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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

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Prelude (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.5 K Premise: Three moments leading up to their fateful meeting.

Author’s Note: In which I try to explain why MC didn’t know what Ethan, her medical hero, looked like. Also, my (late) fic for the book 1 replay. Thank you @aestheticartsx for pre-reading!

Three.

Harper frowns down at the file in her hand, her sharp gaze burning into the collated papers as though coercing them to solve their dilemma once and for all. From the end of the table, Cyrus lets out an inpatient sigh.

“It's very simple, Harper,” he drones. Ethan's fists clench reflexively at his sides, urging to remind Cyrus that Harper is the chief now and warrants more respect than his insufferable tone is offering. “The last spot should go to the candidate from Harvard. We are the best hospital on the east coast, after all. It only makes sense.”

Harper looks unconvinced and still, her pensive expression remains fixed in the file.

“An ivy league degree does not a good doctor make,” Naveen adds sagely into the ensuing silence. His smile is placid enough but Ethan knows the older doctor well enough to hear the warning edge in his voice. Evidently, even Naveen disapproves of Cyrus's lack of respect for their new chief.

Cyrus scoffs.

“And if you need further proof of that, Doctor Cyrus,” Ethan begins dryly, eyes boring into him. “Then look no further than your side of the conference table.”

A few attendings—at least the ones who have become increasingly tired of Cyrus's boastful proclamations about his alma mater—laugh quietly at the jab. Cyrus splutters, his face an unpleasant shade of red as he glares daggers at Ethan.

“This candidate,” Harper says at last, unaware or uncaring of what she had just interrupted. Her two lone words are enough to command the room's attention at once, but her hazel eyes are on Ethan. “You're convinced she's the best fit for Edenbrook?”

Ethan meets her eye and pauses.

It's the first time they look at each other directly since he ended their relationship two weeks prior. Despite the brief time apart and an unshakeable resolve to be professional, his stomach sinks heavy, like a stone.

Harper looks as graceful and dignified as ever, keeping every emotion in check. Yet, as she holds his gaze, Ethan can see a small flicker or sadness and his stomach twists with guilt.

“I'm positive, Chief Emery,” Ethan responds. “This candidate exhibits the type of potential we look for at Edenbrook.”

The use of her new title seems to snap Harper out of a reverie.

“She graduated top of her class and ranked in the top percent among our chosen cohort of interns,” Ethan continues. “I've also looked into her research and it's among the most promising I've seen. I recommend her without reservations.”

With a single nod and a sense of finality, Harper closes the file.

“Then it's settled. We have our last intern.”

“You're joking, Harper,” Cyrus blurts out, incensed. “We're giving a coveted spot to the candidate from UCLA?”

He says the name of the school with so much derision, Ethan feels his ears flare up.

“That Doctor Ayala?” Cyrus continues.

“Doctor Allende,” Ethan corrects, jaw clenched.

“Don't we have enough charity cases in the cohort already? This is token—”

But the vitriol is quickly interrupted by several things happening at once: Ethan darting forward, fists ready; a startled, collective gasp from the other attendings; Naveen, quietly intercepting Ethan and halting his steps with a steady hand, a feat that is impressive for a man much older and shorter; and Harper, also on her feet, directing a disgusted look at Cyrus she doesn’t bother to disguise behind professionalism.

“I would think very carefully about finishing that sentence if I were you, Doctor Cyrus,” she says, her voice low but with the impact of a clashing gavel. “And I ask that you address me as Chief Emery moving forward.”

Two.

“If you end up marrying someone with a Boston accent,” Laurel is saying with a devilish grin. “I will never be able to keep a straight face when they talk. Pahk the cah in Hahvahd Yahd.”

Her older sister peers at Lilac over the flaps of an open cardboard box, the glint in her eye growing wickeder still. “Imagine what they’d sound like in bed. You're so fucking gawgeous, dawctaw—”

Before her sister can escalate that impression into disturbing territory, Lilac silences her with a well-aimed pillow. It succeeds in hitting Laurel straight in the face but also in turning her laughter into a cackle.

“Are you going to help me pack or not?” Lilac says sternly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the smile that manages to break through.

Laurel raises her hands in defeat and returns to packing Lilac's books neatly. They work in companionable silence for a few minutes with nothing but their favorite music blaring from the speakers of Lilac's phone.

“Is this the book?” her sister asks suddenly, turning a worn textbook in her hands and studying it closely. “The one written by your medical crush?”

For some inexplicable reason, Lilac feels her face flare with heat. “He's not my crush.”

“You just worship the ground he walks on,” her sister returns, flipping through Diagnostic Principles. “Though, you're right. In order to have a crush you'd need to know what he looks like.”

Laurel reaches the back cover, frowning. “Why wouldn't he add an author picture?”

Lilac says nothing, biting the inside of her cheek. She can't blame her sister for being curious and a bit disappointed at the lack of visual representation. After all, Lilac had felt crestfallen when all she found in the author's information section was the green and blue Edenbrook logo.

“Maybe he's a private man and doesn't like his picture out in the world? Maybe he wants aspiring doctors to focus on his research and not his looks?”

“So he's either really hot or really ugly,” Laurel returns, unmoved by Lilac's impassioned speech. “Have you ever tried looking him up online?”

Lilac had been tempted many times, but she was fiercely adamant about keeping her medical hero a mystery outside of his work. It already felt invasive enough to track down his undergrad research and every other minor paper he'd ever written. When it came to Ethan Ramsey, Lilac had searched every corner of scholarly journals and databases, absorbing every piece of his work with an adoration that was already embarrassing enough.

Plus, she would never admit it out loud, but she was also afraid that knowing what the brilliant doctor looked like would somehow ruin him for her. Or at least, alter the image of him she had constructed in her head for so many years. It felt right to continue seeing Dr. Ramsey as the brilliant force that pushed her into her dream career and not as a definitive set of features.

“It doesn't matter what he looks like. He's the best and I'm going there to learn from him, not to judge his appearance.”

“I'm Googling him,” Laurel announces, already typing furiously into her phone. After a few seconds, her phone returns results and her eyebrows shoot up, staying suspended for longer than normal.

“What?” Lilac asks despite herself.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“Just… wow.” Laurel stares down at the screen with such awestruck amazement that Lilac feels a powerful wave of curiosity. “He’s shirtless in some of these.”

“What?” Lilac yelps, feeling her face flare up at once.

“Yeah, apparently you’re not his only fan. Tons of people have taken his picture.” Her sister seems to blink out of a trance, turning the screen toward Lilac. “Here, see for your—”

But Lilac turns her gaze away almost out of reflex.

“No!”

The word comes out far more impassioned than Lilac intended. Still, she resolutely turns her head. “That feels...invasive, somehow?”

“Come on—”

“I'm serious, Lau. I don't want to see. I'm already nervous enough about this whole thing without having to worry about this wow-worthy revelation. And besides, taking someone’s shirtless picture without their consent and posting it online is already bad enough. It feels wrong supporting that.”

Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I'm going to see him in less than a week anyway. With clothes. In a professional setting. As I should. If I waited all these years, I can wait that long.”

A knowing, devious sort of smile pulls at her sister's face. She mumbles something over the music and Lilac can swear it sounds oddly like: “...worth the wait.”

One.

Ethan should have taken the broken and sputtering coffee machine in his apartment as an omen. His morning definitely declined from then on, starting with gridlock traffic and ending with an infuriatingly long line at his favorite coffee place.

The ultimate lack of coffee is probably his fault because Ethan had spent too much time deliberating whether or not he wanted to go with store bought coffee on what promised to be a grueling day. When he had finally made up his mind, however, the line was already out the door.

Irritated and caffeine deprived, he drives back to Edenbrook.

“You're earlier than we agreed,” Naveen says as soon as Ethan accepts his incoming call. “What was the point of rearranging the whole schedule if you were going to come in when you pleased anyway?”

“I'm not even through the gates yet. What are you spying on me?”

“No need. You forget how predictable you are.”

Naveen chuckles as he says this which eases some of Ethan's irritation. The older doctor had purposely scheduled him later in the day to give him some peace on the first day of the new intern cohort.

Naturally, Ethan arrived several hours early, as per his custom.

“Or maybe you know me too well by now.”

Naveen's benevolent laughter turns into a dry but lingering cough on the other end of the line. Instantly, Ethan's insides freeze over, his stomach sinking unpleasantly.

He opens his mouth to question his mentor about this persisting symptom, when sheer reflex prompts him to stomp on the breaks so suddenly, his body jerks forward then slams against his seat.

“Shit.”

Something—or rather someone— had crossed the parking lot road right in front of his car, standing mere inches away from his front bumper.

“Ethan?” Naveen asks through the speaker.

When Ethan recovers and regains movement of his arms and legs, he feels the spike of adrenaline give way to pure annoyance.

The offending pedestrian is a young brunette clad in blue scrubs, a medical intern by the looks of it. She stands there in the middle of the road, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been comical to Ethan if he wasn't so irritated.

They stare at one another, though Ethan is convinced she can't see much through the tinted glass.

Then, right before his eyes, she seems to recover from the shock. Drawing herself to her full height, she glares at Ethan. At least, he thinks she's glaring through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

Ethan almost scoffs.

She has the audacity to be angry when she was the one who made the rookie mistake of aimlessly crossing in front of him?

Who the hell does she think she is?

“Asshole,” she mutters, the word quite audible through his windows.

Before a stunned Ethan can respond, she turns on her heel and rushes toward the hospital, a curtain of dark hair dancing behind her.

“What was that?” Naveen asks, still on the call.

“I hate interns,” Ethan responds much to the older doctor's amusement.

Bonus:

Author’s Note: In other words, my MC was late to her orientation because of Ethan and that’s how she met him in the waiting room lol. Thank you so much for reading!

*Tagging Separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #Ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #Oph book club #playchoices #My writing

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givemeweasley · 4 years

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First Things First pt. 1

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Fluff, hella slow burn (there is no romance in this first part, the next part will definitely have it though)

A/N: This is the second fic I have! I’m super excited for you to read! I’m also taking requests! Also I haven’t seen the movies so everything in this series is completely based off the books. I did a lot of research for this to make sure it was as perfect as possible so give it a like and let me know what you think :)

First Things First pt. 2, First Things First pt. 3

-----

You remembered the first day you met him.

It was unnaturally cold outside. The English air was chill and unforgiving, something you weren’t used to. Your parents had moved you halfway across the world because they believed Ilvermorny was no longer the best wizarding education. Your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was one of the best witches in your family. She expressed the most excitement at the complete upheaval of your life to a new country, new school, and hopefully new friends. She raved and raved about how Ravenclaw was the best house. The best scholars and most successful wizards and witches stemmed from her house. Repeatedly, she told you how proud she would be if you were a Ravenclaw too. I’m a Wampus, is what you wanted to say but held your tongue. You knew your family loved you. However, it was a little much sometimes.

As you boarded the Hogwarts Express, your parents and grandmother's ecstatic faces at the prospect of your success at Hogwarts made you nauseous. You waved back at their frantic hands before finding a deserted train car and sitting next to the window. It was only a minute before the train pulled away and a field, more vibrant than it ought to be in the English cold, came into view. Your eyes flickered across the scenery as tears built up in your eyes and bitterness built up in your heart. You had devoted four years, four damn years, to Ilvermorny. You had a life there. Friends there. A home there. Of course your friends promised to write, but you didn’t know how an owl would make it across the ocean.

“Oh sorry! I didn’t realize this compartment was-” You had been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t heard the door open. Quickly wiping your tears, you turned to face the intruder. Or intruders.

Standing before you were three boys. A pair of identical twins with red hair so stark you were surprised it wasn’t fire and a smiling boy with dark skin and even darker eyes. The redhead in the front tilted his head as he studied your appearance. You groaned internally knowing your eyes must’ve been red from crying. Great first impression. But he just smiled and stuck his hand out.

“Fred Weasley and this is my brother George. That back there,” nodding his head at the boy behind them, “is Lee Jordan our best friend. Mind if we join you?”

You bit your lip, their British accents were so...so... British. It caught you off guard despite being in England.

You then realized he was still waiting for an answer, hand extended. He started to lower his hand and grimace. Immediately, your hand shot forward grabbing his.

“I don’t mind at all.” You shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

All the boys stood there frozen for a moment looking at you with wide eyes. You slowly pulled your hand back as silence reigned in the compartment. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you opened your mouth to speak. But Lee Jordan laughed before shoving his way past the twins and plopping in the seat right across from you.

“A bloody American!!” He choked out past his laughs. You barely noticed Fred and George sit themselves down in the compartment, one next to you and the other beside Lee. “I’ve got so many questions!” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

You let out a nervous laugh as you leaned back slightly. “Um…”

“How about we start with her name first, you git.” You turned, seeing the twin beside you shaking his head at his friend.

“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.” You responded still looking at the twin beside you who had finally met your eyes.

After that bit of information, Lee didn’t hesitate. “So what year are you?”

“Fifth.”

“Why are you here?”

“My parents wanted me to come to Hogwarts-”

“Is there a wizarding school in America?”

“Yeah it’s called Ilvermorny-”

“Are there houses?”

“There’s Wampus, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent-”

“You have a Slytherin too?”

“What’s Slytherin-”

At that it was like a bomb exploded in the compartment. Lee, Fred, and George all took turns explaining to you the ‘disgusting, evil ways of the Slytherins.’ A direct quote from Lee. In detail they proceeded to explain how Hogwarts worked, the houses (the best being Gryffindor), Peeves, Filch, Severus Snape, etc. By the time the train began to slow down as it reached Hogwarts, you felt like you’d been there for years.

As the train finally pulled to a stop you opened your mouth. “So what if I’m sorted into Slytherin?” You asked the boys.

All of them looked at you with gaping mouths, not really knowing what to say. But the twin to your right, spoke first.

“You won’t be.” He stood up, pulling your suitcase from the shelf above you handing it into your arms.

“How do you know?” You countered as he handed you another suitcase.

He narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head back and forth and rubbing his chin dramatically before smiling broadly and winking. “I just do.”

He finally pulled down the last thing up on the shelf, being a brown leather ball tied with white string. He furrowed his brows at it and turned to presumably ask you what it was. You snatched it out of his hands and tucked it under your arm.

“It’s a football.”

He opened his mouth to ask, but you had already squeezed past him and the other twin who was gaping at the ball too. You followed the hoard of students towards the door and outside.

“First years this way!!” A deep voice called one side of the platform while another voice directed students into carriages. This presented your dilemma. You weren’t technically a first year but it was your first year at Hogwarts. Would that mean they wanted you with the first years or were you supposed to ride the carriages with the other older students.

Fear started to creep up your spine as you internally panicked and everyone raced around you carrying their luggage, confidently making their way to where they belonged.

But you belonged in America. Thousands of miles away.

“Ms. Y/L/N!!” A shrill voice called. You lifted your head from where you had been zoning out. A small womanly hand waved over the heads of the students. She had a tall witch's hat on and a wrinkled face with deep eyes. You shifted your suitcases in your hands before making your way over to her. The area was near empty as most students had already gotten on a carriage or a boat. “Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Professor McGonagall. I will be escorting you tonight to the Great Hall and answering any questions you might have before you get sorted.” She shook your hand before waving you into a carriage beside her. It was at the front of the line of carriages. You stepped inside with your suitcases and football still clutched under your arm. Professor Mcgonagall stepped in behind you, shutting the door.

The carriage took off, rumbling down the path despite nothing driving it.

“Excuse me, professor.” She looked up smiling. “What’s driving these carriages?”

“Ah, well they’re being driven by Thestrals. Magical creatures that you can only see when you witness death.”

Your eyes widened as you nodded.

“Are there any questions you have about Hogwarts or any worries you’re harboring?” She folded her hands neatly over her robes, kindly smiling at you. It eased the worry in your heart a fraction.

“Actually, not really. Fred, George, and Lee-”

“Oh my! My dear, whatever they have told you is likely to be exaggerated due to their more… exuberant nature. Those boys, while good smart boys, can be quite the troublemakers.” Professor McGonagall smiled fondly while shaking her head. It reminded you of a tired mother.

“Well, I was wondering…” Your eyes looked directly up into the professors, “how do you tell the twins apart?”

A hearty laugh left her lips as she clutched her chest. “My dear, I’m afraid that is the one question I am unable to answer.”

You smiled, looking out of the window of the carriage. The rest of the ride passed quietly until the carriage pulled up to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall instructed you to leave your things where they were before directing you through the doors of Hogwarts. She pulled you into the Great Hall, but instead of letting you sit she pulled you off to the side.

“We have to wait for the first years so everyone can get sorted at the same time.”

You nodded thinking back to your sorting in Ilvermorny. The way the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow. You chose Wampus for a simple reason, it was your favorite animal. Based on the friends you made, you had never had a reason to regret your decision. But those friends were now thousands of miles away.

You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you missed Professor McGonagall lightly pushing you behind a small first year.

“Just follow him, dear” She nodded before turning and making her way up the hall. You did what she asked, feeling the embarrassment of being a fifteen year old following an eleven year old. Eventually you ended up in front of the entire hall. Your eyes were finally able to scan the entirety of the school. You studied the Slytherins in green, the Gryffindors in red, the Hufflepluffs in yellow, and finally the Ravenclaws in blue. Your future house. There seemed to be friendly faces throughout the entire table.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” Shit. You had missed the entirety of what had been said. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. You stumbled over to where Professor McGonagall pointed to a hat sitting on a stool. As you made your way to the stool, she turned to the crowd. “Students this is Y/N, she is a former Ilvermorny student which for those of you who don’t know, is located in America.” You heard several gasps throughout the crowd and barely resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Oh look! A foreigner! “I expect you to treat her with the utmost kindness as she is not only new to this school, but new to England.” The murmurs in the hall had gained volume as people whispered about the American girl.

You grabbed the hat from the stool before sitting down and looking at the hat. It winked at you. You almost dropped it right then, before realizing the entire school was watching your every move.

You placed the hat on your head, nervously glancing up at Professor McGonagall before the hat sank over your eyes.

“Ah, well this is new!” The hat spoke. The hat spoke. “Well, yes I can speak. I can also sing. But alas my job is to decide what house you belong to, American girl. Hm. It appears you were chosen by both Wampus the warrior and Pukwudgie the healer when at Ilvermorny. However, your grandmother was a Ravenclaw when at Hogwarts… but what do you want, Y/N?”

The hat asked you a question.

“Yes, the hat asked you a question!”

“Um, I suppose…” It was a no to Slytherin, the boys had made that much clear. Oddly enough, you didn’t know if you wanted to be a Ravenclaw either. If you were going to be hauled across the world to go to a school you didn’t want to go to, you were going to make your own path.

“I knew it.” The hat laughed joyfully before shouting. “GRYFFINDOR!”

You assumed that was your cue as you pulled the hat off. Cheers were ringing through the hall as groans left the lips of a few others. You stood placing the hat back on the stool, looking to Professor McGonagall for further instructions.

“Well, go join your new house!” She smiled happily before waving you over to the table. You nodded, walking down a few stairs before making your way over to the long table.

“Hey! ‘Merica! Down here!” A familiar voice shouted. You looked over seeing one of the twins waving. Feeling a sense of relief you hurriedly made your way over to him.

He slid over making space for you between himself and his twin.

“Welcome to the best house, ‘Merica!” He laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed. “That’s not my name.”

“It is now.” Lee winked from across the table.

You turned to the twin with his arm over your shoulder narrowing your eyes. “So are you Fred or George?” His other hand not slung around your shoulders slapped against his chest dramatically.

“I’m offended, woman! You should know that I am the great Fred and he” Fred said pointing behind you, “is the great George.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually.” A girl responded from next to Lee. “I’m Angelina, by the way. And I, unlike these gits, will call you by your name.”

“Thank you.”

As food finally appeared on the golden plates before you and everyone dug in, you felt...good. Safe. Normal. Like perhaps Hogwarts wasn’t going to be hell on Earth. Maybe you could actually enjoy going here. You couldn’t change the fact that you were here, but, maybe, you could enjoy it a little.

-----

You remembered the first time you both had class together.

“What do you have today?” Fred or George (you still couldn’t tell) mumbled with a mouth full of food. It was the first day of classes. You pulled out your schedule that had been handed to you earlier that morning.

The other twin snatched it out of your hands. “Arithmancy, Runes, and- George!” The twin, now identified as Fred, elbowed his brother. “She’s got Double Potions with us!”

“Looks like you're stuck with us everyday for the semester, love.” George said pointing to a few classes you shared with them the following days.

“Can’t wait.” You hid your smile behind the piece of toast you shoved in your mouth.

“You know, you never did explain to me what that- that ball was.” Fred said leaning forward with an apple in his hand.

Lee leaned in from beside you, interested. “Yeah, we were all talking about what it could be last night.”

“It’s just a ball. It’s used for a popular Muggle sport in America. My moms a muggle and she taught me how to play.” You nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s the same ball she taught me with.”

“A Muggle sport?” Fred leaned back, seemingly unsatisfied. He glanced at George, then at Lee. “Wanna teach us?”

You laughed. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how well you play Quadpot first before I trust you with my football.”

The boys all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. But, of course, it was Lee who spoke up first.

“Bloody hell is Quadpot?”

For a moment, you wondered if this was going to a common occurrence. You saying something about American wizardry, everyone looking at you weird and then subsequently asking questions. Probably.

“It’s a game with a qu-”

“A quaffle? Yeah that’s Quidditch!” Fred shouted.

“What I was going to say, was it’s a quod.”

“Bloody hell is a-”

“I would answer your questions if you would stop interrupting me for Pete’s sake!”

Silence reigned over the table.

George raised a hand.

“Yes, George?” You sighed.

“Who’s Pete?”

You blinked. Then blinked again. Took a deep breath in. Then breathed out.

“It’s just a saying. Now can I explain Quadpot or not?”

The boys solemnly nodded. Fred even went as far to zip his lips and throw away the key.

“I’ll do my best to summarize. Two teams of eleven, one quod. A quod is basically an exploding quaffle from the little I know about Quidditch. The goal is for your team to get the quod in the cauldron in the center of the field. If you have the quod when it explodes you’re out. Whenever a team runs out of players the game ends. Most points win. Make sense?”

All three of them sat in silence with their jaws wide open. “That’s brilliant!” Fred and George shouted simultaneously.

“Still not better than Quidditch.” Lee shrugged, shoving some oatmeal in his mouth.

“I mean I suppose. Do you guys play?” You asked.

Lee suddenly slapped his hands on the table. “I can’t believe we didn’t tell her!” Staring straight at Fred and George.

“We’re pretty damn good at Quidditch.” Fred smirked.

“We’ll see.” You winked, grabbing another piece of toast from the center of the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You shoved the toast in your mouth before standing and waving to the boys over your shoulder as you strolled out of the Great Hall. “See you boys in Double Potions!”

Luckily, Arithmancy and Runes went smoothly. Angelina was in both classes with you which made everything a little more comforting. Especially, when the professors went over the importance of OWLs at the end of the year. Angelina also introduced you to a few other Gryffindors in your year before classes started.

Finally, you were making your way to Potions in the Dungeons.

“Hey, look it’s the American. I heard she’s a halfblood.” You heard a sneer from behind you. You turned to see what appeared to be a second year Slytherin laughing and pointing at you. He flinched a fraction when he noticed your steely gaze on him. He had blonde hair and a mousy looking face that reminded you of the rats in Boston.

You broke out into laughter before strolling over to him.

“What are you laughing at?” He spat.

You gave him a once over. “A child who thinks he’s cool and witty by throwing some half assed attempt at an insult. If you’re gonna insult someone, maybe say something that’s actually, I don’t know, insulting?” You patted his cheek before turning on your heel and strolling into the Potions classroom, not realizing half the hall was staring at you while the blonde child fumed.

You dropped your bag on the desk closest to the back, knowing this class was with the feared Severus Snape. Suddenly two bags dropped on your left side. You looked up and knew you would see the smiling faces of Fred and George. You were still none the wiser of who was who though.

“I think I’m in love with you.” One of them said. Your eyes widened.

“Oh bugger off, I called dibs.” The other one hit the others shoulder.

You opened your mouth to respond.

“While you boys may think it is attractive for a girl to humiliate a boy younger than her, I cannot share those same sentiments and therefore,” A man pale as a sheet with greasy black hair and a hooked nose appeared over the shoulder of the twins while glaring straight at you, “five points from Gryffindor.” He made his way until he was in front of you. “I’m not surprised the American has decided to align herself with the riff raff. I can’t say I expected more from Americans. Wild eccentrics, the lot of them.” He looked down at you from over his long unseemly nose. It took you a moment for your brain to catch up with all he said. He turned to return to the front of the class.

“Hold on a sec.” You held your hand up. Snape whipped around with fire in his eyes.

“You dare ask me to-”

“You took five points from me because I had the gall to stand up for myself against someone younger than me instead of taking points from the child that you obviously heard insult me first?”

Snape opened his mouth but you decided you weren’t done.

“Also, it’s only humiliation if he’s embarrassed by his actions after I’ve called him out rightfully so. And as far as I’m concerned he should be-”

Snape had rounded back to standing in front of your table. “It is not up to you to question my judgement-”

“Your biased judgement-”

“Ten points from Gryffindor!” He shouted.

Your jaw dropped while your anger seized you. “You can’t do that!”

Snape smirked then. “Actually, Y/L/N, I can do that. I can also give you detention, which you will be serving tonight.”

“Bloody arse.” One of the twins muttered.

“Ten more points and detention for you, whichever Weasley spawn you are!” Snape snarled before whisking away to the front of the classroom. “And if anyone else has a problem with the way I handle my classroom, now is the time to speak up.” His beady eyed gaze met every eye in the class before turning to the board.

“Told you he was a git.” The twin next to you whispered.

You slumped in your seat as a small smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah. You did.”

-----

You remembered your first detention together.

“If I come back and a single speck is out of place, it will be your heads.” Snape growled.

“So we shouldn’t clean, then?” One of the twins tried his hardest not to smile.

Snape narrowed his eyes, your wands clenched tightly in his grasp. Before sweeping out of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him as the door slammed and locked.

“He’s one for dramatics.” You muttered.

The twin chuckled before nodding. “That he is.”

You turned to him. “I’m sorry you’re here. It’s my fault. I should’ve-”

“You were bloody brilliant, ‘Merica!” The twin laughed. “I’ll be dreaming about Snape and Malfoys faces for weeks!”

Heat rose to your cheeks as a smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess?” You grabbed the rag and spray left on Snape’s desk as you set out to clean the desks.

“Oh, you can put that stuff up.”

You turned, furrowing your brow.

He pulled out a wand from his pant pocket. He waved it triumphantly. “It’s Georges. He let me borrow it so we wouldn’t have to clean. Genius, he is.” He turned pointing the wand at the classroom. “Scourgify!”

Smart.

However, you still sprayed the rag before lifting your shoe and wiping the bottom of it doing the same with the other rag. You then poured out half of the bottle of spray down the drain in the middle of the classroom.

The twin furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing? I just said-”

“And Snape’s going to be awfully suspicious if the classroom is clean and none of the cleaning supplies are dirty or look used.”

He looked mildly impressed.

“Also, can you please tell me which one you are…”

He started to look offended but then smiled. “Fred.” He said sliding onto one of the desks.

You smacked your forehead before hopping on the desk opposite of the one he was sitting on. “You just said that was George's wand! I should’ve known. I’ll get it eventually, I promise.”

The rest of the night was spent learning things about each other. Talking about everything and nothing. You learned he was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team with George being the other beater. That he had three older brothers and two younger brothers and one younger sister. His dad worked for the Ministry, which he explained was the British equivalent of MACUSA. He was obsessed with muggles and would probably love nothing more than to hear all about your football.

You told him about how you were an only child, how your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was a Ravenclaw. How you grew up in Texas before moving to Massachusetts when you were eleven. That your parents wanted to be close to you despite only seeing you on breaks. He had a lot of questions about Ilvermorny and America which you described in the best detail you could. He was especially fascinated by the size of Ilvermorny compared to Hogwarts. Which made Hogwarts seem bitesize, considering Ilvermorny was the biggest wizarding school in North America (and North America was huge).

You talked for hours until finally, you heard the quick sharp footsteps of Snape quickly approaching the door. Quickly you both jumped off the desks and grabbed rags before dropping to the floor and cleaning non existent spots right as Snape burst through the doors.

His eyes narrowed, searching the room for what you assumed was the slightest speck. Slowly, he strolled through the room wiping his fingers on random surfaces scrutinizing every inch of the classroom. He finally walked past where Fred and you were still kneeling on the ground into the store room. You frantically looked over at Fred.

“We forgot to scourgify the store room!” You whisper-shouted.

Fred smiled widely before winking and grabbing your forearm. Before you could blink, you were being hauled across the classroom. “Accio Wands!” Fred shouted as you made it to the door of the Potions classroom. The wands came flying at you from Snape's pocket as he turned, his eyes livid.

“Goodnight, Snape!” Fred called as he shut the door behind you and tugged you quickly up the nearest staircase. Your laughs following you both all the way to the Fat Lady. “Fortuna Major.” Fred whispered.

The Fat Lady smiled knowingly. “Little late to be out on a date, is it?”

Before you could respond, Fred had beat you to the punch as the picture frame swung open. “You know I would never cheat on you, my love.”

Both of you climbed inside seeing the common room was dead empty.

“Well that was…” You started.

“Fun? Thrilling?” Fred spread his arms almost as wide as his smile.

You crossed yours, tilting your head as you smiled at him. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, you turned towards the girls dorm staircase stopping at the base. Fred was still standing in the same place, his arms by his side, when you glanced back.

“Something like that.” You finally responded.

“G’night, ‘Merica.” Fred called as you ascended the stairs.

Your smile followed you all the way to your bed.

-----

You remembered your first trip to Hogsmeade together.

That morning you were having a specifically hard time. Which was odd considering you’d been in Hogwarts for over a month now. Sitting in the Great Hall half a dozen owls had brought you a few letters and packages. You opened the one from your parents first.

Dear Y/N,

Hope you’re doing well! Dad got a promotion at his Ministry job (which is great news!). The International Magical Cooperation Department has really taken a liking to him! Anyway, I think I’ve finally gotten everything unpacked here and I can’t wait until Christmas for you to see your room! Grandma did tell me she was sorry you weren’t in Ravenclaw, but was glad you at least weren’t a “ooey gooey Hufflepuff.” Or something like that. I’m rambling now, but please tell me how classes have been and your friends are!

Speaking of friends, consider this an early early Christmas present. Some of your friends from Ilvermorny managed to send a few letters and packages using the mailing system (I had to explain it to your father). Anyway! Enjoy them!

Love you bunches! XOXO

Mom

A smile broke out on your face as you grabbed a random letter and ripped it open.

Hey kid,

I’m not sure how reliable this No-Maj mail thing is but here goes. Everyone misses you here. Wampus isn’t the same without our resident defender. Iris really misses you but won’t say it. She’s determined you’ll be back before the year ends. Honestly, I think we’re all hoping that. It seriously bites that you’re stuck in England with all those snob-nosed Brits. Plus, who the hell calls em Muggles? Fucking Brits…

Anyway, we won this year's first Quadpot game against the Thunderbird. It may have been the quickest game I’ve ever witnessed. Mary and Louisa were on their game, making perfect tosses to get it into the cauldron. They got new brooms this year too which were really helpful. I wish you could’ve seen it! Although, the funniest part was when Olivia caught the quod (we broke up by the way, but that’s another letter for another time) and she froze! It was hilarious. She was the last one out on the Thunderbird team. It exploded about five seconds after she caught it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We still had six players on our team and we were up by 28. There was no way Olivia was going to make those points back. We definitely felt your absence at the party afterwards though. We had a moment of silence for our best Quadpot player before we partied hard like we knew you would’ve wanted us too.

Well, I’m sure you have plenty of English tea to drink and boys to snog just don’t forget about lil ole Danny back here in the states. I think Iris is writing you a letter. She’s writing in her book and practically hisses at anyone who tries to see what it is. Anyway we miss you and can’t wait till you come back to America.

Best,

Danny

There were tears in your eyes by the time you finished reading the letter. You had forgotten how much you missed Quadpot. How much you missed the Wampus dorms. Gossiping with Louisa, pranking first years with Danny, practicing spells with Iris, talking about No-Maj things with Thomas. Everything you’d gotten used to for four years. You put down Danny’s letter and reached for the next one.

You looked up as Fred slid in front of you.

Fred. Oh my god. I know it’s Fred.

“Fred?” You cautiously asked. Secretly hoping you were right.

He winked. “I knew you’d get it eventually.” He nodded at the letters and packages scattered across the table. “Who did all these come from?” He picked up one of the packages. “Iris Capace.” He raised a brow looking at you.

“Friends from Ilvermorny.” You bit your lip scanning the letters in front of you, trying not to cry.

You heard Fred set the package down.

“I bet you miss ‘em.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He was usually joking, sarcastic, and goofy. But rarely gentle.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I do.”

Fred didn’t respond for a moment. You looked up to see him glancing around the table at the numerous letters and packages. He seemed to feel your gaze on him because he looked up to meet your eyes. His smile seemed much brighter and warmer than it had ever before. It made your heart stutter.

“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Hogsmeade today so we can buy them a couple of souvenirs to send back.” He stood holding his hand out after grabbing a few of the heavier looking packages. “Come on. Let’s go drop these off at the dorm so we can make it in time to Hogsmeade.”

You gathered the left over letters and packages under your arm before grabbing his hand. You realized how impractical it was to hold his hand as you walked down the table, your hands clasped together over the table. He refused to let go, though, even as you passed a few Gryffindors. They just had to duck under your outstretched hands.

After depositing your letters and packages in your room and grabbing your money, Fred walked with you to the carriages.

George, Lee, and Angelina were all waiting by one of the carriages.

“It’s about time!” Angelina shook her head despite the smile on her lips. “Thought you two got lost.”

“I bet they did.” Lee whispered under his breath as you stepped in the carriage, Fred getting in behind you.

“In eachothers eyes.” You heard George whisper back laughing quietly as he climbed in.

You ended up sitting next to Angelina. She wanted to ask you all about Adrian Pucey who had cornered you after Potions the other day to flirt with you. That conversation topic lasted you all the way into Hogsmeade, while you occasionally heard bits and pieces of the boys talking about the next Quidditch match.

When the carriages pulled up to Hogsmeade at last, Angelina grabbed your arm excitedly.

“I forgot this is your first time here!” She dragged you out of the carriage immediately pulling you towards a pub called The Three Broomsticks. “First things first, you have to try butterbeer!!”

You refrained from telling her you were from America and not another planet and you had had butterbeer before. But her excitement rubbed off and you couldn’t break her heart. So you kept that fact to yourself.

The inside of The Three Broomsticks was rustic and charming. It was warm and felt incredible coming in from the brisk cold that always seemed to linger no matter where you went. Angelina ordered two butterbeers and found a spot for you both off to the side. The table was small but perfect to fit the two of you.

“So how’s Quidditch going? I vaguely heard the boys talking about it on the way here.” You asked, taking a sip of the butterbeer. You almost forgot it was supposed to be your first time tasting it, so you made a shocked face. “This is really good!!”

Angelina narrowed her eyes at you before taking a sip of her own butterbeer. “You can lay off it now. I should’ve figured you’d had it before. My fault.” She was still smiling though, which was a good sign. “But, Quidditch has been...good. Practice is hell though. Don’t get me wrong I love being up on my broom, but Wood can talk for hours. Which means I’m exhausted by the time we end up getting up in the air.”

“That bad?” You grimaced taking another long sip.

“Especially when we have Slytherin games upcoming. I think he forgets sometimes that we want to win as much as he does. He just really wants the Quidditch cup this year.” Angelina glanced around before lowering her voice. “After losing to Hufflepuff due to the Dementor, he’s just really on edge. None of us blame Harry, of course, but it’s Woods last year and we would need to beat both Slytherin and Ravenclaw to have a shot. Not only that, but we’d have to beat them by a decent amount…” She rubbed her forehead before downing more butterbeer.

You laid your hand on the table close to her. “Angelina, you guys played really well from what I saw. You’ve got it in the bag. But there’s no sense in stressing about it now when you can’t do anything about it.”

“She’s right, you know?” You glanced up to see George pulling up a chair next to you.

“We did play well.” Fred slid another chair on Angelina’s side. It took you only a moment to spot Lee leaning against the wall nodding his head.

“But what do you say we finish our drinks and go get some of those souvenirs.” Fred nodded at you.

“Souvenirs?” Angelina asked looking at you. “For who?”

“Friends back in America. Or The States as you Brits call it.” That surprisingly caused a peal of laughter to ring from everyone.

“I reckon she’s learning!” George laughed, elbowing your side.

“We’ll make a proper Brit of you yet!” Lee chimed in.

You raised your Butterbeer. “Not a chance,” and tossed back what was left in your glass.

The rest of the day was spent (literally) on buying weird must-haves from Zonko’s and candy from Honeydukes. You were mainly excited about getting new cards from all the chocolate frogs you bought. America’s cards had famous American wizards, so being able to get dozens of new ones was exciting.

Before you knew it, you were back on the carriage to Hogwarts. Back in the Gryffindor common room examining a few of the presents you had gotten for your friends.

“I promise they work. The dungbombs are personally my favorite and if your friend Danny is half the man you say he is, he’ll love them.” Fred said as he plopped into the chair next to you in the back of the common room.

You looked up. “Danny with the three of you guys would honestly be a dangerous combination.” You held the dungbomb up in front of your face. “I know he’s gonna love these.” You peeked over the top of it. “Thanks.”

Fred smiled another one of his award winning smiles. The one that made all the girls' knees weak. “Anything for you, ‘Merica.” Then he frowned suddenly before digging in his pocket. When he lifted out a small bag, he laughed softly. “Almost forgot.” He tossed the bag at you.

You caught it midair and raised a brow.

“Saw it and thought of you.” He shrugged. With that he stood and bowed dramatically. “Well I must be off to bed, my lady. It was an honor to assist you today, I am your humble servant.” He grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on it before winking and whisking himself away up the stairs of the boys dorm. Your hand was still stuck in midair slightly tingling.

You glanced down at the bag before pulling the strings that held it closed. You turned it over and watched as a silver necklace tumbled out. The chain was thin and long, but it was the pendant that your eyes were focused on.

It was a tiny glass ball, within it was exploding fireworks.

Fred Weasley. Your heart skipped a beat as the red firework held his name before dissolving in the glass as another firework shot off.

It was stunning. You pulled the chain over your head and tucked it underneath your shirt. The pendant fell in the center of your chest. It felt warm against your heart. You pressed it closer.

At that, it was time for bed.

But you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

-----

You remembered your first goodbye.

The Great Feast had been spectacular. Also a god send considering how insane the year had been. You were honestly tired and ready to see your parents. Yet, you also were sad to leave the friends you had made. The deep friendships you had made. Something about the fear of dying has an odd way of making anyone feel closer.

You were sitting between Fred and Alicia Spinnet. Listening as Dumbledore finished awarding Gryffindor the House Cup and Quidditch Cup. Everyone around you, including yourself, exploded in cheers. Jumping from their seats, hugging each other, shouting about how Gryffindor was the best house.

Eventually you all sat down and began eating after Dumbledore sat down. The energy at your table was incomparable. You scanned your eyes over all the friends you had made. Angelina laughing from across you at some dumb joke George said from beside her. Lee on her other side flirting with Katie and Alicia. Wood on the other side of Fred raving about how excited he was about the Quidditch cup win. Harry, Ron and Hermione further down laughing like they deserved. Fred beside you, looking right at you.

“You’re not eating.” He nodded at your plate.

You shrugged. “I was just observing everyone. I’m gonna miss it, I guess.”

Fred’s eyes widened.

“You’re not coming back next semester?” He shouted. It attracted the attention of everyone around you whose smiles suddenly dropped as they stared at you.

You raised your hands. “Hold on! I never said that!”

“So...are you coming back?” Lee pointed his fork at you. “Cause if you’re not, we’ll just outright kidnap you.”

“Guys. I’m coming back! Don’t worry. Everyone can proceed to their regularly scheduled programming.”

“Regularly scheduled-” Angelina began to ask.

“Don’t ask.” You held up your hand before turning back to Fred. It seemed that after that, everyone slowly went back to their own conversations. “But what I was saying is that it’s weird living with you guys for so long and then just...not.” You shrugged now not wanting to meet his eyes. Nervous that he would think you were too clingy or weird for saying that.

But instead he nudged your shoulder with his own. “I get it. But I’m sure you’re more than welcome to visit the Burrow.”

Your face fell. He was offering you to visit his home? During the summer. It sent a warm feeling through your whole body. It was only then that you realized you hadn’t responded and Fred had misinterpreted that silence.

His hand lifted to rub his neck. “Or not. It’s not really a big deal, it’s small anyway…” He trailed off.

Your face broke out into a big grin before you laid your hand on his arm that was still wrapped behind his neck. “I’d love to.” His nervous frown widened into that familiar smile you loved so much. “My family’s going to visit America for the two months of summer but if the offer still stands when I come back, I’d love to.”

Fred slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “Trust me, that offer isn’t going anywhere.”

The rest of the meal passed in just as much joy and happiness as you could have hoped. Not a single Gryffindor had a frown or left the table hungry.

What seemed like the blink of an eye, the lot of you were crammed into one train car on the way back home. You had the window seat again with Angelina beside you. She insisted on sitting next to you on the way back.

Despite Angelina's addition, it reminded you of the first train ride to Hogwarts. The fear you felt, the longing you had for Ilvermorny, for America. Your nerves at knowing next to nothing about the people here or how the school differed from the one you were used to. But it was the knowledge of how much you had grown and the friends that had been a part of that that made you smile.

The people in the train car were your new home. Your new school mates as they drilled into your head.

“Thinking hard over there, ‘Merica? Schools over now, you don’t have to do that.” Lee said tossing the football your way.

You caught it without thinking and tossed it to George. “Some of us like to use our brains year round, Jordan.”

Angelina snickered as she caught the ball from George and tossed it back to Lee.

“Hey! Am I chopped liver?” Fred shouted, raising his hands.

“Sorry Fred!” Angelina winced, although you saw the hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

Your friends were batshit. But you loved them.

You tossed the football back and forth, while talking about your summer plans until the train pulled in the station. Everyone stood up and began grabbing their suitcases (or trunks as they insisted calling them) from the shelves above.

You tucked the football under your arm as you followed Angelina out with your suitcases in hand. You could hear Fred and George laughing about something from behind you. Finally you made it on the platform and spotted your parents' kind faces. You raced towards them and dropped your suitcases at their feet along with the ball as you threw your arms around their necks.

“I missed you guys!” You smiled as you pulled back to see their smiling faces.

“We missed you too, sweetheart.” Your mother cupped your cheek with her hand. She glanced behind you. “And who are these lovely people?”

You turned seeing Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee all standing there smiling at you. Your heart melted a little.

“Mom, Dad, these are the people I’ve been telling you about.”

“Oh, so you’ve been writing about me to your parents, have you?” Fred winked. A blush rose to your cheeks before you could stop it.

Your mom laughed before outstretching her hand. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you bunch. I’m Mrs.Y/L/N and this is Mr. Y/L/N.” They each took turns shaking her hand before she spoke up again. “I do believe you’re Angelina, you must be Lee, and I would have to be stupid not to think you were the identical twins George and Fred?”

At that everyone's eyes widened, including yours. George and Fred? That sounded so… so… wrong.

Fred said, “It’s Fred and George,” the same time George said, “Right you are!”

You shook your head before stepping away from your parents to give each of your friends a hug and saying goodbye.

Angelina promised she’d write before she slipped away to leave with her parents. Lee made eyes at the football as he hugged you, and it took a promise that you would buy him one in America that finally satisfied him before he left as well. Fred and George were a little different. George hugged you tightly and messed your hair up a bit.

“We’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer I hear?”

“That’s the plan.” You glanced over at Fred. You felt George’s eyes follow your own before he laughed quietly.

“I get it. I know who your favorite Weasley is.” He winked before letting you go.

You grabbed his arm. “It’s you. Don’t tell Fred.” You winked back as he laughed all the way back to his family.

Finally, Fred pulled you into a tight hug. Your best friend.

“I’ll miss you.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Oh and here I was thinking George was your favorite Weasley.” He pulled back enough to look at you. You bit your lip to withhold the smile creeping in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mhm. Sure you don’t.” Fred shook his head before pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’ll miss you too, ‘Merica. But I’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer. Might even have a surprise for you.” Just like his brother, he sent you a wink, and turned to return to his family.

You stood staring after him for a minute before you realized your parents were a couple yards behind you. You turned, the blush still hot on your cheeks.

Your dad had your luggage in his hands with a smirk on his face, one of his brows raised. You reached down grabbing your football before following your family to the brick wall.

“So I’m assuming that one was Fred?” Your dad chuckled. If your blush could get deeper it would’ve.

“Oh hush! She’s embarrassed already at her parents seeing her crush!” Your mom slapped your dad's arm. Your parents started bickering then like young lovers. You tuned it out the closer you got to the wall. Your dad was the first to walk through, followed by your mom.

A slight tug pulled in your gut before you stepped in the brick wall. You glanced back looking for those familiar brown eyes. It took you only a moment before you found them. Already looking at you. His lips tugged up into a smile as he lifted his hand.

If there was a fraction of anxiety going into the summer, it was gone then. That safe comforting smile of Fred Weasley always did you in. You lifted your hand and smiled back before confidently turning and walking through the wall.

As excited as you were to see your friends in America again, you secretly knew your heart would be thousands of miles across the sea in a small house in the country.

#fred weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley #George weasley #Angelina Johnson #harry potter #Hogwarts #Harry Potter fic #imagine #Fred Weasley imagine #fw #x reader #First Things First

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eltanin-malfoy · 3 years

Text

The Portend (His Royal Highness II)

word count: 6.7k

warning(s): cursing, anxiety

a/n: hi all! i just wanted to say that i know this chapter’s length is SO different from the first one’s but that’s because that one is, again, 2 years old and was written all at once. the other chapters will also be fairly long from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one!

taglist: @drawlfoy @war-sword @lilyreachelcassidy @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101 [@kaibie @regalillegal @mayorofzillyhoo, i know you all wanted to be tagged in the full-length HRH and this is pretty much it ig. please let me know if you’re still interested and want me to add you to the permanent tag list for this series]

reply to this post or send me an ask/dm if you want to be added to the tag list for the series or for all of my fics!

HRH - Table Of Contents

Y/N placed her palms flat on her desk as if doing so would bring any sort of change to the absolute hurricane that had begun its wrath within her stomach. She tried to imagine she was somewhere else for a second. Why would any rational human being do this to someone? That too to someone with as much responsibility as she had. Oh, right… she’d forgotten. Prince Draco was far from rational. Far from being a human being, even.

She looked down at the paper trays with guest lists upon guest lists kept before her, shifted them to the side and planted her face on the wood. That’s better , she thought. Now no one else can see how fucking ridiculous I feel right now! She tried to think about what the hell she’d done to him to make him act so horribly towards her. What could she have possibly done in a past life that would have resulted in her having to face such a… conundrum? She’d thought it was hard enough having to bargain with the King and Queen over how much detail could possibly be squeezed into cake decorations but had no idea a situation even more stressful could and would arise.

How could she let herself get so weak? How could she not bring herself to be assertive? She could have just said no, right? It wasn’t that hard. He hadn’t been nice at all. She took a deep, deep breath, trying desperately to calm her brain. It had begun to run from thought to thought, imagining every possible scenario that could go wrong. She had so much work left to complete on her own, and god knew how much attention and criticism she might face at and after the ball.

And the way she’d freaked out in front of Draco as well! She was sure he must’ve been at least a little put off by how strongly and emotionally she’d reacted so quickly. God, not that that should matter that much but… if they were supposed to work together for a highly publicised ordeal, they had to get along, right? Right? She hadn’t meant to do that. It’s just that he’d already shocked her a bit by slipping into her office so unexpectedly. And then he’d gone on and rushed to… that . Not to excuse what he did but perhaps she should’ve realised she didn’t need to panic so much over it either. She knew she was having a hard time with her anxiety…

Nevertheless, she brought her hands to the edge of the table closer to her and pushed herself up. She looked forwards, turning slightly to face the window she was looking out before everything turned to shit. The scenery was still gorgeous, albeit not that comforting anymore but looking out at the wide expanse of a beautiful garden would bring just about anyone some tranquillity. She had been thinking about how lovely the weather was today, how nice it would be to go for a walk after she’d finished up with her work. Maybe she could even head downtown for once and meet some old friends. But no, no one was happy just giving her a single moment of peace. Even fate was bent upon just giving her as much to stress about as was possible.

She looked down at the paper trays she’d just abandoned. Administrative work could distract her a bit, couldn’t it? All she had to do was send RSVP reminders and reach out to the guests and performers coming in from out of town about their travel and accommodation details. As well as request the performers for the outlines of their performances and send them contracts saying they’d stick by the approved setups. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year’s embarrassing The Hobgoblins’ performance. To be very brief, it had gone sexual. (The King and Queen’s expressions during it were still popular reaction gifs) She picked out one of the lists and opened up her laptop, finally beginning the work she’d been putting off all morning. It seemed so much easier and more comforting now that she had the much more disturbing dilemma on hand. She corroborated the list in front of her, adding ticks and crosses to the list to mark invitees as having confirmed or not. She then compiled their contact details and created a template for emails to send to those that had yet to confirm their attendance and travel itineraries. After this, she did the same with the list of performers, making sure to add enough information to their emails regarding the outlines they should send back.

And there… most of her work was done already, wasn’t it? Now all she had to do was proofread these, make sure all of the addressees were receiving the appropriate emails and well, press send. It shouldn’t take too long and then she could… She could get back to stressing about the problem fucking Draco had landed her in, goddammit! She was right back there again, her stomach beginning to swirl dangerously. She tried to take in a few deep breaths, forcing herself to get back to work. It wasn’t that hard. It wasn’t that hard!

Never mind, she couldn’t deal with it right now. She… Well, she needed a break. Or maybe she just needed to leave work early today. It was fair game after what the hell Draco had just unloaded on her. It was time she gave her intern some actual responsibility anyway. He was a sweet little fellow, straight out of university. Had his head in the right place but wasn’t particularly good with all the practical work yet. She’d assigned him some random organisational task she knew wouldn’t take her more than a minute and wasn’t going to bother checking because she thought it was simply too easy. Hopefully, he’d been able to do it to her standards.

She sat back in her chair and raised her hands up to her head, stretching out her fingers and breathing in and out deeply through her mouth. She was going to do this. She was really going to handle this (easier) bit of the work off to the intern and he was going to do it just fine. Just fine. Maybe she might have to assist him with it a little bit but it was going to work. It would work. Yes, it would. She shook her head to try and shake off some of her anxiety and stood up, closing her laptop’s screen and picking up the tray of guest lists. She walked out of her office and into the large room outside of it, which had a small group of cubicles placed in the middle.

While the rest looked rapt in their work (an exaggeration, to be sure, a lot of them were chatting with their co-workers and eating snacks), she noted her dear intern was just sitting idle which both made her feel hopeful and worried. He was sitting with his laptop closed, one hand tapping on the table’s surface, the other holding his phone.

“Hi, Colin!” Y/N said and he jerked forwards in surprise, dropping his phone to the floor. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”. Colin shook his head as he picked it up and looked it over, “It’s no problem, miss… My phone is just fine. Are you alright? I know the prince was just in your office, he came to ask me where it was first! I was so excited and I asked him for a picture but he said he was in a rush! I can’t believe I’ve managed to have a conversation with one of the royals already!” Hmm… “have a conversation” was probably a stretch but… she chose to ignore that. The boy was definitely an optimist and she couldn’t fault him for that.

“That’s lovely, Colin. I’m sure you’ll get to talk to him and the others again. I had some work for you if you’re up to it.”

“Yes, of course! Does it have anything to do with the prin-”

“Let’s calm down there, Colin. I trust you’ve completed what I assigned you earlier?”

“... Oh, yes I have!”

“That’s great.”

She set the paper tray on the side of his desk and he looked at it for a few seconds before looking up at her again.

“So… what do I have to do?”

Y/N gulped and laid out the lists for him, beginning to explain to him the meanings of the markings she’d made and the emails he had to look through and send off.

***

Beep, beep.

Y/N kept her phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear as she walked around her apartment. She was holding a large iced vanilla latte in one hand and her purse in the other. She knew she needed to set something down but felt too jittery to do anything but pace around with her stuff. It was probably partly inspired by the amount of caffeine she’d drank that day but hey, that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Today was also a terribly tense day, wasn’t it?

Beep, beep.

She took a nice long sip of her latte, relishing in how nice and cold it was. She had the air conditioner on and had taken off her blazer but it still felt like she was this close to overheating. This sudden heatwave throughout the country was absolutely unwelcome as far as she was concerned.

Now if only Pansy’d pick up so she could get some clarity on the situation. Suddenly the dial tone ended and she heard the crackling of breathing through the speaker.

“Hello, Y/N?”

She smiled and finally set her purse down.

“Hi, Pansy! It’s so nice to finally hear your voice. Are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I was just sending off this email but now I’m free for a bit, yes. And Jesus, Y/N, is something… up?”

“Oh, nothing… it’s just… the prince really got me gobsmacked today.”

She hears her gasp over the phone.

“Oh my, the prince?! Well then… I certainly wasn’t expecting that. Although, I suppose… it’s not so far off for the prince to bother you when you’re working at the palace...”

“Pansy… that’s beside the point.”

“Yeah, okay, so… what happened? You have to tell me now.”

“I will but you need to promise me you won’t get mad or jealous of me or anything. I didn’t choose to be a part of it.”

“Of course I won’t be mad. Why would I be?”

“Well, you know, your history and… how you were off your trolley about him as a teenager?”

“Oh, bugger off, babe. That’s not even true anyway.”

“Oh, really? I can vaguely recall someone crying and taking care of him for weeks after he was attacked by that bird he harassed in the first place.”

“I was just… overemotional.”

“Right.”

“So what, okay? So what if I liked him for a while? There’s nothing there anymore. Even waking up to him the next day after the… you know what between us, I was just repulsed. And you thought he was fit too! So. And I feel like I only just liked him because I thought my parents would be happy with us together.”

“That’s… fair. But yes, you’re right, I’ll get back to my story then.”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N started to unbutton the collar of her shirt, beginning to feel hot again. She took another sip of her latte.

“Well, basically, I was just sitting in my office, you know, minding my own business, when Mr Royalty just busts in and starts talking to me.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, I know right? Anyway, he got straight to it and asked me to be his date to the coronation ball.”

“Holy shit! That’s… never mind, but you said no, right?”

“Well… at first, yes. But then...”

“You what? That’s so unlike you, Y/N, come on…”

“I know, okay… I shouldn’t have. I just started to feel bad for him and I... Should I get out of it? I’m thinking I will. It’ll be stressful, won’t it? I just… I don’t know what to do about it, okay? I’m lost. Help me.”

Pansy fell silent for a second and Y/N undid the whole of her button-down, setting her drink down onto a table as she headed into her bedroom to look for a lighter change of clothes.

“You know the first thing I’m going to tell you is you owe him nothing. I know you felt bad for him but he really shouldn’t have asked you that with no context or anything. He was the one in the wrong here for sure. It’s sweet of you to accept his offer but you don’t have to keep up on it if it’s really stressing you out so much. Also, the fact that you accepted such a spontaneous offer makes me a little sceptical of the power play there...”

“You’re right. Also, I think it definitely wasn’t nice of him but he wasn't mean about it or anything. He was definitely adamant but eh....”

She set her phone onto her bed and turned it to speakerphone, opening her wardrobe and taking out a t-shirt and some shorts.

“At the same time… when we look at the positives, they are fairly significant. You’ll likely have to give in… not that many hours in exchange for a pretty fun night. You know the service at royal events is amazing and if you’re literally the date of the guy the event is being thrown for, the King being crowned that night… I’m going to guess you’ll get so much from that. You’ll obviously get some… fame and have to pack on some PDA there and what not but that means free stuff, great clothes, who even knows what else. You’d just have to work extra hard for that time and balance the work, but I thought you said you were done with a lot of the stuff already.”

“That is … true.”

“But you’re not happy with that, are you?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. It’s just… actually I don’t have a counterargument for that. The perks do sound pretty good.”

“Right? But you know, there might be criticism or hate or something you might get.”

“Well… I’ll also get paid to advertise things after that, won’t I? And free things and VIP invites to places I wouldn’t even have been able to enter before.”

“Well, yes, but… maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, you know. Not every brand or group or whatever is that fixated on how much publicity they can get.”

“... I mean, aren’t they?”

“Okay, yes, they are. I think you should do this.” Y/N laughed as she took off her skirt. She sat down on her bed in her underwear, lying down so her head was near her phone.

“This was a very helpful call. Thank you.”

“I do agree, I think I was a huge help.”

“I concur. Again.”

“Thank you! Now, can I request an invitation to the ball as well?”

“Pansy!”

She giggled and sat up, crossing her arms. “Of course I’ll get you an invite, Pans!”

“Great. I was expecting that. I’m not missing you floundering around, having a… Cinderella moment for the world.”

“A Cinderella moment?”

“You know, getting a chance to dress up like a princess for a night? It’s weirdly literal too, it’s just for the night and then you go back to being normal again. Unless… the prince charming decides…”

“Shush up!” Y/N felt her face beginning to heat up. Not for the second time in one day… She sighed. And… partly because of the same person too.

“I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t say too much there. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. It’s just a problem I’m starting to recognise with me. I keep getting more aggressive and emotionally charged than I mean to be.”

“I get that… you could try meditation, you know. Or you could join my yoga class, it’s pretty relaxing. The teacher has a nice butt too.”

“Pans!”

“Y/N!”

***

Her evening was fairly relaxed after that. The call with Pansy had seemed to fix the problem. Well, not exactly “fix”, more like change the way she looked at the issue so it felt all the lighter. And it worked pretty much the same. She began to feel so much better about the decision she’d made. After all, even if it was destiny or whatever, she’d been chosen for a reason, right? She’d managed to get Draco’s number off of Pansy. (“ It’s from… way back when so forgive me if he changed his number to get me off his back or some shit. ”) And… on a caffeine high, she had decided to text him almost right away.

Hi, your royal highness!

It only took a few hours but soon she was privy to:

Where did you get this number?

Got it from a friend. It’s Y/N btw :) should’ve said that before.

Oh, right! That makes sense. How’re you doing?

I’m alright, thanks. What about you?

I’m okay.

Listen, I was thinking about what happened today.

And now I’m wondering if we could meet tomorrow? Morning, if possible? It’s urgent.

Y/N squinted down at this message in confusion. What was this suggesting? Was there something wrong? Was he going to retract his offer? She knew there must be some kind of administrative work they’d have to log but was it really that serious already?

Sure, I’ll be free to meet before 9:30.

That is not what I was thinking of when I said morning :(

What, do you wake up at 4 o’clock or something?

No, I meant that that was too early!

She rolled her eyes. She should have seen that coming. He wasn’t exactly known for being put together. Or spiritual, for that matter.

We can call now if you really want.

No, it’s okay. It’s better we talk about it in person. I should try and wake up earlier anyway.

As you wish.

So I’ll meet you tomorrow then. Let’s say, 9 am sharp?

Perfect. I get dropped to the main drop off point at that time anyway.

Great. See you xx

See ya x

Y/N set her phone on her counter and put it to charge for the night. What the fuck? What was happening? The sleep she’d been looking forward to seemed to have suddenly drifted away. What was she going to have to worry about tomorrow morning?! She shifted under her sheets, turning where she lay to face the other side and look out her bedroom window. It was a clear, clear night. If she looked hard enough, she could probably see the edge of the royal estate. But then again, she really didn’t want to. She turned to the other side and just stared at her closet.

She wasn’t sure when her mind got tired of imagining potential disaster scenarios for the next day but Y/N woke up to the sound of her alarm ringing at 6:45 am. She reached over to her nightstand and turned it off, sitting up in bed and looking out the sun already shining bright in her window. It was barely May but the days had already begun to increase in length.

Since she’d woken up with ample time to complete her routine, she did everything she could to pamper herself, spending almost an hour in the bathroom. She even changed into her nicest formal clothes after, a white pantsuit with dark detailing. She packed her work bag with the essentials, her laptop, her water bottle, her royal admin ID, her wallet, stationery and her phone. She felt very prepared for once. Whatever was coming her way would be taken care of as needed.

She had a comfortable trip from her apartment building to the estate, the state-sanctioned car ride feeling a lot less bumpy than usual. It was still just as clear as it was last night, but the car’s windows were tinted so the sun’s rays felt like they barely even touched it. There was only the slightest hiccup when the driver slammed the brakes too hard all of a sudden and made Y/N’s face hit the seat before hers. OUCH!?

It didn’t take very long for the car to get to the palace, stopping at the main entrance pavilion. She didn’t notice anyone there yet and checked the time. It was still only 8:53 am. She had enough time to walk to the administrative wing, leave her things there and come back with time to spare. She walked through the hallway and towards the next hall which she knew led her to-

“Fuck me!” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Hi, Y/N.”

She had her hand on her heart, trying to slow down her breathing as she looked at the blonde who had bumped straight into her. He had his hands in front of her to catch her if she fell. Thankfully, she had just missed falling.

“What the hell is it with you and giving me heart attacks?”

"I promise you that wasn’t my intention.”

“Well, I’d sure have hoped it wasn’t.”

She sighed and dropped her hand to her side, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“So?”

“So, yes. Um. Can we walk or something? I don’t want to be standing here and have someone walk in on us?”

“... Draco, what do you have planned exactly...?”

She looked up at him quizzically and smirked. He managed a small smile but shook his head.

“God, get your mind out of the gutter! I just mean… this is stressful, okay?”

“Well, I’d like to drop my things off at my office if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you by the admin wing’s garden exit.”

“Done.”

***

Y/N had decided to leave her blazer on her chair and all her belongings except for her phone on her desk. Hopefully, Colin was good enough as a guard or she was getting robbed. Either way, she could spot a tall blonde’s head nervously bobbing above the hedge next to the exit. His face was a concerning shade of pink, goodness could only hope he’d put on an adequate amount of sun cream.

“Draco?”

“Yes, hi.”

He managed out, looking toward her walking out now.

“Are you okay? You look… red.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean, are you sunburnt?”

“Oh…?”

He brought a hand up to touch his cheek.

“No, but that’s a good point. Let’s stand in the shade.”

She stopped where she was and he walked in to meet her. She felt her insides begin to do the jitterbug in anticipation. What could possibly have him so on edge? What was wrong?

“I’m really very sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t exactly thinking very straight when I came to see you. In hindsight, I know it got on your nerves and everything and I should’ve been a lot better at telling you about it.”

“It’s no big deal now, honestly.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly why I called you. The thing is, there’s going to be a lot of PR work at this ball. I didn’t realise it before but Mother told me she’s arranging a meeting with our publicist for us today. And the publicist is never there just to take the piss. This is serious now. Like, even more than I thought it was.”

“I- what do you-”

“It’ll be very pressing, I would never hold it against you if you decided to pull out.” He stared into her eyes with a pensive expression on his face and Y/N felt whatever response she had been planning just vanish from existence. She pretended to have comprehended everything he said, but could only really think of saying one thing right then… That’s what she said... but that would be inappropriate. He soon got conscious and looked to the side and she felt the cogs in her brain begin to work again.

“The thing is my mother was getting a little impatient with me and telling me it was time for me to tell her who my date for the ball is. My parents have been begging me to find one unless I want to risk an arranged marriage, it’s a long story. So, I told them I’d find a date for myself and that they don’t need to worry. The truth is, I didn’t actually bother to find one and it was starting to get a little late. You know there’s only one month left till... right, you know. So… she came to talk to me about it over lunch and she told me I had to tell her who it was so she could arrange everything for us. I started to think about whom my parents would be okay with me going with and whom I would be okay with and well… you were on top of the list.”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

“It- it is. I told her your name and she was satisfied with it, I think. And then I was scared she’d come and talk to you immediately so I ran to you first and just asked you about it then. Again, I’m sorry it came out as forcefully as it did. I didn’t mean to… get you stuck in this whole thing.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at her again. Her stomach seemed to begin buzzing as she felt her anxiety grow. This was not going to go as smoothly as she expected, was it? The queen, and most likely the king as well, knew. Although that wasn’t exactly unanticipated, it gave everything a sense of finality. Like, she didn’t have much legroom here at all.

“Anyway, that's what happened. I’m sorry, again.”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to yell at him. She wasn’t intending to and just turned to the side, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to make a decision, didn’t she? And who knows what kind of problems would face her, either way, she decided to go? It seemed like teasing to dangle this lux option in front of her just to draw it away. Draco annoyed her.

Looking at how strangely afraid of her he looked, she couldn’t help but notice how very much he started to look like the Draco she used to know. Little and arrogant and scarily afraid of his parents getting upset with him.

“You’re fine. I… I’m going to need some time.”

“That’s okay. You can take as much time as you need. The problem is, I have no idea when today my mother is going to pull you out for the publicist meeting.”

Y/N huffed slightly and covered her face. So, what was she going to do? What was she going to do?

“I’m in.” She’d set her mind to it, hadn’t she? She’d made a promise to the prince, and his parents knew of it already. She’d already told Pansy she was going for it. Well, all of those things and also the prospect of fulfilling a childhood princess fantasy seemed more enjoyable than anything. There was something so gratifying in that idea, dressing up well and being pampered and showered with affection and just… pretending to be a princess. What could be more fun than that?

“You’re sure?”

The answer was nothing.

“Yes.”

Most likely.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“So do I.”

***

It still hadn’t really sunk in yet that she was actually going to do whatever this would entail. Sure, she’d been dreaming about it the day before but it seemed completely different now. Her gut seemed to be calmer now, signifying that perhaps her intuition hadn’t been completely off guiding her in the direction it had.

What’s sad was Y/N was still lost about this after Narcissa had whisked her away into one of the palace’s many giant bedrooms. She was sitting on the bed, still in her work clothes, stressed after having had to explain to Colin how to decide how accommodations would be settled for the guests and the performers coming. She’d been expecting the meeting with the publicist and Draco to happen but she was lost as to what was taking place right now.

Narcissa approached her with a clipboard and a pen. “Now, dear, I just need you to sign these first.” Y/N took both from her and glossed through the texts.

A non-disclosure agreement and an employment contract…

“I’m sorry, your majesty. Do you mind me going through the documents before signing them?”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart. Though do try to rush, we have appointments we need to get to in time.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Honestly, ma’am, I’m not too aware of legal jargon like this. Could I please ask you to explain the purpose of this agreement?”

“Well, when any…”

She seemed to want to say a word but held it back, twisting her tongue around in her mouth as she thought of what to say.

“Person unfamiliar with our ancestry and our policies gets… involved with a member of the family, we have them sign one of these in order to protect our privacy.”

“I see…”

That seemed very… imperialist of them. She began to skim through the document, trying her best to understand it based on what little knowledge of this she had. It all seemed par for the course except for the last clause.

“I’m sorry again, ma’am. The others make sense to me but this one: 11. Covertness, it’s quite vague, the “other actor”…?.”

“To be transparent, the King and I posed the covertness clause as a protective measure. We don’t need Draco learning about this agreement and growing wary of all of us. We’re doing it to protect him more than anything. You are not to revert any of this portion of our meeting to him and he mustn't ever come to know of this agreement or the contract at all.”

The Queen suddenly seemed scarier than she ever had in all the years she’d known her.

“Well, that’s- I’ll have to think about that for a second.”

She started looking through the employment contract. It was similar to the one she currently held, nothing too special, except for the fact that it detailed that she was entitled to a lump sum of £200,000 at the end of the event, assuming she kept up her end of the agreement. She paused for a moment and just stared at that number.

“Is this a misprint by any chance, ma’am?” The Queen leaned over and looked at where she was pointing, then shook her head.

“No, it is not.”

She took a deep breath. That would be much more than enough to have her set for life and for a private event planning business alongside. It would take her 10 years to even come close to earning as much. She continued reading the document. She was supposed to participate in a few publicity stunts, make it clear “she had good intentions” and was supposed to disconnect from the prince entirely after the affair was over. Those terms didn’t sound too harsh, now, did they? A little acting and ghosting for 200 grand? It didn’t sound like much. Even a real big shot actor wouldn’t get paid half as much for such little work. And the part about her leaving the prince alone after was a little strange, but she supposed it made sense, what with the royals’ obsession with keeping their family all blue-blooded. Draco had been the poster child for that kind of thing growing up. And she likely didn’t have an ounce of it in her.

Why were they even that desperate anyway? This seemed huge. It might boost the prince’s reputation a bit but… what else was there to this? She knew the country was not doing the best in terms of international relations but did this really hold that much weight along those terms? Surely, there was something here she was missing. Regardless, 200,000 quid for a little work and a lot of fun was too amazing an offer to turn down. And so, Y/N signed both papers and handed them back to her. Jesus Christ, Draco’s impulsive decision was about to get her rich. Quick. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

She handed the clipboard back to the Queen who smiled and took it back quickly, setting the papers into a folder which she kept in a decorative paper bag. Not a bad hiding place at all. She walked outside for a few minutes, before reentering, followed by a squat old lady well-dressed in mauve and a younger woman wearing similar clothes. The Queen ushered towards either of them and began speaking.

“Madam Malkin and assistant, this is miss Y/L/N, the crown prince’s date to the coronation ball, miss Y/L/N, this is Madam Malkin, the family’s official stylist and designer, and her assistant.”

Y/N raised her hand out for her to shake, and she did so, firmly. “It’s so great to meet you, Madam.”

“Pleasure as well, love.”

She retracted her hand, looked over Y/N’s outfit and began whispering to her assistant.

“Well, to be very honest, I feel we don’t have to worry about my wardrobe as much. I know I probably don’t meet the royal standards but… I was planning on buying this really nice dress online anyway. I could show it to you and have you approve it if that would be fine.”

The Queen looked at her vacantly, her eyebrows raised and her nose pinched in the slightest. Then her expression settled and she exchanged a look with Madam Malkin before looking back at Y/N. Madam Malkin maintained an unamused expression, then began to speak.

“ I hope you know we’re not going to let you just wear a dress you bought online to the ball… We’ll tailor one for you. And your other clothes will be picked from contemporary designers ourselves.”

Y/N just looked at her silently, nodding and blinking slowly in assent.

***

An hour or so of Y/N having to change into various clothes behind a divider and then show them off to the pair of them passed quickly. It was very fun knowing she’d get a bunch of very nice clothes out of this (even custom made underwear so her clothes fit her right over them!), and she thought the royal family was really being very generous with all of this. Lots of money and clothes? There had to be some kind of catch, right? Something that would make this hard to keep up with? What was it? Just the stress of all the work that’d pile up? That didn’t seem like enough. Everything was not going the way she was anticipating. It was going a hell of a lot better. Mostly.

The actual meeting she’d been waiting for all morning was finally occurring. She was seated in a meeting room opposite the Queen and Draco and their publicist. It was weird seeing them like this. It seemed like a strange grown-up parent-teacher conference.

“So, our point is, we need to have you both make it clear to the public that there is a strong relationship between the two of you.”

The redheaded man droned on at the head of the table and Y/N looked over at Draco who glanced at her as well before both turning to look at the man.

“It’s Percy, right? I’m just a little… I’m sorry if I just don’t know my current affairs well enough for this but… why?” Y/N gulped, crossing her arms tightly after asking this question. It was quite bold of her for sure. She could only hope she wasn’t violating anything by asking this. “She’s not wrong.” Draco chimed in, ”You never had to do anything like this, mother.” The Queen smiled but shook her head. “Things just aren’t the same anymore, are they?” She looked over at Percy to continue.

“We now live in a world of social media and tabloids and none of that will work towards the image we need to create.”

Draco seemed to be satisfied with that and just looked at Y/N silently, who could only really do the same at this point. “I’m sorry, again, I… think I’m missing something here. What “image” are we trying to create?”

Percy and the Queen exchanged a long look, where she pursed her lips and shook her head somewhat disapprovingly. She then nodded and he began to speak.

“Miss Y/L/N, to be very frank, the kingdom isn’t doing amazing. In terms of international relations and funding and… most importantly, resources and trading. We’re afraid we’re losing allies and we cannot risk anything. We not only need to increase viewership and publicity of the ceremony and the ball, but we need to raise the reputation of the family and the prince in the public eye. It’s… a trend at King’s coronation balls for royals or other elite families to offer their daughters’ hands in marriage to the crown prince or king. Our prince is bent upon not getting into an arranged marriage and having to reject offers is a lot more publicly disgraceful than you might anticipate. As you might know, the country wasn’t even on speaking terms with one of its neighbours because centuries ago a crown prince rejected an offer for marriage and an alliance with them. We cannot risk having that happen when we’re in as dire straits as we are.”

Y/N could only look up at him with her mouth agape. They were serious. This was why it mattered so much to them. This was why she was being paid to do this. In case they offended an ally or just any other country. Because of the prince’s idealistic desires for romance or whatever it was. Although she couldn’t really fault him for that, his father hadn’t had to do the same and she’d heard the conditions for some of those alliances and the situations they landed themselves in the future were never that positive.

She nodded up at Percy. “I understand. I should probably read a bit more on the news and the family anyway. I tend to avoid it.” Percy barely seemed to notice her response and started to talk about strategies and actions that needed to be taken. The meeting ended with Draco and Y/N agreeing to keep up with their public profiles and maintain a good reputation on them. They were supposed to interact more publicly for the time being while Percy laid out more intricate publicity stunt plans.

As she left the room and started to walk back to her office, thinking about what work she had to do, someone tapped at her shoulder gently. She turned around to see the very same prince that had dragged her into this mess staring down at her.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

Him saying that like this made her feel guilty now.

“It’s- it’s really okay. You don’t have to say that.”

“I feel like I have to. You’re barely getting anything for doing this for us.”

“That’s- that’s not true. I’ll have my fun, won’t I?”

“Well, whatever it is, what I told you yesterday, the offer still stands. I’ll get you anything, I’ll buy you a mansion, whatever you like.”

“Not that I’d ever decline you giving me anything… you really don’t need to. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Y/N bit her lip and smiled up at him, waving him off as he made to leave, pretending like that was really the truth. She watched him as he walked to the other end of the hallway. She was going to have to keep up this lie all the way till the event. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy. She began to clench her jaw, setting a hand on the wall as everything rushed through her head.

This was exactly like Cinderella except she had no evil stepmother or fairy godmother or glass slipper or a prince charming on a quest to find her, just a lump sum, publicised PDA and more acting than she realised. And absolutely no way out of seeing the story through anymore.

a/n: there will be a hell of a lot more draco in the next chapters, stay tuned!

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco #hp #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hp imagine #au #prince au #royal au #prince draco #prince draco au #romance #draco malfoy series #draco x reader series #draco malfoy x reader series #drama

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Words We Don’t Mean

(...and Those We Do)

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 7950 👀

Summary: Your parents decide to visit for Thanksgiving, which alone is a trial.

The fact that they haven’t met Steve yet and they have no clue who he is… yeah, you better brace yourself for a storm.

A/N: Attached: Words We Don’t Mean (and Those We Do) is a one-shot to the Attached series. Technically, you can read it as a standalone.

A/N: In the Stockings fic, I mentioned that no one in their household talked about (last) Thanksgiving. Here’s why. Also: I named the parents Paul and Jane, it’s enough of a mess to work around with nameless reader; if that offends you, sorry, feel free to move on from this fic.

Warnings: angst, parents-daughter fight, mention of sexual relationhips and of using one’s body to earn money (negative view), mild flashback, emotional H/C, swearing, sprinkles of fluff and Disney

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Sweetheart, please, sit down for just a second,” Steve requested gently; however, there was no mistaking the drop of amusement in his voice.

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words and continued scrubbing the bathtub clean.

Everything had to be perfect. Had to be. You bought the tinniest of the giant turkeys yesterday – just so you wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for a month –, ingredients for the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Your mum had promised to stop by somewhere to get four slices of a pumpkin pie. But cooking was on your list later today; first you needed to make sure that the apartment would shine with cleanness.

Not that you considered yourself a neat freak, thank you very much… maybe occasionally. And Steve? Yeah, he was more of a neat freak than you were and now he was telling you to rest and take it easy? Uh-huh, nope.

Nope, because… your parents -- gosh, your parents.

“Honey-“

Your head snapped to him as he bounced off of the doorframe, soft steps leading him right to you.

“Did you just call me honey?” you asked incredulously.

Not that you didn’t like it, it was just-- you were Steve’s sweetheart, his babygirl, his good girl… now honey? That was new and frankly, it might have freaked you out a bit.

Also, your heart skipped a frantic beat upon looking at him.

Damn, you forgot again about what he had done yesterday and it always startled you to see him like that. Too unusual – not bad-looking by any means, just… unusual.

Steve chuckled as he crouched to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and cupping your mildly sweaty cheek. He grimaced a bit at your surprised tone.

“Not a fan?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, hun, it’s just that… it’s a bit ominous, the change.”

One corner of his lips rose at your choice of a petname. “That’s because you’re freaking out and I need you to calm down a bit, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you scoffed, rather offended. Mostly because he was right – but also because he was being a damn hypocrite.

“Oh, am I? Me? Did I spend about an hour in front of the mirror yesterday, trying and almost failing to solve the dilemma whether I should or shouldn’t shave off my beard?”

Steve’s face turned entirely sour at your snarky remark.

“Don’t be mean, it’s a valid concern to-- I don’t want them to hate me,” he murmured and dropped his gaze in shame along with his hand, seemingly shrinking into himself, his insecurity returning.

You sighed and mentally cursed yourself for bringing it up again.

You dropped the brush to the tub with a thud and lost one of your gloves, wiping the ew feeling onto your old sweats before you tried to smoothen the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“They’re gonna love you, Steve,” you assured him again, letting you fingers travel over his clean-shaved jaw, lightly pulling at his cheek to make him smile again. “I miss the beard, not gonna lie, but you do have an extremely sweet boy-next-door look now, you are my handsome, funny, smart as hell guy, who’s somehow all grown up and has life stuff figured out and you’re making me happy. You’re the epitome of the guy a girl wants to bring home to meet her parents.”

Despite slightly panting from exertion, you took care to sound as convincing as possible, pushing away your own worries for a bit.

Steve was your perfect guy, perfection incarnated; you weren’t worried about him not making an impression… except for the fact that Steve did have a few years on you and worked at the uni and—well.

Yet, you couldn’t but dread the moment your parents realized that you were everything but perfect since they let you loose on the world. You had never been the daughter to show off like the epitome of everything good and wholesome, but you always tried your best to please them…. Now though? Darting your professor? Even if he wasn’t exactly your professor?

Yeah, you didn’t think that a spotless apartment could make up for that, but it helped to ease your anxiety when you kept lying to yourself that it just might.

Steve grasped your palm in his, planting a tiny kiss there – a gesture to warm your heart, always – his lips once again curled up a fraction as his gaze met yours, his mesmerizing blues kind and hopeful.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

And with the way he was looking at you – you finally figured it out. Just a fleeting thought and an answer to an unspoken question you had been failing to grasp at since yesterday; it escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Gosh, you look like a Disney prince!”

Steve’s eyes went comically wide, laughter erupting from his throat and he pulled you to him in one swift motion, falling on his ass with you in his arms in the process and nearly getting crushed by you. Clearly, he did not care one bit as he shook with laughter, kissing your nose, your cheeks and finally your lips despite your protests that you were gross.

“That’s golden! Oh babygirl, you’re the-”

“Tell me I’m Cinderella, I dare you,” you grumbled, but Steve just shook his head and kissed you breathless, fingers of one hand curled around your nape to guide you closer, to breathe you in, while his other hand stayed wrapped around your waist.

You tried your best not to touch him with your gloved hand, having it ridiculously stretched out to nowhere in order not to spot his clothes, but your free hand clutched at his t-shirt with enthusiasm.

His lips left yours only when the world started spinning and your mind turned blank besides the thought of Steve’s mouth being on yours and how much you loved it when he stole all the breath from your lungs – and how much you always missed him when he withdrew.

You stared at him, dumbstruck, as he watched you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, your messy self in baggy clothes, your heart growing three times its size, your insides positively tingly from the heated make-out session.

Steve was smiling again too at last, brushing your nose with his and planting one last soft kiss on your lips.

“Okay, babygirl, now hand over the brush.”

You had to blink several times, your oh so lazy brain taking its time to realize what he said. Huh? Also, did he just said it as if he was asking you were a robber holding a hostage on gunpoint and he was asking you to lay down your weapon?

The thought made you internally snort.

“Why?” you demanded, suspicious.

“Because I’m taking over.”

You instantly shook your head. “No-“

“Yes. I promise I’ll make sure it’s spotless-“

Okay, yeah, that was one of our arguments against him doing the clean-up. However, there was one more. “But you still have papers to grade and lessons to prepare!”

“And you want to cook too and then we’ll have to clean up the kitchen. And you’ll want to take a shower and and and. Papers can wait. Gimme the brush.”

“You make it sound like it’s a weapon of mass destruction… or I am,” you muttered, but you kissed his cheek – such a strange feeling, you truly missed the sensation of his beard scraping your lips – and climbed out of his lap with a meek and cautious thank you. He cackled at your antics, but quickly fished out a new pair of gloves from the bathroom drawer and started working.

You swallowed your smart remark about him being the Cinderella now. Mostly because his gesture was one of the sweetest things and really – seeing Steve scrubbing the bathtub might not be the sexiest thing in the world… but it kinda was.

It pulled at your heartstrings as you imagined that this might be how it would always be; you and Steve, settling together, taking care of the household, then cuddling on the couch—the domesticity you hadn’t always been sure you craved.

Now you were certain of it; but to get to that, you had to survive your parents’ visit first.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had somewhat stayed in touch with your parents, mostly with your mum; you two had been calling on a so-so regular basis, sometimes with video, and both her and your father were obviously aware that you had a boyfriend (gee, that sounded kinda trivial, a boyfriend). In fact, Steve played a huge role in them deciding to purchase their plane tickets… besides wanting to see New York City… and you.

The thing was… you had managed to keep Steve’s identity secret so far; you never used a videocall when he was around, so your mum only had heard his voice, sweet and polite in the most Steve fashion possible, you sort-of danced around his age and his job. Yeah, you found it strange as well that you kept it up so long, a divine intervention even; or maybe your mum simply had a good idea of your dirty secret all along and purposely didn’t probe.

Now, with your parents in the apartment, your dad’s eyes more on Steve than on you (your mum’s eyes wandered too, you noticed, but she had enough decency to show you she missed you first), you felt dread fill every cell in your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest with too much ferocity, your temples pulsing, your palms uncharacteristically sweaty and if it wasn’t for Steve’s warm hand on your lower back, its weight oh so comforting, you might spontaneously combust because of your nerves.

You were suddenly entirely grateful that Steve had shaved off his beard, was giving less of a an incredibly hot (and still very young, thank you very much) professor vibe and looked--- well, kinda like he could be your classmate.

But of course, of course the subject came up. Inevitably, after the small talk about your parents’ flight, about how their job was going and if they picked up a new hobby (…or heard some gossip), you and Steve became the centre of attention.

First, things went smoothly enough; you talked a bit about school, about Penny and some of your classmates and professors, about your part-time job. Steve had been subtly drawing small comforting circles on your thigh whenever he wasn’t eating and he in fact succeeded in lowering your heartbeat so much that you might appear even calm.

And then it oh so predictably went to shit.

Because apparently, your materialistic father had to ask Steve what he was studying and what his plan for his future career was.

“I actually finished my studies,” Steve admitted in an admirably dispassionate manner.

Meanwhile, your own heart started racing again, sending you to the verge of a cardiac arrest; your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a hint of a smile played in the corners of his lips in effort to remain polite… for now.

“Oh? Was that recently?”

You deflected that question by bringing up the pie and snatching Steve with you to bring it to the table since you two were the hosts.

The question forgotten, your mum – god bless her, she had caught up enough to know you did not want to discuss Steve’s age, even if it wasn’t that bad – asked about Steve’s field of study.

“History, minoring in pedagogics.”

“Oh? So you are a history teacher?” your dad chimed in and you swallowed as Steve confirmed that claim, walking straight into a death trap. You had seen it coming, you had, but you still winced when your father’s icy tone cut the almost festive atmosphere. “And it wouldn’t be that you’re more of a university professor, would it?”

His hand balled into a fist on the table, your mother’s lightly covering it as she whispered his name; the gesture of comfort, a silent plea for him to stay calm, didn’t quite work.

Steve, to his benefit, looked only a bit sheepish, meeting your dad’s eye with bravery worth of the Disney prince you had called him earlier that day. Also, with the same honesty… why hadn’t you agreed on lying to them again?

“It would, sir.”

“Oh. I don’t suppose then that it is a coincidence that you two met in school?” your dad continued and you sighed, your breathing progressively turning into a more and more of a difficult task with the anticipation of a storm.

“It is not, sir,” Steve replied calmly and you honestly didn’t know whether you should kiss him or punch him, unsure if his attitude made your father madder or not. “However-“

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and enraged; you felt yourself sink into your chair involuntarily, your mind travelling years back to the moments when he wasn’t pleased with you at all, yelled and sputtered words tasting of venom.

“Do you have any explanation for this inappropriate joke?” you father hissed, not caring he interrupted whatever Steve was about to say to your defence.

Your chest grew heavy, edges of your vision blurring subtly; your eyes burned and suddenly, you weren’t only remembering. You were reliving a memory, feeling like your child-self, like your teenage-self, being scolded for every imperfection; and there had been generous amount of those as you had been growing up.

Steve’s hand somehow slid under the table again, squeezing yours, a gentle wave of attempted comfort washing over you.

But it took one glance at him and you understood that silent support was not the only goal of his when he sought your touch.

His jaw was set tight, his grip a little too strong; he was trying to maintain composure, while not at all impressed with the tone your father was speaking with you.

Yet, Steve’s gesture did provide you with something you hadn’t had whenever you faced your father before; strength and true support, the essential reminder that you had done nothing wrong.

“Dad, this is not a joke,” you said, your voice shaking only slightly as you squeezed Steve’s hand back, “Steve and I are dating. Yes, he is teaching at the same college I study, but-“

A fist hit the table, causing the remaining tableware clank with the force behind the blow and you winced in fright, all muscles tensing in an instant.

“There is no ‘but’ applicable in this case!” your father spitted out, the anger in his voice making your guts twist, the sting in your eyes intensifying. “We help you to pay for school so you could study, not sleep around!”

Several things happened at once; your mother admonished your father, a level-headed whisper of his name. Your voice, too quiet as always when your father reprimanded you, tried to protest, to defend yourself. And Steve’s patience ran out, his outrage at your father’s demeanour showing.

“Paul-“

“That’s not what’s-“

“Don’t talk to her like that!“

“You keep your mouth shut now,” you father snapped at Steve, pointing a finger at him accusingly before turning his rage towards you again, the deep disappointment in his eyes somehow more hurtful than the anger. “Is it that bad with your grades that you have to—to--- Jesus Christ.“

The world stopped for several frantic beats of your heart, everything else in standstill. Multiple sharp breaths were drawn in, but you didn’t think either of them was yours.

Your father’s unfinished sentence echoed in your ears as if from a terrible distance and just like that—just like that, you were thrown several months back to the days before your graduation.

Rogers’ whore

Bet she’ll get the highest score

The icy feeling that froze your bones and crystalized the blood in your veins made for a stark contrast to the few hot tears you were distantly aware of that were running down your cheeks.

Many had thought of you that you were a set of holes to fill for the professor in exchange for passing an exam or two, which was disgusting, deeply insulting and obviously wrong. But those people didn’t know you- they weren’t your blood.

Your own father was now seconds from calling you a whore. The dinner turned into a stone in your stomach as the verbal punch knocked all air from your lungs.

“Paul!” you heard a swift reproach, quickly followed by Steve’s voice, dangerously low in a threat. “I’m sorry, what did you just imply about her?”

“You zip it-“

“Paul!”

It felt like a fucking elephant stomped on your chest, the spiral of pity and despair, mocking voices swirling wildly, tossing you around with a quickening speed as the circles got smaller and smaller, as if you were circling down the drain, your breaths coming shorter and shorter too-

And yet your father still continued, ignorant to all warnings and your inner turmoil.

“That’s over, my dear. I refuse to support such disgusting thing. And you, I don’t see how it’s possible that you still have your job-“

“DAD!” a loud cry cut off the monologue and it took you a moment to realize that it was you who just snapped and yelled, despite the unmistakable addressing.

Your father stared at you in mute shock as you dared to interrupt him; and frankly, with the world spinning, your stomach twisted and your chest constricted with anxiety, you were shocked by your actions too.

It was the fact that he doubted Steve’s position at the uni, flashed through your mind, the way he insulted the man you loved and who deserved all the good things. Or maybe it was his fucking attitude towards Steve and you in general and you just finally reached your limit. You weren’t sure; but shit, this ended now.

The silence that fell on the room granted you a few moments to breathe and calm your frantic mind.

“He is not using me like some f-“ -fuckdoll- “-fling or whatever. And he’s not even my professor, he’s-“

“Like it matters!” you father snapped from his trance, spitting the words, a vein on his temple visibly popping up as he rose to his feet swiftly, nearly sending the chair flying to the ground.

You stared up at him, the coil of despair and rage in your gut burning hot as he literally looked down on you.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You hadn’t been ready for your father to despise you for being in a relationship with a great man, to judge you so harshly without being able to listen for a damn second.

“It DOES. But even if he was-“ you tried to explain again, losing patience and the ground under your feet too as Steve’s hand started practically crushing the bones of yours.

You could physically feel Steve trying to hold back and slowly succumb to his not so nice emotions no doubt swirling in him just like in you.

“How can you not see that’s he’s only looking to get his---” your father gestured wildly towards Steve and rather low and you could hear Steve’s teeth grinding at the implication. Your blood reached the boiling point. How dared he to- “-that he’s only seeking a physical thing-“

“That’s not what this is. I love your daughter-“ Steve emphasized, expression fiery, voice surprisingly measured for a man who you believed was one moment from punching your father.

“Sure you do, son, until something with long legs and tall heels walks by-“

Steve’s chair scrapped against the floor and you quickly laid a palm over his chest to stop him from jumping to his feet and succumb to his righteous anger.

“Steve-“ you whispered soothingly, seeing the light tremble to his hands, tendons dancing under his shirt with the effort to hold back.

“Paul, that’s enough,” your mother interjected, grabbing her husband’s wrist to keep him back as well.

“I do love your daughter, I respect her and I fully intend-“

Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled shakily to compose himself. In the very back of your mind, you spared a single thought to what he was going to say before he shook his head and looked your father dead in the eye again.

“-I am serious about her and I want to and will be with her as long as she’ll have me.”

You had two full seconds to sink into the gentle sentiment behind his words, to cherish how much he did respect your choices and strangely, how he still doubted he could be enough for you, before your father scoffed dismissively.

“Well, I hope you are serious, because if she comes crawling back in few weeks, the door and the account will be closed.” He shot you one disdainful look that made your heart stop before twisting his arm from your mother’s hold and stepping away from the table. “We’re leaving.”

Your eyes slipped shut, a fresh wave of hot tears painting your cheeks, all strength leaving your body, darkness enveloping your mind.

He was cutting you off. He was going to disown you no doubt; that much of a disappointment you were to him.

Your own father hated you.

Dull ringing filled your ears, muffling your mother’s low voice.

“I’m so sorry for his behaviour.” She sounded truly regretful, her voice quivering a bit, you thought. “I’ll talk to him about what he said. Thank you for the dinner, baby. It was nice to meet you, Steve, truly.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve responded firmly, his voice the only solid thing in the room. “I’ll—I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary, Steve. But thank you. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”

A low whisper about a promise fell from her lips next as she brushed your shoulder, but you couldn’t hope to understand what she was saying, the buzz of blood in your ears growing louder.

And then you knew she was gone along with your father. You knew because a warm hand touched yours, another gently wiping way the endless waterfall of your tears and then you were pulled to your feet and practically dragged to the couch in Steve’s protective embrace.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You wouldn’t be able to tell how long you were drenching Steve’s shirt in tears, sobbing into his chest as he held you firmly and yet tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, words of comfort empty and yet so meaningful.

You couldn’t tell how long it took for the tremble subdue, for the sobs to turn into sniffles and then die out entirely.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry,” Steve whispered to your hair, caressing your scalp, your back the next, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” you creaked back, gripping the fabric of his shirt for one last time before you gathered your breath and courage to face him; you had to. You might be a mess, but it was vital that he heard you say this: “It’s not your fault.”

You withdrew slightly, meeting his eyes, so big and regretful, a bit watery as if he was the one crying. The corners of his lips, apparently having been turned down the whole time, twitched, his whole face twisting in a grimace; little sad, little defiant, but he didn’t protest even though you were certain that he wanted to.

Perhaps it was a testimony of how well you two fit, how your thoughts worked on the same wavelengths; you understood what he must have been thinking. If you were dating literally anybody else, this wouldn’t have happened.

So you had to assure him that you didn’t blame him; even if he did so himself. You didn’t have the energy to be angry with him for such thing. Mostly because that in a way, there was a tiny bit of truth in him thinking so.

“Don’t do that to yourself. I chose you. Yes, this relationship is on both of us… but we knew the risks and went for it anyway. And—it’s worth it, it’s just… fuck, this is so fucked up. I’m in such a mess now,” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears burned in your eyes.

Steve’s fingers were quick to dry your cheeks, gently stroking, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“We are, babygirl. We’re in this together. What’s mine is yours,” Steve said, determined. You couldn’t find yourself sharing his optimism, but his eyes locked onto yours, serious as his words. “We’ll figure it out. Find ways of saving more. Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll try to find a job that pays better-”

Your palms landed on his chest, pushing away, putting some distance between you; his hand dropped from your face.

Say WHAT?

“Absolutely not!” you protested instantly, sobering from your despair and letting indignation take over, ignoring entirely the voice in your head sweetly nudging you with the idea of what Steve was willing to give up for you. “I’ll drop off college before I let you give up being a professor, Steve-- you are made-“

“Not an option, sweetheart,” he shot back instantly, expression turning strict. “You leaving college is off the table.”

Mentally, you threw your hands up in the air, growing confused and frustrated by the minute.

“Why? How is that different from you finding a new job, giving up something you worked for so hard?”

“The difference is,” Steve raised his voice slightly, speaking slowly as if he wanted you to remember every word, “-that the chances are that I could come back at some point, that I might only lose a few years. You dropping off, on the other hand, would affect your whole future.”

The same exasperation you felt burned in his eyes now and you gulped, realization hitting you that… yeah, okay, that was a good point. But you hated it anyway.

“…okay, that’s a fair point. But I rather work three jobs and didn’t sleep at all than seeing you leave the university.”

“And work yourself to the ground? I don’t think so, babygirl,” Steve shook his head, just a smidge of patronizing which stung more than you would expect.

Obviously, he was presenting you with more of a feasible option, but you had a feeling that the primal instinct to be the provider played a role in his attitude too – and at any given moment besides this one you would like that; you were completely fine with him wanting to ensure you were secured, taking the larger portion of the burden on his shoulders.

Except now it reminded you of your father in the worst possible way despite knowing that the sentiment was nothing but sweet, no malice in his intentions. It chased tears into your eyes.

Steve’s expression instantly melted, panic flashing in his eyes as he must have figured out that this was not the right thing to say… or not the right way.

His hands were quick to frame you face, tender but unwavering, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s just… we’ll work it out, somehow, okay? We can even move out and share an apartment with someone else if we need to. Though you’re forgetting I used to pay this rent and bills on my own.”

Your lower lip quivered, your heart fluttering in fondness for this incredible man, your chest constricted at the idea of taking anything away from him, even if it was comfort. God, the distance he was willing to walk…

“You were living on school cafeteria food and ramen,” you mumbled, corners of your lips twitching upwards for the shortest moment.

Steve’s smile, on the other hand, was almost blinding, tight-lipped but honest, thumbs sweeping at the tears that appeared yet again.

“See, another possibility to save money. Don’t cry, my pretty girl…” he pleaded lowly, kissing your nose before shaking his head lightly. “Or cry if you need to. I’m here, sweetheart, okay? Whatever you need.”

Shit, your heart couldn’t hope to contain this amount of love-

How could anyone ever doubt Steve was the right man for you? The best man? The most wonderful loving human being? How did your father think he was just looking for a mindless fuck?

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, smiling through your tears. “Fuck my father. He can’t bully me into being his perfect daughter by cutting me off, can’t make me behave. There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.”

“Or me loving you.”

There was no questioning his honesty; it was written all over his features, his irises bright with emotion. And yet, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, insecurity, your old friend, crawling into your head.

“You do, really? Even with my asshole of a dad?”

You didn’t mean it. Entirely. Though momentarily, your dad was being an asshole, not for the first time.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re my everything,” Steve promised, releasing your face in order to tuck messy loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

“That’s the sweetest thing to say, but you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth-“ Oh. Even though… maybe that would be an option? “Well, technically-“

All the gentle warmth radiating from Steve’s expression turned ice cold, smile dropping so fast it startled you.

“Don’t you even-“

“Hey, why not, I mean how much do you think-“

“Stop that right now!” Steve’s voice cut you off, razor sharp voice as if cutting into your skin.

You flinched at the mental blow on instinct, air stuck in your throat, muscles in your back straightening enough to inflict a sharp pounding in your head.

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling painstakingly slow, as if he got punched in his gut too. His fists on your sides clenched and unclenched, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looked at you again, it was obvious he realized he had scared you – and that he regretted not keeping his anger in check.

“I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean for it to come out this harsh.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, focusing on nothing but your breathing and keeping yourself from sobbing again as you were reminded of your father’s yelling. With each long second, you could see Steve’s face twisting and his body sinking into the couch in shame.

Well. As much as you hated him snapping at you, you had to give it to him – it sobered you up. Frankly, you didn’t blame him for being so harsh.

But you were also aware that Steve was a painfully kind and gentle soul and he never wanted to be rough with you… well, except under certain very consensual special circumstances.

“I know,” you forced an unconvincing smile, laying your palm on his cheek, affection Steve was quick to lean into with a sigh – probably both relieved and content. “I’m sorry for talking stupid.”

He covered your hand with his, carefully manipulating it so he could brush his lips over your palm.

“You’re not, not really. Our heads are a mess, rightfully so. I know people still do that, some purely by choice, but—I don’t want that for you, ever. That’s the same level on a will-never-happen scale like you not continuing your masters. Not an option for me. You’re my girl and if someone’s gonna change their habits, it’s gonna be me first.”

The surge of affection at his words filled your stomach with butterflies, wrapping around you like the softest and warmest comforter.

Great, now you wanted to cry for a whole different reason.

“I don’t deserve you,” spilled from your lips before you could think twice. Steve’s sweet smile made its return.

“Other way around, babygirl. Other way around…. Now how does a bath and a bed sound?”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve hadn’t planned on you and him having a bath when making the suggestion. He found a bath-bomb even and few candles so the light wouldn’t have to be on and hurt your previously teary eyes.

But then you looked at him with wide eyes, pleading and so vulnerable, a single look so heartfelt that it would make the devil’s black heart break and the angels weep – and he was done for, sinking into the bath with you even if the bathtub was not meant for more than one person, especially when one of them was of Steve’s built.

He couldn’t tell you no. Less so after the shitstorm the dinner had turned into.

Yes, Steve’s own emotions were running high, anger, disappointment and self-hatred he knew he couldn’t confess to, certainly not at the moment, but you. You were the priority here because he had a feeling that no matter how overwhelmed he felt, he had nothing on you.

The ceramics of the tub was hard against his back and against his knees at the side, but you fit into his arms and between his legs so perfectly and contentedly that he wouldn’t dare to complain. Head in the crook of his neck, your back to his chest, you melted into him, eyes closed, fingers absently and yet affectionately running over his forearms above water, sometimes along his calves.

You didn’t talk much, mostly repeating that it wasn’t his fault, that you loved him – something he found himself echoing every time – and it slipped through your lips too that while you would never change the fact that you picked him… you were sorry for being a disappointment to your father.

At that, something in Steve’s chest cracked and he swore to himself – that he would never ever be the cause of you feeling like a disappointment. And why would he – you were his perfect girl, his best girl. As much as he regretted that he indirectly did have a hand in making you feel like this now, he wouldn’t change who you were to each other and who you were had he had the chance. Never.

What he could do was to hold you tighter after your admission and whisper more sweet nonsense that made perfect sense to him to your ear.

By the time the water got cold, you were practically asleep, completely groggy, pliant. Somehow, you both climbed from the tub without sustaining any injury. He might have been holding you upright a bit as you both brushed your teeth and pulled on a pyjama.

You fell asleep almost instantly, face hidden in Steve’s chest, few stray tears dampening his sleepshirt as you mumbled one more love confession into the fabric.

“I love you, Steve... I’m sorry… you have to put up with such bullshit…” Your words slurred but Steve didn’t need to hear them to understand what you were saying.

He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the sting of guilt in his gut.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, earning a hum that might have been a sign of contentment… or you being entirely drained. “Let’s go to sleep now. Clearer head in the morning.”

Another hum and then nothing but your deep slow breathing, the last remnants of tension leaving your body.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve didn’t think he would follow you to the dreamland anytime soon, too agitated, thoughts swirling wildly in his head, but he caught himself snapping back to consciousness at some point, unsure when he fell asleep – and what woke him up.

An intrusive buzzing on your nightstand provided him with the answer, your phone lit up.

Steve spared you one glance as you stirred only to nuzzle deeper into his frame, sighing.

As carefully as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, he stretched over you and checked who was calling.

Blood crystalized in his veins, heart sent into frenzy as he read a simple short word.

Mom.

He squeezed the side button, silencing the vibration as he pondered what to do; and yet, even as his heart jumped to his throat – as if he was a teenager about to face his girlfriend’s parents after he took her virginity – he had already made a decision, accepting the call as you sank into the cushions without him as a pillow.

He slipped from the room as silently and quickly as possible, announcing himself before you mother could say something not meant for his ears.

“Oh. Hello, Steve,” your mother greeted him, clearly surprised – but much to Steve’s relief, not angry.

He could do this, he could talk to your mother even with the lump in his throat; could have been much worse. Could have been your father and Steve wasn’t so sure if he would manage him. For one, he would hate to be reminded, once again, of what the numerous hate letters had told him about being a total perv; for two, Steve feared he might exchange words with your father that couldn’t have been taken back and would seal the damage done to the relationship with your parents .

“I’m sorry, ma’am. She fell asleep and—I can wake her, of course, but-“ He stumbled over his words and was immensely grateful when your mother saved him from his misery; more se when she said what she did.

“-but she had a rough night. We all did. I’m okay to talk to you, Steve.”

“Alright… how can I help, ma’am?”

“Tell me how bad she is, Steve? She stopped crying before she falling asleep?” the woman on the other side asked softly, causing Steve’s heart to squeeze in a painful memory of his own kind mother, God bless her soul.

And perhaps it was that very memory that encouraged him to speak openly, the genuine worry of a mother who cared deeply for her child, her heart full of love.

How such woman could end up with such an asshole and stay with him was beyond Steve’s understanding, but he certainly wasn’t in position to judge the choices of the women in your family – after all, he was your choice and there was a long line of people who looked at the two with disdain.

“For a while,” Steve admitted with a sigh, his gaze automatically flickering towards the bedroom. “She’s—she feels like she disappointed you in a way, she’s scared of the what’s next, but she’s angry too, because she doesn’t think she did anything wrong by being with me.”

And Steve thought the same… to a point. Didn’t matter that sometimes he would find himself in a dark place where he simply awaited the moment you’d change your mind and left him; for someone your age, with better looks, someone smarted, someone funnier, someone who didn’t have to shave off his beard just so your parents made it through the front door without yelling.

Such gloomy images always left him more desperate than he was comfortable admitting and with searing jealousy in his gut.

He needed you. Yes, he’d survive if you left – but he was certain that you’d take his heart with him, leaving him unable to fall in love ever again… or to feel whole, for that matter.

“She wouldn’t leave you to get her financial support back, Steve,” sounded gently on the other end of the line and Steve’s heart skipped a beat in alarm, brief wonder if he had said any of his latest thoughts out loud.

He supposed he didn’t – your mother was just too intuitive, just like his used to be. He gulped against his dry throat, suddenly guilty for – in a way – forcing you to leave them.

“…I suppose not… I’m sorry if-- it was never my intention to steal your daughter from you, but I’m- I’m not gonna pretend I mind that she would rather be with me than had her money.”

“This is not your doing, Steve, don’t you think I don’t know that,” she continued, a subtle smile in her voice, Steve thought. “And it’s good that she’s willing to make this choice. We wouldn’t want the bride to get cold feet, after all.”

Steve’s heart stopped altogether, he was sure of it. Colour him mortified.

How the hell—but- she couldn’t--- he hadn’t proposed yet and he- what?

His stomach twisted in a tight knot. He couldn’t but ask, voice barely above whisper.

“…how did you know?”

“You stopped yourself mid-sentence, Steve. And as cliché as it sounds, you had fire in your eyes, defending my daughter. It is clear to me that you are serious about her, that you love her, and from the little I heard about you, you are the kind of man who would put a ring on it to seal the deal.”

You mother was definitely smiling now and Steve found himself doing the same, even if the lift of his lips turned sour.

“I would have asked for parents’ blessings, but…”

“I give it,” she was quick to assure him and Steve’s breath hitched, his chest puffing with pride, filling with endless relief and joy. Your mother approved of him. Even knowing who he was, how old he was, how—she was willing to give him her blessing! “You seem like a good man, Steve.”

Steve was both embarrassed and ridiculously proud when he realized he was blinking against tears gathering in his eyes, enormous weight falling from his shoulders.

“That, uhm—that means a lot, truly,” he choked out, swiftly clearing his throat, the embarrassment definitely winning now. He had to get it together before he gave out how weak he could be in front of your mother… she had given her blessing; she could easily take it back.

“I like you, Steve. You’re a good blend of an old-fashioned and modern man. Don’t mess it up and keep my daughter happy.”

“I will try my best, ma’am,” he declared in an instant, meaning every word.

A sigh sounded from the speaker. “That’s all I ask for… now the less happy reason to call. I talked to Paul, but he… I’m sorry, Steve, as for now, he still isn’t fond of you.” That didn’t surprise Steve, but it hurt nonetheless. Then again, he was grateful that your mother tried to put in a good word for him; that meant a lot too. “He only agreed to pay for three more months.”

Steve’s free hand balled into fist, the other clutching the phone considerably tighter as hot surge of anger flooded his veins.

Three more payments. As if the relationship with your family was a damn job contract and this was the notice period.

Steve was sure he was going to be sick.

“Thank you. That’s… we appreciate it,” he managed to grit through his teeth, trying his damnest to remember that he wasn’t mad at the sweet woman – only at her husband.

“You really are a good man, Steve. You’re good for her. I’m glad she found you.”

Steve would once again be entirely joyful at being at least your mother’s favour, but he heard you call out his name from the bedroom, low, hoarse and utterly confused and all he could focus on was the idea of you, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair and still adorable, looking for him in the dark room with a pout to your lips.

“Steve?” your mother called out unsurely and Steve snapped from his reverie.

“Sorry, uhm, she’s awake-- do you want me to hand you over or-“ he blurted out swiftly, hoping the answer would be no as he couldn’t wait to crawl back to bed with you.

“No, just tell her I called. I believe you two have things to talk about. Take care of my daughter, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jane, Steve,” she offered kindly just as Steve heard the soft patting on your fluffy socks on the floor.

“Yes, Jane,” he corrected himself then, unable to contain the satisfaction as he tested the name on his tongue. “Thank you, really. Goodnight.”

He ended the call as you emerged from the bedroom, squinting to the low light, your eyes instantly finding him – he automatically smiled for you, unsubtly splaying his arms wide. You didn’t hesitate, aiming straight into his embrace even if it was at snail pace.

It was funny and strange and wonderful how Steve still loved simply holding you, his heart calmer the moment he found you melting into his frame. Christ, he loved you… and clearly, your mother noticed; he was so obvious, that-

“You were gone,” you muttered into his chest discontentedly, nuzzling into him and Steve automatically cradled you to him tighter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admitted bluntly, propping your chin on his torso to look up at him, eyes growing wide and surprisingly soft with emotion. “More so because I was talking stupid and crying into your shirt instead of comforting you after my dad accused you of the things that--- those things that aren’t right.”

Steve felt the painful nudge to his consciousness, because he knew there always would be some truth to ‘those’ words; but you were here to dilute the pain and make it all better. Your care for his well-being served like a shield for the sticks and stones for now at least, when you were the priority. You had it worse at the moment, no matter what his former colleague had accused him of in those hate letters – and now your father.

“Hey, no. Don’t worry about me now.”

You gazed into his eyes, pushing on your tiptoes to peck his lips and the small gesture of affection was like a balm to his soul, much like your words.

“But I do. Always. I love you, Steve… I’m sorry we can’t catch a break… but we’ll… somehow, we’ll push through, right?” you whispered, hopeful and wistfully determined and Steve could only nod, feeling the corners of his lips rising.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”

“And you’re my guy. My prince charming,” you hummed, cradling his unusually smooth cheek, irises full of wonder, the sensation was as foreign to you as it was to him. But it was your babble that made him chuckle, the nickname that seemed to catch on; you were too cute for words. “Guess I am Cinderella after all and somehow you accidentally fell in love with me.”

“Damn right I did,” he confirmed, brushing your forehead with his lips before tugging you back to the bedroom. “Not all that glitters is gold.”

“True. Though you might have some glitter from the bathbomb on you.”

“Cheeky girl.”

He didn’t bother pretending to be offended or grumpy; he was simply too happy to see some of your snarky teasing side making its return, that was always a good sign.

“I try… but really, are you okay?”

Steve didn’t respond at first, climbing to the bed, manoeuvring you to his arms where you belonged and fit so naturally. Only when the lights were out and you were both comfortable, he replied, truthfully.

“I will be. I have you. Plus, your mum seems to be okay with me.”

More than okay, apparently.

Steve’s heart fluttered with a bit of nerves as his mind wandered to the ring he kept in the very room you fell asleep every night.

“As she should,” you hummed, sounding very pleased. “She has a nose for good people. And you’re the best.”

“After you at least.”

“Best man, then,” you argued playfully and Steve was perfectly content to have you think that. It would play in his favour when he would finally find the courage to sink to one knee in front of you.

“Well, I’m certainly a lucky one… I have the best woman.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest over the fabric of his sleepshirt and sighing blissfully. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too.”

If you only knew how much…

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

Stockings (next in timeline)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Wink wink. I once again stretched this quite a bit, but hopefully you reached this very end without skipping something ;)

Thank you for reading and extra thanks if you happen to like, reblog and/or comment. Stay safe and happy!

(Also, to American friends: I hope you'll have better Thanksgiving than this ;) )

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kitchenangst · 4 years

Text

Before Anything Good pt. 1

Mako x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Barely one month of living on the streets, and Mako has grown skeptical of anything good that’s offered freely to him. When the girl from the other side of town calls him stinky and demands he take a shower, he might just be right about his newfound cynicism.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: first time writing a fic so pls feel free to give constructive criticism and say any errors i make! very very slow burn, might have inconsistent tenses

a/n: hi!! This is just my interpretation of Mako and Bolin growing up on the streets, but if there’s any errors of whatever kind pls let me know!!!!!

pt. ii | pt. iii

Mako hated it. The crawling suspicion of stares grabbing him like wisps of fire over his body whenever he walked down the streets never left, even if he was in the faux safety of the dark alleyway he now had no choice but to call home. He couldn't help looking around, trying to find the pair of eyes that pitied him, the sneaky hands that tried to pickpocket the only remaining yuans he had, or the thoughts that hated dirty, useless, rotten children who had nothing better to do than steal for survival.

He unconsciously reached for his little brother's hand and hunched his shoulders to his ears, the red scarf loosely wrapped around his shoulders reaching higher and higher up his face as his eyebrows deepening his scowl moved lower and lower and his legs dragging themselves faster and faster.

He ignored the tugging on his hand until he heard his brother's strained call, "Mako? Ow, ow, ow!"

Mako whipped around to face his brother just as he stopped in his tracks. "Bolin! Are you okay?" His eyebrows undoing the previous tension and raising in concern before realizing Bolin was pulling his own hand free from the bruising grasp he held. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your hand," he lamely responded with a wince despite not being the one in pain. His hand found its place on his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, I spotted those bullies from yesterday. Let's get going."

Mako's eyes continued to flicker around, only returning Bolin's gaze once he noticed the subtle nod of his head. He let Bolin walk ahead of him, his own hand protectively hovering over the younger one's shoulder, and continued to walk at Bolin's pace. Admittedly, it was slower than the one he usually walks. Bolin, at the age of 6, isn't as tall as Mako, doesn't have the will to keep his stomach from growling even longer, and sees walking leisurely as a better way to conserve energy than speeding away from bullies.

The low humming of fire crackling and the unpredictable wisps dancing along his skin returns, and he can't help but grab Bolin's shoulder more firmly, moreso to ground himself from getting lost in the uncontrollable heat than to run away at a moment's notice. He pockets his other hand and busies himself with recounting the yuans he brought today. At the count of 21, his head follows the sudden blur in the corner of his eye, making sure to remember every face that so much as makes eye contact, stare, leer-

"Mako?" Bolin calls when the hand on his shoulder is near a death grip, which, to his relief, immediately loosens. "Can we get dinner? At the place with the nice lady who gives us free tea?"

1358 yuans. That's the remaining amount of currency they had after selling every article of clothing and anything salvageable from their wrecked home once their parents passed. That's enough for about 6 weeks if they keep eating at food stalls for breakfast and dinner and split it between the two. 2 months, at the very least, if they were to live off of apple-peaches, maybe longer if they resort to stealing--

No! They're orphans, living on the streets, having just lost their parents and in no way, able to contact their relatives from Ba Sing Se. Even after being turned away from every door, they still had to be law-abiding citizens and were expected to pay for their needs. Then what had they done for their parents to pay their life for them to end up huddling underneath the worn down cardboard as their blanket? Mako blinks the stinging feeling of tears away before they have the chance to form.

Even after 2 weeks of the unfortunate event, Mako and Bolin still couldn't get used to the hard concrete beneath them, how the cardboard will never be as soft as a blanket or wrap around their shivering forms, or how their dad's scarf that smells like home was starting to smell like sweat and smoke. Although Mako wears it during the day, he makes sure to wrap it around Bolin’s neck, and leaves the ends of it centered between their two forms once they lay down.

Mako thanks his mom for teaching him the basics of fire bending, seeing as Bolin revels in the warmth of the flame lit between them that paints his face in the softest of oranges and reds better than any compliment or praise. He kept the flame lit, reciting his mother’s bedtime stories until Bolin's eyelids grew heavy and were far and fewer in between blinks. With a small smile, he pulls the cardboard over their shoulders once Bolin returns his good night, and lets sleep take over.

Wake, eat, restroom, sleep. Although it wasn’t always in that order, the two brothers were growing familiar with the schedule. Protect their money, check their money, and use it sparingly. Luckily, Bolin was able to earthbend a small chunk of the ground out to place their money. It looked a little out of place… and anyone could bend or dig it out… but it was better than placing it directly underneath anything else (they did put some effort into concealing it by adding more rocks around it). Other than protecting their money, they deal with the bullies who happen to always start the verbal war, and it usually ends with either the brothers running away or with their parents scolding them. Whatever their reason, the two are just glad to see them gone.

“Why are you two just sitting there?”

Speak of the devil, Mako internally groans as he puts himself in front of Bolin. He looks up to tell the person to screw off, but halts at the new face. Just a few feet away, a little further from the alley entryway, the setting sun casts a warm shadow on a girl, no older than him, with her brows furrowed and a frowning mouth to match.

Bolin’s form visibly shrinks at the new person, and in Mako’s legs, the flames grow frantic and set his instincts on fire to run and to leave before her parents would confront them with their pitiful stares and-

“Are you lost?” Her voice lifts in confusion and distracts him from his turmoil.

With a scowl, Mako responds, “Just leave us alone.” To get the message across, he crosses his arms and looks as intimidating as he could.

Not frightened in the slightest, she persists. “Why? Won’t your parents worr-”

“We don’t have any!” Mako's hands gesture wildly, as if pointing in every direction will show her his parents are nowhere to be found.

Her eyes find their way to Bolin’s before meeting Mako’s again, and her brows lift in understanding. “Oh… I don’t know what to say…” Whatever expression she wore turns blue quickly.

“Then don’t,” Mako spits at her with any remaining energy he has. Even briefly mentioning his parents always leaves a sour note in his mouth and somehow drains him of his energy. “Better yet, just leave us alone!”

The next few seconds drag out like months with the way Mako glares at her, and he’s caught off guard when she suddenly grabs his hand and tugs him out of the alleyway, too flustered at the thought of holding hands to yank it out. She looks over her shoulder, making brief eye contact with Bolin as she motions for him to follow her.

“Where are you taking us?” Bolin questions once he catches up. “You’re not taking us to the butcher, are you? To be butched?”

She looks down at him and laughs. “Silly pig-bear! I don’t think you’ll be very tasty when you haven’t taken a bath!” Mako quickly swipes his hand from her hold to grab Bolin, who was frozen at her blunt statement. “No, no! I was joking,” she quickly explains at the sight of Bolin’s fearful eyes and Mako beginning to drag them away from her. “No, I just wanted to take you to the bakery!” As if timed, their stomachs growl at the mention of baked goods.

With great reluctance and Bolin’s pout, Mako gives in. “Fine, but only if you’re paying.”

She tugs their hands to their destination again, the swinging in her arms, the upbeat humming, and the bounce in her step all indicating her happy mood. Happy for what, Mako doesn’t know. He wouldn’t understand why a stranger would be willing to bring them somewhere to eat unless she had some sort of intentions. Her mood was effective in lowering his guard a bit, though, if it meant that the handholding wasn’t as unpleasant as he thought it would be when it was for something other than life threatening. Even Bolin had gotten over his initial dilemma to ask, “So, how are you paying?”

“How else would I buy the bread?”

“Well, sometimes we steal apples to save money.”

Just when the girl opens her mouth to respond, Mako quips in. “Money that we don’t have!” The weird look she gives prompts him further, “Because… We’re homeless, and we don’t have any…” Right, because any idiot would be dumb enough to say they have money unprotected while they’re away from it.

At her nodding, she stares ahead, expression saddening as she starts to speak, “I’m not going to force you to come and pay, if that’s what you’re worried about… If you guys don’t have any money, how have you been eating when you can’t steal?”

Mako’s shoulders begin to relax at the thought of not paying for food, having hardly noticed that they were tense the entire time, while Bolin faces the ground, as if what he was saying next would bring him shame. “Sometimes we don’t eat at all.”

And they advance to their destination quicker, if her sudden change in pace were any indication of her giving these two food faster would make the dampened mood lighten up. Her grip tightens as if telling them it’ll be okay, and for a moment, Mako believes in the nonverbal reassurance. For the past 3 weeks, Mako has grown accustomed to the nasty looks he’s given when he’s trying to scour for free food, and only knew of a hand that was used to put him in his place, to bring more pain into his life than he needed, to point fingers, and he hated any hand motion other than being motionless by the side of its owner. Now… maybe he can count on this hand as the one that leads him towards the dimming fire that he tried to put out during his time on the streets.

She lets go of their hands to face them. Both brothers look to their right as the crisp aroma drifts into their noses, the scent filling their bodies with the familiar warmth they haven’t felt since before their parent’s death. “Okay, before we eat! You guys stink,” she announces to bring their attention back to her.

Nevermind. I take it all back. Mako’s brows scrunch the same moment her nose does when he opens his mouth. “What do you expect from two homeless kids?”

“We don’t even have washed clothes,” Bolin adds.

“Okay!” Her eyes were as bright as the bulb that lit her ideas. “Because I’m paying, you two have to take a bath. Or shower. Whichever you prefer.”

“And you suggest we do that…” At her confused look, Mako continues, “where?”

“My house, dummies!” Their rigid nodding making her nod along excitedly at the idea of doing good. She opens the door to the bakery, the bell above chiming and the faint aroma from before now assaulting the party’s noses as they take in all the bread on display.

a/n: thank you for reading!! also yeah, you’d think after reading for so long, writing would come to you haha no so make sure you appreciate the writing blogs you follow and read from!! I do plan on fleshing this story out all the way to book 4 but I have no idea how long that’ll take or if it will be done at all. also sorry this ended weirdly but i’m tired and i just wanted to get it out there and the way i planned it would’ve been SO long so I’m splitting this bit into another part! it’s a slow burn like I mentioned in warnings but yeah, be prepared. it’s a LONG time before there’s any romance going on hehe

pt. ii | pt. iii

#source: lok art of the animated series #lok #legend of korra #mako x reader #mako #mako imagine #lok x reader #lok imagine #haha the title abbreviates to BAG #pls dont repost #which i will now proceed to tag as #BAG #cross posted

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inorganicone2230 · 4 years

Text

Time and Time Again (Part 1) 1930′s Yandere!Overhaul x Fem!Reader

Prologue TBC in Part 2

Summary: An accident that should have killed you has instead left you stranded decades in the past with no apparent way to get home. You are saved and offered assistance by Kai Chisaki, a charming young man at the head of a powerful yakuza organization, who oddly enough believes your story. But Kai seems to have more on his mind concerning you than simply lending a helping hand, and as the days turn into weeks, you begin to wonder if he’s ever going to let you leave.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Warnings and tags will be updated as the chapters progress.

Side Note: I do NOT and never will condone the actions committed in this and future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME!

Frigid and stiff.

Those were just a few of the words that came to you as your eyes began to flutter open, the slight facial movement causing the splitting pain in your head to become the forefront notice of your mind. The rest of your body was sore and stiff as well, but your head was where the pain was the worst. You were wet, your clothes drenched, the cloth water logged and heavy as you tried to push yourself up. It hurt to move, but at least it didn’t feel like anything was broken or dislocated, that was a plus in your book.

Gingerly turning your head to look around, it took your brain a few moments to process and catch up with the events of what happened before you woke up in this state. It all came rushing back to you at once, the walk, finding the old path that led to the cliff and then the sudden breaking of the ground under your feet as you screamed and fell over the ledge. You tried to recall if you remembered hitting the water, but the rest up until now was blank, meaning you must have passed out during the fall. Your vision was blurry and your brain felt like mush, but even those handicaps didn’t get in the way of you determining that this place was nowhere near the spot you originally fell from. From what you could recall of the spot where you were before, one side of the river had been right up against the cliff wall that you had fallen from, you still had no idea how you survived a fall like that, and the other was along a rocky shore and a forest. Now though, the waters of the river were much calmer and the stretch of water was flanked on either side by sand and thick forest, the current having likely carried you quite a ways down before you washed up on this little shore.

On pure instinct, you reached into your still zipped up pocket for your phone, along with its accompanying solar powered charger and were amazed to find that the expensive waterproof/shock absorbent case had done its job and protected the delicate tech device’s. It turned on just fine and there wasn’t a scratch on it, but it was telling you that you had no service, so you would still need to find some sort of civilization or an area near a cell tower before you could get help.

“This is bad.” You said to yourself as you finally stood up on shaky legs. The movement caused your already splitting head to pound even harder and when you pulled your hand away from your temple, you were unsurprised to find that what you’d been hoping was just water running down your face was actually blood. “And it just keeps getting better and better.” You groaned, internally chastising yourself for not having brought a little first aid pack just in case and vowing to do so from now on no matter what.

Looking around, it was impossible to tell where you were or how far down the river had carried you, but you figured that your best option would be to follow the flow of the water and hope that it would eventually lead you to some place you could get help from.

As you slowly began making your way along the bank of the river, it didn’t take you long to realize that the sun was beginning to set already and what very little warmth the day had to offer was quickly disappearing as the sun sunk lower and lower behind the mountains. Your clothes were still saturated with water and you were so cold that it physically hurt to move, it was impossible not to focus on it when every move you made brought the reminder to the forefront of your mind as the bitter cold material clung to your body and made you shiver to the point that your teeth were chattering uncontrollably. If you didn’t find help soon, it was likely you wouldn’t make it to see the morning. If the exhaustion didn’t make you keel over first, then the next option you’d have to take a guess at would be hypothermia setting in, but you needed to keep going, you had to find someone to help you or you were a goner.

So, despite how painfully cold you were, you did what you could to ignore it, along with the throbbing ache in your head and pushed on further into the darkening forest.

—————

Something was wrong...

It was pitch black out and it took about two hours of near painful and freezing walking, but you did eventually manage to find a road. There was a distinct lack of streetlights though and if it weren’t for the headlights of the occasional passing car, you may have missed it entirely, but that wasn’t what was bothering you, not entirely at least.

No, what you were finding odd were the types of cars that were passing you.

Oldsmobile was the word that came to mind when you managed to get a decent look at them. Every single one looked like they were brand new, like they were from the turn of the century or something straight out of a period piece style movie. Not that there were many cars out and about, but of the few that had passed by, not a single one seemed to be a newer model. It made you wonder if there had been some kind of event going on nearby, like a car show or something similar, but that didn’t explain why every car driving by looked like it was from a different era.

However, the model of the cars wasn’t your biggest concern right now, what was truly your greatest dilemma was that none of them were stopping to help you. You had tried to flag down every single one that passed and they all either just kept going or outright picked up speed. Your cell phone still wasn’t picking up a signal either and by this point, what little bit of adrenaline you had been running on before was now gone and you could feel the stress and fatigue finally starting to hit you. Walking was becoming increasingly difficult and with every meager step you took, you could feel your head pounding harder and harder. All you wanted to do was pass out and sleep for days, but doing that here would more than likely mean a death sentence.

Tears brought on by both fear and frustration began to roll down your cheeks as you took another painful step, your knees locking up and almost buckling under your weight. A broken sob escaped and that one sob led to more and more following in its path as you stumbled down the darkened roadside.

“Please… someone help…”

—————

“I want this leak taken care of by morning Hari, the last thing we need right now is the police sniffing around where they’re not wanted.”

“Understood Sir, I’ll inform Rappa that he’ll need to pay them a visit tonight.” The driver of the sleek black Packard replied, his gaze briefly shifting to his rear-view mirror to make eye contact with the handsome golden eyed male in the spacious back seat.

“No. Rappa’s too messy and we need this handled quietly and efficiently, but it still needs to send a message to anyone looking to capitalize on our name and turf that this kind of behavior won’t be overlooked.” The man’s gloved fingers tapped against his knee in thought for a moment before coming to a conclusion. “Send Nemoto instead. Tell him to make it look like a generic hit, like another organization was icing out their competition. Execution style should look standard enough.”

“I’ll handle it as soon as we get back.” Hari replied. “It’s late, but is there anything else you wish for me to handle before tom- what the hell?” Hari’s voice trailed off as he spotted something, or rather someone, walking along the roadside as he slowly drove by. It was too dark to make out the features while in a moving vehicle, but whoever it was, they were far too shapely to be a man as far as he could tell.

Kai heard the way Hari’s sentence had trailed off and he glanced in the same direction his lieutenant’s gaze was briefly focused as he continued to drive and watch the roadway. It took a moment for his eyes to spot what had caught his attention but when he did, he was rather surprised.

Walking along the side of the road was a strangely dressed woman. It was hard to tell what she really looked like in the brief moment that the headlights had hit her, but she appeared to be in trouble. She had her arms wrapped around herself as she shivered from the cold mountain air and it looked as if she was soaking wet, not a good combination in these kinds of open elements. Normally Kai wouldn’t have cared about some nobody, but this was an isolated mountain road miles and miles away from any towns or people and she didn’t appear to be prepared to handle this kind of terrain or temperature. Her clothes, while strange looking and not normal for a woman, seemed to be ill equipped for being out here and her shivering posture only added to that conclusion.

As a young child, Kai had been abandoned and left for dead on the streets, surviving on nothing more than his wits and determination to stay alive. This was how his life had stayed for a good number of years, but that all changed one summer when he’d met the man that helped forge him into who he was today, the man that took him in and raised him up to be strong and confident, the man who gave him everything.

Pops.

Pops had found him on the streets and gave him life again, had fed and clothed him, hired all the best tutors to teach him how to read and write as well as an assortment of other curriculum's, had treated him as if he were his own son. And one of the most important lessons that Pops instilled in him was to always treat a woman with a certain amount of respect and dignity, to be a gentleman. Kai took everything Pops taught him very seriously, and that included this. So while Kai himself wasn’t some paragon of virtue or that good of a person by any stretch of the word, seeing a cold and lost young woman alone on an empty mountain road, he couldn’t help but flash back to all those lessons and feel the need to help her. Though his curiosity over her strange clothing and wanting to know what exactly she was doing out here definitely played a part in deciding his next decision.

“Hari, pull over.” Kai ordered, his tone firm and commanding.

Hari did as he was told without question, the moment he had seen the woman he knew that this was more than likely going to happen. Kai was nowhere near being a model citizen, but he wasn’t a complete monster like most believed him to be, his acts of kindness were simply very selective and few and far between. In many ways, Kai’s anger was like an irritable cat having its fur stroked in the wrong direction; if one played by Kai’s rules and did everything as he expected, then he would remain content, if one didn’t play the game by Kai’s standards… well then they better pray that his claws were the worst of their punishment.

Kai told Hari to stay put in the car and to keep it running as he stepped out to look towards the young woman who was now illuminated by the headlights. She was a tiny little thing already, but the way she was shivering and huddled in on herself made her look even smaller. She was half soaked to the bone, desperately in need of a bath and beat up as well, he could already see the dried blood that coated the right side of her head and long (h/c) hair as well as other numerous little cuts and scrapes that were littered across her face and bare hands. Cleaned up she would be quite the beautiful young woman all things considered. He was definitely right about her clothes though, they were some of the oddest garments he had ever seen on a woman. From the damp black coat that looked like it was more for appearance than practicality, to the provocative skintight trousers and fitted leather boots that both concealed her body and showed it off, it was a far cry from the usual long skirts, baggy pants and pressed blouses that most women wore, but still very flattering on her.

But it wasn’t until she lifted her head to meet his gaze that he truly became captivated.

It was her eyes, they were big and (e/c) and they were staring at him as if he was an oasis in a vast desert, as if he was her god given solace and it left a strange feeling chorusing through him. The best way he could describe it is by remembering a time from his childhood, when he was still very little and his aversion to all things filthy had not quite set in as strongly yet, when he had fallen out of a tree he had climbed. He remembers how it had seemed as if time slowed down around him as he plummeted down towards the ground, how he felt weightless and it left a tickling sensation in his stomach right before he impacted with the ground. It was a rush and his desire to find out who this woman was was even more consuming now than it was a few seconds ago.

“Are you alright Miss?” He asked smoothly, trying his best to sound as cordial as possible so as not to spook her. “You appear to be injured.”

Finally, after what seemed like forever, a vehicle had stopped for you and a seemingly handsome young man stepped out to ask if you needed assistance. Your head was pounding and your vision was so blurry though that all you could tell about him was that he had short dark hair and was dressed in a stylish dark suit with a slight vintage look to it and a black dust mask that covered his face from the nose down.

“I-I had an accident…” Your voice sounded hoarse and weak when you spoke and it took everything you had to stay standing upright as you wobbled on your feet. “Fell in the river while… while on a walk.”

Well that explained why you looked half drowned, Kai thought, his concern rising when he saw the way you were swaying from side to side. Just as he was about to speak again, you beat him to it, but what you said left him confused since he had no clue as to what you were speaking of.

“Pardon me Miss, but what did you say?” He calmly inquired.

You shook your head, trying to clear away the cloudy haze and black spots from your vision as you fought to get the words out through your dry mouth. “My-My cell phone is acting weird, can’t-can’t get a signal… could I borrow yours?”

Cell phone? What was that?

Kai knew what a telephone was, they were still relatively new though and very expensive. But he had never heard of a cell phone before, and what was that you had said about a signal? This was becoming more and more intriguing by the second. Were you speaking of something real or were you merely hallucinating and babbling nonsense?

“I am afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about Miss. I’ve never heard of a cell phone before, but if you have someone you’d like to get in contact with, you’re more than welcome to use the telephone I have back at my home.” He gestured towards the still running car, fully expecting a heartfelt thank you and for you to get in without further questions, what he got instead was not at all what he had been expecting.

His head shot up when he heard you scoff and a rough, humorless chuckle fall from your pretty mouth. “That-That’s just great…” You mumbled sarcastically, just loud enough for him to hear. “First car to stop and help and it’s some jackass wanting to play fucking mind games with me.” You looked him in the eye, you gaze hard and unflinching. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll take my chances with walking. The last thing I need right now is help from some asshole who just wants to fuck with my head.” You spat bitterly and began to make your way past him to continue on down the road, but stopped when your movement brought on a sudden dizzy spell and before you knew it, you were slumping to the ground as dead weight, your vision going completely black as you quickly lost conscience. Your anger and frustration had cleared your head for only a moment, but just as quickly as the clarity had come, it was gone again, and it took your waking mind right along with it.

If he was a more sensitive man, Kai may have been appalled and shocked at the way you had just spoken to him. Most women who met him saw his wealth in the way he dressed and carried himself and most threw themselves at him in an effort to gain his attention, some succeeded, some were cast aside, but what they all had in common was a more conniving way of going about it. They were flirty, trying to sway his opinion of them by stroking his ego with pretty words and coy smiles, and it had become boring. When he was younger, he had taken women to bed only to avoid being looked down on by his peers and other members of the organization, and while he had made sure the ones he chose had greatly enjoyed themselves, he himself had never gotten much more than a weak release out of those moments.

But you didn’t appear to notice or care about his appearance or the visible signs of his wealth. Instead, you simply ignored him as if he was just some random nobody you had met on the street, even going so far as to speak to him in a disrespectful tone and use crass, unladylike language on top of it. He knew he should be feeling slighted and angered by your lack of respect, but instead, all he felt was elated and proud. You were already a pretty little mystery that he wanted to solve, but now you were proving yourself to be a challenge for him to conquer and break.

But before he could do that, he needed to find a way to get you back to the compound and under his care and supervision. You were obviously hurt, disoriented, and lost, so his fist order of business was seeing to it that you got proper care and were back on your feet first and foremost, that would give him time to plan out how best to go about this new pet project of his.

Luckily you passed out before making it too far and he quickly ordered Hari to get you into the backseat of the Packard, to which his lieutenant did without question. A spare blanket from the trunk was draped over your small frame and as he took his place in the passenger seat up front, he reached back and placed his still gloved hand against your forehead and even through the material he could feel that you were burning up with a nasty fever. Once back at home, he would need to have Dr. Takani take a look at you after the maids gave you a bath and changed your clothes. It wouldn’t be right to let his new little curiosity become too ill after all.

He had found you and now you were his responsibility to care for. He was a man that took pride and care in all his possessions, and already you were becoming his new favorite. He didn’t know a thing about you, not even your name, but that was part of it, finding out everything he could about you was going to be half the fun of it.

“Where would you like to go Kai?” He heard Hari ask, but he never took his eyes off of you beautiful face as he replied.

“We’re going home.”

Sorry if this seemed a bit rushed, I was too excited to post it and didn't do a whole lot of editing besides a quick once over. lol

#yandere!overhaul #yandere!overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #1930's au #time travel #no quirks au #yakuza #the beginnings of yandere behavior #typical yandere behavior #yandere bnha

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cotccotc · 3 years

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I am in such a weird place regarding what you and these 9ther anons have mentioned and I have so many conflicting feeling sod I apologize ifnthis doesn't make much sense but I kinda wanna rant about how I feel on this matter so here I go

I have been so incredibly blessed as a creator on here to have amassed an incredibly kind and understanding following, I have literally never been pressured to release/post anything and I've only ever received 1 hate anon (which honestly read more like a troll than anything since all it said was "stfu bitch") so I've had no external pressure to post, and yet i still feel guilty when I don't lost. I see requests sitting in my inbox for months even though I DO plan to write them eventually and I feel so guilty, and while I've never considered deleting my blog/writings entirely I HAVE considered clearing my inbox but I never end up doing it because I really WANT to get through all the requests I have, especially the ones I'm super excited about, eventually

And the weird thing is that I've been posting WAY more than usual these past few weeks since I've felt super motivated to write out of nowhere, and yet I still feel guilty because I'm not working on what I feel like I should be. I'm writing a couple holiday fics which I feel like I should prioritize because I'm enjoying them and I've set a hard deadline for them for myself, but the task of completing them seems so huge because of how MABY there are so even though I know I'd enjoy writing the fics if I just DID IT it feels so overwhelming that I don't write as much for them as I want to. But I'm also trying to write some non-holiday fics but I feel like I'm either prioritizing those TOO MUCH over the fics with a deadline or not prioritizing them at all </3

I've basically created all this internal pressure and expectations for myself and my writing even though everyone externally has been so kind and understanding, and I have no clue how to fix it because even though i still greatly enjoy writing, these issues make me feel so upset and and SHOULDNT and I wish there were a way to just get rid of them :/

hi hi yes ty for joining the conversation !!! i definitely get what u mean when u say there’s no External pressure to post. it’s interesting how there rarely is for creators on here, yet the internal dilemma persists. and i ALSO 100% understand working a lot on projects ur not “supposed to” work on. a lot of the time when we make posting into a job or chore of sorts it’s easy to work on other things as an escape, esp since that’s what posting on here was intended to accomplish in the first place ! it’s definitely overwhelming but i think if we started to prioritize what we Want to create over what we feel like we “Have To” create it’ll be a lot easier. (which is def easier said than done but still)

also. THIS:

VERY VERY WELL SAID !!!!!! everyone uses the internet and tumblr specifically at their own pace, and should be ALLOWED TO DO SO !!!!!!

moral of the story is Just Do what u Can … When U Can lol

#ask v ☆#bb anons ♡

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reluctant-mandalore · 4 years

Text

Touch (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: Fluffy, love confessions, and some mention of violence/violence taking place. Not written by me, I’m just the poster <33

Writer: @tobusydaydreaming

Note: Hey guys! This was part of the surprise I had for you today. Today you are receiving two fics!! (The other one will be posted later today) This fic isn’t actually by me, but is instead by my best friend @tobusydaydreaming who asked me to post it for them. They’re amazing and very talented so be sure to show them some love! Also, Reilly I love you, thank you for trusting me with your fic. You’re beautiful and I adore you <3

When you tell someone you like them, like like like them, it can go one of two ways: they either feel the same, or they don’t. If they’re nice, they’ll let you down gently. But what happens when you feel the same? A reciprocated love confession is typically followed by a dramatic kiss, or soft gazes and hand-holding. What happens when neither of you thought you would get to that point and are both internally panicking?

That was the dilemma that a woman and her Mandalorian partner were currently facing. Not three hours earlier were they staring death in the eye together. Both pinned down by a squadron of mercenaries, friends of one of their bounties. The blaster fire and explosions seemed endless, and the pair didn’t think they would fight their way out of this one.

“If we don’t make it out of this,” the woman had said, “I want you to know something!”

The blaster fire was so loud, that the two had to yell to be heard. If they made it, she was sure her voice would never recover. She quickly ducked down, a shot narrowly missing her face.

“And that is?” the Mandalorian, Din Djarin prompted.

“That I am so glad you asked me to be part of your crew. I wouldn’t trade this life for all the credits in the galaxy, and-”

A near-deafening explosion went off just beyond their pitiful defences.

“And I really like you!”

The Mandalorian peaked over the barrier with his blaster, taking down three men in quick succession.

“I really don’t think this is the time!”

She peeked over the barrier too, only hitting one man. Much less impressive than her partner, but at least she didn’t hit the wall this time.

“No, Mando, you’re not listening!”

“Y/N-“

“I really, really like you!”

She watched the Mandalorian’s helmet snap over to where she was crouched. She was sure that his helmet could pick up on the sound of her extremely loud heartbeat. Their moment of pause was short-lived, however, when a brazen man walked around the Mandalorian’s corner, blaster raised. The woman was faster than him, getting a perfect bullseye right in the middle of his forehead, and he dropped. The Mandalorian didn’t even flinch.

“You like me?”

“Have since you saved my ass on Hoth!” she involuntarily shivered. The cold would forever haunt her nightmares.

The blaster fire seemed to falter for a moment, which only meant one thing: recharging. Both the woman and the Mandalorian took this intermission to poke around the corners and shoot at their attackers for as long as possible. They each took down a handful before they started their fire again. The pair sat down beside one another behind their shotty cover.

“If it’s any consolation...I like you too.”

She felt her heart soar and drop simultaneously. She learns the one thing she’s always wanted to know right before she’s about to die? Typical.

How the pair got out was a little tricky to understand. In all the chaos, the Mandalorian and the woman had failed to notice the large crate of explosives three feet away from them. They were somehow able to get it, detonate it, kill everyone but themselves and walk away generally unscathed. Not even they were sure how it all went so perfectly. Maybe Lady Luck decided to stick her neck out.

Their miraculous escape left them feeling sore, exhausted and desperate for hyperspace. The further they were from this hellhole planet, the better. They walked back silently, just looking over at each other from time to time to make sure the other was actually there. Actually alive and with them, because they had something waiting for them back on the Razor Crest. The kid.

The woman had taken on sort of a maternal role for the little green child. She would watch him while his father, the Mandalorian was out hunting. She would play with him and feed him and sing him to sleep, and she loved her job. She loved the kid. She loved the kid’s father, and now he knew it.

This is what weighed on her mind as she sat shotgun in the cockpit of the Crest. The little babbling child had been so excited about his parents' return that he quickly tired himself out. He slept peacefully in the belly of the ship in his floating cradle, dreaming sweet dreams of little blue shrimp and jumping amphibians.

He wasn’t aware of, or old enough to understand, the tension surrounding the Mandalorian and the woman. She knew that they couldn’t just act like they never said what they said. At least, she couldn’t. But she didn’t know if it was too soon to bring it up. They did almost just die, after all. But watching the stars reflecting off his helmet, the way they seemed to dance, she couldn’t wait.

“So...you like me too, huh? How uh...how long has that been a thing?”

She was about ten seconds away from throwing herself out the nearest window. The fact that they were in space made it all the better. She could die quickly and take her embarrassment with her. Her companion stiffened, but only for a moment. He stayed quiet for a bit, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Since Hoth.” came his modulated reply.

The woman went big-eyed in disbelief. This entire time, he had liked her back? Did he also lay awake at night asking “what if?” Did he also let his gaze linger when she had her back turned? If she hadn’t been so shocked, she would have been furious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A pause.

“Nope.”

She scoffed at him, but she had a large smile on her face. Then, the Mandalorian did something the woman did not expect. He hit a few buttons and moved a knob or two, before turning his chair to face the woman head-on. She stared into his visor, trying her best to look him in the eye. But she could only see the reflection of her own looking back at her.

That was what always concerned her. He was a Mandalorian, and he lived and breathed their creed. The culture was something Din Djarin held very close to his heart, and the woman had always respected that. Her life and personality were vastly different from that of the Mandalorian, and she had always wondered if that eliminated any chance of being more than friends.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you. I’ve never really had anything like,” the Mandalorian gestured vaguely between them, “this. I don’t even know where to start.”

The woman didn’t think there would be anything else that could really surprise her. Yet here she was, being proven wrong. When he wasn’t terrifying and spoke more than one sentence, Din Djarin was very sweet. No matter how short or blunt they were, his words were always kind. So the woman couldn’t help but wonder why a Mandalorian woman hadn’t bagged him in the past.

“Can Mandalorians even date outside of the creed?” she asked.

It was so faint she could have missed it. A louder than normal exhale of air from the Mandalorian. A chuckle.

“We can. It’s just...not as common. Other Mandalorians accept the creed better than those who aren’t.”

The creed. It was the creed that forbade her from ever seeing Din Djarin’s face. Unless they were married, which had been an impossibility when she had woken up that morning. Sure, she had felt his face before. In the dark of night, just barely making out the silhouette of his body. With a blindfold on, being guided by his hands. With her eyes closed in the biggest act of trust between them. She had always been accepting of the creed, but she couldn’t help longing to see the man under the mask.

She wondered if that was part of why he liked her. She wasn’t exactly the cream of the crop when it came to dating options. Her aim was slightly off, she couldn’t tell you what tool you were holding and her flying was alright on a good day. But she was loyal and dependable and damned if she wasn’t determined. She was a stable constant in Din Djarin’s life, and that was no easy feat.

“I guess we can start wherever we want. Wherever we feel comfortable starting.” the woman said.

Both the woman and the Mandalorian sat in a comfortable silence, deep in thought. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle hum of the Crest’s engine. If you listened closely, you could hear it straining through hyperspace. How the ship wasn’t falling apart at the seams, the woman would never know. But it had become home. The smells, the mechanical problems and the little corner of the storage room she claimed as her sleeping area. It was small and cramped, but there was nowhere else she would rather be.

“I have an idea if it’s not too much for you.”

A modulated hmm was the Mandalorian’s response. The woman held out her hand, making a grabbing motion. The Mandalorian tentatively reaches out and placed his hand in hers. She smiled. It was a smile that never failed to made Din Djarin’s chest warm. It was that smile that made every bad thing seem worthwhile.

The woman gently peeled the thick, leather glove off one hand. It was calloused, coated in scars and twice the size of hers. She held it gently in both of hers with a softness that was so very foreign to Din Djarin. At least, it was until he met her. She had felt his bare skin before, helping with the odd injury here and there. But this was a first. Hand holding for hand holding’s sake.

She played with her partner’s hand, moving her fingers gliding along his palm and intertwining their fingers every so often. It was one of the few precious moments that the two of them so rarely got. A calm in between the storm of hunting bounties. The Mandalorian spread his hand out flat, lining the two hands palm to palm.

They sat like that for a few moments, just basking. The woman then moved her partner's hand, placing it gently against her cheek. The rough thumb of the Mandalorian began to rub small circles and patterns against the woman’s cheek. She sighed in response, closing her eyes and pushing her face more into the Mandalorian’s grasp. Physical affection was something both were new to, but craved so deeply.

“We can go as slow as we want, Din.”

Din Djarin absorbed her words. Kind words that danced across his mind and made him feel light. Since he had never really put any thought into relationships, he never realized that he could feel so light. Genuine kindness, especially when it’s directed at him, was worth more than any credits a bounty could give him.

The woman shifted her face even more so that her lips connected with the Mandalorian’s hand. She peppered a trail of soft, ghost-like kisses across the palm, up to the tips of his fingers, then back down again. She planted one final kiss in the middle of her partner’s hand, lingering there a little longer. The woman opened her eyes, still caressing the Mandalorian’s hand against her face.

“I’d like that,” he said. “I really would.”

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 4 years

Text

Imagine: Joe realizing he’s falling in love with you, but quickly finds himself in serious denial...

(NOTE: This takes place in the same universe as my Valentine’s Day, 1983 fic ((AKA- this story takes place 3 years after that)). I recommend reading that before or after you read this, it doesn’t really matter when.)

Internal conflict, anyone...?

-----

(June, 1986)

A hot evening in Paris met you both once your afternoon together came to an end. You and Joe had spent the day at each other's sides (being as you both really wanted to go out and about, but neither of you wanted to do it alone), and were now about to get settled into the hotel room you rented at the last second. Yes, you were staying with Steve and Phil in their apartments for a weekend visit, but after careful consideration, the impulsive decision to stay on the opposite side of the city for the night prevailed. Since you knew you could, you decided you would. Besides, 6pm and trying to fight your way across Paris seemed like a bad idea.

"It's like an exclusive sleepover," you teased as you trotted through the door into the lightly colored room, "Ooh, and it's so nice in here too! There's a great view of the pool down below, so that's definitely exclusive."

"Exclusive?" Joe laughed as he entered with all the shopping bags the two of you acquired throughout the day, "Yeah, I can get behind that- 'a luxurious and exclusive sleepover'. 'Specially with all the loot we've gathered.”

He held up the bags with a grin and set them down against the wall. "'Specially with the sense of fashion we've gathered," you turned the new, ribboned sunhat you were wearing.

He pointed and nagged, "You mean the sense of fashion I gathered for you?" "Oh please- I found the hat." "But I paid for it!" You made your way to the balcony doors and opened them, letting a cooled breeze blow your long, thin shawl forward, "And I thank you immensely for that, but you didn't have to! You were just being nice!" Joe slid onto the closest bed and warned, "It was calling out your name, Y/N. I couldn't just let you walk out of there without it! It probably would've followed us out of there if we didn't get it." "Now you see why I suggested you get those knee-highs?" you sat on the other bed with a bounce, "I thought the leopard print was only fitting for Leppard's lead singer." "And the stitched-in glitter? Was that 'only fitting' too?" An inhale sounded from you, but you passed it off with a huff of laughter, "Yes- of course it was! Tacky is totally you." Joe flopped onto his back and laughed out loud; it was all he could think to do. For the whole day, he felt different around you, like there was some sort of strange tension between you both. He didn't think of it as a negative feeling, but more of an awkward feeling than anything. He felt almost like a kid trying to act cool around a role model. And while you didn't notice it, Joe knew he had trouble forming correct sentences whenever you were around that day, and also felt the invisible pressure of your presence. He didn't know what to think of it; this feeling was out of his control. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was trying to impress you. Whatever part of his subconscious was making him feel strange around you, he didn't want. He just did his best to ignore it. "I just like colour, and so do you," came his defense (along with a pair of fanned-out hands), "Tacky or not, colour's just my way to go." You got up with a scoff, and made your way over to the shopping bags. As you pulled out a new tape player you recently bought, you requested, "Just shut up and pick a tape. A nice room needs some nice tunes- and there's no way for you to be tacky with that." "Don't test me." he warned with an evil smirk. Next, you pulled out a small stack of tapes you bought, "C'mon, dude, I've always trusted you with the music picks- don't blow it! Now, I think I might have a mix or two in my purse, but you've got mainly these to choose from." Joe rolled over onto his stomach and gazed down at the array of tapes you scattered on the floor. He scrunched up his face in playful thought and concluded, "Well, these are all brand new- but I don't think you should break in a new player with a new tape. You gotta go old-fashioned, so I say pop in whatever mix you find first." With an approving nod, you took off your hat, plopped it on the floor, and ran a hand through your hair to fluff it out a bit. You reached for your purse to drag it over and let your fingers scan around the inside until you came across the tape in question. "What's this one called?" he asked once the tape was in sight. " 'Same Old Tunes', since it's just the same songs I always wanna hear- but just a warning, you might hear yourself on this." He wanted to look annoyed, but came off looking flattered instead. After you got the batteries and the tape inside the player, you pressed play and let the solid beat flow from the new speakers. Joe's eyes lit up upon hearing the song, "Eddie Money? I expected no less from you." "Please, the Money Man always seems to find his way on there somehow," you pointed at the player. Not a second later, what sounded like two loud, separate, but consistent knocks sounded off from the other side of the room's door.

"Come in?" both you and Joe answered confusedly.

The door swung open, and Steve and Phil burst inside. Both ecstatic, they immediately started rambling off to you. "Y/N we need you!" Phil sputtered first. "We need you downstairs right now!" Steve urged next. You turned to them, still sitting on your knees, and put your hands up, "Woah, woah, hold on- what are you two doing here?" Joe didn't even move a muscle, as if he were used to this kind of thing. He added onto your interrogation, "Yeah, and how did you know we were here? We were just about to call you and-" "Oh we got out and about; you two are easy to spot and follow," Phil shrugged, pushing the dilemma aside, "Now Y/N, we need you to do us a favor right now-" "Why though?" Steve butted in, "And we need you to do this for us with no questions asked. Alright? It's for a bet, we'll tell you that much, but there needs to be no questions from you. What we need you to do is we need you to walk downstairs with us, go out to the pool, and just jump in without a word." Phil cut him off and held up a finger, "And we need you to pretend you don't know us." Now utterly perplexed, you turned around and exchanged a look with Joe on the bed. He had nothing to say, but he did raise his eyebrows, pout, and shrug; the traditional expression and gesture of "might as well". You looked back at the Twins and sighed, "Guess this outfit's safe to dunk... okay, okay, let's go." They both quietly cheered as you stood up, and as Joe broke down laughing, rolling onto his back. "Don't move until I get back!" is what you laughed at him as you threw all your change out of your pockets. You slipped your shawl off your shoulders, bunched it up, and threw it at Joe (who caught it with one hand). "I'll be watching!" he called out just before the door shut. Just like that, he was alone- and alone with the music, no less. "Got so high we had to pull to the side, we did some shakin' 'til the middle of the night!" He sat himself up, sitting cross-legged, and gazed down at your shawl which he held in both of his hands. At this point, he realized his heart was pounding. The feeling of it confused him; it was the same sensation he experienced all day around you- the same sensation he felt when you took off your hat and ruffled up your hair, and the same sensation he felt when you took off your shawl and threw it at him. Again, though, he tried to ignore it, and stood up to watch you fulfill the dare Steve and Phil put you up to. He took slow steps outside onto the balcony, walking among the hat and the tapes you left on the floor. "I got a little nervous..." That's what this feeling was- nervousness. Why was he feeling so damn nervous around you all of a sudden? "She took her coat off..." The image of you taking your shawl off came to him suddenly, then it turned into the image of you taking your hat off as well. He saw the tan and white woven stripes being lifted up, the red ribbon flopping, your hair falling down as the pre-sunset sunlight beamed on you in an almost heavenly way, and your hand going up and messing up your locks just the right amount; it was all he could see. In his eyes, the sight of you was something like an earworm he couldn't tune out. "She looked so pretty..." Then, you were throwing your shawl at him again, and his mind repeated the song's line without thinking twice. "She looked so pretty..." Immediately, he caught himself, and time slowed down. "Wait, wait, did I just call Y/N pretty?" his conscience nagged him. "I'm always talkin', baby, talkin' too much-" Joe looked out at the city bathed in the sunset. Everything was so slowed down and still for the first time that day, and his mind was now vulnerable. Right then and there, his thoughts started to tangle him in their own sort of intrusive web, and he tried to get out of it like his life depended on it. "That's why you bought her the hat," one voice said, "You thought she looked so pretty in it." It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it persisted. He questioned it and tried to reason with it. "Do I think Y/N's pretty? Is that why I'm nervous around her?" Another voice in his head droned on, "Duh, of course she's pretty, but it's just a platonic feeling. She is good-looking; gorgeous, even-" His heart dropped into his stomach at the word "gorgeous"- it also wasn't what he wanted to hear. He was only making it worse. So then why was he thinking it to begin with? Again, though, Joe shook away the feeling altogether; he spotted Steve and Phil out on the pool patio several floors below, and they met up with two other guys he'd never seen before. The singer smiled to himself, wanting to see if all went according to plan. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he saw you walk outside, pick up speed, and then jump right into the water without hesitation.

Joe let himself laugh as the Terror Twins cheered, and as you popped to the surface of the water. You looked up at him from far below and waved, sporting a big grin. Joe waved back as well, almost in a daze, then got sucked back into the web. "See, that right there; why are you so fucking nervous around her all of a sudden? It's not like we've got any romantic tension with each other!" Down below, Steve and Phil pulled you out of the pool, and you each gave them a sopping wet hug. Your laughter and their cheers of triumph echoed up to the balcony, and the acoustics of it all prickled a latent memory of Joe's. It was a memory of a different hotel, also in France, but with a certain song playing in the distance. The faint memory gave him the heart-pounding feeling as well; it had to be associated with you. He gasped to himself, and suddenly the full memory flooded back to him. "We kissed-!" he thought. "Valentine's Day, three years ago, we KISSED- how the hell could I forget something like that?!" The fact reached his mouth, and he very quietly repeated it to himself out loud, in denial, "I kissed Y/N..." He couldn't believe himself, but he liked the sound of the sentence. He hated that he liked the sound of it. It was almost like a sudden dream come true. "Kissing Y/N was never a dream of mine though, was it? No, no, it couldnt've been..." But then again, he recalled enjoying the kiss. He thought about it a lot the next day, and the next day after that. After the next next day, however, he just let it go. Why make trouble over something that would just ruin a good friendship? There was no use being hung up on it if he didn't have any feelings for you. "I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough." Again, his mind repeated the song without thinking twice. "I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough." Finally, his mind delivered the killing blow. He froze, and let it hit him. "Wait, am I in love with Y/N...?" For that second- that very long second- reality was put on hold. Joe remained frozen, and gazed off at the sight of Paris before him. The evening wind blew his hair back as it picked up some speed, and he shivered in the heat. If he thought that same thing at any other time that day, he would've dismissed it immediately. However, it seemed to hit him rather hard right then and there. He just couldn't understand why. It was only making the web pull him in more. "Is that what I was feeling all day...?" At that moment, Joe realized that the only way out of this web was to consult the others for advice. However, he knew he couldn't. Yes, they were closer than brothers to him, but you were also practically one of those brothers. Whatever he was feeling, he knew he shouldn't be feeling it about a fellow brother. This was the last thing he could tell anyone, and he knew it instantly. It was nothing but a mistake in the making. Despite that, he still tried to picture what everyone else would say to him. Maybe doing so, he liked to think, would help himself get untangled. Suddenly, Rick appeared next to him, and he asked, "Why are you thinking about Y/N so much right now?" "I'm not trying to!" Joe pictured himself being defensive right off the bat, "I did spend the whole day with her..." The vision of the drummer scoffed at him, "Hate to break it to you, mate, but you spend almost every day with her. Why is today the day that you're all tongue-tied?" "The hell if I know, but it's not like she's the only thing on my mind..." And with that, you were suddenly taking off your hat and ruffling your hair again, and then you were throwing your shawl at him and trotting out the door, and then you were sitting with all the tapes, and the sun was shining on you from the balcony. You were the only thing on his mind. "You want to be what's on her mind, though," Sav suddenly chimed in, taking a seat on the bed, "Because you just can't spend enough time with her. You're always looking forward to being with her." Rick pointed out, "And oh boy, did you soak up all the Y/N time today." Sav leaned back and chuckled at the comment, "You really did, yeah." As Joe looked between both of them, he didn't know what to say. Instead, he let his eyes drift over to the television. He blinked, and suddenly it was on, and you were on its screen, going through a stack of tapes you might buy. Rick walked over to it, changed the channel, now making it display you looking out at the Seine. He pressed it again, and then you were taking a picture of the singer at a crosswalk. Again, and you were trying on the red-ribboned hat in the accessories shop. "Every moment from today that you're remembering," the bassist went on, softer this time, "Is a moment where you thought she looked pretty, right? Those were times where you just wanted to look at her. You do realize you could've looked at her all day, right?" "Yeah... but I did..." And he did. He couldn't deny. "It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go..." Joe turned back to the outside, and Steve was next to him on the balcony now. He beckoned him to watch the scene on the patio more, "And look at her down there, making a good time happen with us. Times like these always happen when she's around, right? Don't you want times like these to last? You know that's only possible if she sticks around- and I mean for a long time." "Just call Rosanna, it's a hell of a show!" "Yeah... yeah, that's true..." Joe sighed. Steve leaned on the railing, teasing him, "So you admit you want her around all the time?" Joe scoffed at the guitarist who wasn't there, "Well, yeah, of course I do- she's wonderful! You like her too! We all do! It's not like I'm totally engrossed by her." When he turned around and began to walk inside, he looked up, and Phil was suddenly in front of him. "Then why are you still holding her shawl?" Joe looked down at the garment in his grasp, and his heart sped up again- as if he were holding part you in his hands. He hadn't been aware that he was still holding it, but he couldn't let it go. He was stuck, and didn't know what to do with it. He looked up, desperate for more advice, but his band mates were gone. "Shit," he breathed, fixing his gaze on the bunched-up fabric.

He slowly returned to the bed, and laid himself back down. His fingers were still tangled in your shawl, and he stared blankly ahead at the ceiling. Now, he was at a loss. Sav appeared out of thin air again, and looked down at him, "Calm down, mate. You've just got a crush- it's nothing big!" "If it's just a crush..." Joe tried to tell him, hating the word of choice, "Then why is it so... paralyzing?" Sav straightened himself up and bit his lip, "Oh, that is a good point..." Then Sav was gone, and a new song was playing. "I do recall, those were the best times most of all..." Rick was back as well. "It's just a phase- you won't feel like this next week. Just wait it out, you know?" "I've been feeling like this for weeks, Rick," Joe spoke up to the ceiling, "Maybe even months. I never knew it until now but- this nervousness, or whatever it is, it's been sticking around for a while. How long until it passes?" "In the heat with a blue jean girl, burning love comes once in a lifetime..." The drummer sighed and stood up, "Oh god, I can't tell you that..." Then Rick was gone, and Steve and Phil were on either side of the bed. Steve talked to him first, "If you're this paranoid of being in love with her-" "Don't say that, mate!" Phil playfully barked at him, then leaned in close to whisper, "Joe doesn't like that word-!" "What- 'love'? Well he better get used to it, because that's what it's looking like to me." Joe covered his face with a hand, and kept the other on your shawl. Steve went on, "Anyway, if you're this paranoid, how the hell are you gonna survive the night with her here?" Phil made a small gasping noise, and looked down at Joe, "Oh my god, is that why you suggested getting a hotel for the night? You thought that that Valentine's Day kiss would have a part two?" "No! No- I agreed with her- I wasn't the one who suggested it!" "Then that's why you agreed. It was just an opportunity to spend more time with her," Phil reasoned. "Okay, look," Joe sat up, and turned to Steve, "Maybe you were right in saying I want her around more often, and maybe I do think about her a lot, but I don't care about any of that right now. All I want is to define this feeling as something that's not serious. I just wanna hear that it's not real, and I want to believe that. I want to be satisfied with that. Okay?" The Terror Twins fell silent and exchanged looks with each other. They really had no other choice but to tell him. Steve patted Joe's shoulder and said, "But we're you, and we've told you a bunch of times that it's not real. You're still not satisfied. Maybe you better listen to that." Then the younger of the two guitarists was gone. Joe stared at the empty space in front of him, and laid back down with a sigh of resignation. At this point, Phil got up and stood at the foot of the bed. "I think you're gonna have to be on your own for this one, mate." "Yeah, thanks for that." He attempted to get through to the singer, "But why is the thought of this scaring you so much if it's not true?" Joe didn't want to answer anymore; he'd had just about enough and was ready to accept defeat. His silence didn't stop his friend's voice from continuing, however. "Oh... you're scared that it's becoming true..." Joe met him with more silence. "And you know that you can't love her, cos she's part of the crew. You think you shouldn't love her, cos' it's 'not right'..." A breeze blew through the room again as Joe continued to stare at the mirage of the guitarist with quiet annoyance. "You and Y/N have just been 'a little bit more than work pals' for a few years- and you're afraid anything else would just be... wrong..." Joe's head tilted towards Phil, eyes creating a dark, fed-up expression, "Laying out the facts for me isn't helping at all." "Well, then... I've got a proposal," Phil clapped his hands and pointed at him. He took a few slow steps towards the bed, and sat on the end of it. "You do?" Joe sat up, looking hopeful, as if he might finally have a way out of this mess. "I don't think you're in love with Y/N." Joe's eyes lit up, and he gaped at his friend's sudden conclusion, "You don't?" "No, no, of course not," Phil shook his head, "Too rushed." "Oh, thank god. What a relief..." Joe closed his eyes and laid back down. Just like that, the web was gone, and he could go on with life normally as if this had never happened. Those words were all he needed to hear. "'Too rushed'-" Joe thought to himself, "How simple a phrase, yet the relief it provides is overwhelming. Can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!" Just when he thought he was in the clear, he realized Phil was still there, staring at him. "You're not off the hook so easy, Joe." he frowned. Joe scoffed at him, "Why not? You gave me what I needed- you can pop away now!" Phil gave him a smile of sympathy- the slight smile someone puts on before telling bad news. That was all it took to make Joe's heart leap again. "You aren't in love with her, but wow- are you falling pretty hard." Then Phil was gone, and Joe was alone with the music again. "Those summer nights are callin', stone in love..." Then that was it. That was his death sentence: not in love, but falling pretty hard. Somehow, that was even worse than being fully in love with you. Joe was still laying motionless on the bed with your shawl long after Phil had disappeared. His own words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his mind. Each thought was another seed that branched off and formed new interpretations of the same, fatal conclusion. "I'm falling in love..." was what it always came to, though. "I'm falling in love... with Y/N." He didn't want to be thinking this- he knew it wasn't right at all. Being a lover- your lover- wasn't supposed to sound comforting to him at all. Maybe it felt inevitable, but it also felt wrong in some way. He knew he shouldn't let things come to this- but he couldn't help it. If he was falling, that didn't necessarily mean he was going to land. That's what made it scarier. How long would he be stuck like this for? He'd rather bury it deep in his mind and just forget he ever thought of any of it. And yet, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes; the thought of being with you. It drove him mad. "She looked so pretty..." one corner of his mind said freely again, now that all the damage was done and he could think with ease. It kept replaying over and over again in his head; all of it- all of the moments from that day that he loved. It started with you smiling at him, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you looking out at the city, you smiling, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you smiling- And then the door to the room suddenly opened, and Joe was brought back to reality. Time sped up to its normal speed again, and his eyes snapped out of their closed state. You were now in the doorway, and soaking wet with a towel around your shoulders. Joe sat up without even thinking, dropping your shawl on the floor in the process. Just like that, all was back to normal. "Well that was unexpected!" you laughed, walking over to him with excitement, "But it did us a lot of good-!" He watched as you revealed a bottle of wine (very expensive wine- if that) from underneath your towel, and held it out for him to take. Joe, still not having said a word, took the bottle, his jaw dropping as he stared at it. "How the hell did you-?" "It was part of the bet that those two idiots made- they gave me part of their share," you told him, smiling proudly. "What kind of bet involved you- specifically you- jumping into the pool fully clothed?" "Oh, I'll tell you in a bit- I'd rather get dried first," you began to dry off your hair and walk into the bathroom, "They ran the story by me real quick as we walked down there. It involves two idiots that aren't Steve or Phil, a golf ball, a lot of alcohol, and ten strangers." "Sounds like a normal day for them if you ask me." You laughed, "Oh, believe me, it's not the worst thing they've ever done. And they're not gonna skin us alive for flaking out on them for the night- so I call that a win." Joe glanced at the bottle in his hands again and chuckled, "So now what do we do with this?" "We drink?" came your reply. "Sounds good enough to me- but what are those two doing now? Are we gonna run into them at all or...?" You walked back out, holding a hair dryer in your hands, "I don't think so, but we may have to bail them out of jail tonight. I already told them we've never seen them before in our lives." "Good call- but I still wanna hear this bet story-!" You rolled your eyes, put the hair dryer down, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. You threw it on your own bed and sat down, ready to tell him the tale as your tape kept playing on. "Golden girl, I'll keep you forever..." "So earlier today, those two went to a bar, and a golf ball bounced up and landed in Phil's drink..." As you started off with the recounting of events, Joe took in the entire sight of you. He paid attention to every detail of your face, your voice, your hair- everything. As he did so, he could still hear the words he imagined Phil taunting him with: "But wow- are you falling pretty hard..." And maybe he was, but with you in front of him right then and there, he felt perfectly content with that. If that was the case, he figured he had no choice but to ride it out and watch it happen. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. You seemed happy with the way things were, so things could only get better, right? Either way, Joe was falling in love, and he knew he'd let himself fall until he hit rock bottom. "Can't help myself, I'm falling stone in love."

---- “Shakin” by Eddie Money “Stone In Love” by Journey (x)

#def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader #joe elliott x reader #original content #i wrote this last summer (2019) and decided it was finally time it saw the light of day #i wrote this before the valentine's day thing rpgmotmrtrhw #i just had a vague concept of that story and wrote it like 2 months after i finished this #this was at least 80% inspired by the song Shakin #I'm proud of this one bc I don't normally write something that has the whole plot as an internal conflict #but this was fun to write- especially all the visions of the guys #yes I drew that illustration at the very very very end #I once had someone actually buy a print of that from me uwu

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messie2624 · 4 years

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Title: The SeroMomo Dilemma

Chapter: 4

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Relationships: Sero Hanta & Yaoyorozu Momo, Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto & Yaoyorozu Momo

Characters: Yaoyorozu Momo, Sero Hanta, Kaminari Denki, Jirou Kyouka, Mineta Minoru, Todoroki Shouto, Class 1-A (My Hero Academia)

Additional Tags: the fake dating AU where they don't end up dating, the fake dating AU where they're both gay, Lesbian Yaoyorozu Momo, Gay Sero Hanta, Bisexual Disaster Kaminari Denki, Bisexual Jirou Kyouka, Gay Todoroki Shouto, Pervert Mineta Minoru, Mentions of homophobia, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships and Characters to Be Added, platonic seromomo, Platonic TodoMomo, Eventual Kamisero, eventual momojirou, Yaoyorozu Momo has anxiety, Sero Hanta has Chronic Pain, sero hanta has anxiety, platonic kamijirou

Language: Ongoing

Status: Complete

Summary: All Momo needed to do was lie to Mineta about having a boyfriend. Sero just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Fake Dating AU (where they don't actually date because they're both gay)

Link Above, Fic Below

Momo had never gone on a date before. She imagined it would be similar to the ones from all those slice of life manga that Hagekure reads. She and Sero would be seated at a nice, quiet, small cafe, not far from UA’s campus. The day would be filled with conversation, getting to know each other, and trying to figure out where to go from here.

She ruffled through her closet. What was she supposed to wear for something like this? She had no frame of reference besides movies and television. She had texted the 1A girls chat for advice earlier and received a lot of it. Ashido said to dress hot, which Momo didn’t feel entirely comfortable with. She doubted Sero would be very comfortable with that either. Hagakure said to dress cute, which could work but she wasn’t sure how to properly execute. Asui said to dress comfy and Uraraka said to dress casual, which she felt was the best advice she’d gotten but wasn’t entirely sure how to put it together. This was nothing like when she had to put together disguises. That was fun (if you remove the event from the situation) and this was no fun at all, more stressful than anything else. And this wasn’t even a real date! But it did have to look like a date. She groaned and checked her phone, scrolling through the chat. Jirou hadn’t responded yet. The other girl was probably busy... It was their day off after all. There were probably plenty of other things to do on the weekend that were more important. She shook her head. She couldn’t think about that now. What Momo needed was a more logical approach to all this, and when she needed logic, she called Kendo.

She picked up after the third ring.

“Hey Momo, what’s up?”

“Hey, I need your help with something.”

“Go for it.”

She looked over all her clothes. “What do you wear on a date?”

“You’re going on a date? That sounds so fun! Where are you going? Who are you going with?”

“We’re going to a café and it’s not like that.”

Kendo hummed over the line. “What are you going for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like what you want to get out of it? What message do you send to them?”

Momo bit her lip. “It’s a complicated message…”

“Try me.”

“I need something that tells the class ‘we’re dating’ but to get the class perv off my back.” The line was quiet for a moment. “Kendo?”

“Well, that is certainly a complicated message.”

Momo flopped on her bed. “Yeah. What do I do?”

“Okay, do you remember that top you wore the last time we hung out?”

Momo got up and started ruffling through her closet until she found the somewhat flowy, rose v-neck. “I do.”

“Good. Wear that and that cute cream skirt. It shows off enough while still being modest and comfortable.”

Momo sighed in relief. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem. Good luck with your date. I want details later.”

She felt her face burn. “I told you it wasn’t like that!”

Kendo laughed over the line. “I know. Talk to you later.”

Momo immediately felt better after that conversation and went back to the task at hand. She put the two items together and stood in front of the mirror. Kendo was right. It wasn’t too over the top, more on the simple side, but it was comfy and it looked nice on her. As Ashido would say, it “showed off her assets”. The thought made her giggle, since she didn’t have the “assets” Sero found attractive in a romantic partner. To be fair, he didn’t have the assets she found attractive either.

She made her way down to the common room where Sero was waiting for her. She gracefully pretended not to notice how Ashido and Kirishima (and disgruntled looking Bakugou) lurked around the corner. He gave her a small smile when he saw her. “You look very nice.”

She smiled. “Thank you. So do you.”

“Thank you. This is my nicest hoodie.” She could tell that he put (or was forced to put) effort into his appearance. His clothes looked less baggy than she was used to seeing him in. They didn’t look too mismatched which added to the believability of the couple. He looked nice. Any guy would be lucky to have him.

She smiled. “Ready to go?”

His grin turned nervous, which made her nervous. “What’s wrong?”

“We have a slight problem.”

“What is it?”

“Aizawa-sensei says that we need a chaperone, and someone volunteered to come with us.”

Momo internally groaned. “And who might that be?”

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

“Shouto,” Momo said politely, through a forced smile and gritted teeth. It was such a nice day at such a nice cafe with such nice company. And now Shouto. Wonderful.

The man in question didn’t look up from his book, a book that he brought to chaperone his friend’s date. “Yes, Momo?”

She stirred her tea absentmindedly. “You know how I told you I had a date today?”

He absently nodded. “I do. It was a wonderful conversation. We really should have more talks like that.”

She hummed in agreement. “We should. However, that was not an invitation to crash my date, especially as a chaperone .”

He shrugged. “Sensei said you needed a chaperone. Apparently all the teachers have personal lives, so I volunteered.”

She glared at him. “Thank you for doing so so willingly.”

“Just doing my duty as a future hero.”

She frowned. “You don’t even have your provisional license yet.”

He hummed into his teacup. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that it sounds like you don’t want me here.”

He was seriously trying her patience. “I don’t. I’m on a date.”

He put down his cup and thought for a moment. “And we’re still having a wonderful time together. Wouldn’t you agree, Sero?”

Sero fiddled with one of his hoodie strings. “Yeah, I guess so?”

Shouto gave her an ‘I told you so’ glance over his cup, making Momo seriously consider smacking her head against the table. The urge was growing stronger and stronger with every passing moment.

“But in all honesty,” he admitted, “I don’t understand why you’re with him. He… doesn’t seem like your type.”

Sero chuckled. “I get that. I’m not a lot of people’s type.”

Before Shouto could go any further, Momo quickly interjected. “I’m not his type either.”

The tension was slowly eased from Shouto’s face. “Oh… oh. Then why?”

“I’m helping her get Mineta off her case. There was a situation where she panicked and I’m helping her,” Sero explained.

Shouto nodded. “I see.”

“The class needs to think that we’re dating, so please keep this under wraps, Shouto,” Momo admitted.

“Do you two have any rules in place?”

Sero rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous smile. “That’s what we were using this date to figure out.”

“Hmm, I see. I suppose I could make myself scarce for half an hour. Is that enough time?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Shouto nodded and rose from his seat. “I’ll be at the bookstore if you need me before then.” They both watched him walk off.

They sat in silence for several seconds.

“I guess we should-” “What do we do-”

Sero chuckled nervously. “You start.”

Momo brushed her bangs out of her face. “I guess we should start with physical boundaries? I don’t want to kiss you, no offense.”

Sero’s laugh was more genuine this time, more relaxed. Momo found she quite liked the sound. “I get it, don’t worry. Same here. I’m pretty okay with most other things: hugs, cuddles, the like. The squad and I do it all the time.”

She fiddled with her hands. “I’m… honestly not sure how I feel about that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay. We’re a pretty touchy bunch, it’ll take a while to get used to.” He took a sip of his water. “They’ll expect you to hang out with us sometimes. You don’t have to if you don’t want to obviously, but you’re always welcome to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. They seem like a lot of fun.”

He smiled. “Yeah, they are.”

“So what do we do for dates? Do you want to have a specific day set aside for them or see when inspiration strikes?”

“Dates can be stuff like this, homework, or whatever. I’m not really picky. Although… homework help would be nice. I can cook a little too, if you want food at the dorms.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Yeah, but we mostly bully Bakugou into cooking for us. I’m a bit of a health nut, so I don’t cook that often for others. Although, Mina has called my tofu stir-fry ‘the only tofu I will willingly eat.’”

“That’s certainly some high praise. Are you vegan?”

“Pescatarian actually. I like sushi and milk too much to be vegan.”

Momo made a mental note to do dietary research just in case he ever came over to her house. “I would love to try your stir-fry, especially with such a glowing review.”

He smiled that lopsided smile. “Then it’s a date.”

She smiled back at him. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Next on the list was- “How did we start dating? They’ll all want to know.”

“I say we keep it simple and truthful: you asked me out and it went from there. Anything besides that, I’ll go with whatever makes you comfortable.”

Whatever makes you comfortable. She wasn’t sure when the last time she heard those words directed towards her. It was comforting. “Thank you for that. I think we have only been dating for a few days or a week at most. Our relationship is new enough for it to be believable.”

“Sounds good to me. I don’t think Mina would believe we’ve been dating for much longer than that. Speaking of which…” he trailed off as he fiddled with his napkin.

Momo felt her body freeze. They were discovered. Momo didn’t know who, how, or when but this whole thing was going to fall apart before they had even started. She could practically smell the scandal, especially if they found why they would-

“Bakugou knows.”

They could turn this around, right? She didn’t want to go back to-

“About me, at least. I didn’t want to say anything about you without you there or knowing it. He’s not gonna rat us out, he’s not like that.”

“Are you sure that he won’t out us? Positive?”

Sero nodded, gently reaching over but not quite taking her hand. “I’m positive. If you’re worried about it, you can talk to him about it. But he won’t out us, he’s not that cruel.”

That made her breathe a little easier. “Good… good…”

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She was probably nodding too much for him to properly believe her but he didn’t say anything more about it. “Sero.”

“Yeah, Momo?”

“It’s okay for you to hold my hand.”

“Oh,” his smile turned soft as he gently interlocked their fingers. “Good. I didn’t want to spook you or anything. I get like that sometimes.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” she murmured to herself.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he agreed in a soft voice.

They could do this for a couple months, right? All she needed was this to not completely blow up in their faces. What could go wrong?

#bnha seromomo dilemma #bnha #Sero Hanta #Yaoyorozu Momo #portfolio

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dragonnan · 4 years

Photo

Everyone is encouraged to join!

FYI - yeah I know it’s actually Saturday... Didn’t feel like changing it though, lol!

Share links to fic, artwork, WIPs, whatever you want!

My works:

Link to my AO3

Link to my portfolio (which includes some fanart)

The work I thought it would be fun to share is an in-progress unpublished work that will likely take a while to put together. I was incredibly inspired by the brilliant writing of both @hanuko and silentsaebyeok who both have stories about Wilson Fisk. Here is my take on that character in an Avengers fic!

Untitled Fic

Setting: near the end of Homecoming and just prior to Tony reconciling with Pepper

AU of Daredevil season 2-3 (Karen didn't murder Wesley as Fisk's mother didn't remember her visit. She only remembered Ben)

Late afternoon sunlight had turned every pane of glass into a pool of gold. The patio doors of the tall office building had been left open – allowing the haze of late day warmth to coil upwards; carried on drafts of air heated from the concrete below. Rubber soles squeaked softly against marble that knew mainly Italian leather and the rare alligator hide. Two-hundred dollar sneakers were incongruous to the wealth of the man sporting them, but then, Tony Stark had never been a fan of the expected.

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?” One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing. Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle. Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark. I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room. Tony raised an eyebrow. “You didn't say please.”

A smooth, tight lipped smile, followed his quip. Meanwhile, the still silent other member of their trifecta finally stepped forward – grasping one of the stuffed leather office chairs and rolling it back before seating himself. Wilson Fisk wove his hands together above propped elbows. “I appreciate your willingness to meet me so early, Anthony. I felt it best to speak with you privately given the... delicacy... of the issue at hand.” He gestured towards the single remaining chair.

Well that wasn't at all circumspect.

Returning the tight lipped smile in kind, Tony grabbed the chair facing the head of the table and sat; leaning back and settling his arms on the padded rests. “You know, usually I let Pepper handle SI business. Not sure if you got the memo but I'm not actually CEO any longer. How was prison, by the way? I heard the kitchen got a new chef.”

Ignoring the comment, Fisk tapped his thumbs together and kept a close study of the polished inlay before him. “That is something we share in common,” he looked up, then, finally, “I, too, find that most business affairs tend to be... tedious.” Fisk grinned, a flash of small, even, teeth, before he nodded towards his assistant... Wilbur? Weston? “Mr. Wesley, if you would please?” He turned back to Tony – also leaning back and resting his thick hands over his thicker waist. “I can assure you, however, that what we're here to discuss is a matter that falls somewhat outside the purview of Stark Industries.”

While his employer spoke, Wesley neatly stacked the pages of the file before sliding the bundle across the polished tabletop to Tony. Eager to just get everything done with, Tony pressed his hand flat on the cover to slide it close, flipped it back... and froze.

Across from him, Fisk continued speaking. “I have found that I have an over-abundance of pressure on me as I attempt to rebuild was was lost during my incarceration. Aside from the judgement of the good people of this city I also have faced an ongoing assault from a number of vigilantes. This city, for all of its potential, has the unfortunate side effect of breeding these... vermin... faster than the rats that inhabit the sewers. As it is they are beneath the notice of those who claim to protect the people of this city.” His hands stilled – lying one on top of the other as Tony silently turned to the next page. “Too busy protecting the rest of the world, perhaps.”

Tony made himself turn to the next page; his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Of course it isn't in my nature to harm innocents. I find it distasteful to involve women and children in such matters. And, yet, I find that it is, in fact, a child at the center of my current dilemma. Of greater irony is that this child has both power and connections that would, under normal circumstances, place him outside the reach of those who would wish him harm.”

The forth page was a photo – clipped from a newspaper and a duplicate to the framed image that sat on the worktable in Tony's lab. In the grainy image he stood, one arm slung around a young man's shoulders, as the kid received his certification for completing the “Stark Internship”. Tony licked his tongue across his teeth before closing the file once more.

Fisk let out a soft hum. “As it is, prison has a way of creating strange bedfellows. I met someone – a man you may know. Adrian Toomes. After some persuasion he had something very interesting to share with me. Something that, I can only imagine, you would wish to keep out of the hands of certain individuals.”

Tony wanted to clench his hands – his fingertips twitching before he pushed them flat against the wood beneath them. “Just to clarify you're threatening my intern?”

Fisk leaned forward; hands folding tight before him on the table. “I was hoping we wouldn't have to play any games but given your refusal to read the rest of the documents Mr. Wesley provided, I will summarize them for you.” Here he stood; walking to the open doors facing the patio. “I know who Peter Parker really is. I know about his aunt. I know the names of his friends, where he goes to school, and where he buys his favorite sandwich every afternoon.” He rested his hands behind his back; squinting in the sunlight. “If he continues to disrupt my affairs in Hell's Kitchen, the consequences could be... unpleasant.” He glanced back at Tony; his face serene. “You realize I'm asking for very little. Keep your new pet leashed and allow me to conduct my business in peace. The child will never have to know my name. Other than what he may learn from news reports; of course.” Tugging his cuffs, Fisk turned to more fully face into the room. “I never wanted to involve you. This is the sort of attention I have spent a fortune to avoid. As it is I find myself in a position where reticence could cost me even more.”

Pushing to his feet, Tony could no longer stop his hands from fisting at his sides – though he managed to control the tremor as he joined Fisk. Side by side, the other man practically loomed over him.

“So you aren't just threatening a kid – you're threatening everyone he cares about. Little bit budget TV villain but you do you I guess.” Pulling off his tinted glasses, he stared up at the other man. “The thing is this little weekly drama you're playing?” he waggled his fingers back and forth, “way above your pay grade. Maybe stick to collecting on gambling debts and playing whack-a-mole with the other lowlifes in your contacts list.”

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Fisk's lips. “I know you're someone who prefers visual aids,” his voice became guttural – losing the soft quality, “perhaps a demonstration would help to convince you.”

A glance to the side, the barest nod to Wesley, and the other man typed into his phone.

There was a moment – silence this far above the city.

And then an apartment complex, three blocks away, exploded into flame.

Horrified, Tony gave Fisk a single look, seeing the purpose in that cold gaze, before twisting the dial on his watch and backing up just enough to turn and take a running leap. One foot caught on the railing and with a surge of his muscles, he launched himself out into open space.

Terrifying free fall – the ground racing towards him at breakneck speed.

And then smooth metal wrapped his body and he shot towards the blaze.

:Cutting things a little bit tight, aren't we, Boss?:

“No time to chat, Fri. Emergency response status?” He twisted his body into an angle as the building grew large in his visor – too few residents stumbling free out onto the pavement.

:Fire and Rescue are three minutes away:

“Shit.” Aiming for a top floor window that had been blasted out with the explosion, Tony shot through the opening and made a quick scan of the room. He winced at the sudden burst of heat that briefly enveloped his suit. “Anyone on this level?”

He almost swore he could hear his AI sighing. :Apologies, Boss. I am unable to differentiate life signs from the ambient temperature. Also the heat is steadily rising and will soon be at levels exceeding this suit's tolerances.:

Ignoring the warning, Tony finished his check of the room and moved on to the next apartment. “Yeah, let's put a pin in that. Adjust audio input and scan for human voices.”

In the second apartment he found a single person – deceased. Same for the next two. In the forth apartment there were two dead but he also found a child – burned and terrified but alive – buried beneath the blankets in her parent's closet. Tony kept her wrapped to protect against the flames and rushed her to the sidewalk and into the arms of one of the firemen who had just arrived on scene.

“Explosion – multiple charges – there's still people...” He coughed at the black smoke boiling from the ruined building and dropped his visor back into place before returning inside.

Even with the protection of his suit the heat was breathtaking. There were no more survivors on the top floor so Tony proceeded to the next level down.

:I'm detecting instability in the surrounding structure.:

“We got three apartments left on this floor. Stop listening to the walls and keep listening for voices!”

The next sign of life he found, however wasn't a human but a howling dog still locked in its kennel. Tucking the kennel under one arm, Tony finished his search of that floor – finding three additional people and four more pets. With everyone holding their respective creatures he didn't risk another flight but, instead, soaked several blankets in a shower and guided them to a stairwell FRIDAY had located that was still relatively flame free. Then, turning back to his task he set out to locate more survivors.

Another five minutes in – fire and rescue now dousing the building as fireman began going door to door on the bottom two floors, Tony took the last one remaining.

It was then that disaster struck.

He'd just entered the first apartment – already racing towards the elderly man collapsed on the floor when there was a sudden burst of flames across the ceiling above – overlaid by a warning from FRIDAY.

:Boss, there is a weakening of the...:

“Shit!” His heartbeat was a drum in his ears as hooked a thick blanket from the ratty chair in the living room – slow motion tornados of smoke lifting up from the surrounding dry surfaces. Propulsion would actually take longer – factoring in the time to slow his speed before reaching the man. It was a fast paced eternity bolting across the ancient carpet. The blanket billowed out ahead of him and cloaked the man just moments before he wrapped arms around him – knowing that even inside the blanket he was burning the old man with the super heated surface of his suit.

He managed two steps to the window.

And then the world shattered in a concussive blast.

#fanfic #Self Promotion

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years

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What are your favorite johnlock fics of all time?

Ohhhh.

Ohhh noo.

Nonny you’re cruel.

Okay so funny story:

Someone asked me this exact thing a couple years ago.

I started a fic rec list offline at that time

Said list kept growing and growing as I decided to start sorting my fics.

It’s now a couple years later, and the list has over 300 fics on it XD.

So you see my dilemma LOL.

I have done a few fic lists in the past along this vein:

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 )

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018)

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018)

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018)

So what should I do today? How about the fics I ALWAYS re-read when I feel like I just need something familiar and oh so delicious? Would that be okay? Fics that I never hesitate to read again? Note that this list will probably change in a few months’ time as I re-read newer fics I’ve recently bookmarked; if I’m in a certain mood, a fic will get added and another removed, LOL. In fact, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts from quite awhile before I finally posted it, LOL. Waited a week, because my “feels” kept changing, HAH!

I have WAY more than 30 of these, but I had to stop somewhere! So here’s the criteria for these ones today:

I’ve read them more than 5 times since I bookmarked them

I read them start to finish, without skipping anything even though I know what happens.

That’s it. It’s just so I can keep my list down, LOL. Seriously, I love SO many fics that this list was HARD to do. Hope you enjoy!

I-J’s TOP 30 READ-AGAIN FICS (MARCH 2019)

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Fa Subito by kim47 (E, 6,659 w. || Suit Porn, Cockblocker Mycroft, Obsessed Sherlock, PWP) – John wears a suit. Sherlock finds it extremely distracting.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

The Emergency Contact Series by blueink3 (M, 11,763 w. across 2 works || 5 and 1′s, Whump, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Caring Sherlock / John, Scars) – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w. | Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock’s perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock’s case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he’s pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn’t simple.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. || H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w. || Magical Realism) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Sherlock AU, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Alternate First Meeting) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) – Five months after John’s world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) – John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #fave fics #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #top fics

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