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moonlightspencie · 1 year

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Next to You

Description: Trying to ignore the feelings you have for your best friend can cause complications. Especially when you find out what they’d risk for you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cases (typical for cm), fluffff (mutual pining, friends to lovers, the usual)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr. then took on a new life on ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

The last place I ever expected my career to go was working for the government. A stuffy office job was never my style. Luckily, the government job I found myself working was far from a boring life shoved away in a cubicle. Much to the dismay of my family, and to my absolute delight, I got to work pretty much the coolest job I could think of besides being an astronaut.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out, strolling towards the bullpen. I dropped my stuff at my desk, and went straight for the kitchenette to find Penelope and Derek sitting at the little table near the counter.

“Hey, lovebirds,” I said with a wink.

“Oh, come on. You know you’re my number one,” Penelope answered, throwing a wink back at me.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, there. I thought you were my babygirl?”

Pen shrugged with a smirk. “You know I could never give you up.”

I laughed at the pair, grabbing a mug and filling it to the brim with coffee. I sipped at it, just watching them interact, adding in a little quip here and there until I heard JJ.

“Got a case, guys.”

She nodded towards the conference room as she walked past us. I topped off my mug again, following her to the room with the other two not far behind. We all filed in, taking our seats. Hotch and Spencer showed up a minute after we all got comfortable and JJ started speaking as soon as they hit the room.

Spence took his seat next to me with a tight-lipped grin my direction.

“The bodies of three young women have recently turned up in Portola, California, about an hour from Reno, Nevada.”

She introduced them as she went through the slides of where their bodies were found. Lakes and woods surrounded the area, making it easy to hide them without being traced back to somebody. I grimaced at a close up of the face of one of the victims. No matter how often we had to look at stuff like that, I could never quite force myself into thinking it was normal or just a routine. My discomfort must have been apparent, because Spencer reached up to place a hand on my shoulder for a moment, giving me a little smirk. I reached over to cover his hand with my own for a moment before turning back to give my full attention to the case.

“Any connection between the victims?” Derek asked.

JJ shook her head. “None, besides the fact they’re in their 20s. Different ethnicities, hair colors, lifestyles…”

“Very strange. It’s probably not a personal grudge against somebody then. Any signs of sexual assault or impotence?” Spencer asked.

“No, they didn’t find any evidence of abuse on the victims at all, actually, besides a few minor bruises. Probably from the victims attempting to fight back.”

I furrowed my brow. “So, what did he want with them?”

“That’s what we have to find out, and quickly,” JJ sighed, pulling out some photos of a girl in her 20s and passing them around. “A young woman named Rebecca Stevenson recently went missing in the area, and it’s very likely she was abducted. Her car was found on the side of the road, the keys still in the ignition. I’m willing to bet she was taken by our unsub.”

We all glanced at the photos her parents had sent in, committing her face to memory as well as we could.

“Alright, everyone grab your go-bags. Wheels up in 20,” Hotch concluded.

I huffed out a sigh as I plopped myself down in the seat next to Spencer on the plane. I slouched down, shutting my eyes for a moment.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just— I have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Let’s just get our job done as well as we can, and hope the rest works out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Usually am.”

I scoffed out a laugh, opening my eyes. “You, Spencer Reid, are one cocky little…”

“It’s Dr. Spencer Reid, actually,” he interrupted.

We both broke out in a fit of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.” I shook my head, looking up to him.

“We can be ridiculous together.” He nudged my shoulder with a smirk.

“What are you talking about? I’m the normal one.”

He raised a brow.

“Don’t you give me that look.” I joked.

We touched down in a couple of hours, and headed towards the local police precinct. We went through all of the formalities with local officers, explaining the situation and our procedures as much as we could before starting a profile on the unsub.

We ended up needing to take a few hours to sleep before heading to the families of the victims found and Rebecca’s family the next day.

“If we could just have a look at her room…” Spencer started.

“Of course! Whatever you need to be able to find her.”

Rebecca’s mom ushered us through the home, straight to her bedroom.

“She’s been staying here with me. Ever since her father passed…” Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s been hard. For us both. She was— So sweet to come back to stay with me during all of that. I just… Please, whatever you need. Find her.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I promise we will do our best to bring Rebecca home.”

A few tears slipped down her face. “Thank you.”

I nodded, and she turned to leave us in the room. Spencer watched me for a moment.

“Let’s find her.” I nodded, beginning to look around her bedroom. I found a laptop and opened it. “Any ideas about the password, genius?”

He took the computer from me, sitting next to me on her bed. He started making a few guesses, somehow breaking in within a few minutes.

“Got it.”

“Awesome. What do we got?”

“Let’s see.”

He started searching around for any sliver of a clue as to what happened to her. It took several minutes before he found something.

“Uh, she was on a dating site, and had a lot of matches,” he said, searching through some of the messages.

“Think that could be something?”

“Maybe. Can you call Hotch and ask if any of the others were on this site?”

I nodded, dialing him up. We chatted for some time before I was able to hang up. Spencer watched me expectantly.

“They were all on the same site.”

“Okay, let’s find the commonalities.”

We scoured their profiles, finding only one common name: Andrew. But all we knew about him was a first name, age range, and a picture that clearly wasn’t of him. Luckily, we had the worlds best internet stalker on the team. Spencer and I went back to the precinct to meet Derek there, and hopped on the phone with Penelope until we figured out who we were going after. It didn’t take long before she found the most likely candidate.

“Uh… Andrew! Yes, his name is Andrew McClain, I’m sending you all his address now.”

I could almost hear the smile on Penelope’s face at her ability to discover pretty much anything she set her mind to. I would’ve smiled too if it weren’t for the dire circumstances we were working with.

“Thanks sweetheart,” Derek said back before hanging up.

He immediately called Hotch, letting him know what the situation was. The three of us practically ran to the car from the precinct, alerting Emily and JJ of the situation as we went. Derek tore out of the lot, speeding towards our destination as fast as he could go. We met Hotch and the unit chief in front of a mansion.

“No wonder he hid this all so well,” I said under my breath, staring up at the massive place.

“Makes sense why he had girls off of dating sites feeling okay coming over, too. Money can buy a lot of things, and unfortunately love is one of them,” Spencer said, coming to stand next to me. “Or, well, whatever form of affection can be reached through a sense of security.”

“That’s disgusting. Taking advantage of those girls like that.” I shook my head, looking away and towards the team instead. “They never saw it coming.”

“They never do.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at whatever I seemed to be fixed on instead of the house.

Emily and JJ showed up not too long afterwards, and we all quickly went over the plan. We knew who and what we were looking for, and it seemed like it’d be pretty straightforward. We just hoped that we’d find Rebecca alive.

We snuck in as quietly as we could, tiptoeing around the mansion and checking each and every room and door we could find. I was following Hotch and the unit chief as they opened up the door to a bedroom in a downstairs hallway.

“Damn it,” I heard Hotch before I walked into the small room. He said something else to the chief that I couldn’t quite make out.

My steps slowed and eventually came to a stop in the doorway when I saw her. I really wanted him dead now. I huffed out a harsh breath as more agents walked towards the room Hotch was in, and shoved past them all. I rounded a corner in the maze of a house, getting up the steps to the second floor as quickly and quietly as I could, nearly throwing Spencer off his feet as I reached the top.

“Hey,” he said, though he meant it more as a question.

“They found her downstairs. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Hey, whoa.” He reached out to grab my arm as I tried to move past him. “We’ll get him, but don’t go looking alone.”

I nodded hesitantly as we both moved forward, peeking into each room before we heard a noise coming from a room near the end of the hallway. I stepped up first, gun drawn as Spencer opened the door for me. At first I didn’t see anything, then I heard him and whipped around to the far left corner of the room with Spencer not far from my side.

“What are you doing in my house,” he questioned, moving forward ever-so-slightly.

I pointed my gun at him. “We found Rebecca, Andy. You are one sick—”

“Don’t move!” Spencer interrupted, stepping ahead of me as Andy’s hand slowly came back from where he had attempted to reach in his back pocket. “What do you have?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

I stepped to be right next to Spence. “Whatever it is, Andy, it’s in your best interest to keep your hands where we can see them.”

We heard the footsteps of our team starting to trail up the stairs at the sound of our voices. Then, panic struck Andy’s face and he made a movement that was way too sudden for my liking.

Spencer threw himself in front of me before I even had a chance to react, using his body as a human shield. He threw his arms around me, holding tightly, and all we heard was a faint ‘click’.

I stared up at him, both of our eyes wide in shock. My mouth gaped open as if there were anything I could say in a moment like that. Spencer narrowly escaped death because of a jammed gun. He almost sacrificed himself to save me, and the only thing that stopped him was a faulty weapon.

“Spence” was all I could manage to whisper as we stood there, his arms still tight around me as agents made their way in and out with the unsub.

He unwound himself from me, taking only half a step backwards. His hands found my shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I…” I scoffed, trailing off. “Spencer. You could have died. What were you thinking?”

He put his hands up defensively.

“I wasn’t going to let you die, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to see you die either!” My voice rose, anger settling in with the sense of terror that still lingered. “Why would you do that?”

“I was protecting you.” He kept his cool, and it almost made me more upset.

“I can’t— What if the gun didn’t jam?”

“That doesn’t matter—“

“That doesn’t matter?! Spencer, you would have died. You would have died protecting me, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

I felt the tears beginning to fall. “Why would you do that?”

“Oh, oh no. Y/N please don’t cry.” He pulled me in again, stroking my hair and shushing me as he did.

“I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re here, we’re safe. It’s okay.”

He held me for a few minutes before I could compose myself enough to let go, drying my tears. We went back to the precinct after a quick check-up to make sure everyone was alright, and got the hell out of Dodge as quickly as we could. I was grateful we didn’t have to stay much longer.

We got on the plane, and I took my usual spot next to Spencer, though still unsure what to say or do now that he had literally risked his life to save mine. I let the silence sit with us for a while before deciding to say something.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, quietly this time. My anger had gone, and now all that I was left with was worry.

“It was nothing, Y/N. The gun jammed, we’re both okay. You can’t focus on the ‘what if’ here, just try to look at what did happen. Please.” He pleaded with me, looking at me with those sweet, pleading eyes he knew how to use a little too well.

I only sighed, knowing this wasn’t a battle I’d ever win.

“You scared the hell out of me, Spence. I just— I don’t get why you’d do that.”

“I— I’d do anything for you.” He shook his head as he spoke as if it were the obvious thing to say.

It all came crashing down around me at once and I felt like I was walking around in a daze until we got back to the BAU. All the time I had spent trying to convince myself that my feelings would fade was all for naught— I don’t know how I could’ve ever believed that in the first place, even for a second. How couldn’t I love him, or at least feel as attached to him as I did. It was almost laughable to believe that I could have come to any other conclusion, and as much as I deeply and desperately wanted to keep my feelings a secret, something in me knew I couldn’t anymore. It was too much to keep hidden, especially from him. I just wished I had more time.

Practically the whole team had left soon after we got back and had gathered what was needed for a trip back home. It was late afternoon, and Hotch wanted everyone fresh for the next day anyways. But Spencer just had to be there. Of course, he had to be the one person left there when all I wanted was a chance to gather my thoughts completely alone. And of course, he had to speak.

“Hey,” he called from where he stood at his desk, “Come here for a second?”

My feet shuffled over, barely giving me a chance to say whether or not that’s what I even wanted to do.

“Yeah?” I questioned, getting little-by-little closer to him.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You’re being really quiet, that isn’t you.” He looked concerned. I wanted to reach out and touch him. “Was it the case.”

“No, it’s— I’m fine, Spence.” I tried to smile, and I’m certain it looked like a pathetic attempt.

He only raised a brow.

“What?” I sighed.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.” Spencer half smiled with an expectantly raised brow. He stroked my arm gently for a moment before taking a seat in his desk chair.

I breathed in deeply, leaning against the desk where he was.

“I don’t know how to say this,” I almost laughed as I spoke.

He shrugged. “I’m sure whatever it is— it’ll be fine. When has it ever not been?”

I nodded, glancing around as if I would find the courage I needed floating around the room, ready for me to grab hold of. It wasn’t there, though, but I knew I shouldn’t keep him waiting.

“I don’t want to call it love because I’m not convinced that I even know what love is. I will say, though, that I like you Spence. I think about you all the time, and I know nothing is going to come of it. I’ve made peace with that. I made peace with it the moment I really saw you for the first time. When you turned around and smiled at me because neither of us knew what to do on that case in Washington a few months ago. I can play it like a movie in my head. I knew I was screwed, but it’s okay because it has to be.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t keep hiding it all. Especially after what happened today, I just couldn’t.”

There was a moment of silence, breath baited as if there were anything left to say. Whatever speck of courage I found while speaking had completely and totally left me. It felt like an eternity before I could speak again.

“I’m sorry. I’m— I should go.”

He nodded, speaking quietly. “Yeah.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, pushing down all of the feelings that were bubbling up inside of me. I nodded back at him, packing up the things I needed at my desk and making a beeline for the door.

The fresh air hit my face and forced me to breathe for the first time, though now a racing heart and eyes welling with tears were in company too. I blinked quickly to try to rid them, and to adjust to the bright sun. Too much had happened in the past 48 hours and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. We couldn’t save Rebecca, Spencer almost got shot, and now he probably wouldn’t speak to me again. I could hardly get home without breaking down, and the floodgates opened as soon as I hit the couch in my apartment.

I had pretty much cried myself dry when I heard a knock at my door. I wiped my eyes the best I could and walked over, slowly peeking around the door as I opened it. My heart sank.

“Spence?”

His eyes were wide, and he just looked at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” He stared as he took in my reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I wanted to disappear.

“I’m fine, Spencer. What do you need? I’ve had a long day.” I rubbed at my face absentmindedly.

He swallowed. “I, um— Can, could I come in?”

I nodded and he slid past me, practically sprinting to my couch, and taking a seat. I closed the door and went to go sit next to him. I watched him for a moment, but he still didn’t speak.

“Look, Spencer, I’m sorry for—“

“No.” He shook his head.

I stuttered. “Wh— Excuse me?”

“Uh… After you left, after earlier, I-I talked to Morgan.” He stared at me again as if I had any clue what he was talking about.

“Okay?”

“He…” He breathed out hard before composing himself. “I misunderstood. He, quite literally, smacked some sense into me. I didn’t understand what you were saying, I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean? How was what I said hard to understand?”

“Well, when you said the part about knowing nothing would happen. I don’t— I guess I interpreted that as you didn’t want anything to happen.”

“That’s not…”

“No, I know that now. I know,” he said, scrubbing at his face as he looked away from me. “Um… I don’t know how to say this.”

My heart began racing for a different reason.

“I thought you didn’t want me. Like you felt bad that you liked me but didn’t want to be with me. I just…” He shrugged. “I-I guess I kinda screwed it all up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looked to me again, a blush creeping onto his face.

He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I ramble.”

I laughed, unable to keep it in at that point. “You think that would stop me? Spencer, I literally never shut up. Why would I hold that against you? I love when you get excited, even when you’re talking my ear off.”

He smiled, a boyish joy taking over. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I paused. “Spence, you’re amazing. I’ve always thought so. Not to mention you risked your life for me today.”

“Do you— So, you like me?”

“I pretty much gave you a whole confession earlier.”

He looked away, nodding quickly. “I knew it the first time I saw you.”

“You— What? You knew I liked you?”

His brow raised as he glanced back at me. “No! No, I had no clue. I knew I liked you the first time I saw you. You were really nice to me the first time we talked, and I thought you were beautiful. Plus, you’re so smart and funny and you’ve never been mean to me about how much I talk, especially when I remember something about a case or something that has to do with a case that I think could—”

“Spence,” I whispered, scooting in closer to him on the couch. “As much as I love your rambling, I’d really love if you’d just kiss me already.”

He grinned with a little laugh under his breath, leaning in closer.

“Hey.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Before we kiss, can I ask you something?”

I tried not to smile. “One question.”

“Would you want to go out with me?”

“Depends on how good this kiss is.”

I started laughing, but was cut short when his lips pressed into mine. His hands grasped my face, pulling me closer. I grabbed his shirt, kissing back with equal fervor. We stayed connected for some time, but it was still shorter than I would have liked: my preferred time would be eternity.

We took a moment to catch our breath, giggling like a couple of kids.

“Was that good enough to date me?” He questioned with a smile.

I ran a hand through his hair, smirking up at him, still practically dazed.

“If I knew it was gonna be that great, I wouldn’t have ever said I’d date you if you did well. Now I think I might have to marry you.”

“Maybe we can try a date first, but I’m open,” he laughed, stroking my cheek. Then his face dropped slightly. “Who’s going to tell the team?”

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reader insert #gender neutral reader #luna’s spence fics

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captainsophiestark · 1 year

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Seasons of Love

Dick Grayson x Reader

Materlist - Taglist

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out, and please pretend I actually posted this in April and not a month late lmao! Final semester of college is a hell of a time

Fandom: DC

Prompt: Demeter; The Seasons, Pigs, Cornucopia, Nature, Poppies

Summary: A LaLaLand-style series of glimpses into the lives of Dick Grayson and Y/N (without the LaLaLand angst).

Word Count: 4,678

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This is my first time writing any DC, Dick Grayson included, so hopefully it’s good and true to character! He’s been one of my absolute faves for a long time, but I’ve just recently gotten the courage to write for him :)

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

LATE SUMMER

I smiled at the kids running around the various animal pens at the fair, smiles on their faces as they got up close and personal with all kinds of different creatures they'd never seen before. Working at the fair outside of Gotham every August was never a walk in the park–and usually included more than one instance of vomit-cleanup–but moments like this made it worth it.

Of course, my coworkers and I were keeping a close eye on everything to make sure the animals and kids were both safe. I was in the pen with the goats helping the kids feed them alfalfa, one of my favorite posts of all time. My reprieve in paradise was interrupted, however, when I heard someone frantically shouting my name.

I turned around to find one of my coworkers coming towards me, waving his hands in the air. He'd originally signed up to be on ticket duty, but had gotten moved to working with the animals thanks to some short-staffing issues. He'd made it clear multiple times he was well outside of his comfort zone, and although he'd been doing a fair job of rising to the occasion, this wasn't the first time he'd come running over in a panic.

I made eye contact and nodded at another coworker who came over to monitor the kids (both goats and humans), then stepped out of the pen to meet Andrew, panic still written all over his face. I took a deep breath and prepared to give him a calming speech, but he spoke again before I could.

"The Wayne kids just let the pigs out of the pen!" he cried.

I just stared at him blankly, trying to process, blinking stupidly.

"The who did what?"

"The Wayne kids!" he continued, still a little breathless. "Well, one or two of them at least. I was standing by the pen with the piglets that are racing in twenty minutes, and the little one managed to let them all out! I didn't notice until it was too late!"

"Okay, uh... I guess stay here."

With that, I started marching towards the pig pen, keeping an eye out for any sign of rampaging piglets. My brain screamed at me to process the "Wayne" part of Andrew's story, but I refused to let it. I needed to deal with the piglets first, regardless of whether the ones who'd let them out were part of the famous billionaire Gotham family.

When I got to the piglet pen, which was nestled just behind the bleachers where people would be able to watch the piglets run around a dirt track later, I found chaos. People were running and shouting all over the place, but the piglets were nowhere to be seen.

"Dami, you go around the left and I'll circle this way-"

"I am not helping you recapture them, Grayson."

"Dami-"

I started to turn to see who was shouting at the same time the shouting cut off, because the shouter ran straight into me like a freight train. We went tumbling to the ground in a heap, and suddenly I found myself staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Gotham's golden boy, Dick Grayson. He smiled at me, and I scowled in response.

"What were you thinking?" I demanded, rolling over and pushing him off me as I moved to stand up. He leapt to his feet and held a hand out to help me, but I ignored it. "Why on Earth would you let the piglets out?"

"I didn't!" he insisted, holding his hands up and looking at me with wide eyes. "My little brother saw them sitting in their pen and decided they needed to be liberated. I've never seen anyone successfully stand in the way of him helping an animal before."

I huffed, continuing to ignore Grayson's gorgeous, charming, easy smile.

"I know you probably don't have a lot of experience with it, but those pigs are treated perfectly well, and they were safe in their pen. Letting them out to run amok in the crowd is putting their well being at risk more than anything else in their lives."

"Tt."

I turned at the sound of an angry, disapproving noise from behind me, then had to do a double-take when I didn't immediately see the person responsible for it. Then, I looked down, and found the youngest Wayne child staring at me with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Father has spent enough time working to end the poor treatment of horses at race tracks for me to be unaware of how animals to be raced are treated."

I blinked a few times, honestly not sure how to react to this ten year old staring me down. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dick Grayson step closer to stand next to me, but I ignored him. Instead, I crouched down to make myself eye level with Damian, the younger one.

"You're right," I said simply. He harrumphed in triumph, but then I continued. "About the horses, I mean. The way they're treated... it's unforgivable. My family and I have rescued any and all of them that we can, and the ones we've managed to save are actually over by the barn right now, being fed all the apples and oats they can eat by the adoring fairgoers."

Damian Wayne's left eyebrow ticked up, the only sign of surprise or approval at my words.

"These piglets, on the other hand, I can promise you are treated perfectly well. They only 'race' at the fair so people can cheer for cute animals. All they know is they're going for a run and then getting all kinds of food and treats afterwards. And honestly, letting them out in the middle of an inexperienced crowd of people is putting them in more danger than anything else in their normal, daily life."

Damian frowned a little, and he opened his mouth and closed it again a few times before finally speaking.

"I... did not intend for them to be in danger. I will return them to their pen."

"It's alright. You were trying to do a good thing for some animals, I could never fault you for that. C'mon, I'll help you get them back."

He nodded, then turned sharply on his heel and set off with purpose in the direction of commotion from fairgoers. I paused to straighten and smiled after him.

"That was really sweet, how you handled that." I turned to see Dick Grayson looking at me, the first serious expression I'd seen from him on his face. "Dami's a good kid, but he's hard on himself about mistakes. Thank you for handling that the way you did."

I gave him a small smile. "Of course. Any animal lover is a friend of mine. I know I literally just met him, but... I could tell he's a good kid."

We shared a smile at that, a more honest and genuine one than the million-watt grin I'd seen from him before. I held his gaze for a second, then sighed and turned back to look at the rest of the fair.

"Alright, enough talking. Let's go catch some piglets."

To my surprise, Grayson actually wasn't half bad at wrangling piglets. He, Damian, and I managed to work well as a team to get each of the little escapees safely back into their pens, and once the task was complete, I left Damian in charge of giving the piglets some treats for their ordeals.

"That was harder than I thought it was going to be," said Dick, coming to stand beside me at the edge of the pen as we watched Damian and the piglets together.

"Yeah, they're quick little buggers. Makes them good racers though."

Dick shot me a smile, and this time, I couldn't help another one spreading across my face too.

"So... this is kind of a subject change, but what are the odds you'd say yes if I asked you to dinner sometime?"

I turned to face him fully now, eyebrows raised. He just grinned back at me.

"You're asking me on a date?"

"Sure am."

"...Alright, sure. You owe me dinner anyway after showing up at my fair and releasing all my piglets."

He laughed. "Fair enough. How does seven o'clock the first night after the end of the fair sound?"

I smiled. "Sounds perfect."

****************

FALL

"You okay? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

I snapped myself out of my death stare with the cornucopia in the center of the table to face my boyfriend with a vague smile.

"I'm fine," I insisted, waving off his concerns. Dick and I had been dating for a few months now, after meeting at the county fair. It had been absolutely amazing, and I'd gotten to meet a few more of his family members besides Damian since then, all of whom had been just as lovely. Now, however, we were sitting at the dinner table in Wayne Manor for Thanksgiving, and any minute now I'd be thrown into the full Wayne family craziness for the first time.

To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century.

"Don't worry," said Dick, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "They're going to love you."

I didn't respond, instead taking a second for a deep breath and a last attempt at calming my nerves. Then, the door to the dining room flew open, and the room devolved into chaos.

I got momentarily swept under in the sudden noise, excitement, and energy as the rest of the Wayne kids moved into the room. A second later, Alfred bustled in carrying armfuls of dishes. A few of the kids moved to help him carry in the rest, but only Cassandra and Duke, neither of whom I'd gotten to know very well yet, were actually trusted and allowed to go help in the kitchen.

Dick gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he sank into the seat beside mine. I turned to smile at him, but a sudden commotion to my left ripped my attention away.

"Jason, I'M sitting next to her, you already know her well enough!"

"Too late Brown, I'm already sitting."

"Then move-"

Stephanie, who I'd only met briefly a few times in passing, tried to bodily shove Jason out of the chair next to me, but he refused to budge.

"Why are you so heavy Todd-"

"It's called muscle."

"Or it's called-"

"Stephanie, here, why don't you sit across from me?" I suggested, jumping in before things could really escalate. "It'll be easier to eat and talk to you at the same time from there anyway, which means we can keep up our conversation with fewer interruptions."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly aware of what I was doing, but I just kept looking at her with a beaming smile on my face (and thankfully Jason didn't interject). After a second, she huffed a dramatic sigh and started to move around the table.

"Fine. But only because Alfred would be upset if I tipped Jason backwards out of his chair before Thanksgiving dinner even started."

I grinned at her, quickly passing some food over to Jason, too, so he wouldn't take the opportunity to rub in his victory. Once we were safely out of the danger zone, Dick leaned over to whisper in my ear and give me a sly high five.

"Impressive," he said. "If you can pull that off, you'll be fine for the rest of the night."

I turned to give him a more forced smile than I'd given Stephanie. I appreciated the vote of confidence, but nothing that had happened over the past few minutes had done much to calm my nerves.

"Alright, is that all the food?" asked Bruce, clapping his hands and surveying the table as everyone at last settled into their seats. We'd almost had another disaster when Dami tried to bump Jason out of the seat next to me after Stephanie failed, but thankfully we'd managed to avert that crisis, too, with a promised trip to my family's farm tomorrow, just me, him, and Dick.

"Yeah, I think that's everything B," said Dick, looking over the table the same way his dad did. Bruce sighed, then sank into his seat and clapped his hands.

"Alright, then let's eat," he said.

"Don't forget, Master Bruce," started Alfred, at last sinking into his seat at the opposite head of the table from Bruce. "We still need to say the things we're thankful for."

"You're right, Alfred. Thank you for reminding me." He finished scooping a serving of stuffing onto his plate, then looked up. "I'll start.

"I'm thankful for all of you, safe and sitting around the table for dinner. And I'm also thankful that Y/N could join us. I think we're all looking forward to getting to know her better."

He gave me a kind smile and tipped his wine glass in my direction, and I tried to smile back despite the fact that my heart was pounding in my chest. I'd met Bruce a few times before, but he was still my boyfriend's dad AND Gotham's favorite son (other than maybe Dick). I couldn't help being nervous, since his approval was one of the ones that mattered most to me.

"Alright, that's great," said Jason, bowling right through the moment of silence that hung after Bruce's words–my hero. "I'm thankful for Alfred's cooking."

Every single one of us around the table cheered our agreement at that, and Alfred smiled. The turns moved quickly around the table after that. I had a brief moment of panic when it became my turn, but thankfully, it only lasted for a second before I managed to pull it together.

"I'm thankful for Dick, and for all of you letting me join your family holiday celebrations. I can't wait to get to know you guys better."

Everyone smiled at my answer, and as soon as the spotlight was off me, Dick took my hand under the table to give me a little reassurance. The conversation moved on from Thanksgiving gratitudes, and slowly, I gained confidnence and comfort participating as a member of the group.

I asked Dami about his pets and was honestly happy to listen for the better part of an hour. Jason and I ranted like the biggest nerds on the planet over our favorite books and our TBR piles, and Tim and I connected over a mutual childhood love of Nancy Drew computer games. Duke was the easiest person in the world to talk to, and he made a point of including me in conversations when I started to feel a little lost. Stephanie was so bubbly and friendly, even when she was not-so-subtly grilling me on my entire life, and although Cassandra seemed a little less eager to loudly jump into conversations with me, Stephanie helped bridge the gap and we got along wonderfully. Although they made me a little more nervous, Bruce and Alfred were also nothing but welcoming and kind. It wasn't too long before I was completely at ease, laughing and joking along with the whole table without a doubt about whether I belonged there.

Even when it came to the most ridiculous debates I'd ever been a part of.

"I'm just saying, capes look cheesy," said Jason. "It's fine for a little kid, but grown adults running around in capes look ridiculous."

Stephanie scowled like he'd just insulted her mother. "Oh yeah, because all the vigilantes running around in vests look so incredibly cool."

"No kidding," Tim jumped in. "Red Hood, for example. We all remember that terrible red pill helmet he wore when he first showed up. Or Nightwing's Discowing suit?"

Stephanie snorted into her drink, and Dick's mouth dropped open in shock. Jason started going a little red in the face.

"Brown and Drake are right," said Dami, his tone conveying he meant for this to be the final word on the matter. "The capes can serve a number of different purposes, and would be ridiculous to remove."

He turned to give Dick a pointed look, but I decided not to try to decipher it. I had more important things on-hand.

"Honestly, I say this with nothing but love for the three of you, but I have to agree with Jason," I started, finally jumping in. Everyone perked up at that, turning their attention to me, but I didn't let it deter me. "I mean, haven't any of you seen The Incredibles? No capes! There's like a whole minute-long thing on why capes are generally a bad idea for superheroes.

"And granted, we haven't seen anything like that happen in real life, at least as far as I know," I continued. "And maybe it doesn't matter as much for the indestructible heroes–Superman could probably get chewed up by a jet and survive, I guess. But other heroes, I don't know what they're doing! Somebody really outta show Batman that clip, make sure he knows the danger he and his Robins and everybody might be in."

Everybody stared at me for a second, faces blank, and I started to sweat thinking I'd said something wrong. Then, people broke out into variations of grins, laughs, and agreement with my point that Batman really needed to be more aware.

"I don't know if I remember that clip very well," mused Dick, grinning at Bruce and then the rest of the table as he slid an arm around my shoulder. "Could you pull it up?"

"Sure!"

"Hey Dick?" called Stephanie across the table, her voice dancing with laughter as I searched for the video. "I think I speak for all of us when I say, I love her."

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table, and my face warmed. I glanced up to give an appreciative smile before going back to my video hunt.

"You better marry her, or we'll have to make Todd do it to keep her in the family," Stephanie continued.

My heart stopped dead in my chest for a second at the idea of marriage as everyone around the table laughed or agreed with her. Then, I couldn't help smiling and laughing too, especially as Jason faked a yawn and stretched his arm around my shoulders before having it playfully smacked away by Dick. My boyfriend pulled me a little closer into his side and gave me a soft smile.

"Alright, let's see this clip," he said, addressing the group as they kept snickering together. "B, lean in here, I think you'll really like this one."

Bruce sighed heavily, but leaned in anyway as the rest of the group shifted too. Edna Mode launched into her speech as I held out my phone screen, Dick and his family gathered around me, and my heart absolutely swelled with love for every one of them. Dick and I really hadn't been dating long enough to be seriously thinking about marriage, but still- in this moment, I could start to picture it.

And I really liked the picture.

****************

WINTER

Whap!

Dick, my boyfriend of a little over two years, whirled around with a betrayed look on his face after I nailed him in the back with a snowball.

"Babe," he whined, his tone wounded. I just shrugged.

"It's training. You need to be aware of your surroundings. CONSTANT VIGILANCE and all that."

Dick raised his eyebrows and took a step towards me as a mischievous grin took over my face. A few months ago, when Dick and I had first seriously started talking about the possibility of marriage being the result of our relationship, he'd finally let me in on the Wayne family secret: not only was I dating the famous Dick Grayson, I was also dating Nightwing the vigilante. The Wayne family was one in the same as Batman and his extended vigilante posse. The few conspiracy weirdos on the internet insisting Bruce Wayne Is The Batman were right.

When he'd started to tell me, I'd first thought he was proposing. He'd been so serious and dramatic, and he'd done it at the end of a romantic, candlelit dinner we'd made together in my apartment. Then, once I realized what he was actually saying, my second thought had been oh, so that's why everyone loses their minds whenever I voice an opinion on a superhero.

At first, it had been a little hard to cope with the new worry that came with knowing my boyfriend put his life on the line every single night. News reports about the Bats and their enemies raised my anxiety WAY more than they ever had before. But Dick had been wonderful, reassuring me and helping me understand all the ways he'd found to stay safe and come back to me. And when that wasn't quite enough, the rest of his family stepped up to support me like one of their own.

Now, a few months after learning their secret, Dick and I were taking a rare full weekend for ourselves. We'd headed up to the mountains for some skiing, hot chocolate, and cuddling by the fire at his family's cabin, just the two of us. After a morning on the slopes and a delicious lunch, we'd decided to go on some of our favorite snowy hiking trails to take in the fresh mountain air.

Hence, my start of the snowball fight.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be training you," said Dick, closing the distance between us further. He and his family had been giving me self-defense training at my request, but we'd decided to take a break for the weekend.

"Mmm I'm not sure," I said, shifting backwards a bit to get out of Dick's reach. "I think I'm right."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then you probably have the better reflexes out of the two of us, right?"

I knew exactly where this was going. I grinned and tried to get my head in the zone before I answered, overconfident to the last.

"Definitely."

"Hm." Dick smiled at me, and then the next thing I knew, he'd wrapped his arms tightly around my waist before I had a second to react. I half-heartedly tried to wiggle free, but before I could, Dick picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I held on to him as tightly as I could, ready for him to dump me in a snow bank and ready to drag him down with me when he did. But the flip into the snow never came. Instead, Dick started walking with me still slung over his shoulder.

"Babe? What are you doing?" I asked, trying to push myself up enough to see where we were going. "I was all ready to wrestle you down into the snow with me."

"Just trust me," he said. Even though I couldn't see it, I could hear the smile on his face. I huffed.

"This isn't exactly comfortable, you know."

Dick just chuckled. We walked a few more steps, then at last, Dick set me down again, keeping his hands around my waist as we stood chest to chest.

"I may have lured you out into the woods under false pretenses," he said, a brilliant smile on his face. I raised an eyebrow.

"If I didn't trust you so much, I might be a little worried."

He smiled, then looked at a point over my shoulder before nodding for me to turn around. I did as his hands dropped from my waist, and I came face to face with his whole family standing around the gorgeous snowy clearing. Each of them held candles or roses in their hands, and they were absolutely beaming at me. I looked at each of them, waiting for some hint or answer about what was happening, but no one gave me anything. Then, I heard Dick's voice from behind me.

"Y/N?"

When I turned, I found my lovely, wonderful boyfriend down on one knee before me, an open ring box in his hands.

My hands flew to my mouth and I started to tear up a little as the situation sank in. Dick smiled, his own eyes a little wet as he continued.

"You are the love of my life. I had no idea when I first accidentally tackled you that you would become the most important person in the world to me, but you have. You make me a better version of myself, and every day I can hardly believe I'm really with you. You not only match me and love me, but you do the same with my family, which truly not many people can do. I can't think of a better person or partner I'd want to go through life with. So will you please do me the honor... of marrying me?"

"Baby... of course! Absolutely yes!" I cried, the tears fully flowing now as I dropped to my knees in the snow to join Dick. I threw my arms around him and held him tight, and both of us stayed like that for a few long moments before Dick pulled back, tears glistening on his cheeks and a smile on his face. He pulled me tightly to him and kissed me. I kissed back, running my hands through his hair as we got lost in each for a few moments before we pulled apart again. I held out my hand, shaking just a little, and Dick slipped the ring on my finger.

Cheers sounded from behind us, and I came back to reality as Dick's family came over to congratulate us. I wrapped each of them in my best bone-crushing hug, making sure they knew how happy I was to be joining them as family in the near future now, too.

After we'd all exchanged hugs (reluctantly or otherwise), I found Dick at my side again, wrapping his arm around my waist. I tucked into his side and it felt like I'd always belonged there.

I couldn't wait to spend the rest of my life just like this.

****************

LATE SPRING

I took a deep breath and stared at the double doors in front of me, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't wipe the biggest, cheesiest smile off my face, no matter how hard I tried. Today was my wedding day, and I couldn't be happier.

Steph and Cass had helped me find the perfect dress. My bouquet was filled with red poppies, my favorite flower. Dick and I had worked together to plan a dream wedding for the both of us, and now everyone we loved was gathered here to celebrate with us.

Everything was perfect.

I heard music start up, then a second later, the doors swung open. It didn't quite feel real as I took my first steps down the isle, towards Dick Grayson and the rest of my life.

It started to feel more real when I finally reached him, standing in front of so many people with eyes only for the man before me. We stood together, hand in hand and eyes locked on each other as the ceremony went on. We read our vows, said "I do", and before I knew it, we were married.

Dick swept me off my feet in a kiss as the crowd cheered. We laced our hands together and ran down the isle together, deliriously happy as our friends and family sent us off. We climbed into the waiting car as the door shut behind us, and I snuggled up against Dick's side before leaning up to give him a kiss. Finally, it felt real.

"I love you, Dick Grayson," I said, smiling up at him. "I can't wait to throw around the phrase 'my husband' until every single person we know is sick of it."

Dick laughed. "I love you too, Mrs. Grayson. And I can't wait to see who breaks first."

"My money's on Jason, unless anyone else says it's annoying first. Then I think he'll back us to mess with everyone else."

Dick laughed, then leaned in to give me a soft, tender kiss.

"I love how well you know them."

"Well... they're my family now, too."

We shared a smile, then settled into comfortable silence together, leaning against each other for support while we rested for the little bit of time we had now before the reception got into full swing. Tonight would be a long night for both of us, but I absolutely couldn't wait. I loved Dick with my whole heart, and going through every part of our futures together–good, bad, and crazy–was the best thing I could possibly think of.

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the-possum-writes · 1 year

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Hey, Poss! I recently found your tumblr and I love reading your stories! I have started rewatching AT and I definitely can relate to Fern and Finn a lot. They are both comfort characters for me, and I have come up with a request. Is it possible you could do some type of x reader story with either one (or both!) of them with a reader who is very anxious/insecure and compares themselves to others alot and is uncomfortable in crowded places? Thank you for reading my request! 😊

❥ Crowd Anxiety

❥Character: Finn Mertens, Fern Mertens

❥Tags: Fluff, SFW, comfort, anxious!reader, Gen neutral

❥Synopsis: During a chase at the grocery kingdom you run through a crowd only for your anxiety to kick in, fortunately there's two knights who help you through it.

❥A/n: Gonna describe the scenario in a paragraph and then split it into headcannons for each character.

❥Taglist: @foxpearlwilder @watchingfromthefloorboards

You were grocery shopping with Finn and Fern when you heard a smash two or three stalls away. "Stop! Thief!" yells one of the stall vendors. The three of you turn around to see a thief fleeing through the farmers market with a cash register tucked under their arm. Fern was the first to take action, pursuing the thief at full speed even if it meant dropping the watermelon he was holding for you. Finn apologized to you and the vendor before hurrying away.

This is not the first time a call to action has disrupted your daily routine. You ought to pay the vendor before continuing the chase, although in an upward direction. Finn and Fern lose track of the thief, but you can see him like a fox in a sheep's pen thanks to your advantage of being high above. You then perform some parkour moves to get him past food stands and clothes lines before rolling to the ground. You scream to whichever brother can hear you, "He's going to the meats section." You're beaming ear to ear at this point since you know you can catch the criminal as soon as he gets within reach and tackle him to the ground. The burglar recognizes you and cranks up the pace.

Although it makes you sweat more than parkour ever did, you don't let your pace slow down when you notice a larger crowd just around the corner. It's unavoidable to run into people, feeling them closing in on you as they go by you while you battle to do the same, till they don't even resemble people anymore with their faces blur away, and you try to keep pace of the thief as he gets further away from you. "No! No!" Your mind raced with the ideas, "I can't let him escape, I got a lot of eyes on me right now, and the shopkeeper is going to think I'm a dumb goop. It's sickening to the point where a crack in the concrete floor sends you sliding down and scraping your knees, and the people who were previously minding their own thing suddenly stare at you as you sit on the floor. You assume that others are silently judging you. That's when you start crying.

Finn:

❥When Finn was the first to come up with you, he instantly put the thief out of his mind and helped you. ❥Are you okay, smokes? I have a few bandages in my backpack, so don't worry. His attention turned to your knee scrapes. Unbeknownst to Finn, it made you feel embarrassed as nosy individuals prodded their heads to stare at you like a zoo animal. Finn, let's leave right away. Even though he is kind, he still didn't get the point when he said, "But, I wanna clean your knees first." ❥"... I feel uncomfortable, there's people watching." you murmur.

❥He finally realized, "Oh." Or maybe he didn't; all he knew was that you wanted to leave, so he picked you up in bridal style and raced away from the main street while you buried your head against his chest regardless of whether you soaked his shirt.

❥As Finn lowers you onto a barrel and begins to clean the area before applying a bandage, he realizes that you are still gazing shamefully away."Hey, it's no biggie. I fall down in public all the time." "... But atleast you manage to catch the bad guys." you mumbles "Oh, that's what's bothering you?" Finn simply listens without adding any more commentary. "You two are fantastic at this being a hero stuff, I know. I tagged along with you guys hoping to one day be like you, but all I've done is screw up." you lament. "Hey, hey (Y/n) you're not a screw up." "Easy for you to say." you mumble, looking away.

❥You remind Finn a little bit of himself. "You wanna know what happened when I fought my first monster?" You sigh, having heard this tale before. "You broke your sword and beat it with your bare hands." you repeat. "Hey, nice memory." he snaps a finger at you. "But there's something I don't tell anyone after my sword broke...I boomed boomed myself." You tried not to laugh out of respect. Keyword being tried.

❥"Doing hero stuff blows sometimes, but after you screw up once it's less likely to screw up again since you know what you're getting into. You're great at what you do!" Finn explains. "..." you pause to consider the suggestion, silently appreciating his presence. "Thanks, I'll try to keep that in mind the next time,"

❥You stopped crying a while ago, suddenly realizing something. "Is that why you carry an extra pair of pants in your backpack?" you point out, Finn just blushes and looks away fondly. "Yeaaah."

❥"There you are! I was about to leave without you guys." Fern has the stolen register in one hand while in the other he has the thief tied up and gagged. "Wow, great job Fern! and you avoided breaking bones this time." Fern enjoys the compliment but he looks to you. "Wouldn't have done it without (y/n), they got real hawk eyes."

Fern:

❥Fern was the first to catch up with you, he indecisively looked back between the thief and you a few times before deciding to stay with you.

❥"Come'on, we can still catch him together." he extends your hand but you refuse it. "No, just go ahead without me. I'm a klutz..." This inevitably bugged Fern, "What are ya saying? I'm not leaving you here playing on the dirt." he raises his voice.

❥It had nosy people poking their heads to look at you like a zoo animal unbeknownst to Fern, it had you blushing in embarrassment. "... Fern just leave me alone...there's people watching."

❥Fern turned to the crowd that formed around the two of you." What are you all looking at!? Take a picture, it'll last longer." He snarled back, flashing his razor-sharp teeth and brilliant eyes at them in an attempt to scare them away. He hoists you up piggyback style and leads you down a quiet alley, away from the busy street.

❥Fern places you on a barrel and uses a bottle to pour water on your knees to clean them, but he realizes that you are still shamefully turning your head away. "Hey, don't worry about it I get scratched up by small things all the time too." "... But atleast you manage to catch the bad guys." you mumbles "That's what's eating you up huh?" Fern simply listens without adding any more commentary. "You two are fantastic at this being a hero stuff, I know. I tagged along with you guys hoping to one day be like you, but all I've done is screw up." you lament. Fern stays quiet for a few seconds. "(Y/n) you're not a screw up. Trust me I know what one is like and you're not one of them." "Pfft yeah right, like who?" you don't believe him, looking away.

❥"Like me." This made you face him, remembering everything he's been through and realizing he's probably the only one who could understand how you feel.

❥Fern takes a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "You just lost track of a thief, I lost track of a kid who wasn't even actively running away from me. But hey there's no comparing, it's like comparing apples to oranges." he sits down on the barrel next to yours. "What I'm trying to say is that, you'll never go anywhere or be happy if you keep comparing yourself to other people. The only person you should be comparing yourself with is your past self, you're great at what you do and with time you'll be unstoppable." you pause to consider the advice, silently appreciating his presence. "Thanks, I'll try to keep that in mind the next time." "Good, or else I'll write it on your forehead with permanent marker." he half joked, but you know he's fully capable of doing it.

❥You stopped crying a while ago, suddenly realizing something. "Hey, you've been really good with advice lately." "Yeah, been seeing a therapist." he scratches the back of his neck. "And here I thought you were stealing phrases from fortune cookies again." you chuckle. "Sometimes, but not all the time!"

❥ "There you are! I was about to leave without you guys." Finn has the stolen register in one hand while in the other he has the thief tied up by the hands. "Looks like you had everything under control, didn't need our help huh (y/n)?" Finn enjoys the compliment but he looks to you. "Not really, I mean, I wouldn't have done it without (y/n), they're a beast at parkour."

#finn mertens x reader #finn the human x reader #fern mertens x reader #fern the human x reader #adventure time

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darkkitty1208 · 2 years

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Hii

For prompt: Stephen having grief/survivor guilt after eg???? Ty in advanceeee 🤍🤍

So I was looking through the pile of prompts sitting in my ask box and found this prompt that was dated all the way back to like, July of last year. I'm so sorry it took a while for me to get back to you, prompter. ^^" The WIP for this was buried deeepp in my folder and recently resurfaced, so I made a copy of it with my newer writing style, compared it, and went like. o.O How did I even think my writing was acceptable back then? Lol. But hey! I finished this. And quicker than I thought, too. So I guess that means something, right? Again sorry for the delay!

TW: Nightmares (again), PTSD, Depression, Disassociation, Survivor's Guilt, Suicidal!Stephen, and if you're allergic to unhappy endings or canon, don't read this. :P

As always the lovely @harpywritesfic beta'd this.

between the heavens and the embers

1. Denial

"I need you to understand that you need to be completely open to me for this to work, Mr. Strange."

Stephen blinked. He stared down at the hands that laid idly on his lap, the hands that shook and trembled and quivered every split second. He's come to accept it, by now. The damage in it, the pain it brought him. He has come to a realisation that, perhaps, it wasn't entirely useless; if anything, it served him as a reminder for his past self. For his recklessness and stupidity, for his mistakes. He knew now what it meant for him. Why the universe decided to make him a victim of its fate. It was a way to humble him, a way to teach him a lesson.

A slow intake of breath, a stuttered exhale.

"Mr. Strange?"

His eyes flicked up.

"Yes? Yes, of course. I understand."

He casted his eyes back down to the scars on his hands. He felt Vivian's stare boring down on him, almost familiar with it by now. He felt faint, felt like he was drifting away, like his body wasn't his own. Like he was dreaming. He kept blinking against the daze that threatened to overcome his vision, his mind a foggy place that he was afraid to get lost in. He was afraid that leaning back against his chair or even the slightest loss of focus would put him to sleep. His feet were on the ground, he could feel it, but he didn't feel present. He felt detached, felt adrift. Felt like his nerves were on the outside.

He felt tired. It was a bone-deep fatigue that not even his expertise (if he could even call it that anymore) could put a finger on. He was tired, but not in a way that he was used to. He closed his eyes, clenched his hands into fists, felt the pain shoot up his nerves. It grounded him, made him feel real. Made him feel tethered to the ground.

For a moment, silence spread in the therapist's office; the only sound being the scritch-scratch of Vivian's pen as she took notes.

Vivian sighed. He didn't know how much patience she had left for him, and silently thanked her for not running away from what he was. From who he was. From what a broken shell of a man he was.

"Tell me about your day. Start from the beginning."

Stephen resisted the urge to fidget.

"I woke up."

"How did you sleep?"

"I didn't." he breathed, "I don't."

"You just said you woke up."

A stuttered inhale.

"I stopped laying down."

Vivian nodded.

"How is the nightmare situation?" she asked, and her voice was gentle, albeit a little firm, but not in a condescending or intimidating way. Her posture was relaxed, open, always ready to accept anything he said. Her face was always kept neutral – passive, impartial. There were only a few moments where he noticed flickers of expressions close to sympathy flashing in her eyes, but he didn't like that. Didn't seek it. In a way, she reminded him of Wong.

Vivian didn't say anything, instead she waited. She was giving him space, giving him a moment to think, a moment to choose his words. But she wasn't leaving any room for a change in subject, he knew that from her look alone. She needed to know this, needed to pinpoint something in him about this. Needed to solve the great mystery of Stephen Strange.

Behind it all, he knew Vivian was reading him. Scrutinising him. Digging in his flesh, scraping against his skin, clawing her way in to lay him bare and vulnerable to her eyes. Breaking him apart piece by piece just to put him together again.

"Hasn't stopped." he said, and that was all he could get out.

His chest felt heavy, throat felt dry. He shifted, eyes flickering about. He was slowly falling apart at the seams, he knew – cracking, withering, breaking down beyond his control. He needed to stop it. Needed to ground himself. Needed to get it together, to not let his feeling get the best of him, not let himself fall apart in front of anyone's eyes, not let himself break break break as he let the flood of emotions wash over him.

"I'm tired," he admitted, and it was said with such heaviness that he had to rub away the moisture gathering in his eyes.

Vivian stared at him, unblinking.

"What you are experiencing is emotional exhaustion, Mr. Strange. It–"

"Doctor," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's Doctor Strange."

Vivian looked taken aback.

"Yes, of course. Doctor Strange."

Stephen inclined his head.

Did it really matter anymore? After all he had done, after all the pain and suffering he had inflicted to the world, to his friends and allies, did he really deserve to call himself by that title?

A small inkling of pride in the corner of his mind that was once his entire being insisted that, yes, he did. He did deserve to call himself and be called by such a title. But another, steadily growing part inside him told him otherwise.

It's not about you.

He closed his eyes again.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

"When are you going to talk to her about me?"

The shadow of a man that once wielded Infinity in his fingers and made it kneel under his command at the cost of his life whispered to him. Stephen stared at the illusion of hope he had created for himself, a dark part of him chuckling at the apparition of his lament that he had conjured from his last shards of sanity. (Or lack thereof.)

"No."

It blinked.

"I'm in your head, doc. This isn't something you should ignore."

The flame of a candle flickered against unseen wind, the blue-green glow of eyes that witnessed things beyond mortal comprehension turning to stone as it came face to face with the ghost of its guilt.

"No. Go away."

Trembling fingers waved away nothing as it turned to dust and dissipated into the wind.

2. Anger

"Tell me more about what happened at the funeral."

He didn't know why he chose to attend it. At first, it seemed too much. It seemed audacious of him to be included to the people who mourned for a hero that he had sent to death.

He had expected to receive the glares of judgment and disapproval, but nothing had hurt more than the silent treatment and the cold shoulder Pepper Potts had regarded him. Even the ever cheerful Peter seemed to avoid him.

Colonel Rhodes' reaction to his presence wasn't entirely uncalled for.

"You've got guts to show up here, Strange."

He clenched his eyes shut.

Most painful of it all was Morgan's confusion. She was confused why everyone including herself was wearing black garments, why everyone gathered together there looked sorrowful, where her daddy was in all of this and why everyone came up to offer her their 'condolences' and talk about how her father had been a brave man.

It was painful. Maybe he would feel better if they had leashed their anger at him, if they had rightfully blamed him for what he's done. Maybe it would all be less painful if they made him suffer the consequences of his actions like he truly deserved.

Apologies and condolences were meaningless, but it was the only thing he could offer. (An explanation, perhaps, would have been a better alternative. But there wasn't really any reason for him to explain himself, was there? What would he expect? Understanding? Sympathy? He knew he deserved neither.)

He couldn't help but think how cruel the universe must be to let a child grow without a father, to let a woman live without her husband, to let the world exist without its mightiest hero.

He couldn't help but think how cruel he was to let it happen.

"I wasn't supposed to come," he said instead, "I wasn't supposed to be there."

"But you were invited."

"Out of courtesy."

None of them actually knew him. He wasn't actually close to any of them. (At least in this timeline.)

"But you came anyway."

He blinked.

"Out of courtesy."

It felt wrong to show up, but it felt even worse not to. He wasn't sure which was worse.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

"Have you been going to therapy like I've suggested you to?"

Stephen placed his cup on its saucer, hearing the clink of ceramic as careful fingers placed it against the table.

"Yes."

Wong nodded.

"How is it?"

Stephen pursed his lips, bowed his head down.

"Fine."

In truth, they hadn't made that much progress. He felt guilty that a majority of it – and that was already an understatement of its own – was his to blame.

"Vivian's great."

Wong nodded again.

"How are you?" he asked, and normally Stephen would be surprised at the gentleness he could find within Wong's gruff voice – but normally he wouldn't be familiar with it all already after living too many lives.

"I'm fine," the lie slipped easily from his lips by now. It was almost natural. Fine. He hated that word.

Stephen moved to stand up.

"I'll be upstairs. I've got research to do."

Wong wasn't having any of it.

"Stephen," he called, and Stephen halted his steps, turned his head to the side partially, and waited for whatever the librarian wanted to say.

"I…" he seemed to hesitate, "If you ever need anything, you can tell me, Stephen."

Stephen clenched his fingers, eyes falling shut. The pain felt deserving.

The tiredness of his body bled from within, the aching in his chest intensifying. His head throbbed, the headache he's had since the moment he woke up (stopped lying down) making its presence known more than it already had.

He didn't feel steady. It was like the ground shook his body, as if the world tilted on its axis and he was left to dangle on the edge of it.

"I'm fine." he very nearly spat, and it was said with such venom that he feared Wong would turn away.

(He remembered what it felt like to be left alone when he needed it least. He remembered the consequences he had to face after pushing everyone away in hopes that solitude would fix him. It didn't.)

Stephen walked out, wrapping his arms around himself in hopes it would stop the trembling of his body, and decided that he's had enough.

(He needed to hide. To lock himself away from everything. And though he knew solitude wouldn't fix him, he still craved it.)

3. Bargaining

Stephen had tasted the power Time could give him, had manipulated it with his fingers like strings on a puppet. Stephen knew how heavy the responsibility of being the keeper of Time was, and that exploiting the privilege it had given him for his own personal reasons was something he shouldn't even think about doing.

But this wasn't for himself. This was for a child and a mother, a best friend, a mentee. It was for the world. It wasn't for himself.

So Stephen lifted his fingers to play among the strings once more, to call upon Time again with just one thing in mind; to search.

(Could he have chosen a better timeline? If he had looked through more, could he have found one that wouldn't hurt as much? If he had tried hard enough, could he have been a better person?)

Stephen called upon Time to search once more, but in the end found none.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

"Uh, Mist– Doctor Strange Sir?"

Stephen was surprised Peter approached him. He had been mostly avoided by everyone in the funeral, but he's learnt to never underestimate the boy. He was forgiving. Too forgiving. He didn't deserve it.

He shouldn't hope for it.

"Yes, Peter?"

Peter hesitated.

"I was just… just wondering," he was fidgeting. Clearly nervous. "Couldn't there be any other way? Couldn't there be… a– a timeline where…" the teen shuffled his feet, "where he lived?"

The boy's voice was cracking. Stephen felt his heart break into shards, piercing through his flesh and bleeding out. He felt like an open wound, infected and pus-filled.

"No," he looked towards the lake, voice lowering to a mere whisper, "I've tried, Peter. And there wasn't."

What more pain could he inflict towards a young soul?

4. Depression

With a mere stone in his grasp, Stephen Strange played God and stood between the choice of life and death. The green glow that once brought him hope and comfort now served to become another lesson for him to learn. The sweet taste of victory had never felt so similar to the bitter taste of defeat. (He had a choice and decided to send lives to their deaths in excuse of the greater good, like he did to his own, as if he had any right to wield the scythe in his broken fingers.)

In a building where its walls thrummed with magic and every creak of its old wood vibrated with life, Stephen Strange laid awake in his cold, dead, empty bedroom.

He felt his mask of sanity slowly falling apart.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

Six sessions. It took six entire sessions for him to come to this point. Six agonising sessions of him opening himself, laying out all his vulnerability, pouring out his heart and tearing himself apart in the process just to scold himself for it right after. Just to realise the effort was not nearly enough.

Six entire sessions. That was how long it took him to explain everything he's been through.

The crash, Dormammu, Thanos, the Blip.

The timelines.

Everything.

Stephen blinked again.

Was it worth it?

"How are things going?" Vivian said, her voice gentle as it always was.

Stephen sagged back against his seat. Lately the exhaustion in his bones seeped deeper, in a way. Blooming from within and reaching its tendrils to entwine with his soul. There was that fog in his head again – it was like his mind refused to focus on the there and then.

"I'm getting by."

Vivian took notes.

"How's your sleep?"

Stephen rubbed a hand over his face. He hated that question, but it was always unavoidable.

"Last night wasn't–" he swallowed, "good. Last night wasn't good."

More notes.

"That's understandable."

Stephen scoffed.

"Is it, really? Is it understandable?" his fingers twitched, "Why does it have to be understandable? Why does everything need to be understandable?"

He issued a bitter laugh, leaning back in his seat.

"Why can't things just be–" he gestured his hand in vague circles in the air, "unacceptable and we just… say that?"

She looked exasperated.

"I just mean it's okay."

"I've killed a man. And not just any man – I killed a father. A best friend. A husband. I've just decided the fate of a young girl and it's to live a life without her dad," he breathed in shakily, "How is that… How is any of that okay?"

She gave him that look again.

"You're grieving, too, Doctor Strange," she said, softly. Too soft.

Stephen scoffed.

"I don't have the right to."

He pursed his lips, looked away.

"Isn't there anyone you could talk to? To confide in?"

Stephen clenched his jaw.

"No," he blinked, "No one."

(He doesn't have the right to share the burden with anyone. He doesn't deserve to have a pair of ears that would listen or a shoulder to cry to. He doesn't think anyone would care enough to do so. And even if they did, he knew better than to accept it for granted.)

Fidgeting with his fingers wasn't ideal when they'd tremble with the slightest of movements. Tapping or bouncing his foot repeatedly would take too much of his strength. Instead he swallowed against the lump in his throat, keeping his eyes from watering in frustration.

Vivian took some notes. He couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by the sound of her pen dragging against the paper. His eyes flitted to the open page of her notebook.

"You just wrote 'still has trust issues'."

She sighed.

"And you're still reading my writing upside down," she looked at him, her concern evident in her eyes, "You see what I'm saying?"

Stephen clenched his jaw, unclenched it. Clenched it back again. He didn't respond.

"Have you taken the sleeping pills into consideration?"

Stephen stared at the window, where the gentle light of the sun cascaded through the curtains. There was the faint sound of birds chirping, the flutter of their wings as they flew. It was beautiful outside. It was a world worth saving, but what did it cost?

The frustration gave way to exhaustion. Again. Every breath he took felt painful this way, like shards piercing through his lungs. His head throbbed – the headache refused to ever cease away nowadays.

"Doctor Strange?"

"Hm?" he looked back at her, "Uh, yeah. No. No, I haven't."

It wasn't like he needed to sleep anyway, was it? Why should he treat himself with rest when he didn't deserve it?

She stared at him, leaning forward a little. Stephen braced himself. That was never a good sign.

"I think that you are punishing yourself for your guilt."

"No, I'm doing what I think I deserve for what I've done," his voice was trembling. That wasn't good.

"Harming your health as an act of penance isn't something you should do."

"I'm not harming myself."

"Yes, you are," she said, and her voice grew stern. "You don't deserve it."

"I should've– could've done better. I deserve it."

Her eyes turned soft. He loathed it.

"You're holding yourself to an unreasonable standard."

"I failed to."

It was the truth. Why can't Vivian see that?

Instead, she sighed at him, took more notes, and Stephen held his breath as she leaned forward the slightest bit more.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

He's been skipping sessions. Vivian's efforts in reaching out to him were futile – he didn't have the strength to respond. It was clearly a one-sided effort and it didn't come from him. He felt guilty about it, but his body was too tired and his mind was too loud to even start thinking about it.

He's been in bed since dusk and it's reached somewhere around noon by now. Or evening. He didn't bother to check. The other masters at Kamar Taj were probably looking for him. Wong was probably worried. He was letting everyone down with this behaviour, he knew that. But what was he supposed to do? His head was constantly screaming at him to get up, do something. His stomach was complaining about the lack of food. And if he didn't get up and go to the bathroom by now, his bladder might burst. But the temptation to just lie under the covers and sleep the entire day away was too irresistible.

His head throbbed. He felt empty, like something was ripped away from inside him and left a hole gaping in its wake.

He was hopeless. Utterly miserable. Pathetic. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. (He deserved to feel this way.)

A knock sounded on his door.

"Stephen? It's Christine, I'm coming in."

He sighed. The door creaked open. He heard the sound of footsteps padding softly on the floor, approaching his bed.

"Wong said you've been in bed all day," she started, clearly hesitating as she stood there. He remained silent.

"He said you haven't gotten up. Not even to eat, or… to shower."

He still remained silent. The air was tense, the silence too loud.

"I brought some food."

He heard the clink of what sounded like a bowl against the wood of his bedside table, the scrape of the metal spoon as it dragged along the edge of it.

Christine waited. She was patient, always was. Always has been. He was thankful for her. There were so many things he should say to her, so many apologies long due.

He couldn't find the strength to voice any of them.

"We're all worried about you, Stephen," she whispered, and Stephen wrapped the covers tighter around himself, curling in, breathing steadily through his nose. His chest ached. He didn't want to turn his head to her. Was too afraid to see the pity in her eyes. Didn't want it, didn't deserve it.

He should probably say something. Should probably let her know he was fine, that he just needed some time. But instead he laid there, unmoving, unable to say a word. His throat felt stuck.

In the end, she left. Of course she did. What would he expect? They all left eventually. He was a hopeless cause – not worth dealing with. He deserved it.

That's when he finally let the tears flow down.

5. Acceptance Penance

The air was warm in Kamar Taj, the leaves of its old trees that grew in the courtyard raining down and dancing against the wind that swept it about in the air, rustling against the ground where students and novices and masters trained and passed by.

Stephen sat under the shade, away from the hustle, the canopy of the tree above him blocking out a majority of the sunlight even as some still managed to stream through. He watched as the students flowed interdimensional energy and weaved magic between their fingers, sparks emanating and dissipating, some rather jerky and sharp – others smooth and gentle. Some were a reflection of himself from when the Mystic Arts was still such a foreign notion to him.

But it was part of him now, the magic. The way it danced along his fingers, thrummed in him and weaved into his soul, into his very being. And the simple act of watching it happen towards others was something he found beautiful.

('Beautiful' was one way to put it. Diving into the world of mysticism meant learning the things that lurked in the shadows, the things that were unseen to the naked eye. Things that could break even the strongest of minds.)

The Kamar Taj courtyard felt different compared to the rest of the place. The library was where he sought solitude; a place for him to drown himself in everything and nothing all at once. Its halls and rooms were silent, almost sacred, only disturbed by masters walking past. But the courtyard was different. The courtyard thrummed with life. This was where he went when he needed a fresh breath of air, however humid it may be.

(He didn't want to think about the room where The Ancient One once sat. The room where his life seemed to tilt to the side, where he realised the universe wasn't as small as it seemed. He didn't want to think about where it all began.)

Beneath it all, he was happy to be there one last time.

He flitted his eyes to the side as the weight of another settled beside him.

"Master Strange," came her familiar voice, "I didn't expect to find you here."

Stephen looked at her, ignored the flutter in his chest.

"Reminiscing your time before, I suppose?" she smiled. He chuckled.

"You mean when you sent me to Mount Everest in the middle of a portal lesson?" he smirked, "Sure. A great memory to reminisce about."

She chuckled back.

A comfortable silence spread. Every silence with her company always felt serene, in a way. She just had that effect on people.

"So much pain," she said, turning to him. "Why do you harbour it so immensely, Stephen?"

Stephen.

It felt so intimate to hear another person, moreso her, calling him by that name. It felt so invasive.

Stephen looked down at his fingers, silently chuckling at himself. At how pathetic he was.

(He was clinging to his last shards of sanity. If he was even sane anymore.)

"Why are you here?" he said, "How are you… How could you possibly be here?" he heard himself ask, because he could. Because he should. Because he couldn't keep denying.

Her voice was thinning, fading, far away.

"I need you to know this, Stephen Strange: no amount of guilt could change what has been and what should have been done. Wallowing in it changes nothing."

He wasn't sure if it was meant as a piece of advice or otherwise, but it felt like reality stabbed him straight in the chest.

She was fading, everything was falling away like dust.

He woke up.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

How could he still deserve to live? After all the lives he's taken, all the times he's died, survived, flesh knitting back together and his body sewn back, again and again; after all the lives he lived and all the choices he had taken, how could the world still think it deserving for him to live?

Stephen stood atop the building he now calls home, and chose to smile as he dragged his feet to fall over the edge, letting gravity take him falling to the ground.

This was how it was always supposed to end. He deserved it.

#prompt #ask #freshbananabeard #stephen strange #fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #my writing #tw #depression #suicidal!stephen #nightmares #ptsd #heres to hoping i didnt miss any tags #feel free to point them out if i did!

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berryicet · 1 year

Note

dudette. please ramble to me about your interests and favorite characters. i am sat down on the floor criss-cross style with a notebook and pen in hand ears open and the biggest smile on my face forever

So I've been going on a bit of a madcom spree again, rebloggin aahw art n stuff because I LOVE the aahw clones so much

Idk why I like them so much because (speaking purely from the madcom series perspective) they don't got much goin on besides wanting to kill Hank, and there's not THAT much info about the clones

BUT THAT DIDN'T STOP ME!!!!

I was having massive autism moments about the soldats so I made a comic on my hcs on how soldats are handled in the AAHW. It's old and ngl, kinda emo edgy, but I still love itt.

After that someone asked me for more hcs and I made a short text post about other agency hcs+ clone biology. I still mostly stand by all my biology hcs and also because the 10 year lifespan of a clone thing is the perfect angst material. Clones are literally just attack dogs for the aahw, down to having a dog lifespan

And I mean!! Yeah!! Cloning would require lots of energy and using it all to make clones that can live up to 100 years when they can all die in 5 years or less? WHY would you give them long lifespans? It's not like after they kill Hank they're gonna go out and make a family or anything. Also it means that if a clone dissents and becomes a runaway, they don't have to worry about it for too long because they're gonna die in a few years anyway.

Engineers and Soldats are especially fascinating to me with their Advanced Training Program and mustard blood or whatev. It's very much implied that grunts who go through training programs are also slowly stripped away of their own agency so they can only listen to and carry out the orders of the AAHW without needs of their own.

[ID: wiki screenshot "A.A.H.W agents lack the ability to feign death because, as stated by Krinkels, "that requires both a strong survival instinct as well as cleverness they just don't have""]

↑agents are made dumber to be more compliant and have lesser survival instincts

[ID: wiki screenshot "a Soldat obeys orders (falsified by 2BDamned) to fire explosives at his own teammates, showing that their superior loyalty to orders from higher ups can be taken advantage of since they ultimately do not question orders they think are give to them by someone trustworthy"]

↑soldats listen to ANY kind of orders from higher ups

AND RHEN I only recently found out that engineers and soldats make mechanical noises!

Soldats make noises adjacent to engines meanwhile engineers make radio noises. I'm ECSTATIC

Engineers and Soldats are MADE to be machines carrying out orders. But also since they're more mechanical, and since engineers emit radio noises, could they theoretically telepathically communicate with eachother? That would be pretty useful.

A sillier hc is that engineers and soldats make very quiet mechanical noises, sorta like it's their pulse and you can hear them better if you press your ear on their chest or neck. They can also purr, whirr and trill :3

Despite all my hcs, the clones very much have their own vague personality

As I've said, agents are dumber and braver. They are also more committed (and by relation, probably also pretty stubborn). Engineers are tacticians and posses knowledge about engineering(duh) and possibly other domains too like the medical field and are often the ones ordering groups of grunts and agents. Soldats are fierce, reckless and impatient, made to be killing machines more than anything. They're more agile and well-versed in combat.

[ID: wiki screenshot "when asked if a Soldat would be a good instructor, Krinkels said they could either potentially teach you how to be as Soldat-y as can be, or just throw you off a cliff"]

↑i love this. They really made guys that do nothing but bite bite bark.

I wanna ramble about my madcom ocs too but I think I'll put it in a separate ask,, for now uh. Yeah!

If anything else comes to mind, I'll probs reblog this and add on some more stuff

#god i love the AAHW clones so so much #i wanna kiss every agent‚ engineer and soldat on their little foreheads #me and my hordes of aahw clones:33 #asks

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wooahaes · 1 year

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I'm really glad you're doing well. I think motivation can be something that's really hard to get back, but I don't think trying to force yourself helps either. I'm glad you've found a way of writing without as much pressure! What are you using for your digital paintings? Tablet/iPad/other? What apps do you use? How do you get them to look so realistic?! I'm currently trying to improve my drawings skills haha. Please take care of yourself too! I genuinely love talking to you!! 🍧

motivations def hard to get back and i think sometimes i Do have to force myself to sit down and write Something (my writing prof in college called it "butt in chair hours" bc it helps build a habit of sitting down and writing), but i know if its not coming then i need to lay off and not force myself too hard.

digital paintings are an iPad (idk the model or anything, i can check and get back) + an apple pen! its technically my mothers but i'll borrow it sometimes.

admittedly i need to go back onto my posts and edit them with a link to pictures because technically i'm not really an artist as much as i'm someone who's learning (but im not getting any reblogs for my silly drawings and i don't really tag them). i grew up drawing stuff based off of certain anime styles, and ive kinda moved toward realism more in recent years as a way of practicing anatomy better. when i work on an ipad, i end up tracing pictures because i'm usually doing it for practice on shading n whatnot. like this was traced from a pic of baeseung with a puppy (i'd have to see if i can find it online--he posted it to weverse and i usually save his cute face), this was pulled from a pic of chris where i wanted to do some practice on painting vaguely, but my traditional stuff like this cheollie and this hao were referenced (the hao one doesn't have a ref pic w it since i was working off a screenshot of a gif--i'd have to find the gose episode and get the screenshot myself).

i dont rly view myself as an artist tbh as much as i'm just someone who enjoys drawing and is trying to learn more. all i can rly offer is just what other ppl have said in the vein of "practice practice practice"

#wooahaes.ask #🍧 anon #again im 100% not an artist! just someone who enjoys it as a hobby and wants to learn better

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cfwildfirefacades · 2 years

Photo

(—) ★ spotted!! GWENDOLYN ALPEN on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 22 year old looks like HASLTON SAGE, but i don’t really see it. while the REALITY TV STAR/TIKTOKER/SINGER/FIGURE SKATER is known for being EMPATHETIC my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be GUARDED i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song STAY by RIHANNA and MICKEY EKKO {she/her / female} - penned by SUSHI

BASICS

Name: Gwendolyn Lorelai Alpen Nicknames/Alias: Gwen, Rory Face Claim: Halston Sage Age: 22 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Date/Place of Birth: Pending in Upstate New York Currently: Los Angeles, CA Nationality: American Occupation: Reality TV Star, TikToker, Singer, Figure Skater

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: Loyal: giving or showing firm and constant support or allegiance to a person or institution. Patient: able to accept or tolerate delays, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious. Humble: having or showing a modest or low estimate of one's own importance. Selfless: concerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one's own; unselfish. Flaws/Weaknesses: Naive: (of a person or action) showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgment; (of a person) natural and unaffected; innocent Guarded: cautious and having possible reservations. Stubborn: having or showing dogged determination not to change one's attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. Conflict-Averse: has a tendency to avoid disagreements and prefer not to confront issues directly

Favourite colour? Yellow and Baby Blue Favourite foods? Tilapia, Shrimp, Popcorn, Edamame, Smoothies, Italian Wedding Style soup, Dark Chocolate, Fruit in general Favourite music? Indie, Pop, R&B, Singer/Songwriter Favorite books? Romance, Sci-Fi, Fantasy Fears: tbd Moral Alignment: Lawful Good

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Jackson Alpen (Father) Alessandra Alpen (Mother) Siblings: Garrett Alpen (Older Brother) Gabriel Alpen (Quintuplet Brother) Erin Alpen (Quintuplet Sister) Unnamed Alpen (Quintuplet Sister) Greyson Alpen (Quintuplet Sister)

Children: N/A

Other family: N/A Spouse: N/A Ex-Partners: TBD Friends: Esmeralda Monroe (Best Friend)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 5′7″ 123.5 lbs, lean, muscular Hair Colour: Red Eye Colour: Blue Distinguishing Marks: Couple of scars from figure skating

Accomplishments: 3 released albums, 5 top 100 hits, 2nd place in figure skating at age 7, 1st place in figure skating at age 9, Gold medal in Grand Prix Figure Skating at age 15, 1st place in World Juniors Figure Skating at age 17, Silver Medal in Pairs Olympics 2022 at age 21, Gold Medal in Women’s Free Skate Olympics 2022 at age 21

Regrets: TBD Secrets: She’s currently suffering from an identity crisis; She loves her siblings but sometimes she hates being a quint (mainly from the fact of how they grew up in front of cameras and have come to be known mainly as 1/5 of the Alpen quints)

HISTORY

Born 1/5 of the Alpen Quintuplets, life in front of the cameras began even before entry into the world.

Life on the ice was a calm to every storm she endured, the music surrounding her, the way her blades sounded as the sliced atop the ice, she started early about 4.5 before her first performance at age 5. It was thrilling, it was hers, something she didn’t have to share with her siblings.

Growing up as 1 of a set of 5 had it’s ups and downs but no matter what, through all of it, it was nice knowing that she always had a friend, always had someone to turn to when she needed it.

The older she got, however, the further disconnected from herself that she felt and by age 14/15, Gwendolyn found herself going through an identity crisis (something she’s still struggling with to this day).

At 16, Gwen began having her friends call her Rory, a nickname that was short for her middle name, Lorelai, in hopes that it would help make her feel more of herself as an individual rather than America’s favorite set of Quints.

17 saw the release of her first single and by 19 her first ever album was recorded and released.

Making it the Olympics last year was a dream come true and placing both silver in pairs and gold in women’s free skate only fulfilled the dreams of a young girl that had always dreamed of making it that far.

When she’s not on the ice or in the recording studio, 50% of the time she can be found making TikToks and the other 50% of the time she can be found with her best friend, Esme (and there’s even times where both mesh perfectly together)

Gwen has been on a journey of self-discovery ever since their reality show ended.

Her siblings are everything to her which is one of the only reasons why she agreed to starting up a new reality show of their adult lives, not wanting to disappoint any of them.

CAREER

Discography

Voiceclaim: Dove Cameron

Midnight Thoughts (Released, age 19)

Nothing Ever Changes 3:03

Love’s A Waste 3:01

Reason To Stay 3:08

If By Chance 5:02

Save Me 5:05

Version Of Me 3:02

Friends Don’t 3:09

Lessons Learned (Released, Age 20)

High School Me 3:24

You Can Have Him 3:17

It’ll Be Okay 3:50

What It Means To Be A Girl 2:49

This Is How I Learn To Say No 2:23

Like My Father 3:03

Another Year, Another Trauma (Released, age 21)

Tattoos 3:02

Make Him Wait 3:24

Could’ve Just Left Me Alone 2:28

When You Say My Name 2:28

I Don’t Burn 2:53

Body Language 2:53

10 Things I Hate About You 2:37

Do It Like A Girl 2:43

Dear No One 3:18

All In My Head 3:31

Bad Idea (Released, age 22)

Girl Like Me 2:29

Bad Idea 2:36

Breakfast 2:29

Boyfriend 2:33

Taste of You (ft. Rezz) 2:54

Genie In A Bottle 3:49

Out Of Touch 3:16

We Belong 2:28

Bloodhsot/Waste 6:28

Remember Me (ft. BIA) 3:43

So Good 2:36

If Only 3:51

Singles (Released, Various ages)

Faking It 2:47 (age 18)

Don’t Tell My Mom 3:11 (age 17)

What Made You Think? 3:41 (age 20)

Monster’s Ink 3:56 (age 22)

Boytoy 1:50 (age 18)

I’m A Mess 3:16 (age 21)

Born Ready 2:07 (Released for Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Figure Skating

Gwendolyn’s first performance (age 5)

Christmas Recital (age 5)

First competition (age 7, 4th place)

Free Skate performance (age 7, 2nd place)

Houston Fall Invitational (age 9, 3rd place)

Competition (age 9, 1st place)

US Champions (age 14, 4th place)

Grand Prix Debut (age 15, Gold)

World Juniors (age 17, 1st place)

Winter Recital (age 17)

Competition (age 19, Disqualified)

Olympics Pairs Free Skate 2022 (age 21, Silver)

Olympics Women’s Free Skate 2022 (age 21, gold)

#hillzhqsintro

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lyukablau · 3 years

Text

Chuuya’s reactions when he found out your vent book.

A/N: Hii everyone, it’s Lyuka! This is the second fic in my new blog. Again, if you see any grammar errors or spelling mistakes please let me know! I’m still new to this kind of writing😊. I have decided that I’ll do first five headcanon (or more if I see it necessary) to get use to it and will do one shot and scenarios after that.

Type: Headcanon, fluff and comfort.

WARNING: mental illness.

You and Chuuya have dating for a long time, since he joined the Port Mafia and you appeared after him one month.

Mori saw how close you guys are and how effective you and Chuuya bring for him and organization, he decided let you paired with him after Dazai left the Mafia.

Chuuya knows every, single, things about you. What you like, what you don’t like, knows your favorite ice cream flavor, knows what you need immediately just by your expression and knows how much you love him and you know how much he loves you.

He also knows that you love drawing. Sometimes he saw you draw in your sketch book and always bring that book with you.

But he have noticed one thing recently about it.

You don’t own any painting supplies. No watercolor, brush or palette. He didn’t see any pencil use for sketch like the other artist he see in internet.

At first he though that you have your own drawing style that don’t need any of them, just a black ink pen is enough for you. If it that so, he will buy you the prettiest and best quality black pen for you. Until that day.

It was the time when both of you doing paper works in Chuuya’s office, the thing that you and him hates so much.

“I’m done! Now I’ll give this for boss, I’ll be back soon!”

“Okay, doll. I’m almost done too and then we can go home together. Sound good?”

“Perfect”

Then you left the room with folder in your hand. Chuuya smiled at your cute form and back to his work.

Chuuya roses his hand to the take the coffee cup but accidentally hit the folders mountain felt to the ground, made the floor messy.

He groaned with annoying face, sighed heavily and kneel down to pick them up.

Just then, his eyes met the book open at a random page, and open his eyes wide when he saw how terrify the page is.

It is your drawing book. He pick up the book, read and look every single things that you drew. There are some small faces, bleeding eyes, lean bodies, red marks running along human wrist and many sentences that he sure is what your mind thinking.

At that moment, he felt hurt and regrets. Why didn’t he noticed this sooner? If he did, you won’t be this hurt and stress. He should have asked, he should have had eyes on your more often.

“Chuu! I’m back. Are you...”

Your sentence stop when you saw him read your vent book and hold it tightly. His eyes gazed with your scaring expression, but none of them are express anger towards you.

“Y/N, what is this?”

His voice filled with angry and pain, and you know that you can’t hide it anymore.

You told him everything, that you have depression and anxiety, but you don’t want to tell him because you scared he will leaves you and hates you.

Chuuya put the book on the table then slowly walked toward your crying form, hugged you tightly and rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry, love. I should have known. I should be there when you depressed, and I should have noticed that you in pain”

“It’s not your fault Chuuya. It’s my fault for hide it from you”

“No love, you don’t have to apologize”

You want to say something but you stay silent instead. Chuuya wiped your tears with his thumbs, kissed your forehead softly and told you to sit down, waiting him clean the messy floor.

After that, Chuuya take your vent book and won’t let you touch it ever again. It will trigger you every time you see it and he don’t want to see you in pain.

He will do anything for you, he also encourage you to meet the therapist, but he won’t force you if you don’t want.

He will extremely careful when you feeling down, he won’t talk much (although inside him really want to) and just hugs you, whisper nothing in your ears and won’t leave your side until you feel better.

He will do his best to keep you safe and make you happy, and he won’t leave you or stop loving you, ever.

(Phew! That was long, I was considered that this should be in scenarios instead but I hope you don’t mind with headcanon. I’m still new to this and need time to get use to it. I’m very appreciate if you reblog and like this post. It helps me gain motivative to writing🤗)

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader fluff #Mental health #BSD x reader fluff #Btw I study psychology and I'm good at it

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switch-writer · 3 years

Text

Writer’s Block (Chongyun + Xingqiu)

A/N: AYYY- @anzynai , I had you for Squealing Santa! I really hope you enjoy this, and do have a Merry Christmas! Also a big thanks to Mia who organized this as well! Major thank you! So, tbh, I did have a lot of fun writing this! I always liked them but after writing for them, I really do enjoy them! However, this was almost late because I got really busy as of recently and was lacking on being productive on writing and such. But I got it done and I’m posting it when I wanted to! I originally wanted this done on the 15th of November and to post it on December 1st. While I did make my personal deadline on posting it, I can’t say I did with actually when I got done with the fic xD

EITHER WAY, I hope you enjoy this! Have a Merry Christmas! <3

Warnings: Uhhh, I don’t even believe I swore in this fic, so, pure fluff, and tickles! That’s all :D

Words: 1556 (last I checked, no editing included-)

—————————————————————

Well, this began as a normal day, one like any other. The exorcist came around to the second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, and the two went off somewhere to hang out. It was something like clockwork. This particular day, they chose to venture off into a more rural area, near a slightly woody area in Liyue Harbor. It wasn’t particularly popular, and it was quiet. Very nice little area if you’re aware of it.

Chongyun was currently relaxing himself as he focused on the views around him while the bookworm of the two was writing again, which Chongyun didn’t question too much considering he was aware of Xingqiu’s interest and occasional hobby of writing despite book publishers in Liyue Harbor not caring much for Xingqiu’s writing.

However, since Xingqiu has found out of Inazuma’s spark of intrigue in his stories, he may be picking up his writer’s pen once more and beginning another storyline, perhaps a continuation.

But that’s the current issue he was having with this. He…needless to say, was struggling with where exactly to go with it while keeping everything consistent. The book lover has made concepts of ideas along with possibilities but he lacked a sense of what direction to pursue.

“Xingqiu, are you troubled currently? You seem a tad…what’s the word, confused? Frustrated? Something of the sort.” The icy blue styled man finally spoke up about it, causing the darker haired man of the two to let out a small laugh.

“Eheh. Well, I admit…I am struggling a little more than I wish to admit. It’s just…I’m having trouble with picking up the story and where exactly to go with it. I would like to go in a unexpecting direction or keep the reader on their toes but it… it isn’t quite clicking for ideas thus far.”

Xingqiu sighs with a slight smile. “My point is that I’m having a writer’s block like most amazing writer’s get. Nothing super exciting or scary.”

Chongyun gave a subtle nod to his friend, beginning to think to himself about how to help Xingqiu. Though, he wasn’t much of a writer, never found interest in it, yet alone had the time for it. But the exorcist didn’t want— no no. He couldn’t just sit there after Xingqiu always helped him with trying to find demons of sorts.

“Hm… well, where’d you leave off…?” Chongyun decided to speak out once more, attempting to listen to this and hope ideas from his outside view would assist him. “Ah, well, it all starts with our main character…”

Xingqiu began to ramble off with the details, the popsicle loving nearby listening in, a little conflicted on what to do as he listened. Of the details he heard, it sounded as if the bookworm was extremely passionate but in all honesty, Chongyun began to space out, mainly realizing he would have to listen to a whole story and that’s if he could even give an idea.

Hmm…what would Xingqiu do in this situation… Whenever he was upset, the second son of a certain guild would not only assist in a solution, but even when he couldn’t, he’d at least cheer him up or support him in such ways. So, maybe…returning the favor would be the best line of action. Luckily, thanks to his occasional negative reactions at being quite unsuccessful at finding and cleansing a demon of its ability, he has a very present and clear idea.

“Xingqiu…?” “Hmm? Too many details?” “Nono...well…” Gonna quickly move past that. “I may have an idea.” “Oh? So, not enough detail for you?” Xingqiu asked in a playful and slightly teasing manner.

“Eheheh. Believe me, there was quite enough.” Chongyun stated, deciding to let him down easy, though he was confident he took the hint. “However, this idea, it’s a little bit different than you’d think, but I believe it might help you.” “Then do share.” The one in darker clothing decides to allow this, giving it a chance, having trust in the cryo vision wielder’s judgement.

Chongyun, admittedly, was nervous about doing this. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about…except for if the tables are immediately flipped. “Alright. Will do.” He tried to seem a little more confident about this, sneaking his hand over to the bookworm. “Well, go on! I’m curious to see what ideas you may ha- hahahave! Chohohong!”

The exorcist was quick to taze his sides, trying to be quick now because he knows exactly what’s gonna happen. A major attempt to turn the tables. And he was correct.

Xingqiu attempted to grab his hand, managing to succeed, causing the cryo user to panic as his hand went straight up from his sides. “Gotchu!” Xingqiu announced, shooting his other hand to Chongyun’s side, right by where his ribs were and tazed him.

“Payback!” “W-Wahahait! Nohoho! Stohohop thahat!” Chongyun couldn’t help but break into giggles immediately, this is already going wrong. However, this is all he has to do, win this little uprising and then he’s fine. With his mental encouragement, Chongyun was officially now determined to win against him.

So, to fight against the Hydro user, he straight up tackled him onto the grass, making Xingqiu fall over as he straddled him. “Waitwaitwait! Chongyun!” “No no. No protesting! You must allow me to return the favor.” “No! Don’t you even— ehehahaha! Chohongyuhun!”

The second son attempted to protest, failing at this since Chongyun made up his mind by now. Truthfully, he was glad he chose this, he forgot how much he loved Xingqiu’s laugh. After all, he didn’t get to hear it often considering how easily the hydro user usually turns the tables.

“Sorry, but this is too much to pass up. I must cheer you up!” Chongyun stated, beginning to scribble his fingers over his friend’s ribs. “Pff- Buhuhut I’m fihihine! I’m nohohot upsehehet!” “Oh…well then it’s revenge I suppose. Sorry but…I’m not sorry.” Chongyun, the kind and nervous exorcist, being a savage? How unheard of!

Which, Xingqiu began to laugh a bit more genuinely at that thanks to how unusual it was. “Thahahat’s so cruehehel ohohof you! Hohohow dahahare you crohohoss the sehehecond sohohon of- W-WhahahahaHAIT!” Chongyun got a little tired of his rambling and frankly just wanted to hear his pure sweet laugh.

“Ah, your tummy has always been so sensitive, hehe. How sweet.” Chongyun teases his closest friend, his finger now tracing around his navel. After all, couldn’t help but test that spot.

“C-CHOHOHONGYUN! PLEHEHEASE! I’M SOHOHORRY-“ “Oh? For what?” “AHAH— TI-TIHIHICKLING YOU ALL THEHEHE TIME! PLEHEHEASE LET ME GOHOHOHO!”

“Well. I suppose that is a very good apology… hmmm, let me think…”

Chongyun pretended to think about this for a moment. Well, truthfully, it wasn't pretending. After a few moments, he began to consider if he should truly be so merciful with his friend. After all, his poor friend was laughing his heart out for the moment thanks to the extreme sensations surging through him.

Though, there’s one thing holding back Chongyun from hailing this attack was simply Xingqiu’s pure laugh. It was so sweet. Just somewhat loud, yet still pure and almost a bubbly type of laughter. It was giving serotonin to him, not just the sound of it but the fact he’s making Xingqiu happy. It made the male with high yang energy feel quite similar.

This being said, Chongyun, despite everything, halted his big attack. However, he finally successfully cheered him up and tickled him! That’s the important part. Mostly the first part of that.

“Ehehe… ah…Cruel move, but fair considering how often I do that.”

The hydro user admitted as the other pulled out a popsicle, taking it in order to be sure he’ll be alright. “Mhm, I agree.” “Hey! You’re now acting more like me, you’ve been practicing the art of trickery?”

Xingqiu nudged him with a soft smile, Chongyun offered a popsicle, flinching gently from the soft nudge to his side. “Ah, this a new way to distract me from getting you back?” Xingqiu questions curiously, his smile still being present as he took the popsicle.

“Ehehe…maybe?” Chongyun decided to be honest despite his slight nervousness confessing his plan. “Ah, well, I’ll spare you for the time being. Mainly because of the popsicle.” The hydro vision wielder winked as he spoke out to Chongyun, beginning to lick at the popsicle, not minding the slightly off taste. Actually, he found it’s taste, despite it being off, sweet.

“Ah…but you’re getting me back one day?” The icy blue eyed male asked nervously, raising an eyebrow as he attempted to enjoy his popsicle. Xingqiu glanced at him with a mischievous smirk growing on his face, the cold treat in his mouth.

“Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. You’ll find out.” “Ah…” Sooner or later, they both managed to finish the popsicles, sharing a nice moment of silence, Xingqiu seemingly taking new notes relating to his story he was working on and Chongyun taking in the views.

“Oh, and Chongyun?” “Yes?” “. . . Start running.” “O-oh. oH-“ The exorcist was quick to hop up, beginning to break into a sprint. The writer sighs with a small smile, placing his book for notes down, wiping himself off as he stood up.

“Well, this will certainly end in a lovely way, one way or another.” Xingqiu mumbled before keeping a smile, going to chase after Chongyun. These two are gonna be here for a long while for sure. But hey, they’ll both definitely be enjoying it.

#squealing santa #squealingsanta2021 #SS2021 #genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!xingqiu #lee!xingqiu #ler!chongyun #and very slight #ticklish!chongyun #lee!chongyun #ler!xingqiu #alright. back to trying to write other fics ive been needing to write since like. September-

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peachywrite · 3 years

Text

Unpleasant Pleasantries

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader

Trigger Warning: inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Rohan thought this to be the perfect opportunity to get back at that imbecile with the hair of a 60’s delinquent, but instead found something more fulfilling than revenge.

It was your first time meeting the famous mangaka, but Koichi insisted that you introduce yourself to the newly found stand user as a formality.

“It’s better to make friends than enemies, y/n! So please do this for me.” He begged, clasping his hands tightly together as he bowed.

“Koichi-chan, he ripped out pages from your face and tried to do the same to Okuyasu and Josuke. I don’t know if I trust this guy.” You sighed, nervous and even a little scared.

“It’ll be fine, when you tell him you’re related to Josuke, he won’t even think about trying anything!” Koichi’s eyes glistened, still silently begging you to go.

“Fine, but if I don’t show up back home in an hour, call Josuke please.” Koichi nodded enthusiastically, shouting thank yous while he ran off to find your brother.

Thanks to the written address Koichi had given you, it was easy to find the large Victorian mansion that belonged to the isolated artist.

“Come on, y/n. You can do this. Just a quick hello and you’re done.” You tried to psych yourself up, taking one last deep breath before approaching the walkway that led up to the door.

Knock Knock

You waited, your heart rate a bit too quick for your liking.

You could hear the steps on the other side slowly approaching and suddenly stopping, only to find the door creak by.

“Now who would be disrupting the Great Rohan Kishibe?” The man spoke in a sinister tone, swinging the door open.

Rohan Kishibe looked nothing like how you expected him to. He was built slim but still toned, his green hair neatly styled and face slim and sharp with a cute dolphin bandage placed on the bridge of his nose. His green eyes stared at you intently, as if he was trying to analyze your face as well.

“I-I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. My friend Koichi wanted me to introduce myself. I’m Y/N Higashikata. I’m a stand user and I go to school with the rest of the boys.” You stammer out, guilt hitting you for interrupting the presumably busy manga artist.

The man eyed you with a devilish smirk, clapping his hands together like he had discovered something amusing.

“You’re Josuke’s little sister! Oh how fun! You know, you’re too cute to be related to that boy. Now please come in, I’ll make you some tea and we can talk.”

“I’m actually the same age as him, and I’d love to join you but I got... study plans with K-Koichi!” You tried to avoid his stare but as he made eye contact, you knew you had lost.

“Nonsense! I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ll be studying with me, now please come in already.” His smile grew while he pulled you into his abode by your wrists.

The house was lightly decorated with manga related memorabilia on the wood carved shelves and many original panels from famous mangas hung framed on the soft toned walls, but the home still held a grand Victorian feeling to it.

Your original unease disappeared as you took in the grandeur of the mansion and the interesting items that adorned it so carefully. Rohan smirked at the curiosity in your eyes and the quick movements they made while you focused on specific areas of his home.

“Would you like a personal tour of the property before we study? I will warn you though, not all the rooms have been styled by yours truly yet. It’s a work in progress at the moment.” The smile he bared had you suspicious again, but you didn’t want to be rude to the owner of such a magnificent estate.

“As much as I would love to, your home is absolutely stunning, I sadly only have an hour to study. My mom would kill me if I got home late again.” A hefty sigh escaped your lips and you gave him your best upset expression you could muster.

You hoped he wouldn’t key in on your lying, remembering the warning Koichi had given you about his ability to discern genuine emotions from fake ones.

The mangaka squinted his eyes for a moment, causing your heartbeat to speed up substantially, but his face returned to its usual smile that you swore held a bit of deviousness underneath.

“Oh! it’s alright, dear. I understand. I’ll save it for your next visit. Let’s get to your work now, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll prepare us something and you can take a seat by the window.” He gently took your hand, guiding you to the kitchen and carefully pulling out a seat for you at his dining room table.

A beautiful bouquet set in a hand sculpted vase caught your interest on the table as Rohan busied himself with brewing a fresh pot of tea. The flowers were bright in color compared to the muted ones of the vase, but the contrast made both appear unique and appealing to the eye.

“I see you even appreciate the smaller details of a home. Though I am a mangaka, I do dabble in other forms of artistic expression. Take pottery for example, I glazed this vase in a muted color pallet so it could stand out on its own when beautifully bright flowers were placed in it. The two compliment each other nicely, don’t they?” He set down two tea cups and began to pour.

“Yes! And I especially love the bright purples in the lillies you picked here.” You gently touched a petal, Rohan now lightly tapping his cheek, pulling out a chair for himself to sit right beside you.

His closeness and unwavering gaze brought a heaviness to your chest, making you stumble over your words.

“Um-m thank you for treating me so well and letting me study in your home, Rohan-sensei.” You began to unpack your notes and textbook, Rohan scooting closer to analyze what you had written.

“No need to thank me, my dear. Now let’s get to your studies. What is it you need to work on today?” The smile he shares with you is comforting, but you can’t help but feel like he was plotting something.

You set your pencil bag down and prepare your notebook, trying to make yourself busy by setting up.

“Biology. I’ve only just recently started going to school in person, but I tested well enough to be placed in the highest class. Today we’re supposed to label all the organs in this frog drawing.” Your tone comes off as annoyed and Rohan picks up on it, tilting his head to the side while he reads your frog diagram.

“You aren’t a fan of biology? I’ve got a few anatomy sketches of animals you could use instead of this photocopied worksheet. Maybe that will help peak your interest?” He stands and saunters out to find his sketches, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

When Rohan returns, the two of you work on your Biology homework for about an hour, finishing the entire pot of tea in the process. You found out that Rohan was quite skilled at anatomy, having an entire sketchbook dedicated to the anatomy of many living things, including the likes of frogs and flowers. He was extremely helpful and fun to talk with.

As you packed up your bag, Rohan remained seated in his chair, playing with one of the lilies from the bouquet. You weren’t sure if you should head towards the door and leave Rohan or wait for him to stand and lead you out. You were about to speak when the mangaka interrupted with a swish of his pen in your direction.

“Heaven’s Door.”

You felt a sharp shove of air to your midsection, sending you onto the floor. Every movement you attempted was futile as the grinning artist looked down at you. A deep chuckle haunted you while he leaned in closer to your face. His hands gently caressed your cheek, opening it up like a book.

“I’m sorry, y/n. You’re interesting and I’d love to learn more about you, but I’m impatient. It’ll be far easier for me to just read you. Don’t fret, my dear. I’ll make sure you don’t remember this.” He flipped through your pages, ignoring the tears that ran down onto the very paper he was trying to read.

“Now let’s just read the juicy bits today. You were hospitalized along with your brother when you were only four, a strange parasite made up of Dio’s cells attacked your immune system at age twelve and had you bedridden until fairly recently.” The curiosity he held for your story excited him, the pen he held in one hand quickly wrote onto the notepad he placed on the floor beside your head.

You felt like sinking into yourself, ignoring his quips and teases as the embarrassment of the mangaka reading your thoughts and feelings enveloped you. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be this way? He was so kind before and just like a flick of a switch, he changed.

“Oh, now how did you escape that? Here we are, thanks to Mr.Joestar’s Hamon lessons, you not only came back from your illness, but gained a proper stand and the ability to wield Hamon just like your father and great grandfather! Wait, what’s this new paragraph about?” He squinted closely, reading your page out loud again.

“I have to visit Rohan Kishibe today because Koichi told me to. He practically begged. Even though I’m scared, Koichi gave me his word that nothing bad would happen. Rohan Kishibe looks very different from what I imagined a mangaka to look. Well, what did you expect me to look like?” His smirk grows as he continues on.

“Ah, another new bit is here! Rohan Kishibe is very good at anatomy, he’s been kind and helpful, I’d like to get to know him better. I think Josuke was just overreacting when he called Rohan Kishibe pure evil. I could see us being friends.”

His smile disappears skimming the next sentence, his usual tone of voice changed as he starts to read. He sounded upset, hurt even.

You were the one being wronged here! Why would he get upset? He doesn’t have the right.

“Josuke was right. Rohan Kishibe is not nice, he is terribly mean. He’s using me for his entertainment. He doesn’t care. Rohan Kishibe is not kind, he is not helpful, he is cruel, I don’t want to get to know him. I want to forget him.”

“I hate Rohan Kishibe. I hope to never see him again.”

Rohan paused, looking away from your pages, trying to focus on anything else for the moment.

“W-well, I’ll just fix this last paragraph and erase it from your mind. You’re being dramatic, I’m not as terrible as you describe me.” Chuckling to himself, he tries to laugh off his obvious pain and attempts to regain his composure.

“No! I won’t let you erase my emotions!” You shouted, a wave of Hamon spreading through his arm as his pen touched your page, his attempt to rewrite your memory foiled.

The mangaka was sent flying back, his right arm dropping the pen and your face finally shutting closed, returning your ability to move. Although you were upset at the betrayal of trust you gave the man, you felt a twinge of guilt in your heart when you spotted his still form draped across the wood floor, cradling the arm you had burned with your Hamon.

Running to his side, all thoughts of malice left your body while you attempted to get a better look at his injury. His arm was still intact thankfully, but it was badly burned and needed to be set correctly and quickly if he ever wanted it to heal properly. You took a deep breath and turned Rohan over to see if he was still conscious.

“Oh god, Rohan I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Your eyes fill with tears again as you see the artist weakly rest himself against the wall, still holding his arm close to his chest.

“No, no it’s alright. I brought this on myself. I accept that.” He grimaced, trying to take a peek at his injuries but too frightened to actually check.

“You read my thoughts and history, it wasn’t right but you didn’t physically hurt me. I don’t know how that happened, but I promise you I’ll fix it.” You swore to the manga writer, now searching through your backpack.

When you found your pair of scissors, you went into full first aid mode, removing the sleeve from his right arm by carefully cutting the loose cloth off. After tossing the short sleeve to the side, you cut the bottom of the skirt you were wearing off into a long bandage-like shape of clothing and ran it under the cold tap water from the kitchen sink, returning to the injured Rohan.

“I’m going to wrap your arm with this, it won’t be painful if you let me use my stand, but I’m going to ask you first before I use her on you.” The man nodded, accepting your offer to erase the pain.

“Under Pressure. She’s a stand that has the ability to manipulate emotions. She can change them within a radius or focus on only one individual. When she focuses on a single person, she is only able to change their emotion to the opposite of what is being felt.” You began to wrap his arm, nervous about what he might feel when you placed the wet fabric loosely around it.

All Rohan could do was bite back his lip to avoid making any embarrassing sounds. Instead of the immeasurable pain he imagined to come with dressing a freshly burned wound, he felt a wave of euphoria. He now understood what you meant by the “opposite” emotion would be felt.

The artist never knew wrapping his burned arm would feel so good, every touch caused his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to water. It confused him, even though he understood that the opposite of pain was pleasure, it still startled him every time you did one more pass of the homemade bandage.

He tried his hardest not to be flustered, but when you finished off his arm by tieing the last bit with a knot, he let a small whimper escape his lips. His hand shot up to cover his face, it’s hue now a bright crimson.

Your cheeks turned bright pink as well. You turned away swiftly, to avoid eye contact.

“U-Um just stay put. I’m gonna borrow your phone for a second and let you catch your breath.” Scratching the side of your cheek, you stand up and make a b-line for the phone, dialing your home and hoping that Josuke would pick up. You glanced at the clock set on the wall, it read 8:15.

I’m late.

As soon as the phone line rang once, you spotted the front door to Rohan’s manor fly across the main hall. Peeking your head out from the kitchen, you see a furious Josuke with Koichi in pursuit.

“ROHAN-SENSEI! WHERE IS MY SISTER YOU CREEP?! SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOME 15 MINUTES AGO!” He yells out, his voice echoing throughout the home.

“Josuke! I’m here! I was just about to call you. Listen, I messed up bad and hurt Rohan. He’s in the kitchen bandaged up but I need you to heal him all the way.” You run to Josuke, giving him a tight hug while trying not to cry from the stress of the situation.

Josuke squeezes you once and let’s you go, looking you over from head to toe so he could make sure you weren’t injured as well. When he spots your torn skirt, his aura radiates a dark malice you’d never seen him show before.

“Wait Josuke! I did this to myself, we didn’t have bandages so I cut some cloth.”

He looks you over again and sighs heavily, the purple hue that was full of rage, leaving him.

“Ok, fine. Where’s that jerk? I’ll fix him up real quick so we can go home.” He grumbled, following you into the kitchen.

Even though Rohan wanted to refuse any treatment from Josuke, he finally accepted the help when you threatened to cry on the spot. His arm had returned to its previous state, unburned and fully functional, thanks to Josuke and Shining Diamond.

Josuke picked up your backpack and held the now fixed front door open for you, while Rohan stood and waved goodbye. You awkwardly returned the wave and made your way back home, your thoughts chaotic and confused.

On the one hand you felt guilty for putting Rohan through such an immense amount of pain, but you were also upset at the humiliation he put you through by reading your life with Heaven’s Door. These thoughts plagued your mind as you laid your head to rest for the night.

It was roughly two in the afternoon when Rohan Kishibe knocked on your front door. A short but older woman answered, complaining about the loudness of the knocks when she looked over the artist.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re that Rohan Kishibe my kids talk about. How may I help you, Mr. Kishibe?” She asked with a warm tone to her voice, leaning against her door frame and smiling up at him.

“Is y/n in? I’d like to deliver this to her personally.” He spoke softly, shaking the box he held in his hands.

Your mother couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. He appeared to be anxious and uncomfortable, most likely it was his first time gifting something like this.

“She’s not home yet, but give her five minutes. Why don’t you come in? You can wait for her up in her room, just don’t go raiding her drawers or anything.” She joked, Rohan’s cheeks turning vivid scarlet.

“I’m only pulling your leg, sweety. I know you’re better than that. Now come on! Have a seat at her desk and I’ll bring you up some lemonade.” Rohan followed her inside.

When they reached your room, Mrs.Higashikata opened the door and waved her hand to your desk seat.

“Pull up that chair there and I’ll be back with some refreshments.” Her smile gleamed at him. She walked off to the kitchen, leaving the artist alone in your room.

Rohan browsed around your room, taking in the personality that was apparent by the many bits of decor that gave your little private space a peculiar style. Your walls held photos printed on Polaroid film, sketches presumably drawn by you, and posters of your favorite video games and shows.

When he glanced around your room, he was immediately caught off guard when he spotted two volumes of his very own manga, propped up and on display in your bookcase. To say he was flattered was an understatement, he was completely floored. You were a fan of his?

His heart was heavy all of a sudden, he felt a dreadful pain in his chest while he held the book in his hands. He turned his head toward the doorway when he heard your voice greet your mother. To regain himself, he quickly skimmed through the pages of the manga he was holding, hearing your distant conversation come to an end.

You entered the room. Dropping your bag at the corner of the closet, your eyes never leaving Rohan while you take a seat on your bed. The mangaka gently placed your copy of Pink Dark Boy back in its original position, turning around now to face you.

“I’d like to humbly apologize for my abhorrent behavior and actions yesterday. I was terrible. I know it might be asking too much of you, but I brought you this as a peace offering. I want us to start over. I’d like to get to know you the right way.” He passes you the box he was carrying with him, nudging you to open it.

Casually unknotting the bow and removing the lid from the bottom, you slowly lift what appears to be a white sundress out of the box. It was beautifully made and looked to be just your size.

“I know it’s not the skirt you tore, but I felt like you deserved something a little more unique.” He averts your gaze quickly when you attempt to gauge his reaction.

The mangaka appears to be flustered, apparently not very used to apologizing. His eyes held a fear of rejection but also a glimmer of hope. A breath you never knew you were holding was released with a quiet hum.

“It’s beautiful, thank you, but do know that buying me things isn’t going to repair my trust in you. We can at the very least start over though.”

Rohan smiled to himself, thankful for your empathetic nature, and nodded a quick yes.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about we take that dress and enjoy some tea at the cafe? My treat.”

#rohan kishibe x reader #kishibe rohan x reader #rohan kishibe #kishibe rohan #jjba reader insert #jjba part 4 #jjba x reader #jjba

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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fact-fictionx · 4 years

Text

Fear - Benedict Bridgerton

A Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader oneshot.

A/N: This is a new style of writing for me, but I wanted to write this but didn’t want to become too attached and it end up being a multipart fic when I already have one on the go.

This is loosely based from this ask I sent (x)

If you would like to send a prompt (doesn’t have you be x reader, can be any pairing, even a OFC), I’ll try my best to get through them.

Let me know what you think xx

Dear Benedict,

By the time you read this I’ll be out in society, but right now I am quite frightened of that prospect. I knew mama would not allow me to hold back for another year, but somehow I feel too young. You may laugh, at nineteen I am far older than some of the other young ladies I will debut with, but that does not retract from the idea that I am completely frightened.

Yours, Y/N

For Benedict when he was in London it was hard to find solace in his own home. His younger siblings lost now that their father was no longer here. The first year without his father, Benedict Bridgerton spent little time in his own house. Where the second Bridgerton truly found solace was in your house. Your family had lived a few doors down from the Bridgertons for longer than your parents could even remember, the family friendship blooming from the similar ages you and your siblings shared with the eldest four Bridgertons.

Your brothers matched Anthony and Benedict in age, whereas you were two years younger than them and your youngest brother coming only a few months prior to the birth of the third Bridgerton, Colin. Your three brothers and the Bridgerton brothers grew close, leaving you to follow in their footsteps as you grew up between them. You played in the mud at your frequent visits to Aubrey Hall, much to your mothers dismay, and giggled innocence when Anthony and Benedict often bullied each other.

As you grew into a young woman, your friendship with the three Bridgerton boys soon grew apart. You were civil, of course, but you were not permitted to spend as much time with them as before. Instead you learnt the piano and began your journey with terrible embroidery.

After the death of Edmun Bridgerton you sat solemnly playing the piano, it was a sad time for everyone to hear the news, but your heart wretched thinking of the Bridgertons and how they would miss their father. The Bridgerton family didn’t frequent so much at your home, and the dinner invitations stopped, which you expected, but it still didn’t mean you didn’t miss their presence.

One day you sat tinkering away on the piano, piecing together notes and scribbling them down on paper. After a while you fell into the zone, your fingertips caressing the keys as the melody chimed from the instrument. You didn’t notice that Benedict Bridgerton had settled himself into the corner of the room, flipped open his sketch book and started to draw.

When you finally took notice of your surroundings your playing suddenly stopped. Benedict looked up and your eyes caught each other, the young Bridgerton snapping his book shut and jumping up. “I am so sorry, Y/N” he straightened his clothes, you noticed that his eyes were heavy, his hair disheveled and his skin sallow. You had seen grief affect people this way, and you knew that if you could give him some sort of respite from it, you would let him sit for as long as you wanted.

“Don’t be Benedict, you can stay,” you smiled politely. With a nod and a look of thanks, Benedict sat back down and opened his book.

From then on you often found yourself alone with Benedict, he pottering away in his sketchbook and you practicing the pianoforte. Your parents did not care, you were both young and friends. You began to share dinners at both households, and you watched Benedict blossom from the grief he was feeling into a fine young man.

After a few months your silence grew into conversations, something odd you had read in the paper, or a piece of gossip you had heard from a maid about another high strung household. Soon, you and Benedict became friends.

When he left to study in Oxford, you felt lost, alone. But you continued to enhance your own studies, practice the piano and continue with your terrible endeavour of embroidery. When Benedict came back for the first summer your heart burst, the Bridgerton’s crooked smile making you feel warm inside, it was then you knew that you were in completely in love with him.

It was at nineteen your mother finally put her foot down on you postponing your coming out another year, and you were well and truly frightened. Penning the letter to Benedict was difficult, you knew there was little he could do. By the time he received it and responded, there could be a chance you would be engaged to marry another man. A life without Benedict was a life you weren’t sure you wanted to live, but Benedict didn’t know the feelings you had for him, to him it was just a friendship.

Your first ball was a complete nightmare. You stepped on the toes of two gentlemen, and accidentally threw a drink down another. Completely mortified you tried your very best to persuade your mother to let you miss the next one, but when Violet Bridgerton insisted that she came to the ball with you, your mother practically dragged you out of the door.

“You see dear,” Violet spoke as you walked around the room with your arm hooked in hers, “People will forget about your first ball, if you fascinate them at another.” You were completely confused by the statement Violet said, how could you fascinate anyone? You were a mumbling wreck when a man approached, completely unaware of what was appropriate to talk about. To be quite perfectly honest, you had expected to feel the same comfort with the man you were to marry as you did with Benedict Bridgerton, but you were not quite sure you could find that.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Anthony Bridgerton spoke as he approached you, he stopped gently in front of you and tipped his hand forward, you stared at his hand for a moment before realising that Anthony Bridgerton was not just a friend anymore, he was a Viscount and you were now a lady, you had to treat him as such. “Lord Bridgerton,” you curtseyed slightly, feeling a rush of embarrassment wind through your body as you placed your gloved hand in his, his lips brushing slightly on your knuckles, a mischievous wink coming from him as he stood back up. You furrowed your eyes at the man who you knew far too much about and wondered what he was doing.

“Care for this dance?” He asked, not letting go of your hand. “Of course…” Your words were drawn in curiosity, unsure why Lord Bridgerton would dance with you after the gossip that had very quickly spread after the last time.

As you stood in Anthony’s hold you relaxed slightly, Anthony Bridgerton had no intentions of making you his wife, you were completely sure of that after watching him sneak back into Bridgerton house at the early hours of the morning, his cravat crooked and his hair a complete and utter mess. Anthony Bridgerton had made it well known that he did not intend to marry just yet. “You are not a bad dancer,” Anthony muttered as they circled the floor, “You flatter me, Lord Bridgerton,” you chuckled in his hold, his hand firmly on your back as he led you, “Why are you doing this?” You asked, your gaze focusing back onto the eldest Bridgerton. “Truth?” he raised his eyebrows, “Nothing but,” you responded, “Mother,” he said dryly, “She wanted me to help you attract some attention,” he added, “Oh and here I thought you had every desire to dance with me,” you gave him a wry smile as your eyebrow cocked. “You do not desire to dance with me?” Anthony asked back, his eyebrow cocked in amusement, “You are the wrong Bridgerton,” you sighed slightly before gasping as you realised the words that tumbled from your mouth. You felt Anthony chuckle in your hold and you met his eyes in desperation for him not to speak a word to anyone else, “Oh dear, Y/N, everyone knows but Benedict, and everyone knows that he is in love with you, but you.” Anthony smirked, “Anthony Bridgerton, do not dare play with my feelings.” You scolded him, not caring about formalities in such a situation. “But I am not, I believe our mothers have a bet on, but I try to not believe ladies with such high esteem bet,” his smirk was a constant on his face as he pulled from the hold and bowed as the music ended.

Sleep failed to dawn on you that evening, you could not stop playing the words Anthony said over and over in your head. Completely aghast at the fact your own mothers had bet on you and Benedict, you feared bringing the subject up with your mother incase Anthony Bridgerton was telling a lie, which you did slightly suspect.

The next morning you sat in the drawing room, your fingers delicately pressing over the piano keys as your mother sat completing her most recent needlework endeavour. Tea had been brought up by the maids, along with an array of sweets and biscuits. You were doubtful that any suitors would call, after your dance with Anthony you only danced twice more. They weren’t as eventful as your first ball, this time you didn’t step on their toes or spill a drink down them, but you were too consumed in your own thoughts to have an even legible conversation with them.

The butler walked into the room announcing himself with a cough, causing both you and your mother to snap your heads to the doorway. “Lord Stanley for Miss Y/L/N,” your heart skipped a beat. You were not sure you had ever conversed with a Lord Stanley, but someone had come to see you and it filled you with giddiness and nerves.

As Lord Stanley walked in you were completely taken aback by his presence. His blonde hair shone in the morning sun that filtered through the window, his jaw was strong and you were sure his ocean blue eyes were piercing you from across the room. He held a bouquet of flowers and your heart fluttered at the first flowers you had received as a gift. Standing up abruptly you curtseyed to Lord Stanley before guiding him to sit down.

Lord Stanley was filled with humour, he made you giggle uncontrollably and as you spoke he looked directly into your eyes, listening intently to what you said. When he left you glided across to the piano with a smile on your face, but as soon as you sat down your thoughts shifted and you couldn’t help but compare him to Benedict. Benedict was funny, his humour nuanced, he didn’t just watch you as you spoke, he actively listened and hung onto every word, asking questions to find more meaning, but he also knew when silence was needed.

After a week, one ball and two occasions of promanading with Lord Stanley the whole of the Ton was abuzz with the idea that you would marry. You could anticipate a proposal of marriage coming soon, Lord Stanely had visited your father a few days ago thinking you hadn’t noticed. Your heart wretched as you thought of Benedict, wondering if waiting for him would be a good idea, or if you should accept Lord Stanley and start a life with him. Marrying Lord Stanley meant that Benedict would no longer be your neighbour, you would move to the north and only visit London on the occasion. The Bridgerton family a distant memory that you would only say hello to when you brushed by them in the ballroom.

As you prepared for the evening's ball you looked through the mirror at your Lady’s Maid, Anna. “Should I marry Lord Stanley?” you asked with a sigh, your eyes connecting with the brunette as she dressed your hair, “I do not think that’s a decision I should make, miss,” Anna responded, you swallowed, trying to think of the answer yourself. Every time you thought of marriage with Lord Stanley your mind switched to Benedict. Your dreams were filled with Benedict the closer you to Lord Stanley.

Lord Stanley was a perfect gentleman, and everything you would have wanted in a man, and you were sure he would be faithful and give you a perfect life. But perfect did not mean happy. You dreamed of a love match, after hearing stories of Edmund and Violet as you grew up you wished to have what they had. Your parents loved each other, of course they did, but when they married it was from necessity and they grew to love each other.

On his return to London all Benedict heard about was the impending marriage between you and Lord Stanley. It ate him up to think about you with someone else, but what more could he expect. He clutched his response to your letter in his hand, it had been sat in his desk for weeks waiting to be sent, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it, to potentially risk everything.

Benedict was dragged from the house soon after he had arrived, thankful that his mother and Anthony had given him enough time to change from his travelling clothes to something much more suited for a ball. The Bridgerton family had arrived early, but people had begun to filter into the room, the musicians playing soft accompanying music that did not really warrant anyone dancing. Standing at the refreshment table Benedict spoke to his brother, sipping at the dire lemonade that had been served.

“So who is this Lord Stanley?” Benedict attempted to be smooth in his question to his brother, but from the look on Anthony’s smirk he was far from smooth, “Him,” Anthony pointed at a tall blonde who waited with a slight eagerness at the bottom of the stairs, “He seems nice,” Anthony shrugged, “Completely enamoured with Y/N, there’s rumours that tonight he will ask her for her hand, word has gone round that he always has her father’s permission,” Benedict’s heart dropped in his chest.

Looking at the entrance to the ballroom Benedict’s heart thumped in his chest, he knew he had been gone the best part of a year, but he hadn’t expected to be completely speechless when he laid his eyes on the most beautiful woman.

As you entered the room by your mothers side, you smiled at the guests as you walked through with apprehension. It was not news to you that Lord Stanley was going to ask you tonight, and you still were not sure how you would answer. Scanning the room your eyes met Lord Stanley’s briefly, giving him a polite smile before continuing to roam the room. Your throat clamped shut and your heart began to thump in your chest as your eyes met with Benedict’s, you had not heard from him since you sent your letter, you had not expected to see him tonight.

Gulping with an overwhelming sense of anxiety, you fell from your mothers hold and shuffled through the crowd, finding an escape in the library of the house. Reaching the safety of the silent library you began gasping for air as the tears pricked at the back of your eyes wishing to escape. Benedict was here, Benedict would know of the engagement soon after it happened, Benedict would be in and out of your life in just mere minutes if you were going to say yes. Benedict, the man you were completely certain you loved for the last few years was here and you were due to be betrothed to another man. Your father had already given him permission, there was no doubt a discussion of you dowry. For all intents and purposes, you had been signed off to Lord Stanely. A lot would have to happen if Lord Stanley and your father were willing to let you say no.

Turning in your panicked state you gasped as you saw Benedict Bridgerton looking at you with what seemed to be a thousand different emotions.

“Benedict.” You whispered, your heart skipping a beat as the Bridgerton bounded across the room to meet you. His arms wrapped around you in an embrace that made all the fear and panic escape from your body, in his arms you felt safe. “Y/N,” he whispered as he pulled from the embrace, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he held you at arm's length. You looked at him with apprehension, your heart pounding against your chest as if it were trying to escape. “Are you going to marry him?” he asked, his eyes filled with sorrow as the words fell from his mouth.

Your lips opened to answer Benedict, but you truly did not know the answer. Your heart belonged to him, but you did not know where his heart lay.

“I responded to your letter,” Benedict broke the silence, “I did not receive it,” you added, confusion riddled in your voice as your mind continued to ruminate on Benedict’s first question. “I-I didn’t send it.” Benedict stuttered slightly, his hand reaching into his waistcoat and pulling out a folded letter. You could see your name scribbled on the front, the letter had been scrunched and crinkled numerous ways, no longer the pristine piece it once was. “Here.” Benedict whispered, handing the letter to you and stepping back.

You stared at the paper in silence, your breathing heavy and your mouth agape as you looked at your name written in Benedict's hand. You had seen this many times over the years, your mind knew his penmanship better than your own, and yet seeing your name written by him at this very moment made your stomach twist. With a deep breath you broke the wax seal and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

I cannot imagine the fear that is running through your mind, but I am sure you will stun many gentlemen on your debut.

I must admit that I am in fact very jealous that I cannot be there to see you, and I cannot fathom the thought of you playing the piano for anyone but I.

I miss the time we would spend in your family library, me sketching and you playing harmonious melodies throughout the afternoon. The laughter we shared and the complete comfort I felt in your presence.

The gentleman in me wants to wish you well, wants you to have numerous gentleman callers and to be whisked off your feet with gifts and poetry, but right now Y/N, I cannot be a gentleman.

To imagine you with another man is abhorrent, I do not want to wish you well. All I want you to do is to wait for me.

Yours, Benedict.

A tear trickled down your cheek as you looked up and met Benedict’s pleading gaze. “Ben,” you whispered, your eyes running over the words once again, his heartfelt plea in his writing, his face filled with hurt as he looked at you, waiting for an answer, wondering if he had been too late, if he should have sent the letter as soon as he wrote it and maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t be in the situation where he would have to see you marry another man.

“I did not know you felt this way,” you wiped the tear from your face and sniffed back any ones that threatened to fall, folding the letter in your hand you looked at Benedict who stepped forward again. As he closed the gap between you two, your attempts to stop your tears failed, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. Benedict caught it with his thumb, his hand lingering on your cheek. “I was unsure of your feelings,” Benedict whispered, his eyes fluttering around your face, trying to find the answer. “I am quite sure I have always loved you, Benedict Bridgerton.” you whispered. You watched how his eyes glistened with happiness as the words fled your mouth.

Before you knew it, Benedict had crushed his lips onto yours, his arms wrapped around your wait to pull your body into his. You moulded into his embrace, feeling his warm lips on yours as you reacted to his touch, your hands grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket to keep yourself steady whilst simultaneously keeping him connected to you. It was all you had ever dreamed of and more, his touch was soft but passionate, it was like years of feelings had burst free and you were no longer hiding.

“I suppose that makes me the winner, mother.” Anthony’s voice carried through the room, disrupting you and Benedict in your embrace. You pulled out sharply, stumbling back as a gasp escaping your lips as you had been caught. Anthony and Violet Bridgerton stood at the entry looking on, Anthony had a smirk on his face whilst Violet wore a shocked expression. “I won't tell your mother what I saw, but you two will not be allowed alone again until you are married,” Violet said sternly, not impressed that her son had just been improper with a lady. “But what about Lord Stanley?” you asked, your lips tingling from Benedict’s touch, your heart racing and your mind a complete haze. “He went to ask your father a few nights ago, in which he said to ask you, which I believe was your mothers doing, she wasn’t going to force you into anything,” Violet smiled before turning away. “Told you the bet was true,” Anthony winked at you, before gesturing for you and Benedict to leave immediately.

#Benedict Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict x reader #bridgerton ff

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petersasteria · 3 years

Text

The Package - Harry Holland

Harry || Main || Taglist

Requested? Nah 1,583 words Heavily inspired by Key and Peele.

* * * *

Harry was in his office bored out of his mind. He was sipping around in his office chair while throwing his stress ball up in the air and catching it repeatedly. The young CEO hated his job despite the multiple and grand benefits that came along with the job. He hated that his brothers Tom and Sam were allowed to decline the offer when their father asked them if they could take over the family business. Tom declined it because he wanted to focus more on the carpentry side of the business. Sam declined because it wasn’t his passion; he wanted to be a chef. But Harry was never asked about what he wanted. His father told him that he’s the heir of the company. With that being said, Harry hated it and he resented his brothers and father for it.

He loved them dearly, though. He knew that no one else would take over and Paddy was far too young to be a CEO. Harry just unwillingly took his fate as his father retired. Now that he’s seated on ‘the throne’, as everyone in the office called it, he felt powerful but at the same time he felt judged by the people who work for him because they were all older than him and most of them saw him and his brothers grow up. It was awkward.

Harry stopped spinning around his chair and heavily sighed before grabbing his phone to play games on it. There was nothing better to do and it was a slow day. All the shipments were done yesterday, all the forms were signed before lunch, no meetings until next month, and no new applicants to take up the job of being his assistant. His last assistant, Margaret, was his dad’s assistant. Harry loved Margaret like a family member, but she was too old, so he allowed her to retire.

The game on his phone started to become boring and with a sigh, he exited the game and went on Facebook to see anything new about the people he went to school with. He loved, for lack of better term, tea. He loved spilling tea and he loved being told tea. He and Sam bonded over it.

Just as Harry was reading a post about his former schoolmate being involved in a scandal with one of his former teachers, his office telephone rang. Without an assistant, Harry was forced to answer calls without knowing who it was on lines 1, 2, and 3.

“Hello, this is Harry Holland of Holland Industries. Who am I speaking to?” Harry asked. At this point, it was engraved in his mind now. He knew what to say and what not to say.

“Hi, Harry! This is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m calling from Master Travel Incorporated to tell you about an exciting limited-time offer, exclusive getaway to the Philippines. Can I have a few moments of your time to tell you about this new package?” Your tone of voice matched the exciting offer you asked, but it wasn’t enough to entice Harry. He didn’t even know where that pine place was.

“You know, Y/N, I would love to, but I just don’t have the time-”

Upon hearing that, you immediately hung up the phone. Harry stopped talking and looked at the phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“Huh, rude.” Harry muttered under his breath as he put the phone in its place. He grabbed his phone and continued reading about his schoolmate, but he couldn’t shake off the rude thing you just did. He sighed to himself and grabbed the phone, somehow directing the call to you, and waited for you to pick up.

Your telephone rang and you answered on the first ring, “This is Y/N Y/L/N, Master Travel Incorporated. How may I be of service?”

“Hi, Y/N Y/L/N. My name is Harry. I think we just spoke not too long ago.” Harry said as he fiddled with a pen that was on his desk. “Did we just get disconnected?”

“Um, yeah. I hung up on you.” You said blatantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows upon hearing your answer and asked, “Why? Like, why would you do that? Are you allowed to do that? Because that was rude, Y/N. I’ll tell you that.”

You sat back in your chair and twirled the cord of your headset around your finger with a smug look on your face. “Were you going to buy the Philippines package?”

“What? No! Don’t be daft. That’s not the point I was trying to make. What I’m saying is-”

You hung up on him again and Harry’s jaw dropped. He has never encountered someone so rude such as yourself. “What the fuck.” Harry said before calling you again.

“This is Y/N-”

“Yeah, Y/L/N. Listen. I don’t know why you’re being rude to me, but you don’t get to hang up-” Harry gasped as soon as you hung up again. “Oh my fucking god!” Harry shouted in annoyance. He knew it wasn’t worth it, but he was never disrespected like that in his life. So, he called again.

You answered the call immediately, “What the fuck do you want?”

“What’s your deal, huh?” Harry asked as his eyebrows knit in confusion and slight anger.

“Um, you don’t want the Philippines package,” You started. “So I don’t want to talk. I did us a favor instead of wasting our time.” You were about to end the call and somehow, Harry sensed that.

“Stop, stop! Don’t you dare end this call!” Harry raised his voice, not noticing the attention he drew to himself. Everyone looked at his office and as if it wasn’t enough, Tom and Sam went to visit him just to see how he was doing.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked Edith, the accountant,

“Harry is throwing a fit.” Edith answered before returning to do her job. Edith was a 50 year old woman and she’s so over the stage of being the one to calm a kid down when throwing a fit. Those years were behind her and she didn’t want to calm Harry down. If Harry wanted to throw a fit, she doesn’t care. She just wanted to get paid and get through the day like everyone else.

“He’s… too old for that.” Sam chuckled as he and Tom walked closer to his twin’s office.

Harry never noticed them standing by the doorframe, though.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You asked him.

“Why shouldn’t you?!” Harry shrieked. “What if I wanted the Philippines package?! You know what? I want the Philippines package!”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he looked at Sam and Sam just shrugged. He didn’t know what was happening either.

There was silence between your line and Harry’s. After a few seconds, you broke the silence and said, “Sure, you do.” You hung up the phone once more before Harry could say anything else. This made Harry scream and throw the pen in frustration.

He stood up from his seat and yelled at the telephone, “You motherfucking bitch! I will give you a piece of my mind and you will feel my wrath!”

Neither Sam nor Tom wanted to stop. They wanted to see how it would go down.

Harry called again and this time, he put you on speaker. The phone rang and you answered on the first ring, “Come on, man. Let it go.”

“Fuck you! I WANT SIX FUCKING PACKAGES RIGHT NOW!! You know what- where’s my wallet?” Harry walked around the room to find his wallet as you sat back with a victorious smile on your face.

Harry found his wallet and pulled out his credit card. He quickly walked to where the telephone was and said, “I found my fucking credit card! Now put the details there, Y/L/N! My credit card number is 1185-6514-1109. The fucking expiration date is 12-22! And then the security number is 195! Run the fucking card right fucking now! Run it now, asshole!”

You held back your laughter as you punched in his details and when you were done, you simply said, “Thank you for your business.”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “I hope you learned your le-”

You hung up once more and that made Harry scream in anger. Sam walked further into the room and tapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned around and saw Sam, “Mate, stop it! Just stop calling or you’ll get even more pissed!”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a few calming breaths before looking up at Sam and finally noticing Tom who gave Harry a small wave which Harry returned.

“What was that, H?” Tom asked softly as he walked further into the office.

Harry looked at his brothers and calmly said, “Pack your things. We’re going to the Philippines for a family vacation. I just bought six packages for it.”

Bonus +

Your boss, Colin, went to your desk with a huge grin on his face. “Y/N, I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve made a ton of sales recently! I’m really proud of you for coming this far! Because of that-”

Colin turned to everyone and shouted, “Y/N is employee of the month! Let’s all leave an hour early and celebrate! It’s on me!”

Everyone cheered and congratulated you. Colin went back to his office and you smirked before calling your new ‘victim’.

* * * *

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thatforgottenangel @turtoix @givebuckyhisplumsnow @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @euphorichxlland @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @more-like-reyna

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg

#harry holland #harry holland one shots #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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clotpole-art · 3 years

Text

Retrospective: Illustrated Merlin Alphabet Challenge

Finally finished the Merlin Alphabet Challenge, so here's the artist notes no one asked for! See below the cut for comments on each piece by order of creation. Be warned folks, it's a long post.

Before we begin: credit to @merlin-gifs for the challenge, which can be found here. It's awesome, go do it.

First thing you should know is I did probably 80-90% of these while on phone calls or in Zoom meetings and that's reflected in the simplicity of most pieces -- the compositions aren't complicated, the lines aren't refined, the coloring is slapdash. If you noticed variation in quality of the pieces, that's why!

Second: I tried to focus on trying something new for each drawing. Didn't always happen, but this challenge did succeed in helping me push me out of my own comfort zone.

Without further ado...

A is for Arthur Pendragon

Textures, baby! Brushed metal of his armor, scratchy linen texture of his shirt, wispy softness of hair and skin. I'd recently gotten my tablet out of storage after a year of figuring out where the hell I was going to live and this was one of the first pieces of digital art I spent time on. Glad it was Arthur kicking us off!

B is for the Beginning of the End (1x08)

Fun fact, I did not draw this with my tablet. I drew it with my work computer's touchscreen. It was awful, would not recommend.

C is for Camelot

I wanted to get used to different brushes, so landscape of the castle it was! There are brushes that help with drawing grass; I did not use said brushes and my wrist hurt afterward. That being said, I really enjoyed working on this and it was one of the few pieces I didn't do while multitasking.

D is for Daegal

Also drawn on my work computer's touchscreen, not my tablet. I didn't learn my lesson from B and the experience was even worse. This is my least favorite piece which sucks because it's Daegal so I'm slated to redo this sometime in the near future. Gotta do our boy justice.

E is for Elyan

Oh, I adored drawing this. Elyan often gets shafted in terms of fandom appreciation so I made sure to choose Elyan for this prompt and to participate in the Elyan fest. Plus, I love a good ghost story and figuring out a way to include the druid spectre was fun. Didn't multitask on this piece because Elyan deserved my full attention.

F is for Freya

Ho boy. This piece. I have such mixed feelings on this drawing. Really really didn't like it after I'd decided it was done and very nearly scrapped the whole thing. I had a vision in my head that I just couldn't render into reality and it frustrated me SO MUCH. Looking back, I like it much better than I did when I first created it.

G is for Gwaine

What can I say, he's pretty when he's cold. I didn't stretch too much with this one -- it's my normal drawing style, I was just trying to find a brush that mimicked the softness of pencil.

H is for Hunith

Another one that didn't stray too far from my comfort zone. I was stupid sick and slammed at work, so a motherly Hunith manifested herself. I blame the bad brush choice on the cold medicine.

I is for Isolde

I woke up and chose violence! Tried to vary my figure drawing style a little in this piece but my brain resisted, resulting in... this. Not mad at it, but not happy with it either. Poor Isolde.

J is for Juggling

Ah, this lovely piece was drawn during a particularly vexing meeting at work. Fun fact, there's another version of this line art that's less about Merlin's stress and more about mine.

K is for Knights of Camelot

Continuing the theme of doodling through bad news and shit meetings. Like I said above, normally meeting doodles aren't complex because I'm concentrating on something else. This one was more involved because I didn't want to concentrate on the meeting. I have a few issues with this from a technical standpoint (perspective, my nemesis) but it's still one of my favorites. Tried some funky coloring technique, didn't hate it.

V is for Vibrant Colors

And here is where we said fuck the rules and started going out of alphabetical order! This one was really fun to do and I loved kicking off Albion Party with this as my first submission. The colors were a challenge (as I hoped they would be) and this is the first time I had to do some color tweaking midway though and after finishing the coloring process. Vibrant Arthur, my beloved. This started as a multitask doodle but took dedicated time to finish.

O is for Old Religion

The concept for this one was buzzing in my head for a bit before a quote-prompt solidified it. I adore the thought of more visible, tangible representations of Merlin as the son of the elements, of "magic itself" -- not just sun-gold eyes, but sea-water hair and sandstone-skin. A complement to the vibrant Arthur portrait.

S is for Sorcerers

When I said I wanted to challenge myself, I wasn't kidding. Ho boy, this was fun but frustrating. I wanted to completely illustrate a gif. So I did. Will I do something like this again? Maybe. A while from now.

M is for Morgause

See above -- same illustrated gif style so at least I was able to reuse some drawings. Poor Morgause ended up looking a little wretched here because I was mentally done with this when I was drawing her. Love the concept of tarot cards + Merlin but others are doing it so I won't continue this series.

Z is for Zzzz

This one was specifically done to test out some custom brushes I made in Krita to make abstract background drawing easier for me. I think they turned out well! Plus who doesn't love bb iridescent Aithusa.

L is for Leon, P is for Percival

Quick, minimal doodles of the boys! Mentally, I was going for a Brady's-style retro ensemble cast TV show credits feel. Not mad at it! Some boys look closer to their actors than others (I think my brain broke drawing Percy, my apologies to Tom Hopper).

T is for Tristan

It wasn't until after I posted this that I realized there was more than one Tristan in Merlin. Could have drawn Isolde's bf but I drew Ygraine's dumb jock undead brother instead. Had some fun with dark greys and blacks here regardless.

Q is for Queen Annis

Best royal in Albion, bar none. I tried a different coloring technique here and I kinda like it! may make it my go-to but we'll see. Old habits are hard to break. Also: our queen deserved more badass clothes.

X is for Arthur X Merlin

Oh, be still my shipper heart. Doodled and colored during a meeting. I had hoped to spend more time on it outside of multitasking but alas, work is a bitch. This one is slated for a rework sometime in the future; I adore the concept too much to let it go without creating another version of this that isn't an utter mess.

U is for Uther's Ward

And here's my attempt at forgoing line art. Not fun, do not like.

Y is for Young Warlock

Channeled some pain into this one. Those are the dead eyes of someone who had been told that he'd succeeded when his friend died. That the destiny he'd been expecting to carry on his shoulders into old age was done and dusted before he turned 30. Grief plus the existential dread of the aimless immortal. Oof. One of my favs.

N is for Nimueh, R is for Rising Sun, W is for Will

And we end on this sorry offering. I was away from home for a while without my tablet and I just got tired of waiting. So, pen doodles at the airport. This was a challenge in its own right because 1. pen only and 2. I wasn't able to pull Netflix up for a reference on the fly. Which is why Will's face is obscured and Nimueh looks.... not like Nimueh lol.

In summary: this was a goddamn joy to do. I finished 26 letter prompts in approximately 21 weeks, which exceeded my own unspoken goal of filling one letter per week. I found a good, happy corner of the Merlin fandom after a years-long hiatus away from being a fandom creator. If you did make it this far with me, thanks for reading my inane comments and giving this little project even a moment of your time -- I'm so grateful.

#merlinalphabetchallenge #clotpole art #long post #merlin fanart #merlin #bbc merlin #bbc merlin fanart

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