definition to a ridiculous amount in my opinion.”

“Other definitions?” Marinette inquired. “What do you mean?”

Felix allowed a small, humorous smile to catch his lips. She’d just inadvertently proven his point right there. People were so focused on the romantic sense of love that they seemed to forget the several other types of love that exist.

“There’s more than one type of love, such as platonic love or familial love. In fact, the Greeks had seven different words for love. I believe they’re all important, so to see them all be dwindled down to just romantic love is aggravating.”

“Huh..” Marinette muttered, absorbing his words. “I never knew about the Greeks using seven different words for love. What were they?”

Felix briefly glanced up in thought. “If I remember correctly, they were Philia, Ludus, Storge, Philautia, Pragma, Agape, and Eros.”

“Wow.” Marinette smiled. “They sound beautiful. What do they mean?”

Felix smirked as well. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Always willing to listen and learn from my random facts.

“Well, the meanings are all decently complicated, but I supposed they can be summed up to this: Philia is the type of intimate love between friends. Ludus is the playful and ‘exciting’ type of love that one would get with a random crush. Storge is familial love, Philautia is the love of self, Pragma is the enduring type of love- which is the type of love needed for marriages or serious relationships -Agape is the unconditional love for humanity as a whole- which I clearly do not have-” He gained a snort from that “-and Eros is that of sexual love.”

The meaning of the last one felt a bit awkward on his tongue, but he pushed away the uneasiness. She had asked for the definitions, after all.

“I like those definitions.” Marinette said, a soft look coming to her features. “It’s cool that you know so much about them.”

“I have mentioned that I enjoy knowing things.”

Marinette giggled. “So you have. Just out of curiosity, though- and this may be a bit contradictory to the conversation -but have you ever had a crush on anyone? Or just, you know.. Been in a relationship in general? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly. He honestly hadn’t expected her to ever ask him such a thing. It made sense, considering the topic of the conversation they were having, but it was still surprising coming from her.

Nevertheless, he answered.

“No, neither. I’ve never been interested in anyone enough to pursue them, and anyone interested in me has always been too clingy. If I wanted someone to fawn over me constantly, I would simply invite Claude and Allegra to my house more often.”

For some reason, his answer didn’t feel quite right as he said it, and he found himself gauging Marinette’s reaction. Did he answer the question incorrectly? Was she going to be upset? Or possibly disappointed? Why would she be either? How could there possibly be an ‘incorrect’ answer to the question he’d just been asked?

Marinette snorted, clearly not upset at all, and it left him wondering why he’d bothered to worry.

“I figured you’d say that. You don’t seem like the type to get caught up in feelings like that.”

Felix nodded, though he silently questioned what she meant by the comment. Was she implying that he couldn’t get caught up in those types of feelings? Why did that seem so offensive to him?

“What about you?” he asked, brushing his thoughts to the side. He was just being ridiculous anyway. “Have you ever had romantic feelings towards another or been in a relationship?”

He already knew about her affections for Adrien Agreste, of course, but he’d yet to find out how far they went. And, on top of that, there was always the possibility of her having more than one lover. So it only made sense to ask the question, especially since she had asked him first.

A grimace overtook her features, clearly telling him that she had, in fact, had a romantic encounter before.

“Well.. I’ll admit I’ve had a lot of crushes, but there was this one that really got me. You, uh, you’ve actually met him already. Technically, anyway.”

Felix took a guess. “Adrien Agreste?”

She nodded, a bitter smile coming to her lips. “Cliché, right? The baker girl falling for the famous model..” She glanced down at her drink, absently tilting the cup to watch the liquid swirl. “I didn’t like him because he was a model, though. I liked him because he was sweet, and he was thoughtful, and.. I don’t know, I guess I thought.. that we could live a happy life together.”

Felix frowned at the cloud that seemed to pass over her, the pain that swelled in her eyes. He hadn’t realized how strong her attachment to Agreste was.

Marinette shook her head, breaking free of the thought process, and plastered on a smile. “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask about that.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assured her. “You can’t let things weigh on your mind unattended. If you feel you need to talk about it, then I’m willing to lend an ear.”

Marinette’s posture relaxed, relief making her smile a bit more genuine as she said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.. I don’t have any feelings for him now, but the pain is.. It still comes back, especially with how things ended. Sometimes I wish it had been different, sometimes I wish I had been different, and sometimes I wish I hadn’t fallen for him at all.. but mostly, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“What happened?”

“Well.. nothing happened, to be honest. And I think that was the hardest part.” Marinette drew in a deep breath, allowing herself to relax before continuing, “He came to my school a little over two years ago. Everyone was excited, but I didn’t even know who he was. When I did find out, though, we actually had a little bit of a misunderstanding. It’s funny when I think about it now, the way things turned out during that first day.”

“He apologized about it later, even though it wasn’t his fault, and I think that’s when I started to see him as something more than a friend. The more I got to know him, the more I started falling head over heels, and soon my friends found out about it. They thought we would be a great couple too, which kind of made me excited, and we all started planning these elaborate schemes to get him to notice me.”

She put her head in her hands and groaned. “It was so embarrassing, Felix, you should have seen them. One even involved me dressing up like a cat since he loved Chat Noir so much.”

Felix grimaced, though he tried not to show it. Marinette dressing up like a cat for some random guy’s attention? He couldn’t even fathom it. Who came up with that suggestion?

“Did it.. work?” He almost hesitated to ask.

Marinette laid her head on the table then, shaking it with a whine. “Not even close. This group of dogs saw me on my way over, and I guess my costume was too convincing because they chased me all around Paris. I ended up muddy and scratched up when Adrien actually saw me, which didn’t help at all.”

Felix was careful not to react, but he almost felt the need to pat her on the shoulder. How had she not died from embarrassment yet? If someone put him through that, he’d never go outside again.

“You see? That’s how all of it was. All. of. It.” Marinette said, lifting her head again to lean her chin into her palm. “Two years I spent chasing after him, making all of these plans and trying to catch his eye just once, but no matter what I did, I was only ever his ‘good friend’. A-And I’m not saying I hated being his friend or anything, I just.. I was trying so hard to be more, wondering why I wasn’t enough, and my friends were constantly cheering me on to keep going. It was exhausting.”

Felix offered her a sympathetic look as she went on, though he couldn’t help feeling annoyed by the story. What kind of ‘friends’ did she use to have that they would willingly push her to make a fool of herself in front of her love? What kind of friends would encourage her to continue chasing after someone who clearly wasn’t interested in her? That wasn’t healthy at all, and he could only imagine how miserable it would have made her.

Wait..

“Is that why he’s coming to see you now?” Felix asked. (or more of blurted out.) “Because of your previous feelings for him?”

“Oh, no.” Marinette said, going so far as to let out a laugh. “No, I doubt he’s ever going to see me in that light, but it’s still frustrating that he’s trying to visit me. Moving to Rosemary was supposed to be an easy break, but he just has to follow me here too.. Again, it’s not that I mind being his friend or anything, it’s.. I need time. To get over him. I don’t like the person I became when I only lived to gain his affection, and it’s hard to get over that mindset, ya know?”

Felix nodded. He didn’t quite understand her experience since he’d never loved someone himself, but he knew that old habits were hard to break, and that love can be known as an intoxicating and addicting emotion. It wouldn’t be easy to get rid of.

“You’re strong for deciding that.” He said sincerely. “It takes an immense amount of will power to let go of something that you think will make you happy, but I believe you’re right in thinking you’ll be better for it.”

Marinette pulled a small smile, twisting the small tip of her ponytail. “Thanks. I hope I am.”

Felix smiled as well and turned his chair to face Marinette more fully. He wanted to ensure that she would hear the words he was about to say.

“Marinette, you are.. an incredible person. And I’m not just telling you this to lift your spirits, I am saying it because it’s true. You are talented, intelligent, kind, and capable all on your own. You don’t need anyone to validate how amazing you are, because it’s evident in everything you do, and I truly hope you don’t ever doubt yourself because of Adrien’s foolishness.”

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and she glanced down to fiddle with her hands. “O-Oh, uhm.. Thanks.. Again. I won’t.”

Felix smiled, satisfied with the reaction, and picked up his cup to extend it towards her.

“Here,” he said light-heartedly, “to finding someone new, someone who appreciates you, even if that someone is yourself.”

Marinette giggled and picked up her drink as well, clinking the glasses together. “To finding someone new.”

Felix took a sip of his cup to complete the toast, but to his surprise, Marinette set hers to the side, instead standing up and offering her hand to him.

“Let’s go dance.”

Felix choked on his drink.

“Pardon?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Marinette insisted. “I mean, you only have to come if you want to, of course, but I haven’t danced with you yet, and Claude said that you took waltzing lessons at the school.”

Felix held back a scoff and glanced around the room, hoping to catch Claude’s eyes so he could glare at him. Why did that dolt keep telling people he took waltzing lessons? It only made it harder for Felix’s to reject people when asked to dance.

However.

He looked back to Marinette, who held a fresh, bright smile, waiting for his response.

“I bet if Marinette asked you to dance, you would.”

Allegra’s words resurfaced in his mind, unwelcomed. Why did she always have to be right? It only made her more smug as a person.

Nevertheless, Felix took Marinette’s hand. “Alright, but only one dance. I don’t want anyone else thinking I’m open to the idea.”

Marinette chuckled and pulled Felix to his feet. “Of course not. We’ll dance near the darker spots of the room so your face won’t be seen.”

They moved to the dance floor, and Marinette put her hand on his shoulder, while Felix wrapped his arm around her waist. It was a bit awkward pulling each other close, since the only other person he’d been this close to was his mother and father, but once they actually started to dance, his years of practice easily took over. Felix slid into the role of leading, and Marinette followed him willingly as he spun her around the party room, smiling when she laughed during a dip.

Such a fool.. He thought, tugging her back up to him. How anyone could pass up Marinette’s affection was beyond him, but in a way, Felix was delighted that Adrien had. He might not have been able to meet her otherwise.

With the two being so enveloped in each other’s movements, they didn’t notice Allegra, Claude, and Allan watching them from across the room, nor did they catch the smiles and high-fives that the trio shared.

Tag List: @sasstrashforlike5fandoms @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07 @derbygracie @pleaseignorejustheretoread

#felinette #Felix Culpa #Marinette #Miraculous Ladybug #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block #quantic kids

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migilini · 4 years

Note

Hi!! Can you do another request for Charlie Gillespie? Can it be the 5 times he tries to propose and the one time he actually does? Thank you!!

Fifth Time Works A Charm - Charlie Gillespie

a/n: I loved writing this, especially because I’m procastinating to write the next Chapter for my Luke ff. I hope you like it as much as I do.

Requests are open!

Words: 3k

Masterlist

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He knew from the moment he kissed you goodnight on your second date that you were the one he was gonna marry one day. He loved the way you always complained about back pain, yet you never sat normally in any chair and the way you still paid attention to him when he talked about a topic you had no clue on. The spark in your eyes and the curve of your lips when you laughed at one of his awful jokes. Every Morning he woke up next to you was a good one and he loved you more and more everyday. He was totally and completely whipped for you that wasn't the hard part, finding the right moment to propose was.

The two of you were on vacation in Hawaii at the same resort the two of you accidentally met a couple years ago and learned that you actually only lived 30 minutes away from each other. You were laying on the beach, the soft towel brushing your skin slightly, a big sun hat shielding your eyes and face from the hot sun.

Cold drops of water hit your exposed stomach “Baby look, the water is so nice!” more water hit your warm skin. Screeching you sat up and saw your boyfriend standing over you, with a big smile while he wrenched out his hair, letting all the cold water hit you.

“It's cold.” you giggled. “And you're warm!” He dropped on top of you, instantly cooling you down with his cold skin. You tried to protest but he was faster and stronger than you are. Putting his elbows around your face, he lifted some weight off of your chest then he stared at you.

“Hmm? What are you staring at me for?” you asked, amusement evident in your voice. “You just look very beautiful right now. You look relaxed.”

Blushing, you cupped one of his cheeks and responded “Thank you handsome. I am relaxed, really needed this getaway.” He smiled and leaned down a bit to kiss your forehead, your nose and then your lips. You savoured the saltines that lingered on your lips for a second longer before he pulled away. He got off of you and rested on his own towel.

Sitting up a bit more, you pulled out your book and read for a bit, when suddenly something made your toe wiggle. Looking over the border of the book, you noticed that Charlie wanted your attention. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his small smile.

“I have something planned for tonight.” He said and buried your foot in the sand. “Yeah? Care to tell me what it is?”

“Nope that's gonna be a surprise! Let's get back to the room and get ready.”

He told you to get dressed casually yet fancy so you wore your hair up in a bun, light makeup with a bold red lip and a flowy maxi dress. You were sitting on the hotel bed when you heard someone vomiting.

“Babe? You okay?” you questioned and walked to the bathroom door. “Did you eat something weird?” the door opened and you were faced with a pale Charlie. “Oh baby.” a small frown sat on your face when you saw him. “Let's stay in. We can do your surprise tomorrow when you feel better, okay?” Pouting, he shook his head “No. I feel fine, let's go.” he went to grab your hand but you took a small step back.

“Charlie, you're sick. There's no harm in staying in today. Health first, adventures second okay?” His shoulders dropped in defeat, there was no way he could convince you to still go out, so he nodded and followed you back to the bed. But before, in a second that you went to grab a water bottle, he pulled a small black box from his pockets and stuffed it back into his suitcase.

Unfortunately he was sick for the rest of your trip.

You and your boyfriend Charlie were chilling on the couch in the living room. Charlie was responding to some emails while you scrolled through instagram. The radio was on in the background, filling the room with soft music. It was late evening and you put some candles on and turned up your little lights that were scattered all over the place to make it cozy.

Your ears picked up the familiar tune of ‘It's been a long long time by Harry James’ and a big smile spread on your lips. You jumped up, throwing your phone somewhere on the couch and started pulling on Charlie's arm. “Dance with me.”

“Baby I’m working.” he said with a grin, already closing his laptop.

“Please just dance to this song. It's our song babe! Then I won't annoy you the whole day.” you pleaded, jumping from one foot to the other, while still pulling on his arm.

“Okay. Just this song. I know how much you love it.” He stood up, his arms finding your waist as you interlaced your hands behind his back. Your manicured fingers immediately start playing with his longer hair. The two of you swayed to the music, he was humming along to the music, while you closed your eyes. He dipped you, waking you laugh. Then you twirled him around your arm. The song came to your favorite part and you wholeheartedly sang along, beaming up at your boyfriend.

‘Kiss me once’ You gave him a kiss on the shoulder and he kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer into his chest.

‘Then, kiss me twice’ You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his forehead and the tip of his nose.

‘Then, kiss me once again’ finally you kissed his lips. Charlie hummed in approval, tightening his grip on your waist.

Slowly the song came to an end when your phone started to ring. Charlie looked at your expectantly, waiting for you to pick it up.

“If it's important they'll call again.” you muttered with your face pressed against his shoulder. Sadly for you both a second later it began to ring again. Groaning the two of you left your little bubble as you picked up your phone.

“Oh hi grandma. How have you been?” You excused yourself with a swift kiss on his cheek and left the living room, leaving behind a lonely boyfriend.

“We got a special request to play this song today.” The radio host announced “I hope she said yes man!”

You just finished your last exam of the last semester of college. You were done. Finished. Now you only have to wait and see if you're actually gonna graduate or if you have to repeat the semester. Still, you felt like celebrating. Charlie had interview after interview scheduled for today so you didn't tell him right of the bat. You spent the day doing some mundane household tasks and grocery shopping. The moment your boyfriend was finished for the day, he ran out of your office to search for you.

You laid on the couch, watching a new netflix series when you heard footsteps approach. “You’ve done it baby!” he pulled you off the couch and twirled you around. Giggling you answered “I haven't graduated yet.”

“And? You will, I'm sure of it because I have the smartest girlfriend in the world and she just finished her last test. This needs celebration!” he left small kisses all over your face.

Due to the pandemic, you had to stay in the appartement to party. You didn't care though. Charlie ordered something from your favourite italian place and you pulled out the wine from your kitchen cabinet. Somehow the food took ages to arrive and to pass the time you decided to open the bottle.

Wine always had an interesting effect on the two of you, especially on an empty stomach. Charlie got very needy and you always blacked out during the night (He does too but he won't admit it). But the one thing both of you had in common was the touchyness. It wasn't like you two were not always touching when you were sober, it was just that wine drunk Charlie and you took it to a whole other level. By the time you were on your third glass, you wondered if Charlie even ordered the food.

“Could I have this dance with you ma lady?” Charlie held out his hand and bowled a little. You put down your now fifth glass of wine and stood up, taking his hand in yours.

“Oh, yes of course.” This dance was different from the dance you had a couple of nights ago. It was more of a makeout session than a dance. At some point he picked you up, so your legs were wrapped around his torso, yet he still swayed to the non existing music.

“I love you.” You murmured against his lips.

“I love you more.” he said and pulled away slightly.

“No way that's possible.”

“Oh really?” he raised his eyebrow.

“Marry me then.” he whispered looking you in the eyes with a spark in his.

“Yes! I do!” You slurred and kissed him harshly. A smile spreading on both of your lips.

You woke up the next morning with an aching headache and practically no memory of the evening before. You turned over to see Charlie sleeping next to you. You slowly traced the outline of his face. He opened his eyes and smiled at you.

“Hi” he croaked out in his morning voice that still made butterflies rise in your stomach. “Hey. How much do you remember?” You asked him sheepishly. He pulled you in with his arms, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“Not much to be honest and i'm guessing you don’t either?” You only shook your head.

“I remember that our food somehow didn't arrive.”

Next time Charlie should really read the text of the restaurant he orders from, because there was a perfectly cooked meal waiting in front of your door.

Charlie missed his best friend and you knew this. So you arranged a little get together with Owen and Jeremy at Owen’s new apartment. Your plan was to drive down from Canada, make a quick weekend stop at Owens and then make your way to your apartment in LA.

Currently it was a monday morning and you were still at Owens. His guest bed was just so comfortable it was harder than normal to get out of bed. On this particular morning, you woke up to an empty side of the bed and some talking from the living room.

Lazily, you put on one of Charlie's hoodies, some cozy socks and a beany. You shuffled to the living room where you assumed the boys would be sitting, not realising that you interrupted a conversation.

“I don't know man. Everytime I have something planned it goes wrong.”

“Look Char, In my experience the chance will… morning y/n.” Jeremy was quick to notice your figure shuffling towards them, your eyes scanning your phone. The boys tensed up and quickly tried to do a normal activity.

“Morning everybody.” You smiled at them. “Am I the last to be up?” you asked and only got noods in return. Still too sleepy to notice the atmosphere, you made your way over to your boyfriend, who was standing at the kitchen aisle, wrapping your arms around him from behind and nuzzling your head into his back. Your hands instantly go under his hoodie and on his bare skin to warm your hands.

“Kofe…” you mumbled into his back, barely audible.

“What?” Owen asked, confused while he sat on the kitchen counter, eating a toast.

“She wants some coffee.” Your boyfriend translated with a smile.

“Oh.. I just used the last capsule... I’m so sorry” Jeremy apologized and offered you the last sip of his cup of coffee.

“I’m fine, I'll survive thank you though Jer.” You yawned, releasing yourself from cuddling Charlie, knowing you're not gonna be fully awake without a cup of coffee. Your boyfriend also knew this and eyed you closely, then he leaned over to whisper in your ear that he's gonna get you a coffee after his workout. He looked at you lovingly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Jesus Christ man, you're whipped. Just ask her.” Owen said while rolling his eyes. The second the last words left his lips all the boys looked at eachother with wide eyes. Owen went to cover his mouth with his hands.

“Ask me what?” You asked in a soft tone and turned to your boyfriend who had a really panicked look on his face.

“I- I-uhm…” he stuttered, fiddling with his fingers.

“Charlie here wanted to ask you if you would mind staying one more day.” Jeremy came to the rescue and sent Owen a mad look, while he pulled one of his arms over Charlie's shoulder, who gave him a thankful nudge.

Your face softened “Of course bubby! If it's okay with Owen it's okay with me, we have no hurry to head to LA. I love spending time here. Gotta teach Owen a few tips and tricks of living alone.” you sent a wink in the blonde boys direction.

At this point Charlie nearly gave up on asking you to marry him, maybe it was a sign from the universe that the two of you weren’t ready for that commitment yet. You were both still so young and just started with your careers.

He looked over at your mess of curls that spread all over the pillow case. The peaceful up and down from your chest and the small smile on your slightly opened lips as you slept. He had to ask you to marry him, there was no way he wouldn't.

The sunlight peeked through the curtains and illuminated the bedroom on this sunday morning in a pretty yellow. You opened your eyes as you heard something shift beside you.

“Where are you going?” You asked, squinting your eyes that still needed to get used to the light.

“Just for a walk baby. Go back to sleep.” He pushed some hairs back that touched your face. Pouting, you put your much smaller hand on his hand that laid on your face.

“Noo. Don't go. Come back to bed.” you whined, leaving kisses on his hand. He sat there for a while, contemplating if he could say no to your face. In the end he sighed and you felt the mattress next to you go down.

“Thank you for staying.” you whispered and pulled him closer, letting your head rest on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and he shifted in a comfortable position, so that you were basically laying on top of him. With the tip of your fingers you drew little constellations on his chest and he played with the strands of your hair.

“Charlie?” You broke the silence and went to look at his face, propping your chin on your hand.

“What's on your pretty mind?”

“When will you ask me to marry you? Or should I ask you?” You finally asked the questions that have been running through your mind for months now.

He stopped breathing for a second, stunned at your declaration. A wide smile broke out on his lips and he started laughing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“Is that such a funny concept?” You asked, slightly hurt. “I thought you wanted to do it in Hawaii but then you were sick and I also heard you and the boys talking about something. Plus I found the ring.” you admitted.

Charlie shifted again so you were both sitting up and facing each other. “You found the ring?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah I put some of your stuff into the drawer and it fell out. I didn't look at it though! I still wanted that part to be a surprise. But you never asked, so im gonna do it, fuck the gender norms. Charlie Jeffrey Gillespie will you...”

“Oh my god. Baby no.” he chuckled and cupped your face, making you stop in the middle of the sentence. “I had so many different ideas planned but something always came in between me actually asking you. So let me do it right.”

He got up from the bed and pulled out the little black box from one of the drawers in your bedroom.

“Uhm… could you maybe stand up?”

You obliged eagerly, your hands shaking like crazy.

And then it was finally happening. Your boyfriend got down on one knee and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

“This wasn't at all how I originally wanted to do it but now thinking about it, it's just perfect. I knew pretty early on that you were gonna be the girl I marry one day. I know we’re both still very young but I couldn't imagine myself spending my life with anybody else other than you. You're the person I want to wake up next to every morning and the person I miss the most when I’m away. So would you do me the honours and make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?” he took out the ring with shaking hands, while you tried to stop the sobbing. You got on your knees as well and cupped his face, whipping away some tears.

“Yes! One million times yes!” You kissed him softly, afraid that this was all a dream. Charlie pushed the ring on your finger and lifted you up, kissing you again and again with a tear soaked face and a smile that hurt his cheeks.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie images #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x oc #jatp #jatp fanfic

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j-amespotter · 4 years

Text

★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change.

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :)

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?”

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.”

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.”

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–”

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he’s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…”

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him.

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear.

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle.

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips.

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–”

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further.

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom.

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.”

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter.

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further.

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment.

I’m sorry. I love you.

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss.

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!”

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–”

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.”

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.”

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.”

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.”

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming.

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?”

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.”

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.”

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.”

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius.

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline.

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise.

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.”

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend.

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood.

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall.

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?”

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly.

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present.

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?”

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction.

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.”

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?”

☆

“So, what do you think?”

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere.

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?”

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?”

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically.

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.”

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?”

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.”

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.”

“What?”

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.”

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?”

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!”

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?”

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.”

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly.

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening.

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.”

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antagonistenthusiast · 3 years

Text

Han’s had exactly one sip of caf when Ben comes shuffling into the cockpit.

“Dad,” Ben huffs, collapsing into Chewie’s modified copilot’s seat, the blanket from his bed wrapped around his body. He’s got it pulled up over his head like some kind of dramatic cloak. “It’s been a week. Am I gonna be grounded forever?”

Han glances at the console. Time tends to get sticky in hyperspace, but he notes that it’s not even seven in the morning. Neither he nor Ben are early risers, but it’s the third day of their journey – the fifth of Ben’s quarterly break from school – without a stop and they’re both starting to get a little antsy. There’s only so much to do on the Falcon. Watching stars fly by in semi-awkward silences makes both their fingers itch with misuse.

“Sorry, bud,” he fiddles with the nav system. It’s already working perfectly, but he makes a show of it anyway, eyes flickering between his son and the viewport. He shakes his leg and notices Ben is doing the exact same thing. He can see the quick rise and fall of his knee beneath the cloak-blanket. “You heard your mom. You can’t have your holopad back for two more weeks.”

Ben’s face screws up into a scowl as he picks at a loose thread on his blanket. Han knows that look. He’s about to say something mean.

“The only reason she made me come with you is because she knows it’s a punishment.”

And there it is. Han winces a little.

“Ouch,” he leans back in his seat and takes another sip of caf, and then sets the cup down on the dash.

There’s a long moment of silence before he hears Ben shift.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers.

“Yes, you did.”

Ben sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry.” His hair falls in his face. “I didn’t sleep well.”

Han’s brow furrows. “Again?”

Ben shrugs. He’s had weird dreams for as long as Han can remember. Hell, he’d wanted to sleep in their bed long after most kids would have been embarrassed to ask. There were some nights, back before they’d asked Luke for help, that he or Leia would find him curled up on the floor outside of their door.

“Wanna walk about it?”

The kid shakes his head. He glances down at the mug and picks it up, taking a long slug of caf, and then settles further into his seat, his hands tight around the lukewarm mug.

Huh. Han didn’t even know he drank caf. Actually, there’s a lot of Han doesn’t know about him. He’s away for most of the year – holed up with Luke trying to connect to and control the erratic power he’d been born with – and even if he does visit home often, he’s different every time. At thirteen, he’s all odd angles: legs that are too long, elbows that are too knobby, ears and a nose that still seem too big for his face. He’s got Leia’s dark hair, but it’s an odd length. He’s been growing it out.

Han has no idea what he looked like at Ben’s age. Scrappy and underfed, probably, but he recognizes his own chin and nose in Ben’s face. There’s a healthy dose of stubborn pride, too. He can see it in the way he holds his back straight or angles his face when he’s feeling haughty. It’s very... Well, it’s very Organa. The similarities makes fondness twinge in his chest.

Ben presses a button on the dash, studying the nav system. He groans. “Bespin? Again? I’m sick of Bespin.”

“You might be the only kid this side of the galaxy that’s sick of luxury resorts,” Han says. He studies him for another long moment, takes note of the bluish-purple circles beneath his eyes, the way his bottom lip is scabbed over from chewing on it. Frag, how long has it been since this kid’s had some real fun that didn’t involve ancient rituals and laser swords? “Besides,” he continues. “I thought we’d check out the swoop racing circuits this time.”

That perks Ben up. “Really?”

“Really. The age to enter the races is thirteen, you know. Bet you could leave ‘em all in the dust.”

“Wait,” Ben swivels in the copilot’s seat to face him, caf sloshing in the mug. “You’re going to let me race?”

“Sure. So long as you don’t tell your mother.”

Excitement flickers in Ben’s eyes. “She won’t care. And even if she does, she’s never mad at you for very long.”

Han isn’t so sure about that, but he winks at Ben, taking back the caf. “That’s the Solo charm. Works on just about anyone. Even princesses.”

“Yeah, that’s what she says,” Ben’s lips twitch like he’s fighting off a smile. “Only she uses a very different tone when she says it.”

Han chokes on a laugh in the middle of a sip of caf, the now cold drink caught in his throat. Ben’s face splits into a grin that’s all crooked teeth and dimples, clearly pleased with himself.

“Come on,” Ben says, swinging back around. He’s almost bounding in his seat. “I wanna see Uncle Lando before we race. I’ll comm ahead to make sure he’s there.”

Han shakes his head, tossing back the last sip of caf. Maybe he should rethink their plans considering Leia will have choice words about the technically illegal racing (and definitely illegal gambling) of the lower city swoop racing circuits on Cloud City. Maybe there should be limits, he thinks, to the things he’s willing to do for Ben, but he can’t think of any as he watches Ben excitedly type out a message. He’s seen the far reaches of the universe. He’s walked the hidden depths. He would do it all again for one more smile from his son.

#ben solo #han solo #my writing #this or that; now verses then #yes hi hello i'm cleaning up some of the ben solo centered drabbles i've written over the years to parse out details for rp #and posting them #it will probably be a series #hence the fob lyrics tag #this one is first bc i have a lot of feelings about fathers & sons

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vampire--dad · 4 years

Text

For the Witcher Writers’ Circle prompt bingo!

Prompt: Grieving

I am so sorry

(you did this to yourself kell)

——————

(song: play this when i’m gone — Machine Gun Kelly)

I’m writing you this message just so I can say that I love you.

The letter slips from Jaskier’s satchel as Geralt moves it aside to find his nice black doublet. His eyes follow the parchment as it falls to the floor and sees his name penned delicately across the folded page. He’s almost scared to read it, especially today. But he does. He picks it up from the floor and sits on the edge of the bed as he unfolds the page. He almost hears the bard’s sweet voice in his head, wishing that it was more than a figment of his imagination, that it was real, that he was still here.

They both knew it would happen someday, but Geralt had hoped they’d have more time. Jaskier’s death came early even for a human. Some sickness had caught him. Yennefer and Triss did everything they could, brought all the help they could muster, but nothing worked. No herb or potion could cure whatever it was that ailed him. All they could do was ease the pain as he slipped away.

The witcher sighs as his eyes pass over those three words. Jaskier could never say it too many times. It never lost its meaning. He proved it in new ways every day, even on his deathbed.

I had to let you know that everything about me was you.

As if Geralt didn’t already know. Jaskier loved to say that Geralt was his smile, his laughter, the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes that he misses so sorely. The witcher almost smiles thinking of those eyes and how Jaskier used to set them upon him and smile and tell him for at least the fifth time that day that he loved him. Sometimes Geralt wasn’t sure why he did. Jaskier would lay with him late at night or early in the morning, brushing a hand through his hair, and remind him of all the reasons he adored him.

But not even those memories can ease the pain of the truth. Those eyes now remain closed, the smile nothing more than a memory that Geralt clings to. Sometimes, if he closes his eyes and relaxes enough, which doesn’t come easily, he can almost feel Jaskier’s fingers in his hair, brushing through the snowy locks and twisting them into a braid. He only wishes it was real. That he was still here next to him peppering kisses on his cheeks and making him laugh like no one ever could.

I think it’s time for me to leave, but I’ll never leave you.

He dares not look outside. He knows that by now Eskel and Lambert will have laid his body on a pyre. He promised himself that he would hold himself together for as long as he could and seeing his body, having to accept once again that he’s gone, will break him before the funeral even starts.

His free hand rests on the chain around his neck that carries two rings. They dangle just below his medallion, close to his heart. Both are made of gold, one shaped like two vines woven together, the other simple, but not bland. They hang next to his heart as a reminder, something for Geralt to remember his husband by. Not that he needs it. Jaskier is burned into his brain like a brand. No matter how many years pass until he sees his lover again, he’ll never forget him.

“Dad?”

Ciri stands by his door in a long dress of black silk with a light cloak drawn around her shoulders. Jaskier did love that dress on her. It brought out those beautiful green eyes, he’d say. Geralt can tell that she’s already been crying. Jaskier, her papa, meant the world to her as she did to him. He loved that girl as fiercely as Geralt does. She has his wonderful imagination, his creativity, his way with words that Geralt could never understand, and, unfortunately, his flirtatiousness. He hears Jaskier every time she tells a story of a hideous monster or a wonderful woman she’s met on her travels.

Geralt sets aside the letter and stands, returning to his search for his doublet.

“I’m almost ready,” he says shortly, not trusting himself to say much more.

“Are you?” she asks softly. Geralt doesn’t respond. He can’t. A lump forms in his throat that he chokes back down. “I don’t think I am… I’m not ready to say goodbye to him…”

She sniffles and sighs, letting out a chuckle to try to lift her own spirits.

“Gods, I’m a mess already.”

“That makes two of us,” he replies thickly, leaning against the dresser with a sigh.

The pain in Ciri’s voice only adds to his own. Tears shine in his yellow eyes as they meet Ciri’s green ones. Her lip trembles as she throws herself into Geralt’s arms.

I’m not gonna lie and tell you it’s alright. It’s alright.

“It’s alright, Geralt.”

Those were his last words to his lover. His voice was barely above a whisper, weak and shaking in his chest as his heart came to a stop. Geralt wonders if he knew when he said those words how deeply they would hurt him when he was gone. He remembers feeling Jaskier’s hand go limp in his, watching his eyes close for the last time and the life slip from his body, wishing he’d had the strength to say ‘I love you’ one last time for him to hear. Yennefer and Triss were quick to leave the room, each holding their breath so Geralt wouldn’t hear them cry. He shakes his head slightly, trying not to think about the moment his husband passed. It only hurts more.

Ciri helps him fiddle with the buttons of the doublet. Usually he would hate wearing these things and would much prefer to wear his armour, but of all people, Geralt insisted that they bring out what little finery they allow themselves to have. Jaskier loved to see them all dressed up. Over the years he shared with Geralt on the Path, the witcher convinced him to wear something slightly more protective than silk and lace, but he loved to dress up. He liked to look pretty for his White Wolf, as he would say so affectionately.

“He would have loved this outfit,” Ciri says softly.

“He would have loved yours more, petal.”

Ciri draws in a slow, calming breath at the use of one of Jaskier’s old nicknames. Her eyes are already reddened and puffy.

“I should have gone out last night and picked some daisies for my hair.”

You’re gonna cry and baby, that’s alright. It’s alright.

It’s a struggle, but Geralt manages to hold back his tears until the fire roars and envelopes Jaskier’s body, wrapped delicately in the finest silk Lambert and Eskel could find. The funeral was going to be painful enough without having to see Jaskier’s pale face.

With his brothers’ arms slung around his shoulders, Geralt looks up at the clouds that hang above their heads and sighs shakily, tears streaming from his eyes. Eskel glances at him and pulls him into a hug. That’s what really breaks him. All of a sudden he’s sobbing quietly into his brother’s shoulder, Lambert’s hand still on his back. Eskel clenches his jaw and blinks tears from his own eyes as they meet with those of his younger brother. Lambert quickly looks away. Even at a funeral, he doesn’t want his brothers to see him cry. Jaskier had become incredibly close with Geralt’s brothers. Eskel loved to share his stories with him for his songs. He always made it known that those stories weren’t of the famed White Wolf, but another charming warrior. He never wanted his brother’s fame, but at least Jaskier gave him the credit. Lambert used to have such terrific exchanges with the bard, sharing the most creative empty insults and making each other howl with laughter. Late at night they’d share much kinder words. Jaskier would tell the witcher that his voice would pair wonderfully with his own. Lambert never took him up on the offer. He should have.

Ciri has her head buried in Yennefer's shoulder, crying her eyes out again. Her papa was her sunshine. She was his daisy. He made sure that she knew how to collect her skirt when she sat down, how to curtsey, how to braid her hair— not easy things for a girl to learn when she’s raised by wolves. Luckily, though he didn’t have sisters of his own, he had many, many cousins. Yennefer was expecting a wild, boyish, awkward child when she took Ciri into her care. She was surprised to meet a polite young lady with expertly braided hair. She often spoke of her fathers, one being a little rough around the edges but loving and kind, the other being like a walking ray of sunshine. Yennefer eventually met this wonderful man she described and found this to be oh so true. She and Jaskier spent many nights together drinking expensive wine and gossiping. He often told her of his latest quarrel with his husband, but no matter how disagreeable he could be at times, he always spoke of Geralt with love and affection. She remembers those nights fondly as she watches flames engulf his body with tears rolling down her cheeks.

I wrote you this song to keep when I’m gone if you ever feel alone.

Geralt hasn’t slept properly since he passed. The only thing that grants him relief from the exhaustion is the exhaustion itself. In the early hours of the morning he’ll pass out, only to wake a few hours later, still alone. That’s quite possibly the hardest part. He’d grown so used to Jaskier lying next to him, snoring softly, that trying to sleep alone is almost impossible. He misses tracing the curve of his back, burying his face in the crook of his neck, kissing his hair and neck to wake him, watching those bright blue eyes flutter open. He wouldn’t dare sleep with another. He doubts he ever will. Jaskier was his light. Nothing can replace that. No one can.

But the weight of being alone becomes heavier with each day that passes. The chain around his neck feels like an anchor, but taking it off would hurt even more. He finds himself bed ridden some days, not seeing much of a reason to get up. He knows what Jaskier would say. He tries to listen. The others don’t say anything, other than words of encouragement. They know how Geralt feels. Jaskier’s passing weighs heavily on all of them but it’s nothing compared to him, the man he would have followed to the ends of the earth. The weight on Geralt is unimaginable.

Part of me doesn’t want this cruel world to know you.

“Freak.”

“Mutant.”

“We don’t want your kind ‘round here.”

“You’re no different from the things you hunt, you know that?”

Jaskier used to work himself into a frenzy over those comments. Geralt reassured him that he was used to it, it came with the occupation, but the bard wouldn’t accept that.

“What the fuck do they think they know?!” he would exclaim. “They call you all these names, but they don’t know you. Not like I do.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to know me like you know me, songbird,” the witcher would reply.

Jaskier would turn to him, still annoyed, but smiling. That was the one thing about him that never aged, his smile. Wrinkles slowly formed around his eyes. Grey streaks appeared among his mass of chestnut hair. But his smile never aged, even framed by a thick but well kept beard.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t want anyone to know you quite that well either. But still, Geralt. They don’t give you a chance.”

Geralt would chuckle and shake his head. Jaskier hated how adorable the witcher thought he was when he was angry, but that anger quickly melted when Geralt pulled him into his arms.

So just try and keep in mind everything that I told you.

Jaskier would shower Geralt in compliments, if not just to see him try to hide how flustered he was. He’d give him all of the nicknames he could come up with and deepen the blush on Geralt’s cheeks by peppering kisses on them and on the tip of his nose. Geralt had maybe one or two nicknames for him. His favourite was songbird. Jaskier would smile brighter than the sun whenever he called him that.

“Your eyes look like rays of sunshine, dear heart. Like the finest gold.”

“Sweet Melitele, your hair, my love. It’s so soft when it’s clean. It looks and feels like fresh snow.”

“Have I ever told you how wonderfully intelligent I think you are, my dearest? You like to act like you’re not, but I know you are. If I had met you at Oxenfurt I would have thought you a scholar.”

“Stop it, Jask.”

“Why? Oh, is my big scary wolf getting all flustered because I called him pretty and smart?”

“No. Witchers don’t get flustered.”

“Bollocks to that. I see you blushing.”

Maybe there was some truth to all the things Jaskier said to him.

This is the last time I’ll ever open up my eyes, I apologise.

That moment haunts Geralt. He tries his best not to think about it, but late at night it flashes before his eyes, clear as day.

Yennefer had sought him out early in the morning, waking him from what little sleep he was trying to get. She looked exhausted, but they couldn’t afford to stop working. Jaskier was getting worse, she told him. She didn’t need to say anymore. They both knew. They were losing him. Geralt was out of bed and up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

Even weak and dying, Jaskier’s smile could light up a room in seconds. Despite the tears beginning to slip from his eyes, Geralt smiled weakly and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and kissing him softly. He had to. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew then it would be the last time.

Jaskier managed a soft chuckle and told him he looked like shit. Nothing could quash his sense of humour. Geralt told him he wasn’t looking much better and immediately regretted it, even if it was just a joke. Jaskier shrugged. He seemed to have already accepted his fate.

All of a sudden, Jaskier’s breath rattled in his chest. The smile slipped from Geralt’s face as he leaned over Jaskier and gripped his hand firmly. The bard had kept on smiling and reassured him he was alright. Geralt begged to differ, but stayed silent as Jaskier cupped his face gently and told him he loved him. He said it with such finality that Geralt just about started sobbing then and there. Jaskier wiped a tear from his cheek gently but before he could speak again, he coughed, his hand falling from his face and clutching at his chest. Geralt looked on helplessly as he fought to draw one last breath.

“It’s alright, Geralt.”

He doesn’t remember much after that. He remembers clutching Jaskier’s body to his chest and sobbing, but he can’t recall how long he sat there. At some point, Eskel had come in to pull Geralt away. He didn’t want to go, but Eskel had to remind him that there was nothing he could do now. He was gone.

In that moment, Geralt’s whole world had come crashing down before his very eyes.

——————

Tags: @lovelyeskel @jaskierswolf @patchwork-quilts @viking-raider

#geraskier #fanfic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #grieving #yeah i cried writing this one #this one hurts

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2018shawn · 4 years

Note

3 and 12 from fluff with Shawn!!!

“Have you seen my hoodie?” “Noo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

a/n + warnings: hi hello I actually don't really know if I like this but hey HO. the part in italics are flashbacks!!! love u all!! request from here!!

It was a strange feeling for Shawn - you going away and him being the one at home, pining for you to return. It was usually him travelling the world and coming home to call you straight away, begging you to come over. You weren’t an official couple and hadn’t even had the conversation with each other yet, but other people knew you was his and he was yours; nothing more needed to be said.

"Was your flight okay?” Shawn asked, holding the phone to his ear by pushing his shoulder up to his cheek. He carried his guitar in one hand and fiddled with his keys in the other, until he found the key to his condo.

You could hear him struggling over the phone, laughing to yourself as you flopped onto your hotel room, king sized bed. “It was okay. The most creepiest, sugar daddy kind of guy was sat next to me on the plane. He asked if I wanted to go out with him one night, seeing as we’re both staying in London.”

Shawn’s jaw tensed at your story as he placed his guitar bag down on the floor, kicking the door shut with his foot before disabling the alarm system. You could hear the secure beeps all the way from London. “I hope you told him...” Shawn had to stop himself, remembering that he officially couldn't really say anything, although that almost killed him. “That you’re a lesbian?”

You chuckled uncontrollably at his response, almost feeling giddy that he didn’t want you to go out with another guy. “Not quite, but I told him I’m a one man kinda girl...”

“Oh?” Shawn asked, taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth as he bounced up the stairs, heading straight to his office to load up his computer. He knew you were into him, that was obvious, but he’d never heard you turn anyone down for him before.

“Yep,” You started, popping the p, “so my boyfriend will happy that I shot him down.”

“Oh, your boyfriend?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not that you could see him.

“Yeah, you really think I'm here with work?” Shawn laughed down the phone, relieving you that he knew it was all a joke, “nah, I'm kidding no one wants to wife me up.”

“We’ll discuss that when you’re home.” He stated, with a hint of dominance lacing his words that only made you feel like a little girl with her first crush. You weren’t sure if the feelings he gave you would ever dissipate, but you hoped not. “Oh, also, question...” he started, slumping into his desk chair and spinning around as he waited for the computer to load up. “Have you seen my hoodie?” You pulled your lips together, keeping quiet as he continued, “you know the grey Saint Laurent one? I don't know if I left it at yours before you left?”

The strings of said hoodie were currently wrapped around your finger, being twirled as you wondered what you were going to tell him. You hadn’t exactly stolen it, he was the one that carelessly left it and surely boys should know, it is the ultimate mission for a girl to steal their (almost) boyfriend’s favourite jumper. “Noo.” you replied, holding out the last syllable.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” He smiled to himself, not remotely annoyed but more warm and fuzzy. He fiddled with the computer, putting you on loudspeaker so he could multitask - which men couldn’t do very well at the best of times.

“No? What would make you say that?” You knew you didn’t sound confident in your answer, but that’s because you were well and truly lying.

“Because you can’t lie for shit,” he laughed, “I’m hanging up now, FaceTiming you on the Mac because my phone’s gonna die.” Before you had chance to reply, the line went dead and your phone was ringing again, the FaceTime ringtone filling the echoing hotel room.

“Okay fine, I'm wearing it.” You laughed as you answered, holding the phone above your face, instantly trying to fix you appearance. You looked like shit, really, you’d just been on an 7 hour flight and you were extremely exhausted, but he didn’t think you looked bad at all. He thought you looked incredible, actually. He loved the way your hair was still in their loose curls, contrasting against the white pillows of the hotel bed, and the way your freckles were on show due to being make up free.

“I’ll let you off this once, but only because it looks better on you than it does me.” He said, raising his eyebrows and nodding at you through the camera. You admired him in all his beauty; leant back in the leather office chair, curls crazy from his long day but smile still as bright as ever. You made yourself feel sick at the thought of missing him already; you weren’t the type to pine after boys, especially when they’re not even classed as your boyfriend yet. But wherever Shawn was, home was. He took a moment to admire you too, and although you admittedly looked tired from the journey, he basically turned into the heart-eye emoji and wanted to put you on a flight back home already.

Both of you, of course, were too stubborn to tell one another this.

“What time is it there, like 11:30?” Shawn asked, looking at his watch for reference of his own time zone.

You knew you should try sleep and wake up so you weren’t as tired in the morning, but when you worked out the time difference in your head, you’d only just be finishing work and getting ready for your evening routine back home. So instead, you readjusted yourself on the bed, laying on your stomach with your phone held up in front of your face. “Mmhmmm, so that means it’s 4:30 there?”

Shawn’s face screwed up, looking at you like you’d just asked him to work out some algebra. “I thought you was supposed to be clever?”

“Hey! I am clever” You puffed, flipping him your middle finger.

“Babe, it’s 6:30; you’re 5 hours ahead not 7.” He picked his phone up off the desk, the screen automatically illuminating as he raised it to the lens of the computer. He flashed you the screen, the image just clear enough for you to make out, no thanks to the hotel’s crappy wifi. “See, 6:30.”

You went silent, for once in your life not bothering to argue or come back with some smart arse comment. You’d seen his lock screen, although the time covered a tiny area of it, the picture was familiar enough that you recognised it.

Your feet padded across the carpeted floor of Shawn’s bedroom and although you tried your hardest to be quiet, you’d still manage to wake Shawn, who rolled over in bed and shot upright when he noticed you weren’t there. “Can I steal a t-shirt? I don't wanna make breakfast in last nights dress,” you laughed awkwardly. It was the fifth time you’d stayed over at Shawn’s, and you told yourself the night before you’d have enough willpower to not go home with him. You wanted to keep him on his toes and make sure he didn’t think you’d fall at his feet every time he flashed his stupidly handsome smile. Obviously, it didn’t work and you were now naked in his bedroom, nothing but your clubbing dress to cover your body.

“Of course, take your pick.” He admired you from where he lay, phone in his hand as he silenced all the incoming texts and calls. You let your fingers drag across the material of his tee’s, sliding open a couple of drawers, expecting something to jump out at you. Knowing you, you’d end up picking his most expensive t-shirt and spilling coffee down it or something. Your eyes caught glimpse of a sports top, cobalt blue with some sporty logo’s on the front and you thought that would be ample. Anything was ample compared to your lingerie clad body, which you suddenly didn’t feel so confident in now the alcohol had worn off.

As if Shawn wasn’t hard enough this morning, after sleeping with your ass pushing into him all night, his cock twitched when the t-shirt draped over your shoulders. And he thinks that’s when he knew he was falling deep. He swipped up on his phone, the camera app loading and focusing on the image in front of him.

His personalised jersey, his last name printed above the numbers on the back, looked perfect on you, even more so when you reached up to hang the hanger back on the rail and your white lace panties peeked out from underneath, and he wanted to be reminded of it every time he picked up his phone. He was caught out when the flash went off, and your cheeks flushed a deep red, running over and trying to steal to phone off him. “No, let me keep it!” he whined, telling you it’s for his eyes only. “plus it suits you!”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, mumbling into his skin, “it’s a jersey, it suits everyone.”

“I meant the name.”

You were grinning to yourself, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. “Am I your lockscreen?”

His eyes widened, looking at his phone and then back up to the camera. He felt like an embarrassed teenager; like how you’d feel when your best friend would tell the person you like, that you like them and the rest of the class would tease you for it. Or when you had your first kiss and everyone wolf whistled and it became the talk of the school. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

-----

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

#Shawn mendes #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes imagine #Shawn mendes oneshot #dee's SM blurbing

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imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Peter Parker - See the light (9)

Peter is getting his shit together! Watch out, this is coming to an end!

Small sneak peek

First part

Second part

Third part

Fourth part

Fifth part

Sixth part

Seventh part

Eighth part

Plot: after Peter’s ‘betrayal, everything goes back to normal. Or so you thought, because you’re about to discover something that might change your life. Meanwhile, Peter is trying to find his way back to you.

After what felt like forever, you were forced to stop. Your hair, that had been still on the long braid, had reached its destiny; it had caught something sharp, and you were pulled back with such a strength that you hit your elbows on the ground.

You found yourself hanging from the air, crying as you tried to pull it free. It was pretty well tangled, and the tears were only making it more difficult to solve. If Peter was there, he could have helped you. If Peter was there, he would have saved you from those men for the second time. But the boy was sailing away on a boat, and you were starting to hyperventilate.

“No, please” you muttered in desperation. “Come on, come one!”

The sudden sounds of grunting and shouting had you pausing, and then turning the corner came your mother. Cape flapping behind her as she ran towards you, hair wild and eyes worried. You caught yourself from crying harder.

“Treasure” your mother called, closing in on you. “Oh, my Y/N”

“Mother” you breathed out. It sounded just as sad as when you had been sick back on your childhood, and had called your mother ‘mommy’; although that time you didn’t get a slap. The hair had fallen free finally, and you crawled to meet her.

“Thank god” she pulled you in her arms, hugging tightly. “I was so worried. I saw them try and grab you, and I was so, so scared, treasure. Oh…. Are you alright?”

You pulled back, and your mother took your face in her hands, wiping at the falling tears. It all finally hit you; Peter had left. Peter had taken the satchel with him and had left you to some strangers. You had trusted him with the secret of your magic hair, and he had sold you like a piece of meat. You cried harder when you thought about how he had kissed you, and pulled your close and had offered you a chance out.

“You were right” you gripped her dress in your closed fists. “Everything – you were right, mother.”

“Of course I was, Y/N” your mother sighed. “Now, come one. Let’s go before they wake up”

“I’m sorry, mother. I-I, I really am.”

Your mother smiled tightly. Since the last time you had seen her, something had changed on her eyes. They were harder, colder; more hateful. But you didn’t notice, because you were too busy dying from heartbreak.

She helped you up, and looked back while you walked gripping her arm. On the ground, stood the two brothers that had been an essential part of her plan. Without them knocking out the boy or threatening him with you, she would have never gotten you back. She didn’t regret telling them about your hair; they wouldn’t see you again, no one would.

After all, your little adventure had been good for her. Now, no one could take you away from the tower.

Sounds returned first, then light. Peter groaned as his head throbbed, and then he tried to rub his temple, where a bruise was probably forming; but his hands wouldn’t move. In a spike of panic, he pried his eyes open to see that he was standing on a small ship, tied to the pole and with his hands bounded to the wheel.

“What?” Peter asked himself, his voice groggy.

He tried to pull his hands free, but his movements were lethargic, and he could feel his skin being rubbed raw from the ropes. Peter had always being an anxious boy, and as a kid he had had a lot of panic attacks; he could recognize the signs of one. Trying to avoid it, he tried to search for something familiar. He was inching closer and closer to the kingdom. He knew the shore, he knew the guards that were waiting for him, he knew his heart hammering in his hears¸ he knew the satchel.

He knew the satchel.

The boat bumped against the docks as it reached land, and the noise alerted the guards.

“He has the crown!” a deep voice shouted.

The shouting that rose up caused Peter head to swim, and he suddenly remembered how he got into the whole mess in the first place.

“No” he muttered, his body finally giving in to the rope’s restrictions. “No no no no no, Y/N – Darling! Y/N!”

The guards boarded his ship and someone grabbed his arm. Peter couldn’t care, he couldn’t care about any of them because you had been left on that island with those murderers, those rapists, and he was on land. He was too far. He struggled against the grip, still looking back to the other shore.

“No, no! We need – I need – Y/N! Y/N!” Peter screamed, shouted and kicked. “Please, guys, we need – I have to help her. Y/N!”

“And… that’s it” she pulled the last flower from your hair and a wavy strand fell into your face. “The last of it, finally”

Gothel slipped off the bed and made it for the door before she stopped. Your eyes stayed trained on your lap, one of the flowers resting between your hands. It was purple too, the colour you had learned to hate in the last hours. Purple, the colour of happiness. Purple, the colour of the things you couldn’t have.

“Treasure” she said, sounding genuine. “I really did try to warn you. Tell you about what was really out there. The world is dark, and cruel, and mean. If it finds the slightest ray of sunlight, it destroys it”

The biting tone in those last few words made you wince, and your mother ignored her daughters’ actions.

“Now, wash up” Gothel said, seeming to switch into a whole new personality. “I’m making supper. I bought some things to make your favourite. Don’t be too long!”

She waltzed from the room, taking the staircase down in stride and leaving you in silence. You sighed and fell back onto your bed, the flower falling to the ground. It was then crushed, the petals destroyed and it’s middle reduced to nothing. Instead, you searched in your pocket for the little flag Peter had given you.

You didn’t want to look at it, but it was your only gift from the city. You had loved your time there, and if you could, you weren’t sure if you would decline the offer of going back. The life, the laughs, the sun; those were things you could only dream about in the tower you were locked in.

You blinked up at the ceiling. Millions upon millions of painted stars stared back at you – each one slightly faded and cracked with the tower’s plaster. You had painted those when you were a child, sneaking up on your mother to use the ladder. You wondered what Peter would have said about them. He had proved to be a huge nerd of astronomy and the universe; you smiled sadly.

Downstairs in the kitchen, you could hear the pots and spoons clanking as Gothel prepared dinner. You allowed yourself to start to tune out all the noise, just focusing on the ceiling above. Besides starts, there were random forms too. Some of them you had remembered since you were a kid, drawing them everywhere behind your mother’s back. She had destroyed everything, but you had managed to sneak some in the drawing of the ceiling.

After a little bit more of staring, you noticed.

One of the shapes of the ceiling was awfully familiar. A golden sun, with multiple curved rays that you had seen somewhere. As if your body knew what you were looking for, your hand clenched the flag. You raised it up to your line of vision, and checked how every detail matched with the one in the ceiling.

That was the sun of the missing princess.

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

Peter hated how the cuffs felt on his wrist. They were rough, dusted and he was sure they were stained with blood. He had always preferred rope, if he was to choose. But that day, as the guards entered into his cell and chained him, he couldn’t bring himself to protest. He was quiet as the guards pushed him to his feet, stumbling and almost hitting the ground.

They had fun, for a while. They pushed him around, tightened the cuffs more than necessary and held his arms with too much force. Peter felt as if they were going to pull something apart. There was a blonde one, that seemed to hate him the most; he gripped his hair and made him kneel and kicked him a few times. They laughed, but Peter didn’t talk.

All he could think about, was how scared you would be. He had left you, and the guilt was drowning him; worse than when they died.

Peter was dragged through an endless corridor, and he knew he was going to die. That was what happened to criminals like him, and the proof was all the people he passed by as he walked, or was dragged. Murderers, rapists, thieves, ruffians… and him, which only crime was to let the girl he loved away.

He had his eyes down on his feet, his old and dirty boots that would carry a corpse in some hours, or minutes. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice, and with his last strength, he lifted his eyes. Something flashed in his peripheral, and he allowed his eyes to drift to the left, finding the brothers watching him being pulled across the cobble.

Fury, rage and emotions that he had never felt coursed through him as easily as blood, and he planted his boots on the ground. With a grunt, he elbowed the guard on his left in the gut and the man tumbled to the ground. The second tried to tackled him, but Peter body checked him violently, and the guy fell.

Peter took his opportunity.

He lunged towards the cell, grabbing by the crook of his shirt the one with the patch and pulling him against the bars. His eyes must have screamed everything Peter felt, because for the first time both brothers looked scared and hopeless.

“How did you know about her?!” Peter shouted, almost lifting the man from the ground. “How did you know about the girl?!”

“She – she told us about her!” he shirked back, looking for help in his brother; who was hiding in the back of the cell. “Her – her mother! S-she told us about the hair!”

“Her mother – what?” Peter’s grip loosens a bit.

“She promised us the crown! A-and to have you!”

Two sets of hands were suddenly back on him, and they pulled him down the hallway once more. Peter tried with all his might to go back, tears pricking at the back of his eyes as rushed thoughts ran through his mind.

“No, wait!” Peter cried out. The brothers had moved to the corner of the cell, and looked at him with wide eyes. “She’s – she’s in danger! Her mother is dangerous – wait, stop!”

Peter grunted and struggled, trying to break free; but the guards were having none of it anymore. So, when the captain stopped in front of him and both guards halted, Peter almost toppled to the ground. His panic, his anxiety and fear were raising to the roof; how could he help you if he was as trapped as you? He started to think in all the things your mother would do once your in her grasp, and he wasn’t even sure you were alive anymore.

His chest started to convulse and it felt like the whole building had fell on top of him. The struggling weakened until it was just a chant of please to let him help you. Before the guards could smack him unconscious, the captain gave a hard open palm to the door. He looked angry, annoyed, and Peter realized the only thing he could hear was his beating heart.

“… the password?” Peter saw a small slot sliding open, and thought that he recognized the eyes. “I can’t let you inside if you don’t tell me the password”

“Open up right now!” The captain screamed, pounding the door. Something similar to relief ran down Peter’s spine when he recognized the eyes from the man who helped you scape from the tavern.

“The password first”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not it” the man made a tsk noise, and Peter almost smiled. He let himself relax against the guards grip.

“Open the door!”

“Are you even trying?”

“Look, I’m going to give you to the count of three” the captain glowed, and got in a defensive stance.

Suddenly, the eyes on the slot turned wide, comically, and there were some laughs behind the door.

“Oh, watch out”

Before the captain could react, a wrench was coming down over his head, and the man crumpled like paper. The guards, after watching the big, scary man that collect unicorns from the tavern, started trembling. They only lasted two more seconds before bolting out in the opposite direction. Peter finally smiled happy, and watched as his cuffs were unmade.

He nodded quickly to the man who had unmade them, and smiled gratefully to the rest. Now, he had a princess to save.

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kendelias · 4 years

Note

Anagapesis + Vi

Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.

At a farmer’s market in Lima, Ohio, Virginia Avery is running late to work. She told her other instructors to handle it, but because Samira is sick, they’re short-staffed, and Vi needs to be there sooner rather than later. Right now, though, she finds herself in a battle with a stack of apples and a particularly nervous friend.

Vi nudges her earpiece with one hand while fidgeting with her basket in the other. “Yes,” she’s saying, again, for the fifth time in an hour, “She’ll love it.” The apples tilt precariously, and she scrambles to apply both hands to keep the tower from falling.

“You think so?” Rory’s accent, tinged with worry, is almost garbled where it comes across the phone. She’s lucky they’ve been friends for so long, or else she wouldn’t understand a word he said.

Vi nods, even though he can’t see her, and scoops the apples into the plastic bag. “Honey, I’ve known Izzy for a long time,” she reminds him. “You’re talking to someone who helped her plan her proposal to you. I think it’s a perfect anniversary gift.”

Rory sighs, relief palpable in his voice. “Okay, good, because--”

“You already bought the tickets?” she teases.

There’s a beat of silence. “Maybe.”

She laughs, then turns sharply to turn towards the carrots. With that, though, her bag bumps the apple cart, and the tower she’d been so valiantly protecting goes tumbling to the ground. “Oh, shit,” she mutters, then bends to the ground. Someone from the next stall over rushes to help her, and she sighs thankfully.

“Are you okay?” Rory asks. His voice spikes, panicked. “Vi? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just--” The stranger across from her looks up, and the movement catches her eye, making her look up to meet their eyes. She blinks. “Uh, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Despite Rory’s hurried and affronted squawks, she reaches up and yanks her earpiece out of her ear, then raises her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Jesse.”

The stranger, it turns out, is not a stranger at all. Even after all this time, she’d recognize that face anywhere - his eyes still sparkle like he’s eighteen, and his mouth is still sloped and crooked in all the places it used to fit against hers. Jesse St. James is a few years older, but still the same. “Hey, Superstar,” he says, and the old nickname hits her square in the chest, her balance just barely keeping her from falling over. “It’s been a while.”

Vi swallows and stands, hesitantly, and Jesse follows her up. “Hi,” she says dumbly. “Jesse. I, um - sorry, I’m just a little thrown off.” He chuckles at that (it was not a joke). “It has been a few years. What’re you doing in town?”

“Doing a little work with our old alma mater.” He frowns, and scratches his chin. “Well, my alma mater, I suppose. I’m supposed to take over coaching them while I’m in between projects.”

She nods politely, still finding the whole thing a little surreal. “That’s - that’s great, Jesse. I’m sure you’ll be... great.” Great? How many times can one say “great” in a conversation before being classified as illiterate? She clears her throat. “It’s just so strange seeing you here, of all places. Lima, I mean, not the supermarket.”

Jesse shrugs. “We all come home sometimes,” he says. “I’ve actually been meaning to call you, to get lunch, catch up.” He tosses the apple in his hand, smiles, and winks - a classic move, she recognizes from when they were kids. Nervously, she reaches up and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. His eyes follow the movement, and lead to a raised brow. “You’re married,” he blurts, suddenly.

It surprises her. She glances down at her hand, where the diamond ring glints back at her. “Oh. Yes, I am.” She smiles reflexively, then looks back up at Jesse. “A few years ago now.”

“Good for you, Vi,” he says, and it sounds hallow. “So you’re here for... the holidays, or something, then.”

It’s March, she wants to say, but she doesn’t. Instead, she purses her lips and shakes her head. “No, actually, Sam and I live here. He teaches at McKinley, and I have a studio in town.”

Jesse raises his eyebrows, then he snorts. “No way. Superstar Avery stuck around in a town like this - and married to Sam Evans?” He hurries to raise his hands defensively. “No offense, of course, I just... always thought you were on your way up and out. Never pictured you as a housewife for an... ex-stripper dropout.”

Vi thinks that she should be angry. Jesse has never liked Sam; he made that pretty clear last time they saw each other, and he’s clearly not pleased with him now. She should be infuriated, or at the very least offended, and some part of her is. But she’s had a very long time to be angry. She’s also had a very long time to be flattered by his backhanded compliments, and confused about how she was manipulated, and frustrated by her lost childhood. Now, though, she finds herself simply... unbothered. As if this isn’t worth her time. She had never formally considered herself as having gotten over Jesse St. James - he was her first love, her first everything. Now, though, she knows: she doesn’t feels a thing.

She simply smiles, reaching up and sliding her sunglasses down onto her nose. “Yes, well, we’re all full of surprises. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m already late for work.” With that, she turns on her heel and heads off to pay for her items. “Oh,” she calls over her shoulder, “be a doll and pick those up for me, would you? Bye bye, Jess.”

send me a word and a ship/oc

#virginia avery #glee #ship: jesse x vi #katie writes #ask #asks #saraid #this was SUPER cathartic but also super long im so sorry #long post #queen of edolas #what kind of woman doesnt have an ask

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

Text

SPN- Hunted (2.10)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (sister OC)

Summary: After Dean spills the truth about their father’s last moments, Sam runs off, taking Olive with him. Dean goes after his baby siblings, and they’re targeted by an unwelcome familiar face.

Warnings: cursing, blood, knives, guns, uhh, like mention of a dead cat? sam lowkey kidnaps olive, the usual with the rest you know

Word Count: 5147

“Dean, what did Dad tell you?” I stood up straight, staring at him with wide eyes.

“He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, Sam. To take care of you.”

Sam huffed, and I tilted my head. “What?”

“He told you that a million times, Dean.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “This time was different. He said that I had to save you.”

“Save me from what?” Sam repeated.

“He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered. And that if i couldn’t, I’d…” Dean looked away, tears in his eyes.

“That you’d what, De?” My chest tightened.

“That I’d have to kill him!”

My heart began to pound, and I stumbled backward, sitting down on the railing. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling my eyes begin to sting. It didn’t sound too far off for Dad, but the fact that Dean had kept it hidden for so long felt like a knife to the back.

“He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

“Kill me?” Sam took a step back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” Dean pushed out.

“I mean, he must’ve had some kind of reason for saying it, right?” Sam huffed.

“Oh, god.” I mumbled, wiping the tears from my eyes.

He knew something, but whatever the secret was died with him.

“Did he know the demon’s plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?” Sam stepped forward.

“Nothing. That’s it. I swear.” Dean sniffled.

“Why the hell would he say that, Dean?” I sobbed.

“I don’t know!”

“How could you not have told me this?”

“Because it was Dad! He begged me not to!”

“Who cares, Dean? Take some responsibility for yourself! You had no right to keep this from me!” Sam spat.

“You think I wanted to? Huh? I wish to god he’d never opened his mouth! Then I wouldn’t have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!”

“It doesn’t make sense. I’m Okami, why didn’t he tell you to kill me, too?”

“Olive, I don’t know.”

Sam turned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve just gotta figure out what’s going on, then. Figure out what the hell all this means.”

“We do?” Dean tilted his head. “I’ve been thinking about this. I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It would be safer. And this way we can make sure-”

“What? That I don’t turn evil? That I don’t turn into some kind of killer?” Sam growled.

“Hey, he never said that.” I stepped in.

“Well fuck, if you two aren’t careful, you will have to waste me one day.”

“I never said that!” Dean shouted.

“Jesus fucking Christ, boys!” I snapped.

They both glared at me, then at each other.

“This is getting out of hand. Both of you. Relax.”

“Look, Sam. You’re immune to some weird ass demon virus, and I don’t even know what the hell anymore. You’re pissed at me, I get it. That’s fine. I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move. Okay?”

“Forget it.” Sam scoffed, turning away once more.

“Sammy.” I called.

“Please, man. Hey, hey, please. Please.” Dean begged.

“I’m going-”

“Sam! Give us some time to think. Please.” I caught his arm.

“We’re begging you. Please.”

Sam sighed and gave us a reluctant nod.

***

“Bug.” Sam shook me softly.

I groaned and rolled onto my side. “What?”

“Hey. Come on, we’ve gotta move.”

I sat up with a huff. “Why?”

“We’ll explain later. Come on, I packed all your stuff. Dean’s waiting in the car.”

I rubbed my eyes and stumbled out of bed. Sam picked me up and held me against his hip. I snuggled my head into the crook of his neck and let myself fall back asleep.

***

I yawned and sat up. I rubbed my eyes and looked over. Sam was in the driver’s seat, staring at me with a soft smile.

“What the fuck?”

“Hey, bug.”

“Where the fuck are we? This isn’t Baby. Where’s Jinx?” I sat up straight and backed away from Sam. “Where’s Dean?”

“Look-”

“Sam, what the fuck is going on?”

“We’re at the Roadhouse.”

I looked over to see that we were, indeed, in the parking lot of the shoddy building. I scowled as I turned back to Sam.

“You fucking lied to me.” I struggled with the car door.

“Ollie-”

“Leave me the fuck alone.” I hissed, finally stumbling out of the unfamiliar black car.

“Olive-”

“Christo.”

Sam only stared with a bitchface. I whimpered and crossed my arms over my chest as he began to walk toward the door.

“Why?”

“Because we need to figure out what’s happening!”

“Not without Dean!” I scoffed as we trailed into the Roadhouse.

“Sam. Olive.”

“Hey, Ellen.” Sam gave her a sheepish smile. “You don’t seem that surprised to see us.”

“Well…” Ellen hummed. “Dean’s been calling. He’s worried sick, running around the country looking for you two.

Sam huffed as we dropped onto the stools. “Yeah, I figured he might.”

Ellen eyed me. “I take it this wasn’t planned on your half.”

I looked up at her with a scowl. “I was kidnapped.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I want Dean.” I hissed at Sam.

“What’s going on between your boys?”

“Dean made a mistake and now Sam is being-”

“How’s Jo?” Sam cut me off.

Ellen sighed. “I don’t really know.”

Sam and I glanced at each other, and I immediately remembered that I was upset with him. I turned back to Ellen.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after she worked that job with you kids, she decided she wanted to keep on hunting. I said ‘not under my roof’ and she said ‘fine’. I don’t know where she is now.”

“So we’re probably the last people you wanna see right now.” Sam sighed.

Ellen gave a chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong, I wish I could blame you kids. It’d be easier. Truth is, it’s not your fault. None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your Daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill… I just don’t think he ever forgave himself.”

Sam shifted, uncomfortable. “What really… did happen?”

“Um, so… why did you guys come here?”

“I need help.”

“I’ll get Ash.” Ellen put the rag and cup down and disappeared into the back.

“Ollie, look-”

“Dude, you can do whatever you want, I don’t care where you go or why or when, but I’m staying here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m staying here until Dean comes to pick me up.” I turned my nose up the other way.

Sam sighed. “Fine.”

***

I swung my legs and leaned forward as Ash came out of his back room. He flipped a piece of paper around in his hand and placed it on the bar in front of Sam.

“Done and done.”

“That was fast.” Sam snorted.

“Well, apparently, that’s my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard.”

I sighed and sunk further into my seat as Ellen shook her head. “Just tell us what you got, Ash.”

“Four folks fit the profile nationwide. Born in '83, mother died in a nursery fire, the whole shebang.”

“Four? That’s it?”

Ash nodded. “Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and uh… one last name. Scott Carey.”

I sighed. “That’s the only one we haven’t met yet.”

“You got an address?” Sam turned to Ash.

“Kind of… the Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot 486.”

I closed my eyes as I repeated it to myself in my head.

“So he’s dead?” Sam sighed.

“Killed, about a month ago.”

“Killed?” Sam repeated. “How?”

“Stabbed. Parking lot. Fuzz don't have much, no suspects.”

“Alright. Thank you, guys.” Sam got up.

Ash slapped him on the back before snaking his beer.

“Where are you going?”

“Indiana.”

“Sam?” Ellen called.

He turned.

“You’re not taking Olive?”

He looked at me. I shook my head.

“I’ll wait for Dean.”

“I’ve gotta call him. I’ve gotta let him know where you are, Sam.”

Sam sighed. “Ellen. I’m trying to find answers about who I am. My brother means well, but he can’t protect me from that. Please.”

Ellen sighed and nodded reluctantly. Sam came back my way and held his arms open. I shuffled out of my seat and accepted the hug, leaning against him.

“I’m sorry, bug.”

I shook my head. “I’ll see you when we’re all together again. Be careful.”

“Always.”

***

The phone rang from behind the bar, and I sighed. It was the fifth call in the last half hour. None of them had been Dean. I had little hope this one would be. I hadn’t memorized Dean’s latest phone number, and Sam had taken my phone with him. Ellen shot me a sympathetic smile as she picked the phone up and held it to her ear. “Ellen speaking.” A beat. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. Sweetie! Hang on a second.”

She looked at me and nodded me over. “It’s Dean.”

I scrambled around to the other side of the bar and held the phone to my ear. “De?”

“Baby girl! Hey, baby. Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m okay. Look, De, Sammy’s in Indiana. Lafayette. Uh, Arbor Hill Cemetery. There’s someone else like him, but the kid’s dead.”

“Okay, listen, princess, I’m coming to get you. Okay?”

“No, De! Oklahoma to Indiana is a 12 hour drive. You don’t have time.”

“I’m coming to get you. Okay? Just be ready.”

I sighed. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

***

“Dean!” I squeaked as the Impala stopped on the side of the road.

“Beanie!” He jogged across the street and plucked me off my feet, swinging me around.

I snuggled into his grip, wrapping my arms and legs around him. He hooked me on his hip and walked us back into the Roadhouse. Jinx followed, tail wagging as she yapped.

“Dean.” Ellen smiled.

“Hi. Thanks for keeping my kid safe.” He gave me an extra squeeze.

“De, you’ve been driving for hours. Maybe we should find a place to stay the night?” I whispered.

“You guys are more than welcome to the beds out back if you’d like.”

Dean sighed. “Thanks, but I think we should keep moving.’’ He put me back on my feet and ruffled my head. “Ready to roll, kid?”

I snuggled back into his side and looked over at Ellen. “Ellen, Dean’ll take a beer if you don’t mind.”

She smiled. “Come sit.”

“But-”

“I’ll drive. You need a drink and a nap.” I grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

***

“De, we’re here.” I put the car in park.

“Come on.” He grunted, climbing out of the car.

I followed, tossing him the keys as we looked at all the windows. A curtain fluttered in one, and I caught a glimpse of Sam.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay.” Dean mumbled to himself.

Sam moved, and a brown haired girl was standing in the room with him. I scoffed, and Dean grinned.

“Oh, he’s more than okay. Sam, you sly dog.”

Jinx let out a loud whine, and I felt an uneasy feeling grow in my chest. I looked around, confused.

“Ol?”

“Something’s wrong.” I hissed, feeling my fangs shift in my mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Sam’s in danger. We’ve gotta move.” I looked both ways before starting across the street.

“Where are you going?”

“Just trust me.” I beckoned him to follow.

Glass shattered, and both our heads snapped around to see that the window of Sam’s room was gone.

“Shit!”

“Come on!”

More shots rang out, and Dean pushed ahead of me. He held a hand up for me to stay back as we reached the rooftop. He grumbled a curse to himself before going out into the open.

“Gordon!”

I peeked out to see Gordon with a sniper rifle. Dean kicked him, pinned him, then punched him repeatedly in the face.

“You do that to my brother, I’ll kill you!”

“Dean, wait!” Gordon struggled.

I watched in horror as he managed to grab the rifle. He slammed into Dean’s face twice. I ducked back onto the fire escape, panting. Gordon would kill me if I didn’t win the fight. But I didn’t want to leave Dean in his hands alone.

I took a deep breath and pushed Jinx down the stairs. She whined and I growled at her. She turned tail and ran. Sam would grab her. I heard a gun cock, and I forced my fangs back into my mouth. I put my hands up as I slowly popped into view.

“Huh.” Gordon clicked his tongue. “Nice surprise.”

“Why do you wanna kill Sam?”

Gordon’s only response was to stalk closer and bash the butt of his gun into my knee. I crumbled to the ground.

***

“Hello?”

“Dean! Olive!”

“Sams.” I called through gritted teeth.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah. Look, I’m in Indiana. Uh, Lafayette.”

“I know.” Dean glanced over at me.

“You do?”

“Yeah, dummy. I told him.”

“We just got here.”

“It’s a really funky town.” I grunted.

“You ditched us, Sammy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Look, right now there’s someone after me.”

“What? Who?” Dean feigned surprise.

“I don’t know, that’s what we need to find out. Where are you guys?”

“We’re staying at, uh…” Dean glared at Gordon.

Gordon pulled a gun and pressed it to my forehead. I clenched my jaw. My knee was throbbing, and I was starting to lose any feeling in the lower half of my leg. My kneecap was out of place, and there was a gash that was pumping blood.

“We’re at 5637 Monroe Street. Sams, why don’t you come to us? Since we have Jinx and all.” I added our last hint. “Oh! And can you bring my red shirt? I forgot it in the car.”

There was a pause, and I sighed. The situation was more than clear now.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there soon. Love you guys. Be safe.”

“Always.”

“Love you too.”

Sam hung up the phone, and Gordon tossed it aside with a sickening grin. “Now, was that so hard?”

I let my head fall backward and toward Dean.

“Bite me.” He spat.

Gordon ignored him, turning to rummage through his bag. He began to pull out weapons. One by one, he laid them on the table next to him.

“So, Gordy. I know me and my siblings ain’t exactly your favorite people, but don’t you think this is a little extreme?” Dean asked, trying his best to inch closer to me.

“What, you think this is revenge?” Gordon sharpened the knife he had cut Sam with four months earlier.

“Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days.” He chuckled. “Which was awesome. Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”

“Yeah.” Gordon hissed. “I was definitely planning on whooping your ass for that.”

Dean hummed.

“But that’s not what this is. This isn’t personal. I’m not a killer, Dean. I’m a hunter. And your little siblings are fair game.” He sheathed his knife.

Dean and I shared a look.

Oh, shit.

***

“See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl. Seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the fucking thing muttered something. About a war that’s coming. I don’t think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out.” Gordon shifted the weight of his rifle. “But it was too late. Caught my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, if you got the right tools.”

I scowled. “What about the girl it was possessing?”

“Oh,” Gordon shook his head, “she didn’t make it.”

Dean huffed. “Well, you’re a son of a bitch.”

Gordon stood straight and walked right toward us. I strained against the ropes, but I was getting worse by the minute. Gordon backhanded Dean, and I flinched at the sound of skin against skin.

“That’s my momma you’re talking about… anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this war. Humans, fighting on hell’s side. You believe that? I mean, pft, they’re psychics, so they’re not exactly human. But still! What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?”

I glared as he swung the rifle around with each word.

“But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, this is… this is an entire new level of moronic. Even for you.”

“Yeah?” Gordon got in our faces. “Come on, Dean. I know. About Sam’s visions. About Olive’s abilities. I know everything.”

“Really?” Dean laughed again. “Because a demon told you?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t lying.” I spat.

“Hey, look. I’m not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure both things were true. Look, you’ve got you Roadhouse connections, I’ve got mine. It’s how I found Sammy in the first place.” Gordon crossed back to the corner and sat down again. “About a month ago, I found another one of those freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them.”

“Yeah, did he kill anyone?” Dean taunted.

“Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too.” Gordon cocked the rifle.

“Do you really think Sam’s stupid enough to walk through that front door?”

“No.” Gordon chuckled. “I don’t. Especially since I’m sure you two found ways to warn him. Huh, you really think I’m that stupid?”

Dean and I both raised our eyebrows as we looked down. Gordon got up and began to pace.

“No. Sammy’s gonna scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he’s gonna take the back. And when he does, he’ll hit the tripwire. Then…” He pulled a grenade from his bag. “Boom.”

“Sam’s not gonna fall for a fucking tripwire.”

“He’s not stupid.” I spat.

“Maybe you two are right. That’s why I’ll have a second one.”

There was a long pause. I shifted. If the gash in my knee didn’t kill me, Gordon most certainly would.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, Dean. I wish I didn’t have to do this, I really do. But for what it’s worth, it’ll be quick. And after we’re done with Sam, we can let princess here run loose so that I can gun her down.”

***

“He’s gonna kill me, De.” I whimpered.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “No, I won’t let him.”

Gordon came back into the room and straddled a chair, a foot away from us.

“Come on, man. I know Sam, okay? Better than anyone. He’s got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the internet for porn. And Olive?” Dean scoffed. “I mean, look at her. She’s just a kid. Hell, she needs to be snuggled to sleep.”

“Maybe you’re right. But one day they’ll be monsters.”

“How?” I snapped. “I get me. But how’s someone like Sam become a monster?”

“Beats me.” Gordon shrugged. “But he will.”

“No! You don’t know that.” Dean sneered. “Neither of them will.”

“I’m surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I’d heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let’s say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But if you knew what he would become. You’d take him out. No questions. Right?”

“That’s not Sam, you asshat.” I snarled.

“Yes it is. You just can’t see it yet. It’s his destiny. Look, I’m sympathetic. He’s your brother, you love the guy. This has gotta hurt like hell for you two.” Gordon pulled out two shreds of fabric and stalked toward us. “But here’s the thing.”

He gagged Dean, then tied the second piece around my mouth. I held back a choke as my fangs immediately sunk into the fabric.

“It would wreck him, but your dad? If it really came down to it, he would’ve had the stones to do the right thing here. You’re telling me you’re not the man he is?”

***

The lock in the back door clicked, and I looked at Dean with wide eyes. My body was drained, and I had long since kicked into what Dean referred to as ‘monster mode’. My jaw was beginning to lock and I was on the verge of passing out, but knowing Sam was safe was my priority.

“You hear him?” Gordon asked.

There was the creak of the door, and Sam’s heavy footsteps were audible.

“Here he comes.” Gordon grinned.

Dean grunted, and I worked my jaw harder, teeth ripping at the scarf bit by bit. Sam took another step. I tore the scarf in two.

“Sam!”

I screamed too late, and there was an explosion in the back room. Dean screamed, and I roared, tears welling in my eyes. Gordon didn’t look our way.

“Hold on. Not yet. Just wait and see.” He spoke calmly.

“Sammy!” I shouted again, but the second grenade went off anyways.

Dean began to choke, tears falling down his cheeks. I let my head fall forward. Blood mixed with spit began to drop down onto my lap. I whimpered.

“Sorry, Dean.”

Gordon held his rifle up as he sauntered out of the room. Dean began to sob, and I closed my eyes. Gordon’s footsteps were heavier than Sam’s, and I could think of nothing more than ripping his spinal cord out with my teeth.

There was the cocking of a gun, and a soft step. “Drop the gun.”

Sam.

I shot up, eyes wide. I looked at Dean, but he was still crying. He couldn’t hear Sam.

“Sams!”

“You shouldn’t take your shoes off around here.” Gordon warned. “You might get tetanus.”

“Put it down now!” Sam ordered.

“You wouldn’t shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother and sister, they think you’re some kind of saint.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam hissed.

“See? That’s what I said.” Gordon whispered.

There was a grunt, followed by a series of punches. A wall crashed, and I knew by the thud that followed that Sam had just hit the ground. Dean struggled against his ropes, and I whimpered before tearing my own off. My wrists started to bleed right away, and I tumbled out of my seat.

Dean grunted, staring at me with wide eyes. I tried to get to my feet, but my leg gave out. Dean panted. I turned to sit and took a deep breath. I held my knee to my chest and breathed again. Dean watched, concerned. I paused before slamming my kneecap back into place. I let out a pained scream, and Dean’s face drained of color when I looked back up at him.

He squinted.

Are you okay?

I nodded as I got to my feet.

“Sam!” I called, shuffling through the rooms.

“Do it!” Gordon screamed.

Sam had him pinned, rifle against his forehead.

“Do it! Show your family the killer you really are, Sammy!”

I stumbled behind Sam and took the rifle from him. Gordon stared as a look of terror washed over his face. I wavered, and Sam grabbed my waist, holding me steady. I pulled the rifle back before slamming the butt of it into his head. He went out, cold.

“It’s Sam.” He spat.

I dropped the gun and began to fall backward. Sam caught me and pulled me into his chest.

“It’s alright.”

I looked up at him. He had cuts scattered all over his face. His cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, his lip. A bloody nose, messy hair, tired eyes. I let out a whimper and began to sob.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and cupped my cheeks. “It’s okay. Let’s go get Dean, yeah?”

We walked back to where Dean was tied up, feet dragging as we leaned against each other. Dean grunted at the sound of our footsteps. Sam clapped his shoulder as we stood behind him. I began to untie Dean’s gag as Sam knelt to untie his ropes. Dean shook his head and tore himself out of the last rope. He pulled Sam to stand and stared at him, hands on his shoulders. Sam nodded as he panted, grabbing Dean by the shoulders.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean hissed as he wheeled around and toward the door.

“Dean, no.”

“I let him live once. I’m not making the same mistake twice.” Dean growled.

“Trust me.” Sam sighed. “Gordon’s taken care of.” He leaned forward and grabbed Dean by the jacket, pulling him toward the door. “Come on.”

Sam and I stayed on his tail as we shuffled out of the cabin. We were greeted by Jinx, who had been tied to a tree nearby. She whined and started to paw at the ground. Dean untied her and took the leash off, tucking it into his pocket.

Jinx turned, and her tail stopped wagging. She let out a loud whine and started to run.

“What…”

There was a gunshot, and we turned to see Gordon with a gun in each hand. I tripped and fell, and Sam dragged me off the ground, hauling me over his shoulder.

“Come on!” Dean shouted, leading the way.

He jumped into a ditch, and Sam dumped me in. I hit the ground and rolled, groaning as I tried to untwist my knee.

“You call this taken care of?” Dean howled as Jinx and Sam ducked into the ditch with us.

“Sammy, what the hell are we doing?” I hissed as Gordon stalked closer, firing without end.

Dean pulled me into his side, making sure I was out of sight.

“Just trust me on this, alright?”

As if on cue, sirens blared, and the sounds of cops and their demands met our ears. I flinched and ducked further into Dean. Sam held Jinx as we stared at each other, eyes wide. We peeked up through the shadows to see Gordon dropping to his knees, glaring in our direction.

The boys grinned and I held back a giggle. I looked up at Sam, then Dean with a huge smile on my face. Sam leaned down.

“Anonymous tip.”

Dean shook his head with a smile. “You’re a fine, upstanding citizen, Sam.”

***

I frowned as Sam finished bandaging my leg. I huffed, and he ruffled my hair.

“All better, okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He held his hands out for me as I slid off the hood of the car. He glanced over, and I turned to see him staring at Dean, who was on the phone and fuming as he paced around. I sighed and turned back to Sam.

He smiled. “Come on, bug. You should get to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

I yawned as he opened the passenger side door. “Fine.”

He slid in next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into his side and yawned again.

***

“Hey, Ava, it’s Sam… Again. Um, call me when you get this. Just wanna make sure you got home okay. Alright. Bye.” Sam hung up the phone with a sigh.

“Everything alright, Sams?”

“Yeah. I hope so.” He huffed.

“Well, at least Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least.” Dean grinned.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed again. “If they pin Scott Carey’s murder on him. And if he doesn’t bust out.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Well, if he does, I’m fucking wasting him.”

Dean looked over at Sam, then back at the road, licking his lips. “Dude, you ever take off like that again…”

“What? You’ll kill me?” Sam jested.

“That is so not funny.” Dean hissed.

Sam laughed and I rolled my eyes, leaning further into his side and letting my eyes fall shut.

“Alright. So where to next, then?”

“One word. Amsterdam.”

“Dean.” Sam scoffed.

“Come on, man. I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee.”

“Oh, and they’ve got the van Gogh museum there!” I piped up.

“I’m not just gonna ditch the job.”

“Man, fuck the job.” I squeaked.

Dean blinked, taken aback. “I mean, she’s right. We don’t get paid, we don’t get thanked. The only thing we get’s bad luck.”

“Well, come on, dude. You’re a hunter. I mean, it’s what you were meant to do.”

“Ah, I wasn’t meant to do shit. I don’t believe in that destiny crap.”

Sam half smiled. “You mean you don’t believe in my destiny.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean huffed.

Sam sighed. “Look, Dean. I’ve tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California, and look what happened. We can’t run from this. And you can’t protect us.”

Dean looked back at us. “I can try.”

“Thanks for that.” Sam whispered.

My shoulders dropped and I shifted from Sam’s side to Dean’s, wrapping my arms around one of his.

“Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam spat back.

They grinned at each other, and I smiled, letting my head fall against Dean’s shoulder. There was a long pause before Sam picked up his phone again.

“You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?”

“She’s engaged, Dean.” Sam scoffed.

“So what? What’s the point of saving the world if you can’t get a little nookie once in a while, huh?” Dean teased.

Sam hung up, a scowl on his face. I frowned.

“Sams?”

“Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?”

***

Sam picked the lock and led the way. I swept my flashlight around as we stalked down the hall.

“Hello? Is anybody home?”

“Ava?”

Sam stopped in a doorway and I ran into him. Dean stepped on the back of my heels before scrambling backward.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sam?”

“Oh my god.” He whispered.

I snuck under his arm and gasped. A man was lying on the bed, face-up and drenched in blood. Dean pushed past Sam and ran his finger along a windowsill. He huffed and held his finger up.

“Hey.”

Sam turned.

“Sulfur. Demon’s been here.”

“What’s that?” I squinted, pointing to something shiny on the floor.

Sam knelt and picked it up. He sighed.

“Ava.”

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wishingforatypewriter · 4 years

Note

can you please do 19 for AKISAKO and 14 for SORINA

19. While someone’s sick + Akisako

“You can try, but I’m telling you, it’s futile,” Hisako told the diner chef waiting in the parlor to bring a heavenly smelling garlic soup up to Erina’s room. “Whenever Erina-sama gets sick it interferes with her god tongue. She won’t take anything but plain rice and clear broths.”

Yukihira smirked at her. “She told me before, but I think I’ve figured out the trick to it this time.”

The medicinal cuisine expert shot him an incredulous look, but felt way too tired to argue with him, and said nothing as he went upstairs with the soup, a deck of playing cards, and a stack of manga in tow. At the very least, Erina-sama—who became quite demanding whenever she felt out of sorts—would be entertained for a little while.

She took a seat on one of the parlor chairs and got to work on rearranging the Elite Ten event schedule.

“Yukihira’s definitely earning his boyfriend credentials,” said Alice, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She giggled a bit at the thought.

“I guess you could say that.” Hisako sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing her temples. Between looking after Erina and managing all the extra paperwork she’d taken on as Elite Ten members dropped like flies to whatever flu was going around, she’d barely slept all week.

“He’s still nowhere near Ryo-kun’s level, though,” the fifth seat said wearing a besotted smile.

“I daresay you’re a bit biased,” Hisako replied dryly before willing herself to stand up. She sniffled lightly, waiting for her sinuses to adjust to the change in altitude. “I’d better go now.”

“Where? To bed?” the Nakiri heiress asked, giving her a once over. “You’re looking pretty rundown, Hishoko.”

The seventh seat rolled her eyes. “Forgive me.” She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, only serving to make her headache worse. “Next time I’ll be sure to prioritize my beauty sleep over the reports.”

“You totally should. It’s way more fun that way.”

Far too fatigued to argue the logic of responsibility to a person like Nakiri Alice, Hisako merely took her leave and started towards the Elite Ten offices. And because the universe was a cruel master indeed, halfway through her commute it started pouring.

Usually Arato Hisako was the person one counted on knowing the weather forecast, but she’d been feeling scattered for days now and arrived at Totsuki’s parliament soaked.

“Is that you, Arato?” Hayama called from his office when she came in, and she smiled in spite of herself. For the past week or so, she’d only seen him in passing, getting signatures on forms and printing documents in the copy room.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She stood in his doorway, wet blazer folded over one arm.

“You didn’t look at the weather?” He sounded surprised, and if Hisako didn’t know any better, she’d say there was a hint of concern in his emerald eyes.

“There’s been a lot going on, okay, so don’t…” The seventh seat cut herself off with a series of harsh sneezes that bent her forward. Hisako brought a hand to her head, massaging the pressure point just between her brows.

The third seat wrapped his blazer around her shoulders, and the sudden warmth quelled the shivers she’d been only vaguely aware of. “I knew you were going to catch this,” he said. “You’ve been letting Nakiri and the rest run you ragged all week long.”

Hisako glared up at him. “I am not having this argument with you today. Besides, I didn’t catch anything,” she replied petulantly. “I don’t get sick.”

He shot her a half amused glance and then brought his forehead down to hers. “Hardheaded,” he told her, smirking. “And warm.”

Hisako felt her cheeks flush with a heat that had nothing to do with the fever she definitely didn’t have. “It’s just from the walk over here,” she said lamely before turning away to sneeze again. She sniffled miserably after the fit ended. “I’m fine.”

Less than hour later, Hayama Akira had her laying with her had in his lap on the office couch, wrapped in a blanket he’d found somewhere and filled with a spicy chickpea soup he’d made on the fly. It was heaven.

“I should go back and check on Erina-sama soon,” she said when she felt her eyes getting heavy. “And I still need to finish the report.”

“Yukihira’s got her,” the spice expert said, rubbing her back lightly. “And don’t worry about the report. Tadokoro Megumi agreed to finish it.”

She gave a slight smile at this. Tadokoro-san was the definition of reliable. “Thank you, Akira,” she said before letting herself drift off.

It seemed that Yukihira Souma wasn’t the only one earning his boyfriend credentials.

#shokugeki no soma #akisako #hisako x akira #sorina #ryoali #the third year our characters deserved lol #14 + sorina coming in a later post

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homesafterthemountain · 5 years

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i accidentally wrote the first chapter of a slavetale fanfic

Chapter 1 -

You looked over the paper, the numbers, again. Part of you wished they didn’t match up perfectly, but you knew this was for the best. You had to do this.

“Are you sure?” you asked for the millionth time.

His aged, slightly rasping voice came from his place in the next room. “Course i am girlie. You can do this, i know it. And if you don’t… who will?”

You took a deep breath, trying to quell your fears. “I know… i know, i just… i’m scared.”

His clawed hands wrapped around your own soft and fleshy ones. It wasn’t until then you felt how they had been quivering. “I know. We all are. Let’s do it not in spite of our fear, but because of it.”

You gave his hands one last squeeze, a wobbly smile, and let go.

The world has never been a very forgiving place. The joys and sorrows were infinite, but never equal. You knew this. You thought everyone did. But then, if you let yourself wallow in the bad times, you might not notice the good. So you pushed your fear to the back of your mind as you got in your car and plugged the coordinates. You let the act of driving distract you from your actual destination, keeping your eyes on the road.

All around you, the world existed. Your little neighborhood, slightly run down and next to a nearly deforested forest, melted away. The gas station, the weird ditch with the car for sale by the side of the road, and the crooked stop sign flashed by in your peripheral vision before your turned onto the highway. No music played in your speakers, not today. There was only the sound of your wheels on the road and the whoosh of passing cars. Billboards advertised which exits you could take for wineries and pubs, advertising the pleasures of losing yourself, but those were not the exits that you would take. You passed them by with only a glance, until you saw the one you were looking for. A woman with a gorgeous dress and a perfect smile gazed down at you from her sign. In one hand was a platter upon which a radish with a face smiled happily, and under her other arm was what looked like a grinning armless lizard child in a specially made tux. Both wore collars. Bright purple cursive letters proclaimed:

“Come find your new helper and companion! Monster pet store, exit 295!”

You grimaced. You wished you could tear holes in those perfect teeth. You took the exit.

The road around you slowly populated with capitalism. Fast food joints were first, quickly followed by small stores that gave way to name brand shops and megamarts as you continued further in downtown. Your GPS guided you as your fear came swimming back in the city traffic. Your hands nervously tugged at the hem of your nicest dress. You would look like a fool among the nicely dressed customers. You forced your hand back onto the wheel, but at the next section of traffic your hands now went to your ears. Your cheap earrings couldn’t pass for real gold. They would see right through you, and kick you out or arrest you. No. these fears were exaggerated and unfounded. You knew that. Rationally. But the human mind is not always rational. You parked in a parking deck a ways from the store; best that your clean but not shining car didn’t lead them to suspicion. You looked at the sunglasses, and decided they were too much. You stepped out of the car and made your way down the sidewalk in heels that weren’t quite broken in. as you neared your destination, your purposeful steps slowed. Why were you even doing this? There was no point. It wouldn’t make a difference, and you would inevitably be caught. There was no way they wouldn’t catch you. You paused a moment, leaning against the brick wall of the fifth antique store you’d passed. You needed to b=do this. Not in spite of your fear, but because of it. Because these were the fears they faced every day, and you could do something about it. You kept yourself from hyperventilating there on the sidewalk. You took a deep breath and used your frightened adrenaline to forge a new path. Your face turned stony, your gaze uncaring, crafting the persona you had planned for this deed. You were afraid. And your fear would be your greatest weapon. You would make it so.

Five minutes later you stepped into the “pet” store.

It was an upper-class establishment, a few registers near the front and rows upon rows of bright and glistening toys and supplies for the upkeep of your monster. You saw other folk, some dressed much more nicely than you but some thankfully in rather normal clothes, browsing the aisles. You looked through the items as you passed to the back. There were chew toys, puzzle books, even dolls and board games. It was an uncomfortable mix of pet and childrens toys. As you neared the back, you saw the ornate purple double doors, above which a sign read:

“Meet the Monsters!”

It was just so… you shook your head and approached the doors. At the last minute you noticed the booth just beside the entrance and walked over to the representative present there. They wore some kind of tacky purple safari uniform, and smiled brightly at you.

“Hello ma’am! Here to meet the monsters?” she perked up at your nod and moved to unlock the doors. “Great! We actually got a few new ones last week, so if you’ve been here before there are more options than ever!”

You hummed in appreciation as the doors swung open, bringing the smell of disinfectant and flowers. Not exactly what you had been expecting. You had pictured more of a dungeon, rather than the clean glass cages that held all manner of monsters. Most rooms had some sort of bed/bench and a single blanket. Some of the rooms held several smaller monsters, but most held single, disturbingly humanoid occupants. You looked around, but couldn’t find the blue fish woman your friend had described. You both knew it had been a long shot, but it was still a bit disappointing.

“The bears are new, but they scored very high on human compatibility!” the guide explained behind you. “And if you’re a fan of cold, the elves exude cold!”

You looked to the small creatures she indicated, that looked almost like small snowmen with intricate hats of ice. Near them was a huge bear who waved at you with a gentle smile. You hesitantly waved back.

“They’ve all been tested, and their scores are listed along with their descriptions and upkeep sheets on the units,” the guide continued. “The vegetoids are popular, and also pretty cheap. Some of them require cool rooms to sleep in…”

She kept going on as you walked around the cages, trying to read the description sheets without making eye contact with the prisoners. It felt like the first one who met your gaze, you wouldn’t be able to not take them home from this sick dehumanizing place. But you had to remember your mission. You had to figure out who needed the most help, and bring them to safety. But how were you supposed to tell? You knew you’d have to look at the monsters eventually. But you reached one of the cages in the back that was empty. There was a care sheet, stating a slightly low score on human compatibility, but next to no upkeep.

“Who’s this?” you asked.

The guide bounded up to you and looked at the sheet. “Oh! That’s one of our new ones. Just passed all his tests, but he’s a little under the weather, so we’re keeping him in the back for treatment.”

“Can i see him?” you asked quickly.

The guide balked. “Well, no. sorry, but we’re not supposed to let anyone in the back.”

“Can you bring him out here then?” you tried to reign in your eagerness. Here was someone you could help!

“Well…”

“Just think. I might want to take a sick monster off your hands, and then i’m buying a monster and the medicine. Isn’t that better than the store paying for it?” you surprised yourself with the confidence in your voice, and the guide seemed to be thinking it over.

“Let me go asked my manager,” they decided, and left the room.

You were alone with all the monsters, and you could feel them staring at you. Had they been staring at you before? If not, why now? Were you doing something wrong? Was it because the guide had left? Was it safe to talk here? You looked around and easily spotted several cameras. Did they have microphones? Probably, in such a fancy place. You turned back to look at the monsters this time, really look. Most had dropped whatever smiles they had before, and were just staring. But a few, especially a child-sized mouse in the back, were outright glaring at you. You wanted to say something. To say you were here to help. That you didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone own them. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t safe.

Finally, the guide returned. “The manager says i can bring him into the room for your to look at,” the guide replied, their cheery tune now underlaid with apprehension. “We’ll be just a moment!” you hastily turned away from the monsters, who had now gone back to acting complacent. Now you faced the glass, waiting to see what- who they would bring. You didn’t have long to wait before a skeleton appeared. Like most of the other humanoids, he wore khakis, a polo shirt with the store logo on it, and the metal collar. But he didn’t even try to keep up the friendly routine. The guide led him to the pallet in the little glass room, and the creature willingly sat down. Empty sockets stared down at the floor, gray bones held close together as if to take up as little space as possible. It made it hard to tell their actual size. The guide then closed the back door of the cell and came back into the room with you. “So like i said, he isn’t in the best shape-”

“I’ll take him.”

“Oh!” there was a pause while you were both silent. “Then, um, i’ll go get the paperwork! Think of a good name for him! Or her, it’s a skeleton, so don’t feel restricted!”

As they left, your mind involuntarily went back to biology class, where the teacher taught you one of the easiest ways to tell if a skeleton had been male or female was to see if your fist would fit through the hole in the pelvis. If it did, that meant they were birthing hips,and a female. You shook your head. This wasn’t a pile of human remains. You could ask their preferred pronouns later. The guide came back with the paperwork and a care package. You set up a payment plan, where you would fully pay the cost in a few months. It turned out that skeletons were rare, and so more expensive than you had been expecting. But you would do it. They recommended some toys that you politely refused. They offered a variety of collars, but you said you preferred the standard. You would have preferred cutting the damn things open, but that wasn’t exactly an option.

Finally, you had to decide on a name. “Um,” you asked hesitantly, “do I have to choose now?”

“Well, you can always change it later, but we need something for our records.”

You ended up deciding on the name ‘Bonesly’. It was stupid, but you honestly could not think of anything else. With the formalities finally done, you waited in the lobby for them to bring you your new monster.

#slavetale #sneak peak #?#maybe #idk man i wanna write 752 stories but the itch.....#i got plans....#or had them at least lol

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years

Text

The Boy in the Belfry, part 14. A Bungou Stray Dogs fic

It was another week before Dazai was lucid and able to stay awake long enough to actually answer a couple of the many questions that Kunikida had written down in his book of Ideals (without scowling at the chair at his bedside and accusing it of judging him- Dazai really didn't react well to being medicated), while Fukuzawa lingered in the back. Ranpo was there too, as an observer and had gotten the task of calling out Dazai if he tried to bluff. Atsushi was there mostly as moral support.

Dazai sat propped up by pillows, wearing a metal back-brace, and his leg had finally been properly dressed in a hard cast. His head was bandaged after a couple of stitches to the back of the head, and Yosano had tried her best to replicate how he wore his other, usual, bandages.

Old wounds, new wrappings.

Dazai sported his trademark crooked smile as Kunikida stared him down, waiting for the answer to his first question; what the fuck?

Dazai scoffed. "Yeah, I know, right?"

He rolled his eyes wryly and shrugged his shoulders as mundane as could be.

"Leave it to Dazai to be kidnapped by an old demented paranoid schizophrenic preacher," Dasai tsk'ed and shook his head in such disappointment of himself.

Dazai's inability to take anything seriously enraged Kunikida more than he could put his words to, but he had to keep his temper under control if he wanted to avoid being kicked out of the room by Dazai's doctors, and keeping his ass from being kicked by Chuuya (or Atsushi for that matter, who was staring at him warningly).

Kunikida's dissatisfaction with him was clear as day, which Dazai obviously had expected.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers," he concluded, reaching his tongue out.

"To be fair, it was a pretty... vague question," Ranpo added carefully.

"Don't you have some glasses to polish?" Kunikida snapped back, receiving a mournful look from Ranpo, being reminded of the grave loss he had experienced when he couldn't figure out what was going on with Dazai.

"Kunikida..." Fukuzawa warned.

"I'm calm!"

…

"Okay, I'm not calm."

He took a deep breath and held it for ten seconds as he walked a couple of laps around the room.

"Dazai-kun, there's really no need to withhold any information anymore. We already know more than I know you would like us to... The only thing we really need to know is why," Fukuzawa said calmly.

Dazai's smile didn't stir, but there was something sad that shadowed over the usual twinkle in his eyes and dulled them considerably. He chuckled, but there was nothing humorous in it.

"Yeah, I-" he tried.

Something in him wanted to tell them everything. At least everything he knew or could remember. He really wanted to... be understood. He wanted them to know why he was the way he was. Why he couldn't express his feelings, because, it wasn't that he didn't want to express himself, he just didn't know how to.

Every emotion that once possibly had come naturally to him, he had been stripped off before he could even remember.

No crying, no laughing, no smiling, no anger, no sadness, no happiness, no weakness, no fear, no love, no hope.

His stomach started to feel queasy and he realized that he had been glaring at his feet for way too long. They were all looking at him, With the expressions, he knew was 'worried', which, they probably could feel for real.

All the while, he was still smiling, which was the wrong expression,

He mentally swift through his "emotional library" and tried to fit the situation to his facial expression, but it was all too much and his stomach was feeling bilious and the feelings that he did have, that he had no control over, completely overturned him as his heart started to race and the bile was halfway up his throat. Panic. A feeling that turned physical, that he couldn't wean, only hide.

What happened next, he didn't know if was a blessing or a curse.

But vomiting, he didn't need to fake. That came naturally.

He threw up all over the bed, panting with raspy breaths in a mix of discomfort and pain between the dry-heaves, as Atsushi tried to keep a straight face while stroking his back and Fukuzawa ordered Kunikida to do- something- Dazai didn't hear, didn't care, as Kunikida ran out of the room.

...

The following hour went by with a bath and a change of rooms. Dazai was reminded of how much of a pain in the ass it was to get clean with a cast on, and he tried his hardest not to react to the way the male nurse who was helping him watched his bare skin as he undressed the bile-covered bandages with that compassionate and surprised look they always got.

He was so, so sick of it. Wished he could crawl out of his skin, shed it like a snake, and rid himself of it once and for all.

All the fuzz had made him tired, as well as the strong pain medication he had gotten when they had to move him around as much as they had to. His co-workers had left, but he knew they'd be back tomorrow to try again to get the answers they wanted, probably armed with barf bags.

Dazai didn't know how he was going to be able to tell them, rubbing his face with frustration, as he heard a strange knock on the window.

It could only be one person, as his new room was on the fifth floor.

Dazai's bed was placed next to the window by his own request, and he pulled the curtain away and cracked the window open, letting Chuuya manipulate the gravity to pull the security lock open himself and climbing in.

"There's a perfectly fine door over there, you know," Dazai said tiredly.

"The receptionist told me visiting hours were over," Chuuya answered nonchalantly and very carefully crawled over the bed- to not repeat the disastrous 'butt-to-fracture action’ he had caused a couple of weeks ago.

"Also, you know I have a love for the dramatics."

Dazai smiled, for real. Chuuya could sometimes bring that out of him, which he appreciated.

It made him think...

"Chuuya, I need to ask you something."

"No Dazai, the hospital gown doesn't make your ass look fat," he sighed jokingly, looking in the mirror that was placed over a sink on the other side of the room, fixing a couple of stray hairs that had gotten loose from his pony-tail on his way up the side of the hospital.

"I know. I have a bony ass. You've told me," Dazai said exasperated. Maybe Chuuya wasn't the right person to talk about this with after all.

Chuuya seemed to sense Dazai's tension and regretted his ill-timed joke.

"I'm sorry," he said and turned back to Dazai. "Are you okay? Kunikida-san messaged me about the incident with your... stomach contents."

Dazai's lips twisted into a slightly curved smile. "You and Kunikida-san seem to message each other a lot recently," he commented, acting hurt.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to have joint custody of a twenty-two-year-old."

Chuuya placed a chair next to Dazai's bed and sat down.

"So, Dazai-chan," he said softly in a slightly higher pitch, as if he was talking to a child, receiving a tired smile from Dazai, and returning the smile calmly.

"What's going on?" he said, changed back to normal. Or, maybe a bit nicer than his normal, normal.

Dazai seemed to search for his words.

"I think- I think you are my oldest friend," he started. Chuuya's arched an eyebrow.

"I also think that, except for Mori, you're the person who knows the most about me, and... the stuff that has happened, you know, before..."

Chuuya nodded, unable to look Dazai in the eyes, knowing that Dazai probably looked the other way too. When Dazai didn't continue, Chuuya assumed he was stuck.

"Kunikida also told me that you blanked out..." he told him, realizing without much effort that there had to be a connection between Dazai's sudden sentimental statements and the events that had unfolded earlier that day.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Chu... I-I don't know why it happened. I actually wanted to tell them everything. Is that weird?" He looked on the other with genuinely questioning eyes.

"If you're referring to blanking out to the point that you puke- yeah, a bit. But, about letting your friends know what's been going on with you? No. Not at all. I think it'd be good for you to tell them."

"I couldn't. It felt like it got caught in my throat and when I finally got it unstuck- it came out as bile."

Chuuya sneered. "Well, I guess the imagery is pretty accurate."

Dazai only hummed in response, and leaned back in the bed, watching the city outside of his room.

They sat like that in silence for a little while, both reflecting on the years that had led up to this moment, where they were finally able to sit by each other's side as friends again, somewhat fucked up and complicated friends, but, there was nothing that wasn't fucked up and complicated with anything in their lives.

"Maybe you could write it down," Chuuya suddenly suggested.

"Huh?" Dazai turned to face him again, confused and weary.

"Write it down, what you want to tell them. If you're not comfortable with saying it... without spraying it," Chuuya looked way too smug about his own joke, "then maybe you'll be able to write it down."

Dazai grimaced. "I'm on a sick-leave for another 6 to 8 weeks. I don't want to write a report. Also, you know my handwriting looks like chicken-scratches."

"Yeah, you don't have to remind me. I'm sure you remember who wrote all of our hand-written reports for three years. But, it's not going to be like a report. It might actually put some weight off your back, and you only have to write what you want to write. I can bring you your laptop tomorrow."

Dazai thought about it for a second. Then, he looked back up at Chuuya with an undecipherable smile and gave a faint nod.

"Yeah, that's- that's actually a good idea." ...

The next day, before lunch, Fukuzawa was a little surprised to find an email from Dazai in his inbox. Even though the title said "DO YOU WANT TO INCREASE YOUR PENIS SIZE BY 51%?! WE HAVE AN INSANE OFFER FOR YOU!!!" he decided to open it. His anti-virus program was pretty air-tight, after all.

Also, he knew Dazai.

I am sorry about yesterday. I can't seem to actually talk about this whole mess, even if I kinda want to. So, I'm going to try to write it all down instead. Please tell Atsushi that I truly am sorry for puking on his shirt, and to Kyouka, who probably had to clean it. And to you, Fukuzawa-senpai, if you're insecure about the size of your penis.

(Fukuzawa edited this part out of the email before printing it out).

I don't know my father's real name. I've only ever called him Father. Neither do I know my mother's real name, but my father told me to call her Yariman -Slut.

She died when I was eight. I also had two older sisters, which both died before I was born. Father only wanted a son. They are buried with my mother under unmarked graves in the Shinja graveyard, I've never known where.

Much of the events of my early life are not relevant to the case. I might be ready to share some of it with you someday, but not today. What is relevant, is that Father's ability is called A Sinners Chagrin. As you might have guessed, it's the ability to make anyone's greatest fear appear before them. He spent most of my childhood making sure that my greatest fear was of God. Which it was, for a long time. A child's mind is easy to corrupt, and his ability started in the form of a generic boogyman and slowly turned in to my own depiction of God. After that, he was able to prove all his horrifying tales of what God would do to me, as he manipulated his ability to do just that.

(Fukuzawa: I ask that you are the only one who reads this next paragraph and that you remove it before anyone else can read it).

I'm sure the question all of you are dying to know the answer to, is how he was able to use his ability on me, and I'm afraid that the answer isn't as exciting or spectacular as you might think. It's simply because I'm afraid. And when I'm afraid, my body shuts down and disassociates, which apparently leaves me open for attack. I have never experienced it with anyone else but Father, but then again, he is the only one that has ever made me truly scared. Except for myself, apparently- considering the latest form of Father's ability. No idea how that happened... Nope. Guess that one will remain a mystery.

As you probably understand, this is information that leaves me in a pretty vulnerable position if fallen into the wrong hands, which is why I ask that no one else reads it.

(…)

(Baha! I just explained to Fukuzawa why Father's ability works on me and asked him to delete it before any of you scavengers can read it, suckaaaas)!

I guess where to go next is how I came about to join the Port Mafia. I have my suspicions that there is a little more to the story than I know for sure, but anything other then what I can actually recall will be speculations.

As Father was able to make 'God' appear by using me, he started to do exclusive performances to the elite of the extremist Christian societies around Japan. You all saw what the man had become- a deranged and utterly useless preacher that actually believed his ability to be a miracle, but he didn't start that way. He was a con-man. He knew what he was doing from the day he started doing it.

Sure, some of the pure insanity was there from the start (runs in the family I guess- so don't come for me), he did kill his wife and two daughters after all. I'm not an expert on family dynamics or anything, but I'm pretty sure that that is a kind of thing that isn't supposed to happen in the stereotypical nuclear family.

Anyway, the former main physician- turned boss of the Port Mafia, Ougai Mori, somehow got a whiff of Father, and decided to arrange a showcase of his "ability to make God appear" in front of the former boss, with the pretense of recruiting him. I was ten at the time and had recently started to develop some issues with Father's ramblings of how there was nothing worse than the wrath of God, which I guess somehow had been a pretty big part of my entire life at the time.

We did our usual shtick, and, I screwed up. I had no fear of his 'God' anymore, but I did have a great fear of him. Father.

The pain he had caused me was very real and very much caused by him and him alone. So, that was who showed himself that day, and ruined everything for him.

I don't know what happened the next hours. I have no recollection of it what so ever until I awoke in the belfry the next day and let myself drop to the ground.

I have never tried to hide my wish of dying. This was the day I first tried actively to make that happen. The day I decided that I wanted it to happen by my own hands.

As I am writing this, it won't come as a surprise to any of you that I failed. Whatever happened the next couple of days are as defuse to me as what happened the hours before. I woke up in Mori's care and stayed there for a very long time. He told me during that time, that I did not need to worry about Father anymore, and later told me that he was dead. Clearly, he was wrong.

One thing that both Father and Mori both had in common, was the fact that their goal was to make me unable to feel anything. Not physically (far from it), but emotionally. This is the reason I am writing this. Because as much as (this is hard for me to even write) I know I have overcome, the part of real emotion is one thing that I can not...

I'm sorry. I just don't know. I can't.

(Chuuya is threatening me with releasing a video of me while I was going through puberty online if I don't leave that last part, and I just realized that severe self-consciousness is a feeling I have gotten back).

The Port Mafia trained me to be a numb pawn purely made for withstanding torture without giving in, and killing. That is my design. What I am. Or was. I don't know.

That leaves me to address what happened the night I was injured, when this whole mess started.

During the night (I actually do sleep sometimes), a letter was slid through the crack under the door of my room at the dorms. If you want to see it, you can, but in short terms, it said that he was back, and wanted me to come back to him. I don't know what made me go- the feeling of terror I guess (another feeling I guess still lingers). So I did. I was instructed to go to the belfry, so I also did. I blacked out, and I didn't understand what had actually happened until that day we were all in Shinja. He had used his power, and as it took the form of myself at ten years old- I did get scared. I didn't think it was real, which was my mistake.

I told everyone that I was pushed off the tower, which I was, technically. I pushed myself off. I don't know if that counts as another suicide attempt, but that is what happened.

…leave it to Dazai to be a suicidal maniac while trying to survive an attempted murder on himself, committed by himself.

And I think you all kinda know what's been going on after that. Except that- yeah, I did know what Mori was planning. I also knew that Chuuya was in on it. But don't tell Chuuya.

(Chuuya just hit me).

(and he told me not to write that, so I did). Fuck you, Chuuya.

I'm going to finish this off with a request that the contents of this letter are never to be read out loud.

Whoever within the Agency that wants to read it can read it, but after that, it is to be burned and never spoken of again. I don't want to know who reads it, and I don't want to see traces of its content in any of your eyes. I'm still shitty-Dazai, bandage-waisting-device, the office slacker and an annoying piece of shit.

I hope this answers all of your questions, Kunikida. This is the best answer I could make of 'what the fuck?'

Within the next hour that Kunikida read Dazai's letter, he stood by his bedside. Dazai was apprehensive, as the stern man walked steadily to his side.

The first time Kunikida actually believed that Dazai relaxed, was the first time he ever hugged him. "Dazai, you are so, so, so wrong. You feel plenty. I know you don't understand it, but you do. You are a good human being."

Somehow, Dazai did believe it. Even if it wasn't true, really. But, if Kunikida believed it- he wouldn't prove him otherwise.

#bungou stray dogs #boy in the belfry #part 14 #fanfic #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #kunikida doppo

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niallsstainedcoffeecup · 6 years

Text

The Nanny

Harry is sick, and forgets to tell Y/N, his daughter’s nanny, not to come in. This fic was requested by the lovely @titanicbuff1912 I hope you like it. Feedback is welcome. Enjoy! Lots of Love

Harry swore if that red puppet sang about his world one more time, he would lose it. The tiny toddler sucked down the orange liquid, green eyes trained on Elmo’s lessons. Harry sniffled, dragging a crumbled napkin across his swollen, red nose. A cough rattled his throbbing lungs. Why did he garden last weekend? The weeds infected his poor immune system. Luckily, his daughter did not catch his cold. To think about caring for a poorly four-year-old and his illness haunted Harry’s mind. He glanced at the curly-haired demon, lulling herself to sleep while Count von Count counted five bats. Her curly tendrils slipped from the makeshift bun he tied this morning. He gripped the remote, switching channels. His heavy lids begged his mind to drift into a sea of dreams. He sighed, cuddling further into the leather couch. For once, his mind did not settle on his album. Instead, thoughts of warm blankets and homemade soup entered his dreams. * * * *

A doorbell and a small, chubby hand slapping his pale cheeks startled Harry awake. His giggling daughter exposed her tiny, crooked teeth. “Daddy, I scared you,” She squealed. He smiled, “You did scare me, Selene.” He pressed a kiss to her warm forehead. His heart sank, hoping his daughter did not catch his cold. The doorbell rang again, distracting his hazy mind. “Someone is here,” Selene cheered, jumping up and down on the cushions. He stood up, tossing the blanket down. He opened his arms, catching a leaping Selene in his weak arms. She clung to his neck, gabbing about Elmo’s stories. He padded down the hallway, opening the front door. He gasped, finding his daughter’s nanny on his doorstep. He palmed his face, recalling he forgot to message Y/N. Y/N took care of Selene while Harry recorded new songs at the studio. “Harry, I’m sorry. I forgot the house key, and my friend wasted the gas in my car. How are you, angel?” She asked, cupping the little girl’s red cheeks. Selene giggled, leaning into her touch, “Good. We are watching Elmo.” “Yeah, we are watching Elmo. I forgot to message you. I felt ill and decided to stay home today. You are free from this toddler’s wrath today,” He cooed, tickling his daughter’s chubby tummy. Selene squealed, reaching for her. She chuckled, grabbing the toddler from his noodle-like arms. She bounced Selene on her hip, shrugging her shoulders, “I can stay. You aren’t in the right place to take care of a toddler. We planned a tea party for today, and we cannot push it back. We finally had Mr. Bear accept the invitation.” Selene nodded feverishly, “Mr. Bear returned from New York.” He chuckled, enjoying how comfortable Selene felt with her nanny. “Well, I cannot get in the way of your plans. Thank you,” He blushed. She stepped inside, dropping her purse near the front door. She toed off her ratty sneakers, remembering his no shoe policy. “You need a nap. I can watch Selene while you sleep,” She ordered, unbundling the gray scarf from her neck. He grinned, “Thank you.” She nodded, watching him slink upstairs toward his bedroom. The cool sheets sizzled against his heated skin. Harry hoped his illness would wear off soon. * * * *

Y/N noticed Selene’s messy bun. She smiled, imagining a poorly Harry fixing his daughter’s curly hair while hiding his illness from the eager girl. “Selene, would you like me to braid your hair?” She wondered, plopping down beside the toddler. She nodded, “Can I look like Tangled?” She chuckled, nodding while she released Selene’s curls. The curls fell in messy tendrils. She combed through the hair, pressing kisses where Selene complained about painful tangles. She braided the little girl’s beautiful hair, slipping in fake flowers that she surprised Selene with last year for her birthday. “I look like a princess,” Selene squealed, eyeing the floral braid. She smiled at Selene’s reflection, “You always look like a princess. Should I grab your crown?” “Yes. I want the gold crown today. You can have the pink one,” Selene mumbled. She nodded, helping the little girl slide off the bathroom counter. Selene padded down the hall to her large bedroom. Harry adored his daughter with his entire being, and everyone knew it once they stepped inside her bedroom. Princess posters covered the pastel pink walls. He even purchased a wardrobe filled with the best costumes a child could want. He spoiled his princess. Selene wrapped a feathery, pink boa around Y/N’s shoulders and placed a crown on the nanny’s head. “Do I look like a princess?” She wondered, posing with her hands on her hips. Selene giggled, shaking her head, “You are a queen. Daddy can be the king.” Her smile faltered, “No, daddy is sick. He can play with us later. Shall we sit everyone done?” Selene frowned but followed her instructions. The toddler placed each stuffed animal in the correct chair while Y/N poured tea into the porcelain cups. She left the room, grabbing the plate of brownies that she helped Selene bake yesterday. She set the plate down, watching Selene’s eyes light up. “You can have a few brownies, but we will not spoil lunch,” She warned. Selene nodded, stealing a brownie from the plate. The tea party began once Mr. Bear found his spot. * * * *

Harry’s aching throat woke him up after coughing for the fifth time. His red eyes peeled open, begging for eyedrops. His weak arms propped his shivering body up. He glanced around the dark room. His eyes landed on a portrait of his wife and himself on their wedding day. His heart drummed a lonely beat the day she abandoned their life. Y/N’s soft melodic voice drifted under his door and into his cold room. He smiled, slipping from the sheets. He shuffled downstairs, entering the bright kitchen. His head throbbed from the sudden increase of light. “Daddy, you are awake. Y/N said I should draw you some get well cards,” Selene rambled on, jumping from the kitchen counters. The nanny spun around, “Selene, we do not jump from counters. You could’ve hurt yourself.” The toddler pouted, “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. We do not want to see you get hurt. We still love you,” She promised. “Y/N is right,” He croaked out. “You sound worse. How about you show your daddy the cards while I pour him medicine,” She offered Selene. Selene’s nose crinkled with disgust, “I hate medicine.” He chuckled, grabbing the paper from Selene’s hands, “Wow, I love these cards. I’ll hang them on the fridge.” “Here is the medicine. I’m making a homemade chicken noodle soup. My grandma always cooked this for me when I was sick,” She mumbled. He grinned, “Thank you. You are a lifesaver. I can watch Selene while you cook.” She shook her head, “You need rest. Selene promised to help me with the soup.” Selene nodded proudly, “I am a chef.” He laughed, pinching his daughter’s dimples, “You are sweet. I’m going to sleep. Will you behave for Y/N?” Selene nodded, placing a tiny hand on her hip, “Daddy, I always behave.” He chuckled, leaving the kitchen. Y/N lifted Selene back onto the cool counter. Selene wondered why her daddy had not married Y/N. * * * *

A freezing hand brushed against Harry’s heated skin. He tossed and turned, resisting the idea of waking up. “Harry, you need to wake up. I finished the soup,” Y/N softly whispered. He groaned, “I don’t want to.” She chuckled, “I’ll bring Selene in here to wake you up.” His eyes opened, “I’m awake. We do not need to bring in Selene. She enjoys waking me up with a foot to my gut.” She giggled, helping him out of his bed, “I doubt that such a sweet angel would hurt her father.” He snorted, “Yeah, she’s nice to you.” They walked into the dining room. Selene grinned widely at her father, waiting patiently for soup. “I’ll go get the soup,” Y/N mumbled. He chose to sit in the middle of Selene and Y/N. She popped in with three bowls of soup balancing on her arms. “Let me help you,” He mumbled, standing abruptly to grab a bowl. “Thank you,” She blushed, feeling his warm skin brush against her skin. “Selene, I made your soup without chicken because I remembered that you do not like eating chickens,” She stated. Selene nodded, “Thank you. Nana Anne has three chickens at her house.” He smirked, “Nana Anne also has cows, but you still eat burgers.” Y/N chuckled, “Well, who could deny a burger.” He rolled his eyes playfully at her. Selene sipped her soup, spitting the liquid out due to the heat radiating from the spoon. “It’s warm,” Y/N mumbled, forgetting she needed to remind the toddler. “Let me blow on it,” He stated, blowing on the little girl’s spoon. She tutted, “She’ll catch your illness. Let me blow on it.” He watched her move closer to Selene so she could blow on the child’s soup. His heart fluttered at the image. She acted as if Selene were her child. He worried about finding a woman that loved Selene the same way he did, but maybe he was searching in the wrong places. * * * *

After lunch, Harry read a princess storybook until Selene fell asleep in her pink bed. Y/N washed the dishes, humming softly to herself. He rounded the corner, admiring the beautiful woman. “She fell asleep. She loved the soup. I haven’t seen her eat like that in a while,” He mumbled, plopping down on a nearby stool. She spun around, grinning widely, “She eats with me. I remind her that a princess must always eat their food. I also snuck chicken into her soup, and she loved it.” He smirked, “You are amazing. How did you get so good at this?” She shrugged, “It’s easy when you raised such an amazing daughter. I have never met a toddler with manners like Selene’s.” He blushed, “Well, I try to be a good parent.” She shook her head, stepping in between his legs, “Harry, you are an amazing parent. You should never doubt that. Selene loves you.” He smiled, cupping her cheeks, “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.” She smiled, relaxing into his touch, “I think we should watch a movie.” He dropped his hand, watching her walk toward the living room. He sat beside her, tugging her body into his arms. She cuddled into his embrace, enjoying the warmth radiating off of him. “I’m sorry, I love to cuddle,” He stated. She giggled, “It’s okay. I heard that cuddling makes the sick feel better.” He nodded, watching the introduction scene to his favorite movie. He sat up straighter, glancing down at Y/N. “This is my favorite movie. How did you know?” She shrugged, smirking to herself, “Selene might have told me.” He smirked, “Well, let’s watch my favorite movie.” His heart raced each time she scooted closer to his body. He hadn’t felt this complete since his wife. * * * *

Y/N stretched her aching limbs, opening her rested eyes. Harry slept beside her, his eyelashes fluttered against his warm cheeks. The movie credits rolled on the television screen. She couldn’t believe she fell asleep in his arms. She stood up, deciding she needed to check on the sleeping toddler. Once she returned, she found the curly-haired man pouting and searching for her. “Where did you go?” He whined, throwing his head against the back of the couch. She giggled, plopping down beside him, “I needed to check on Selene. I can’t sleep on the job.” He shrugged, “I heard that your boss is lenient.” She snorted, elbowing his arm, “You are a dork.” A shrill cry stopped him from making his next comeback. Instead, the couple hurried toward Selene’s room. Her eyes were screwed shut, and with every cry her face turned a darker shade of red. He wrapped his arms around his daughter, rocking her back and forth while Y/N stood and watched. “You are okay. It was a nightmare. Daddy won’t let anything happen to you,” He promised. “I had a nightmare that you left me. You left like mommy left us,” Selene cried out. He shook his head, cupping her cheeks, “I would never leave you. I love you too much.” Y/N stood in shock. Harry never mentioned his ex-wife, so she never asked about the absent woman. She recalled her only memory about the woman was when Selene mentioned her mother named her after a Greek goddess. Now, she understood why Selene and Harry guarded their broken hearts. She could hear the toddler’s sobs quiet down into sniffles as she calmed down in her father’s arms. “Would you like me to grab Steph?” Y/N asked, searching for Selene’s favorite stuffed dragon. Selene nodded, waiting for her to place the purple dragon in her hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, checking his daughter’s expression. Selene nodded, “Can I watch a movie with you?” He nodded, “Yeah, we can watch Tangled.” Selene wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her into the living room. Y/N followed, gathering Selene’s favorite toy and blanket. “I love this movie,” He gushed, bringing a smile to his daughter’s face. Selene giggled, “Daddy, you don’t love this movie, this is my favorite movie.” He gasped, gripping his chest, “Why can’t we both love it?” Selene shook her head, doubling over with laughter. Y/N giggled, watching him pout until Selene declared that he could love this movie too. During the movie, he sang every song out of key until the toddler begged her father to stop. Once Rapunzel and Flynn Rider finished their duet, the little girl climbed onto Y/N’s lap and drifted off into a deep sleep. Y/N couldn’t ignore the flutter in her heart, so she pulled Selene closer to her body. * * * *

After dinner, Harry bathed Selene while Y/N tidied around the house. Selene darted into the room in her Tangled pajamas. She squealed, glancing back at Harry chasing her with the comb. “You need to comb your hair,” He choked out in between his heavy breathing. Y/N giggled, stopping him from his exasperated running, “I got this.” “Selene, would you like me to braid your hair like Rapunzel again?” She asked. Selene halted, nodding her head fervently. After she fixed Selene’s hair, she handed the toddler to her father so he could sing her to sleep. She listened to his soothing voice sing Selene’s favorite song. The couple left the room once the little girl dozed off. “Thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it all without you,” He whispered. Y/N waved him off, “I adore Selene. It was no problem.” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Can I ask you a question?” She nodded, watching his eyes glance nervously into her own. Her stomach churned with anxiety. “Will you go on a date with me? For the longest time, I searched for a woman like you. I looked for someone who loved Selene and who Selene loved, and I found that woman in you,” He stuttered out. She smirked, cupping his blushing cheeks, “I’d love to go out with you.” He grinned, relaxing in her touch, “I’m glad. Can I kiss you?” “How could it be happily ever after if we didn’t kiss?” She joked. He rolled his eyes playfully. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her waist. She rocked onto the tips of her toes, draping her arms across his shoulders. Silence surrounded the happy couple. Harry’s lips brushed against her plump lips. She deepened the kiss, tasting his pizza-flavored mouth. She couldn’t imagine kissing anyone but him for the rest of her life. He reluctantly pulled away from her luscious lips. His forehead still pressed against hers. The couple smiled at each other in complete bliss. Harry finally found his queen.

#mine #writing #story #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #one direction #one direction imagines #one direction imagine #1d #1d imagines #1d imagine

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