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deathbymas0chist · 3 years

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𝔑𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔦 𝔎.

Nanami getting jealous bcs his bimbo gf was flirting with gojo at a party so he ties her up and puts a vibrator on her 😱⁉️

Word count: 2.3k

Content warning: mild dumbification, slight dacryphilia, bondage, Reader is intoxicated, a lil bit of neglect, edging, like 1 pussy slap, nanami is very mean but he gets soft at the end lmk what I missed 💀

Nanami despised social gatherings. Especially after being dragged to one hosted by Gojo, of all people, by his beloved girlfriend. Now, you were kind of… To put it another way, you were dimwitted. Always needing assistance with the simplest tasks, and never really paying attention to your surroundings or your own actions. You basically had no thoughts in your pretty little head.

That's why Nanami had lost all self-control when you were subconsciously flirting with Gojo, thinking you were "just being nice" by batting your pretty lashes up at him, with your whorish short, tight pretty pink dress, pushing your tits up, up to the point of spilling out, while you were giggling at almost anything that idiot had said, and touching him at any opportunity you got.

Nanami glared at you and Gojo from across the room as he got up from the couch, which was full of annoying people laughing, talking, and drinking. Through the blaring music and flashing colorful lights, He finally got to you after pushing past all the people who were grinding on each other and making out in the middle of the room.

He grabbed your arm from behind you and turned you around to face him, his eyes cold, but you didn't seem to notice. In your drunken state, you throw your hands around his neck, happy to see your boyfriend.

“N-nami! *hic* "I didn't notice you t-there!.." You're hiccuping through your giggles because you've had far too much to drink, rolling his eyes at your antics, he turned to gojo. If looks could kill, gojo would have died a long time ago.

He could only mutter out "We'll be leaving now." He knew if he stayed another second, all hell would break loose. "B-but we just… *hic* got here!" you protested, slurring your words. Despite the fact that you had been there for hours and it was past one a.m.

Gojo could only smirk at the scene in front of him, deciding to piss Nanami off even further, he grabbed your other hand, making both of you stop dead in your tracks. “What’s the rush?” He teased, he knew he was playing a dangerous game by messing with you. It didn't help that you were agreeing with him too. That didn't seem to affect Nanami though, as he only continued to drag you out of the house. Once you had made it outside, the cold night air of summer had hit you, making you shiver as you took in a deep breath of fresh air, Nanami had helped you into the car.

Sitting down, you opened your mouth to whine, as he started the car, "Namiii... you're so meannnn..." Before you could say another word, you felt your mouth get roughly grabbed, Nanami’s colder, and much larger hands hold your pretty face tightly, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he lowly growled “I don't want to hear another word coming out of your whore mouth for the rest of this ride, before I show you how mean I can get.” He released your face from his mean grip, the whole ride was silent afterwards, you didn't dare say another word.

Finally arriving at the familiar gates of your house, Nanami had gotten out first, going to open your door to “help you” since you were still a bit sluggish from all the alcohol. He opened your door, before grabbing your hand to pull you up roughly, as you gasped in surprise. He slammed the door shut behind you loudly, as you stepped out. It was hard for you to walk in a straight line, considering you were wearing 6 inch heels, while completely intoxicated. You had managed to make it to the front door without tripping or falling, as Nanami opened the door, and you stepped in, taking your shoes off whilst taking in a deep sigh, finally feeling at ease.

That feeling did not last long though, having Nanami slam your front door shut, as he grabbed you, dragging you up the stairs and into your shared room. He roughly threw you on the bed, pouncing on you. He practically ripped your clothes off, Tearing your expensive dress right down the middle, with no remorse, only to see you weren't even wearing a bra, just a skimpy, pink lace thong.

"I knew you were such a fucking slut, but really?" he said with a disbelieving laugh. “No bra, either? Did you think Gojo would fuck you as well? Is that why you spent the entire night whoring yourself out to him? "Did you want him to fuck you like a stupid slut and bend you over like this?" He ripped your panties off, before slapping your pussy meanly.

Your let out a whine from his words, “M’ not a stupid slut… I don’t want Gojo to fuck me… ” your eyes got glassy at his words, tears welling up in your eyes, about to spill out. Fuck, you had looked so hot, your makeup was starting to run down your face because of your tears, and you were looking up at him with those big, doe eyes, he wanted to completely wreck you at that moment.

“Don't give me that shit, you had been flirting with that idiot all night, I saw the way you were throwing yourself on him, and how you looked while you were talking to him” he had a scowl on his face, even thinking about how Gojo was looking at you made him furious.

He stood up and walked over to your nightstand, where he opened the bottom drawer that contained all of your toys. He took the rope and a vibrator as he prepared to bind you, wanting to have you crying until the sun came up. Your cries and protests went unheard, and he began to bind your wrists to the headboard. He moved down your feet after finishing tying intricate knots on your small wrists. You tried to kick him, but he slapped your thigh hard, forcing you to stop as he roughly grabbed your ankles, pulling them apart and tying the same knots as he did your wrists.

"You do realize you shouldn't try to avoid your punishment, right?" Or maybe not, because you're a stupid slut who only thinks with her pussy and not her head?" You were sobbing even harder at his cruel words as you continued to babble out nonsense, trying to deny his cruel words.

As you struggled against him, he finished tying the last knot, but it was pointless because the rope was burning your wrists from how tight he had tied it. He looked at you with an amused glint in his eyes as you whined in frustration. As he lifted the vibrator he'd been holding while tying you up, your expression dropped even more.

With the controller in his hand, he turned it on and set it to the highest setting, then carefully spread your folds open and placed it on top of your pretty clit. The intense vibrations on your sensitive nerves caused your entire body to jerk as you thrashed around. Nanami's face had a hint of a smile on it as he watched you fight your restraints and the overwhelming pleasure.

Nanami became even more turned on, as he sat down in front of the bed, staring at you intently as your hips stuttered upwards. you could feel your orgasm building up and approaching quickly as your thighs stiffened and your back arched off the bed in pure pleasure, but it was ripped away from you just as you were about to crash down from your high, as you sobbed in despair. Nanami's hard dick is straining against his jeans in just the right way to cause just the right amount of discomfort. He immediately turned off the vibrator when you were on the verge of your high.

While Nanami stood there watching you cry over your ruined orgasm, he turned it back on, and you choked on your sob in shock. At this point, he was only interested in torturing you for his own amusement, and he took pride in it. He knows Gojo can't fuck you as well as he can, that he can't make you cry the same way he does, or that you can't beg him to fuck him the same way he can.

You started babbling out apologies in the hopes of persuading Nanami to stop hhis relentless torture on you. "N-nami- p-please- m'sorry m'not gonna talk to G-gojo again.." He only stood there and watched; he wasn't about to let you off the hook so easily. You had to prove you were truly sorry. If you wanted it so badly you knew you had to show it through your actions, even if it meant having ten ruined orgasms the entire night.

He intended for you to beg even more. He took out his phone from his back pocket and opened it, acting unconcerned about the fact that he had you tied to your bed with a vibrator strapped to you as he scrolled aimlessly through it. You began to cry even louder, writhing for his attention; it was the least he could do!

The vibrations were going straight to your brain, and you couldn't think because of how good you felt. As you felt yourself approaching the edge again, you sobbed uncontrollably, "M'going to cum...!" Nanami took this as a cue to turn off the vibrations for the second time, leaving you hanging for the second time as he didn't even look up from his phone.

You'd felt completely humiliated. You were helpless, tied up, and unable to attract Nanami's attention. Everything you tried to end the torture was futile; your pulling and kicks didn't budge the rope, and squirming your way out of the vibrator attached to you didn't work either.

You had no other options then to just lay there and take it.

His torturous punishment dragged on for what seemed like hours. He'd already come close to edging you six times. With the cursed vibrator still whirring, your pussy was raw and almost numb. The bedsheets beneath you were completely covered with drool from your went cunt. At this point, you were on the verge of passing out. Your body lay limp on the bed, your eyes rolled back into your skull.

Nanami had finally taken mercy on you, deciding that he couldn't keep abusing your poor cunt any longer, especially since you had taken everything he'd done so well. He finally stood up and walked over to you, crawling between your legs to gently lift the vibrator off your pulsing, aching clit. You let out a whine, too used to the constant stimulation of your sensitive nerves.

Nanami began to undo the harsh grip of the rope on your sore wrists, shushing you. Finally feeling free, you raised your arms and reached for Nanami, wanting to be held after the torture you had undergone from him.

"You deserve a reward for being such a good girl, you did so well taking this," Softly kissing your aching ankles . Finally, you'll be free of the bruising, rough rope. Before making his way between your thighs, he traced the rope's mark with his thumb. You whined as he pressed a sweet, soft kiss into your inner thighs. Was it really that bad if you were a little selfish after being so patient the entire time, waiting for your sweet relief?

You grabbed his soft blonde hair and drew his head into your cunt. He softly kissed your clit before licking a stripe up your cunt. He wanted to savor your taste in his mouth, but you were only going to be cumming on his cock tonight, and only his cock.

He sat up and unbuckled his belt, releasing his hard dick from his shackles. He had felt so relieved, his pants had become so tight that he was almost in pain. His leaking tip had a ring of precum on it, with his usually soft pink tip now a shade of angry red.

You were laying on your back, as he towered over you. He pushed himself into your still sensitive cunt, causing you to twitch as you were finally filled after only being stimulated for so long.As you moaned in pleasure, you could feel his tip almost kissing your cervix as he pushed himself in so deep. After allowing you to adjust to his size, he picked up your legs and placed them over his shoulders as he began to thrust, starting off slowly, progressively getting faster and harder.

You started creaming around him, your pussy was so wet and you were too stupid to realize what you were doing to him. He could only look at how your tight cunt took him so well every time he pushed in, and how your pretty juices formed a pretty halo around the base of his dick.

All of the sensations made you feel overwhelmed, and you felt your orgasm hit you like a train, snapping the knot in your stomach hard. You stopped breathing as Nanami pushed harder into you, tensing your thighs around him. You tried to yell out a warning but it was already too late. You had shocked yourself by squirting everywhere, your juices covering Nanami's shirt and soaking his pants. Your ruined oragsms had all come back to you at once.

Nanami could only chuckle softly before continuing to chase after his own high, eventually cumming deep inside you and filling you up with a few more thrusts as you both rode out your orgasms before collapsing on the bed together.

After falling asleep, Nanami's phone buzzed silently; it was Gojo, who had reacted to a video Nanami had sent him, which showed you tied up on the bed, begging Nanami to fuck you.

#nanami smut #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen smut #cw.dacryphilia #cw.dumbification #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

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padme-parker · 3 years

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Mizpah // the darkling x f!reader // ch 6

summary: given some time alone to think, the pieces begin to fall into place. you go to confront the darkling be he avoids you at any given cost, until one night you go into the one room you were never granted permission to enter.

warnings: cursing, talks about violence/torture and death, alcoholism

A/N: the truth finally comes out. This is all over the place bc I was trying to rush getting it out. 5.9k+ words and 12 pages later, here we are. not proofread, will comeback later to edit.

ANA KUYA’S voice echoed in the back of your mind as you laid on your cot, calling out for Mal and Alina as they ran away from her. It was the day Grisha came to the orphanage to find out if one of their own had been whisked away into a place like this. You examined the walls, cracks running up and down them. The windows barely opened, and when they did, they let out horrible screeches. Water leaked from the bathrooms, the annoying drip a constant on your mind.

Maybe you should’ve gotten up from your bed and got tested by a Grisha. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to stay in such a run down orphanage. The Duke was rarely here, so no one really cared about his orphanage no matter how infamous he was. But being Grisha meant leaving Mal and Alina behind, something you couldn’t do because they had become your only family. Besides, Grisha don’t get sick, therefore you weren’t a Grisha.

You could never be a Grisha.

AS you phased into consciousness, you could hear someone muttering something in the background. Your hands were so cold, you reached out for something- anything that could give you warmth. You tried to blink away the blurriness of your eyes, nothing seemed to work. The person rushed to your side, clutching both of your hands in one as the other stroked your cheek.

“Go back to sleep.” He said, brushing your hair back. Closing your eyes, he assumed you had fallen asleep already. He resumed his mumbling, the words slowly becoming coherent as fell back asleep.

“It’s...too...soon..”

THE painful pounding of your heart had subsided as the Grisha left. Mal walked into the room followed by Alina, who was sporting a new wound on her palm that Ana Kuya had scolded her for.

“Come on, get up!” Mal urged, knowing from the look on your face that the pain had already left you.

“Where are we going?” You said eagerly, scooting to the front edge of your bed to lace up your boots.

“To the meadow.” That was all you needed to hear before running out the bedroom door. Mal and Alina’s footsteps padding behind. The three of you started a mildly competitive game of tag, the other two making sure you didn’t exert yourself.

In that moment, you were who you were supposed to be. Three children lying on the field, making stupid promises to each other.

“We can’t hide forever, but we can run.”

THIS time when you find yourself in a field, there’s a man laying next to you. It was the same man from your dream, shoulder length hair and clean shaven face.

“Aleksander?” He lets out a hm, awaiting your question. “Where am I?”

“What do you mean, my darling?” Aleksander- General Kirigan- or whoever the hell he was turned to look at you, laying one of his arms upon your stomach. His hand keeping a firm grip on your waist. From your peripheral view you could see him studying you.

He started with your eyes, taking in their color and your long lashes. He moved from the curve of your nose until he got to your soft, plump lips. You stared at the sky, afraid of what you would see, who you would recognize if you turned to face him.

“We’re at our meadow.”

WHEN you finally regain consciousness, you find yourself alone in a nearly dark room. Only one lantern had been lit up. It was just before dawn, you could see the sun beginning to peek out. Someone had changed you into a nightgown, you didn’t know who it was. Perhaps it was Alina or maybe the Darkling, maybe neither. Either way, you were thankful they decided to change you out of the robe you had fainted in.

With great struggle, you propped yourself up, your elbows taking the brunt of your weight. You crawled to the foot of your bed to put on your night slippers. The rug under your bed only went so far before it hit the cold floor. You slowly made your way to the desk, sitting yourself in front of the mirror.

The magic Genya had performed on you days ago had worn out by now. How long were you out for? The dark circles under your eyes had returned, seemingly worse. Your skin, although already dull, became more dull and pale. Whatever shine you originally had was gone. Your eyes look sunken in. While your hair was frail and also lost the shine that Genya gave it.

“Saints..” You whispered to yourself as you raked a hand through your hair. You were basically a dead person walking. You considered fetching a servant to bring you Genya, but decided against it. Throwing on a robe, you silently made your way to the war room, hoping to find the Darkling there. When you entered it remained empty, along with the bed he usually slept in. You walked the halls looking for one of his oprichniki, yet they weren’t around either.

There was no use in barging into his bedroom when it seemed like he was gone. Plus you didn’t want to invade his privacy knowing that he could have you killed for going into his room without permission if someone had seen you. You spotted one of the palace guards, walking up to him as you placed your hands into the pockets of your robe.

“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the General is?” You asked, staring into the guards eyes.

“He left a week ago, accompanied by his personal guards.” Was all he said, not disclosing why he had left. A week? Had you really been unconscious for a week? This usually never happened to you, not like this.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“In a couple of days.” He said, not giving you an exact day. You quickly thanked him before making your way back to your room to change for the day. The dull ache of your heart was finally leaving, allowing for you to feel more like yourself. You were able to spot the sun in the sky as you finished changing. You thought about basking in its light when your stomach growled loudly.

I suppose I should eat, you thought. It’d been nearly a week since you were able to feed yourself, your last meal being breakfast. You could remember someone feeding you periodically throughout the week, now knowing the Darkling had left, it was most likely Alina. You rang for a servant, asking to be brought breakfast when she arrived. Surveying the room, you decided that the Darkling wouldn’t mind if you did a little retouching.

You moved the table towards the window, wanting to eat in the sunlight without having the harsh winter winds freeze you. Opening the curtain allowed for more sunlight to stream through, a grunt of triumph leaving your lips as you looked at your new setup.

The squeaky wheel of the servant’s cart alerted you of her presence, rushing to open the door before she could knock. You took the tray from her hands, closing the door with your foot as you skipped towards the table, eager to get some food in your system.

The food they had given you was practically the same, sweet pea porridge, a tall glass of water, and a bowl of grapes. It wasn’t your favorite, but you ate it anyway. Savouring the familiar crunch and sweetness of the grapes. Sitting in the sun had left you feeling giddy and warm, excited for summer when you would be able to go out whenever you could and feel the sun on your skin.

It was the same warmth you felt whenever the Darkling touched you, even when you saw him in your dreams, there had always been a lingering sense of familiarness-- and affection. You saw the look in his eyes just seconds before you passed out, the shock as you said his name, the concern visible in his eyebrows. Him whispering, stay with me, please. It was all foreign to you. In fact, his behaviour was strange to you.

You’ve always heard of the Darkling being cold, menacing, someone you had to fear. There were stories of him ruthlessly slaughtering the Drüskelle, using the Cut to separate multiple heads from bodies in a matter of seconds. Yet he welcomed you into his home without a second thought. He fed you, gave you clothing and a place to sleep, even gave you a tour of the Little Palace himself. You were sure he had never given someone the treatment that he had given you, so what made you so different? What made you so special to him?

You didn’t miss the look he gave you when you first entered the war room, recognition and longing bright in his eyes. He tried to hide the emotion, but you were able to catch it before he returned to his dark and empty gaze. It would explain the memories, but only fueled your confusion and curiosity more. Had you shared a past life with him? If so, why were you back? How were you back? Getting lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the person knocking until they opened the door and announced themselves.

The familiar red hue of his kefta brought you comfort. You were too trusting lately, you’d only met Fedyor a week ago. Just the sight of his kefta had calmed something down in you. This palace was changing you, bringing out something from within you that never existed. Being this trusting on the fields would get you killed.

“Good morning, Fedyor. What brings you here?” You greeted him. This time you already had your boots laced up, the tray in your hands ready to be disposed of on the table by the door. “Going to escort me to combat training?”

“Actually, the General forbade you from stepping foot on training grounds again.” You let out a loud gasp as you whipped towards him. Thinking there was something wrong, Fedyor stepped forward, reaching his arms out to steady you just in case anything happened. In your anger, you slapped his hands away.

“Oh just you wait until he gets back,” You seethed, “Who does he think he is? Taking away my combat training privileges?”

“He’s the General, he can do that.” Fedyor responded, a small smile on his face.

“So what am I supposed to do then?”

“Well, you could still go to the library.” No, you didn’t want to risk running into the Apparat again. “Watch the Grisha train.” He offered a meek smile. “Walk the grounds.” Perhaps you could go on a horse ride later, but right now there was one thing on your mind.

“Is Alina training right now?” The heartrender gave you a nod, “I guess we’ll be going to her room then. She has something I want to borrow.” With the flick of your hand, the two of you were on your way.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and if you don’t want to answer then that’s okay.” Fedyor squints his eyes at you, before motioning to continue. “Has the Darkling ever taken up any lovers?” The question makes Fedyor stop in his tracks, a baffled look on his features.

“Well..I..” He struggled with his words, not knowing if he wanted to tell you. What would the General do to him if he told you? It was common knowledge that General Kirigan had been alive for a couple centuries now, he thought everyone knew of his endeavours. “The General has been around for many years, so naturally he has...had sex before.” The mention of it made Fedyor blush. “But he’s never settled down with someone. The closest I ever saw was with Alina.” This didn’t surprise you, Alina herself had told you about what had almost happened between the two.

“In the tent, when he tested her to see if she was Grisha, I saw something in his eyes. It was admiration, but there was also a defeated look in his eyes. As if he had given up on something because he found Alina. Reasonably, it could’ve been relief, since we had finally found the sun summoner.” Fedyor pauses, thinking wisely about the next words he spoke. “Alina and the General were growing close. Everyone saw the look they gave each other the night of the fete. But any public traces of their affection for each other had disappeared that night. The two are only seen interacting when he visits her for a gradual check-in.”

“And he’s never spoken of any other lovers?”

“Not consciously, no. On the very rare chance where we ride in the same carriage, sometimes when he falls asleep he’ll whisper about a woman. Moya dorogaya, he’d call her. That’s all I know.”

Moya dorogaya, my darling. It was the same name the Darkling had called you in your dream.

“May I ask you a question?” He inquired, you nodded your head, allowing him to proceed. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

A smile so bright that could light up the room came to your face, “My friends down near the south Ravka border. A pair of siblings that taught me to fight before they defected from the First Army.” You confessed. “One of them also introduced me to my love of epic poetry.”

When Alina’s door came to view, you didn’t bother knocking as she had already left. After fetching what you needed, you quickly exited her room.

“I haven’t seen them since they left.” You rubbed the birthmark at your throat. Besides Mal and Alina, the siblings were also the closest thing you had to family. They considered you as their sister, even begging that you left with them. But you told them your place was here in Ravka, with Mal and Alina.

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon. Once Alina and the General get rid of the fold, we will have access to our docks again.” He said, trying to comfort you.

“I hope so.” The rest of the walk was filled with comfortable silence as you fiddled with the edges of the red book. As you neared your door, Fedyor stopped, telling you he would be just outside if you needed anything. Without wasting another second, you ran to the chair in front of the window.

The Istorii Sankt’ya glistened in the sunlight. Something about it had been calling out to you, urging you to read it and find out more. You flipped through all of the pages of the saints until you found the one that had been calling out to you.

Sankt Ilya in chains. Ilya Morozova. Morozova’s herd.

“One day. When the war is over and the shadow fold is gone, you will bear my name. You will become Mrs. Morozova. I swear it.”

The voice of the Darkling rang clear in your head. The memory made your heart come to a stop as you struggled to find a possible explanation for his words. The only conclusion you could inevitably come to was that you were the sole lover that Fedyor had been talking about.

As the sun began to set, you looked at the drawing once more. The stag, sea whip, and firebird all depicted. You called out for Fedyor, asking him to come into your room.

“Can you bring me dinner for two?” You politely asked.

“Sure, were you planning on eating it yourself or shall I fetch someone while I’m at it?”

“No. You and I are going to have a nice, long talk while we eat dinner.” His face paled as the words left your mouth.

“Oh...okay.” Was all he said before he scurried off to get the food. You tucked the Istorii Sankt’ya under a pile of paper in your desk to hide it. While you waited for Fedyor to return, you lit up some candles and lanterns now that the sun was going down. It was no fun eating in the dark.

Well, sometimes it was. You thought back to the orphanage. Night where you, Alina and Mal would sneak out of bed to have a piece of bread. The bread was never enough, but the excitement had always spurred the three of you on enough to make it a nightly routine until Ana Kuya eventually caught on.

When Fedyor returned, he rolled the cart over to where you had been seated. He placed a golden tray in front of you and another for himself right across from you. He also brought a big pitcher of Kvas for you to share.

Lifting the cover from your plate, you found yourself staring at some sort of meat pie with a side of root vegetable soup. Fedyor had the same meal but had pickled herrings instead of soup.

“Ugh, I don’t know how you eat that stuff.” You said with disgust. “I’m glad you guys don’t force me to eat that.” Although it was common peasant food, it never appealed to you. It was something you’d always hated.

“The kitchen staff have a strict list of foods you like and dislike.” That made your head snap up to meet his, who made the list? You had a scheming suspicion that it wasn’t Alina, leaving you with one suspect.

“Tell me, Fedyor, do you know what the General plans on using Morozova’s Stag for?” You inquired, feigning curiosity. You saw his hesitation, clearly uncertain if he could trust you. “I was, after all, one of the last trackers to spot it.” You reminded

“The stag is rumored to be an amplifier created by Morozova himself. Whoever wears it would hold the greatest power known to mankind. One that could rival the General’s.” He said, taking a bite of his meal before continuing, “He plans on giving it to Alina in order to get rid of the shadow fold. She’s strong, but not strong enough to get rid of it on her own.”

“What about you, do you believe they will be able to banish the fold together?” There had been a swirl of doubt pooling in you. The shadow fold was the one thing that had kept Grisha safe from the rest of the world. With the permafrost in the North and the mountains in the South, Ravka had practically been perfectly disconnected. Yet the Drüskelle and Shu still managed to slaughter Ravkans and Grisha alike.

“Yes, I do. It’s something very important to the General. That the sun summoner reversed what his ancestor, the Black Heretic, had created.” He explained.

“Right, we’ll then what happens after? It’s been so long since West Ravka has been able to connect to East Ravka. Who’s to say that they don’t want to create a monarchy of their own?” Fedyor paused at your words, he hadn’t thought much about what the West Ravkans wanted. He only knew how much his people longed to be free of the shadow fold.

“One step at a time.” He ensured, not sure if he believed the words he just said. He didn’t know what would happen if West Ravka decided to break off and become their own sovereign state. Whatever trade and weapons they had obtained came through the trading ports of the docks in West Ravka. Without it they’d have nothing. They would be nothing.

You finished the rest of your meal, occasionally talking about your time being stationed in the South while he talked about his Grisha adventures. When it came to an end, you helped him clean up and wished him a good night as he rolled the cart away. The pitcher of Kvas laid untouched, your fingers twitched at the thought of having a drink. You stared at it as Fedyor rolled it away, your throat begging for something to drink. Instead of giving into your urges, you chug whatever leftover water you had laying around.

As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t help the strong feeling of loneliness overcome you. You tried to push those feelings away when you jumped into bed, not wanting to have a miserable dream.

WHEN you wake, you find yourself in the deadly permafrost of the Fjerda-Ravka border in nothing more than your lace nightgown. The snow under your feet melted as you walked around, searching for another sign of human life. You didn’t feel the familiar nip of the cold at your fingertips or toes. It was that same warmth you felt with the Darkling.

You caught sight of your own breath as you whipped your head around, the snow catching in your hair. As you stumbled into a tree, you felt the recognizable carving, stating that you were now in Fjerdan territory. Your feet had walked on their own accord, not knowing where you were going until you stumbled into a clearing. The same clearing where Dubrov and Mikhael had died, slaughtered brutally by the Fjerdans. The clearing where you had killed two of their own without a second thought.

The clearing where you had finally found the stag.

The very same stag that had now stood in front of you.

You inched closer to it with careful and calculated steps. It didn’t back away as you approached. It showed no signs of aggression as you laid one of your hands upon its antlers, your other going to stoke its fur.

It was giving you that same look it gave you when you first encountered it with Mal.

Mercy. Respect. Most of all, understanding.

IT had been two days since you dreamt of the stag. You hadn’t dreamt of it since then, in fact, you hadn’t been dreaming of much since you saw the stag in your dreams. You thought about bringing it up to Alina during breakfast, but decided against it, the conversation somehow drifting towards the General.

“I was giving him a report of my progress last night-”

“Last night?” You interrupted, “As in a couple of hours ago?” She nods, confused by your behavior. “When did he get back?”

“The night you woke up.” She replied, as if you had been informed already. No one told you he had returned, you hadn’t even seen him once. Fedyor didn’t even tell you of his return during dinner. With a huff, you got out your chair, moving towards the door before asking Alina one last question.

“When did you mention me to the General?” She gives you another confused look, not knowing what you were talking about. That was the only answer you needed as you made your way to the war room.

He knew you. Even before he discovered Alina and took her to the Little Palace, he knew you first. Your thoughts ran around rampant and unprovoked, trying to come up with a viable explanation as you stomped towards his hall. Before you could even reach the doors of the war room, you were stopped by his oprichniki.

“The General wishes to be alone right now.” She said, hold up a hand to stop you.

“Tell him that I want to speak with him.” You replied, she looked you up and down. You wore no kefta or guards uniform. You were merely just a First Army soldier in her eyes.

“I doubt he would want to talk to someone like you.” Great, you were dealing with a Grisha Oprichniki with a horrible superiority complex. With a scoff, you turned away and walked to your room. Holding back every urge in your body to punch her.

WHEN night came, you found yourself struggling to get some sleep. After your encounter with that rude oprichniki, you tried your best to at least get a glimpse of the Darkling. You tried walking in the gardens in hopes to see him, no luck. You walked past the singular window of the war room, only to find the view obscured by the curtains. You paced the halls as subtly as you could, waiting for him to exit the war room. But he didn’t leave. Not once, so you just gave up and decided to try again the next day.

The black silk of your slip on did little to soothe the irritation you felt. In fact, it seemed to irritate you more as it slipped around even at your smallest movements. With a sigh, you got up from the bed and walked towards the dresser with the intention of changing into something that would provide better comfort.

You ran your hands through all the different laces and fabrics of the nightgowns until it landed on the gold kefta. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. You took it off it’s hanger, before walking towards the mirror. You examined it closely. The fabric itself had shimmers of gold, the black thread similar to any other kefta. As you surveyed the back of it, you noticed the handiwork of a fabrikator. Someone had tried to mend the rips of the kefta, but they were still visible up close.

The kefta had fit like a glove when you put it on. It gave you a sense of belonging. That maybe as an orphan you had finally found a home. You ogled at yourself in the mirror, the golden fabric had practically made you glow. You placed your hands into the pockets, surprised to feel something in one of them.

Grasping the object, you pulled it out. It was a letter. Covered in blood, dirtied and ripped at the corners, but still a letter nonetheless. You contemplated reading it, making the motion to put it back into the pocket before a thought crossed your mind. It wasn’t like anyone was going to find out.

You opened the letter and began to read it:

Dear Aleksander,

My darling, I don’t know why the universe has continued to bring us together. But I am thankful that they’ve given us a chance to be together once more. I have loved you for all of my lifetimes, and nothing could change that.

At least, that’s what I thought. But you’re no longer the Aleksander I once knew. Something dark has taken over you, your lust for power consuming you. I don’t know who you are anymore.

That’s why I’m doing what’s necessary, you’ve been in power for too long. It’s time for you to stop. It’s time for Ravka to be whole once more.

I’m sorry. I hope with whatever love you have left in your heart for me, that you could forgive me.

Eternally yours,

Y/N

You froze as you saw your name signed at the bottom of the letter. Lifetimes? As in more than one? This could wait no longer. Shoving the letter into your pocket, you threw open your door. The halls were empty, his oprichniki were either on a break or a shift change. Either way, you didn’t care.

You barged into the war room, expecting him to be hunched over a pile of maps, but he wasn’t. The next place you looked was his sleeping quarters that had connected to the war room. This bed was empty too, the sheets still cold. You knew of one last place he could be, and didn’t care about the risks.

You walked towards his door, each step filled with the burning curiosity you felt. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you didn’t expect it to turn. You would’ve assumed he kept the door to this bedroom always locked. But then again you were the only person who would dare enter his room without permission. After entering his room, you shut the door. Not wanting to raise suspicion to anyone who might’ve walked the halls perchance.

You paid no mind to the layout and decorations of his room as you fervently searched for him, only to come up empty handed again. Where could he possibly be? Perhaps he went for a midnight stroll. Or possibly he left the Little Palace again. But before deciding on going back to your room, you were adamant on searching the entire ground for him.

As you made your way back towards the door, your eyes briefly flashed to the portrait above it. You were frozen in your tracks as you did a double take. There in the painting was you, depicted in the gold kefta you had put on mere minutes ago. Behind you was the General, who had one hand clasped around your waist, the other resting on your shoulder. The two of you smiling brightly, it had practically been one of the only other times you’d seen him smile.

The letter in your pocket felt like it weighed a ton, your mouth going dry. In your panicked state of mind, you didn’t notice the shadows jumping up and down the walls.

“My darling.” You never heard him creeping up on you until he started talking into your ear, his whisper making you involuntarily shiver. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

Turning around, you didn’t expect to find his hair dripping wet, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. A blush formed on your cheeks as you tried to look at anything but him.

“Don’t call me that.” You spat out, he reached one of his hands out to touch the kefta you had put on. His touch lingered from the black stitching to the collar of the Grisha jacket, his fingers ghosting over your neck. “I’m going to ask you one more time, have we met before?”

The General saw no use in keeping the secret from you any longer; you had worn the kefta he’d made for you centuries ago, most likely read the letter in its pocket, and now you had just seen the portrait he’d hung up of the two of you. It was evidently clear that you knew something was going on.

“What do you remember?” He deflected, not answering your question.

Flashes came to your mind, ones you had dreamt, others were new.

“I remember...my death. The night those soldiers shoved a knife in me.” You confessed. You also saw other things. Horseback riding in the woods. Long nights in bed spent talking about the future. Him training you, teaching you how to wield a sword. The birthmark at your ribcage, the one on your neck, and the long ones on your back. They had all been scars. Marking all the deaths from your previous lives.

Three scars, three separate lifetimes with him. You reached up to touch the scar on your neck, “They..I-”

“This one, the Fjerdans gave you this one. We were hunting for the stag when we had gotten ambushed. They killed you for the sole purpose to see me in pain. I begged them to take me too, but they found too much joy in my grief. The Drüskelle held me on the ground, my hands spread apart, as I watched you bleed out.” You can see the tears form in his eyes as he recalls the events of that night. He walks around you, tracing the rips of the kefta. The rips had consequently been placed exactly where the scars on your back were. You could tell by the familiar pattern he traced, a once soothing action that now caused you great anguish. “The Fjerdans also gave you these ones. They tortured you for days on end. When I finally found you, it was too late. There was no healer that had the power to help you. All I could do was hold you as a heartrender calmed you, minimizing your pain.”

“I can’t remember that, why can’t I remember that?” You panicked, to which the Darkling turned you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs rubbed your face in a reassuring manner.

“It’s not often that you fully remember what happens to you. It’s your brain's way of protecting you so you don’t get overwhelmed.” Well you certainly felt overwhelmed now. It was all too much to take in at once.

“The shadow fold..” You hesitated, removing yourself from his grasp. “Was that because of me?”

“Yes,” he confessed, “I created it after you first died. A way to protect all Grisha. I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand. But it was one less threat we had to worry about.”

“I don’t understand. Why me? Why is it always me? Why do I always come back to you?”

“There’s a reason why the universe has continued to bring us back together, my darling. My other half. My life.” He walks up to you, grasping your face in his hands. His touch was different this time, it was cold yet welcoming. It felt familiar. The shadows engulfed the room as you felt a power rush over you. His eyes darted towards your lips, hesitating before leaning in. You close your eyes as you feel that familiar warmth consume you. His kiss is soft, gentle, yet you could tell he was holding back from ravaging you.

He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You kept your eyes closed, lost in the memories.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered. When you had closed them, the whole room had been taken by his shadows, leaving the two of you in darkness. But as he stood in front of you, his hands on your cheeks, the whole room had been illuminated. “My sun summoner, I have loved you all of my life. For all of your lifetimes.”

“Maybe one too many.” What else was there to say? You always knew, somewhere deep down inside of you, that there was something special different about you. You didn’t know it until now, until you were reunited with your other half. “But I thought Grisha couldn’t get sick.”

The smile falls from his face, “I believe..that this could possibly be our last lifetime together.” He disclosed. “Neither heartrender nor healer could explain what was happening to you. I think it might be the consequence of avoiding eternal death for so long.” He joked, his eyes meeting yours.

“I thought your last life had been our final one together. I waited hundreds of years for your return. When I had caught wind of a sun summoner being found, I thought it was you. When it wasn’t I felt as if my heart had shattered all over again. That you would never return to me again.” The Darkling squinted as the light around you grew brighter. His touch was making you unstable.

“But Alina-”

“Can’t know. No one can. I can’t risk your life again. Not anymore.” He replied, “Especially when this could be our last time together.”

You struggled to find a name to call him, the General felt too formal, and to you it seemed too early to call him by his given name.

“Aleksander, my darling. Call me by my name.” He said, withdrawing his hand from you and letting the shadows shrink back to the ground.

All your life, you had subconsciously fought the Grisha within you. You had always been Grisha. Using the powers you had been born with had given you back your strength, albeit not all of it. You enjoyed- reveled the rush it gave you.

“Aleksander,” His name left your lips in a hushed whisper, “..what if I want the stag for myself?”

Mizpah tags: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester @runawayolives @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae @batgal96 @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer @kaqua @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa @marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess @comphersjost @telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020 @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard@thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld @p3nny4urth0ught5 @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme @itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000 @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter @sarcastic-and-cool @poulterfilms @spookybooisa @stickyknightflowerbailiff @hollandsweetie @yungkvte @evyiione @2023-padfoot @kawaiimarshmallow @nikki-sixx-is-daddy @sanktawylan @blackbirddaredevil23 @athenamikaelson @mellifluous-cosmos @mylittlecrazyworldofinterest @iiclarixa @lcandothisallday @agent-jbarnes

Mizpah taglist is CLOSED for now!

S.a.B. forever tags: @deceivedeer

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes

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dilftaroooo · 3 years

Text

—𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jolyne cujoh x reader

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: female reader, race/ethnicity is not mentioned.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.7k+

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you make out with jolyne in the bathroom stall after class.

this is the last fic im uploading as of now bc i gotta plan out my 150 follower event cause i’ve of been slacking 👀

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: sexually confused reader, delinquent jolyne, slight suggestive themes, sloppy makeout.

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐄 𝟏𝟔 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

Pressed softly against the steel partitions your body consumes the multiple kisses Jolyne gifted your neck with. Each individual contact of her lips to your skin made the hairs on your neck raise and your feeble fingers twitch.

A foreign feeling from such a common action - distant to the norm that you well acquainted yourself with but yet... so similar.

Plump lips smothered in the green lipstick the female delinquent chose to wear that day was smeared - its emerald hue painted the dip of your neck and abstract patterns littered its crevice. Her canvas was no where near finished, it wouldn’t be until the paint from her tray was gone - until the pigment of her lips dissipated.

Even then, she will just refill her palette, clean her canvas, and start anew.

A hand cups your cheek and you flinch at its frigidness but soon relax when the temperature becomes warmer. Your eyes were closed - relaxing, thinking, contemplating.

Was this what you wanted?

Is this all for passion or curiosity?

You were lost on who you were and just what your desires were. Maybe this isn’t for you. Maybe you don’t want this. Maybe you can just tell Jolyne to stop for a moment, to talk it through and tell her about the confusion that corrupted your mind. You’re positive she’d understand.

But her heat, her caresses, her coos. They were all intoxicating you to such an extent. Your head felt dizzy and your eyes wandered to the small interior of the bathroom stall. You felt like you were in the verge of fainting into the arms of the girl in front of you who smelled of a summer’s hibiscus. Did you really want this to end?

“Hey, Y/n, ever kissed a girl before?” You snapped your head to Jolyne, her chin rested in her hand as she blows the strawberry flavored gum for the umpteenth time.

“Huh...? What... n-no!” You whisper yell to avoid getting caught by the teacher who was in the middle of doing their job, sharing their knowledge on shit you didn’t care about but still had to show interest like you did.

A loud ‘pop’ echoes in the room and every student turns back with a glare. Their grip on their pencils tightens tenfold by the annoying sound.

Jolyne’s hand engulfs the side her face and the butterfly tattoo on her wrist became more visible, a smirk finds a way to her striking features.

“Hm? Never? Maybe we should change that...”

“Jolyne! Out my classroom right now!”

She deliberately packs her bag with the notebooks she never even used since the first semester and started to head out of the shitty calculus class. But before her departure you catch the words she mumbled to you - those words that sent a sharp shiver up your spine.

“Meet me in the bathroom down the hall.”

You didn’t miss the quick flash of her middle finger aiming at the elderly teacher, her eyes widen in shock as she got ready to call the school principal.

Broken out your daze by her low whisper, raspy with need and gaining the resolve that she was know to have, you look at her.

“Like it?” She questions.

You did. You loved it. Adored it. Needed it. You needed it so much that you kissed her back. Your lips squished from your closeness, you could taste the mixed flavor of faint tobacco and strawberry that riddled on her tongue. A taste that you didn’t know you were longing for. And you didn’t care.

You didn’t care when she trailed down your neck, you didn’t care when she fondled your breast through your shirt, or when she placed her thigh between your legs to put pressure on your pussy. In fact, you invited the gestures - arms open and spread for the lecherous advances Jolyne was ready to taint you with.

It was more than just ‘like’.

“No-”

Her mascara covered eyelashes tickled your neck. The humorous deed brought out a airy chuckle from your wet lips. Such intimacy made you want to reel her in closer than what she can perform. You never wanted to feel her body disconnect from yours. Cranking your neck to the side to give her more access, you smile.

You came here. You came here by choice. You walked out that classroom. You took those long strides over to the public bathroom that had the words “WOMENS” displayed boldly above the entrance. You entered the stall that revealed Jolyne’s platform boots from the exposed bottom. This is what you wanted and you could do nothing but accept it.

“I love it.”

©𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 @𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

#jolyne kujo x reader #jolyne cujoh x reader #jolyne cujoh #jjba x reader #jolyne x reader #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo's bizarre adventure

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pftones3482 · 3 years

Text

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

#percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #my writing #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

omg can you do a print of damie in canon just interacting with flora bc i would love that

She’s lost Flora.

There is, Dani thinks with the forced calm of one already beginning to spiral, little cause to panic. The house is big, but it’s not that big--and Flora is a good kid. She’s not exactly prone to just wandering off. She certainly wouldn’t, say, vanish from sight and reappear somewhere unexpected, suddenly acting like she didn’t entirely remember the time in between.

That doesn’t sound like Flora at all.

She isn’t running, per se, from room to room. Running would suggest there is a problem to be handled, and if she starts thinking along those lines--if she starts obsessing about Flora’s distinctly off-putting way of gazing over her shoulder, of saying things just a little too odd to be hand-waved away, of looking at Dani as though she can see straight through her to the unease thrumming under the surface--well. That way lies nothing useful. Nothing at all.

“Have you seen Flora?” The kitchen had seemed a good bet. Here, after all, is Owen, puttering away over the ingredients for the evening’s meal, his mood somber as he uses the manor to avoid reflecting on his mother’s upcoming funeral. Here is Hannah, dutifully rearranging the china, pretending not to steal glances at Owen’s lanky frame every few seconds. That spot at the table is made for Flora, little legs hanging off the chair, brimming with questions--

But Flora isn’t there, and Owen is shaking his head.

“Not since lunch. Lost her, have you?”

No, she almost snaps. A count of three, a long-held breath; she smiles tightly, reminding herself that this is not Owen’s fault, nor Owen’s job. The children will be your responsibility alone, after all.

“She’s quick,” she says instead. Hannah purses her lips.

“Perhaps upstairs with Miles?”

She isn’t. Miles, bent over a book with a solemn expression, blinks up at her as though she’s dragged him by the shirt collar out of the actual wardrobe to Narnia.

“She asked me to color--what time is it?”

“Two,” Dani says, sparing the briefest glance for her watch. He shrugs.

“An hour ago, I think? I told her to ask Hannah.” A flash of concern crosses his face, a too-adult creasing of brow. “Was that wrong? I just wanted to finish my book--”

“It’s fine,” Dani assures him, ruffling his hair. Too-adult, his expression may be, but this is the most kid she’s seen Miles in days. The last thing she wants is to dissuade him from reading, or from the loose sprawl of his posture.

An hour, though. In the days since coming to Bly, Dani can’t remember twenty minutes passing without Flora turning up underfoot.

Outside, she thinks with another swell of barely-restrained panic. She’s outside. By the lake, probably, where Flora can so often be found keeping company with dolls and talismans and snatches of ethereal song.

It isn’t exactly a reassuring thought, particularly with summer rain sluicing down the windows, scattering over the roof like pellets. A storm, it isn’t, but an eight-year-old girl has no business wandering in weather like this.

You'd have loved it, at her age, Dani reminds herself. There’s nothing at all wrong with a little girl puddle-jumping for the sheer joy of it. Flora probably got bored, cooped up with a bunch of busy adults and her brother uninterested in playing games. She’s fine. She’s almost certainly fine.

An umbrella is waiting beside the door, still damp from Owen’s trip in before breakfast. Dani takes a breath, pops it open, steels herself for the brisk wind.

The grounds are gray, the puddles turning the grass to a squelchy mess beneath her shoes. She keeps her head up, her eyes carefully turned away from the puddles which sit like recklessly-dropped mirrors at every turn; if she so much as glances down and spots a flash of glasses, she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep her composure.

Flora is not by the lake, as it turns out. Nor the statue gardens. Nor the rose bushes. Flora is nowhere, she’s starting to think, and her mind is finally turning toward the worst--toward the depth of that lake, how easily a small girl might slip off the embankment and tumble headlong into its hungry waves without notice--when she remembers the greenhouse.

Jamie will help. The thought rises without warning, a solid patch of sunlight at the center of the storm. Jamie will help--because Jamie knows every corner of these grounds as well as her own hands. Jamie, who maybe doesn’t know Dani all that well, but didn’t seem to mind offering gentle reassurance, exchanging unexpectedly deep conversation on the couch...or Dani taking her hand in the dark. Jamie, who had said, Who the hell knew? Jamie, who had worn an expression a little like awe.

They haven’t had time to talk about it since, but even so. Even so, for Flora, Jamie is sure to--

She hesitates at the door, fist raised to knock. It feels foolish, rapping on the entry to a greenhouse like it’s Jamie’s own bedroom--but this is, she reasons, as close to Jamie’s home as she’s ever likely to get.

“Jamie, are you...”

“Here,” her voice comes from somewhere just out of sight. Dani takes a cautious step in out of the rain, jostling the umbrella and pulling it hastily shut. Best not to invite bad luck--she’s certainly already had her share.

“I’m looking for Flora,” she calls, feeling a bit silly. There’s so much going on in this room--plants and tables, pots and a variety of outdoor furniture draped with old blankets. Normally, Jamie is easy to spot amid the riot of greens and pinks, her hands busy coaxing seedlings to life. Today, Dani feels as though she’s tripped and fallen into a game of hide and seek.

“Don’t have to look far,” Jamie’s voice comes again--from behind the sofa, Dani thinks. “C’mere.”

“Miss Clayton!” Flora pipes up, and Dani feels the tension leave her body in a violent rush. Her hand grips the nearest table for support, her eyes closing in relief. “Come color with us”

“Come--sorry?” She can’t have heard right. Jamie? Jamie the gardener, putting aside work and temper to waste an afternoon on crayons?

Yes--yes, that appears to be exactly what Jamie is doing. Sprawled on her stomach, still dressed in her coveralls, she’s got a blue crayon in hand and a green one tucked behind her ear. She glances up as Dani steps nearer, a smile lighting her face.

“Kid came stumbling in out of the rain an hour ago. Expect she didn’t think to warn you in advance?”

“Sorry.” Flora offers a sheepish smile, sitting up quickly. “Are you very cross?”

“No, of course not.” Just going to need a minute to purge the image of finding you facedown in the goddamned lake, is all. “Next time, though, you’ll have to tell me you’re leaving the house alone. I need to know where you are at all times, Flora.”

She expects Jamie to scoff at this--to say, Ah, she was with me, she’s fine. Instead, Jamie stretches over to land a sharp flick on Flora’s upper arm.

“Rude to make Poppins worry. Look, she’s gone all pink.” She looks up at Dani, grinning. “Not a bad look, if we’re in the market for honesty.”

Dani suspects pink is the lightest shade she can manage, with Jamie gazing at her that way. It’s too easy, all of a sudden, to remember an unexpectedly soft hand under her own fingers, Jamie turning reflexively at the wrist to hold her back.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Flora says, a phrase Dani is starting to think is more Flora than even perfectly splendid. “Here--I was just about to do one of you!”

Jamie gestures with the blue crayon, a silent suggestion for Dani to sit beside her. “Might as well. Rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.” She lowers her voice, eyes fixed on Flora’s determined rummage through the crayon box. “Sorry about that, Poppins. Know she’s been unpredictable lately, didn’t like the idea of her stumping around in the cold. If I’d known you were worried--”

“It’s all right.” In truth, she’s glad Flora made her way out here. Growing more pleased by the moment with this development, really, as Jamie slides a blank sheet of paper in front of her and presses a purple crayon into her hand.

“Join us. We’re doing portraiture.”

“I can see that,” Dani laughs. Jamie’s handiwork speaks of a distinct lack of care for detail--each sketch on her page is, at best, a stick figure with a single defining feature. “How does Owen hold up his head, carrying a mustache the size of his torso?”

“With minimal decorum,” Jamie says, grinning. “And she’s right, it’s your turn.”

Dani suspects she’s going less pink, more a volatile shade of maroon, with both parties squinting at her face, their papers, her face again. Flora is doing her very best work, taking several minutes just to select the closest shades of blue, yellow, pink. Jamie makes an enormous production of holding up a crayon, closing one eye, gauging proportions--and then, cheerfully, scrawling a figure identical to the other four already on the page.

“I’m taller than Hannah?” Dani asks, unable to resist a giggle. Jamie frowns.

“Ah, you’re...standin’ on a crate.” She adds a box beneath Dani’s non-existent feet with a flourish, nodding. “There. It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve ranked you all on how much I like you. Takin’ into account, of course, certain accusations pointed my way regarding mud and shiny floorboards.” Jamie winks. Dani finds herself gripping her crayon almost hard enough to hurt.

“You’re not drawing, Miss Clayton!” Flora observes. Dani glances away from Jamie’s smile--a difficult act only a few days ago, nearly impossible now--and clears her throat.

“Well. Maybe just until the rain stops.”

There are, she thinks as a comfortable quiet settles over the greenhouse, infinitely worse ways to spend her afternoon.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #flora wingrave #soft prompts #hope this is about what you were looking for #soft it certainly is

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

Text

One For The Road [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 2029

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Post-Azkaban Sirius is a jealous guy... especially when it comes to his girl and Snivellous.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I hope the requester enjoys! (requests still open, feel free to send some my way!) also yes I only named this fic ‘one for the road’ bc of the arctic monkeys song

+ + + + +

“Do you have to go back to Hogwarts this year?” Sirius groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you tried to wash the remaining pots.

“I reckon so, being a teacher and all,” you laughed, placing a pan on the drying rack. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his long hair tickling as he placed a soft kiss there.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You’d been waiting for this. Sirius hadn’t really made any comments about you having to leave, even though he and you were aware that you’d be away most of the school year, just like Harry would be. You had begun to worry about him being alone in Grimmauld Place again, especially after being around people constantly over the summer holidays.

You dried your hands on the tea towel and spun around in his arms to face him, “I’m going to miss you too. But you know you can write, and I’ll write too, and Christmas will be here before you know it. It’s only four months away.”

Sirius pushed his lips against yours for a moment, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer to him. You responded immediately, kissing back and wrapping your arms around his neck. “That’s four months too long, love,” he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away a couple inches.

“It’ll fly by, I promise. Remus said he’d stay with you in the meantime so you’re not here alone. I hate thinking about you here, especially with that bloody painting... I just want to take you with me.”

“I’ll happily jump into one of your suitcases love, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you grinned as you turned back to washing. You were just placing the last pot on the drying rack as people started arriving at the house. You placed the tea towel on the counter and slowly pulled away from Sirius’ arms - much to his dismay - to greet Remus, who was followed closely by Tonks.

“Wotcher, Y/n!” Tonks greeted as she pulled a chair out at the dining table. “Hi Tonks!”

“How are you doing, Y/n? Ready for work?” Remus asked, taking his own seat at the dining table. “I’m not doing bad, I’m half packed for the next term, still got a few bits I need to sort out but I’ll get there. You’d think I’d be a dab hand at this by now but I still end up forgetting something every year,” you said with an airy laugh and a shrug, leaning against the counter.

The sound of Walburga Black screaming in the hallway made all of you look over, Sirius sighing dramatically as he left the room to go shut her up - although not before giving your bum a cheeky squeeze, causing you to swat at him with the damp tea towel and making him chuckle.

He returned a few minutes later with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad Eye, Arthur Weasley and Bill Weasley, who were followed closely by Severus Snape - an old school mate and colleague of yours - and finally Dumbledore.

You greeted them all with a smile, taking a couple of steps over towards Snape, who you chatted with for a small while about the year to come at Hogwarts. At some point, Sirius had sidled up to you and threw an arm around your waist not-at-all subtly, making you roll your eyes playfully at him. You turned to Arthur instead.

“No Molly today?” You asked him. He shook his head, “No no, not today, she’s with the rest of the kids, getting ready for Hogwarts. Thought it best she keep an eye on them all.” You nodded understandingly.

The rest of the meeting went off without much drama, besides the glares you saw Sirius shooting over at Snape, but that was to be expected by now, what with the whole hatred thing they had going on. You didn’t really understand it, even back when you were all at Hogwarts yourselves. And whilst you didn’t agree with the way he treated Lily the last time they spoke, you’d never personally had a bad experience with the man, and actually got on well at Hogwarts - or as best you could, anyway.

When everyone had finally left a couple of hours later, you decided to continue packing for Hogwarts, knowing it would be worse to try and rush the morning of your travels.

As you placed some of your final items into your last trunk, you turned to Sirius, who was stood in the doorway of his - or rather, your shared - bedroom, leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, what’s up love?” You asked, raising an eyebrow worriedly. “Nothing,” he replied, not quite meeting your eyes.

You smiled to yourself and walked the short distance over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and making him automatically rest his on your hips. “Is this about Severus? Because you know I’ve told you to ignore the things he says,” you said brushing your nose against his. “Snivellous,” Sirius spat his name out, “Can say what he wants about me. What I don’t like is when he’s so close to you.”

“Ohh, you’re jealous!” “I’m not jealous.” “You’re so jealous! Oh Godric, I never even realised. Oh love, you know I adore and love you and no one else, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s just someone I have to work with. No one could hold a candle to you,” you said, closing the small gap between you and pressing your lips to Sirius’. He kissed back easily, spinning you round so you were pinned between him and his bedroom wall. “You promise?” He mumbled against your lips. “I solemnly swear it,” you teased with a laugh, finally making him crack a smile, “I’ll be back before you know it, don’t you worry.”

***

It had been nearly two weeks since you’d arrived back at Hogwarts. The students were starting to settle back in, as were the staff, and honestly you loved being there, loved your job. Sure, it was disheartening sometimes when you couldn’t see Sirius but the smiles on your students faces made up for some of it.

You’d just owled a reply to the first of Sirius’ letters for the school year, wanting to update him on your first couple of weeks back. You were also worried about him, knowing he hated being stuck in Grimmauld Place, especially when he was alone. You’d also happened to mention Snape’s idea of starting a duelling club, and how excited you were to be a part of it, loving the idea of teaching the students more magic. What could be better?

A couple of days later, you were sat in your classroom, a pile of students’ essays sat in front of you as you marked them. This was the part of teaching you didn’t like as much, but it was nice to know that nearly every student you taught had handed something in, and most were to a high standard. Not a huge surprise, considering many of your students adored your lessons, but the response was still nice to see.

You were lost in your work, when suddenly there was a knock at the door that made you look up, “Oh Professor L/n?”

Although you couldn’t help the smile that was fighting to show on your face, you exclaimed, “What are you doing here?! You could be seen - are you mad?”

The dark haired man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, “Of course I’m mad, I spent 12 years locked away. But anyway, I just came to visit my lovely girlfriend at her amazing job.”

You moved around your desk to give him a hug, “You must be careful, I can’t have anyone seeing you - did Dumbledore agree to this?”

Feeling Sirius chuckle under your embrace, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“Of course not. I never asked permission. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too! It’s only been two weeks as well,” you said with a grin as you pulled away slightly to look up at him, however still staying in his arms.

“A very long two weeks. I don’t think I’m going to make it until Christmas without seeing you, I just felt I had to come and see you, I missed your pretty face.”

You looked at his ‘innocent’ face and squinted your eyes, before scoffing with amusement, “Bullshit... you were jealous weren’t you? Of Severus? Because I mentioned him in that letter?” “Of that greaseball? No way,” he shook his head but you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You do realise I love you and only you right?”

“I know, I know. You always say and show it and I’m so lucky to have you. I just... I’m so scared you’ll realise you deserve better,” he sighed, looking down as he gently squeezed your hips, “I mean... you deserve someone who can take you out on dates and show you off to the world! I can’t do that, I’m just an old fugitive.”

“I don’t care about all that, I don’t want someone else, I want you. I deserve you and you deserve me. I love you, Sirius, and I wouldn’t change you for the world. You’re a fugitive because the ministry were incompetent - as always - with handling the entire case, but regardless, I don’t care. No one, not Severus, not anyone could take me away from you. I waited for you because I knew you’d escape and I knew you’d come back to me because we love each other. I always have, from way back when you were a bloody heartthrob and girls chased you. You used to tell me that none of them mattered because they weren’t me. Now it’s my turn to tell you that no other guy matters because they’re not you. I love you so bloody much.”

You pushed your lips to his, kissing him passionately and with as much love as you could pour into it. He kissed back, lifting you up onto your desk and nudging the papers out of the way as he stood between your legs, one hand squeezing your thigh as the other cupped your cheek. He tilted your head to deepen the kiss, licking across your bottom lip as you parted them to allow him access into your mouth. “I love you,” he mumbled between kisses. “I love you too.”

You didn’t know how long you were there, all you knew was that you were thankful no one had tried to walk in on you both - although you weren’t sure you would have noticed if they had. You ran a hand through his hair and pecked his lips again, “As much as I want to keep you here, you probably need to go before you get caught!”

“What if I don’t care?”

“I do care, I want you to spend Christmas with me, so please make sure you get home safe,” you said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll see you again at Christmas, counting down the days!” He stepped backwards, before quickly kissing your swollen lips again and then reluctantly beginning left the room.

“See you then, my love,” you called after him, receiving a loving smile in return. You just about caught a glimpse of him turning into his dog form before you took a deep breath, going to sit back down at your desk to continue marking the papers.

You’d just written down an “O” on one of them when a head popped round the door of your classroom. You looked up, expecting a fellow teacher or perhaps a student, instead being met with the cheeky grin of your Sirius Black.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he beat you to it, his grin turning easily into a smirk as he said, “I don’t suppose I could have one more kiss for the road?”

And well... when he looked like that, who were you to deny him?

#sirius #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius imagine #sirius imagines #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #post azkaban sirius #post azkaban sirius x reader #post azkaban sirius black x reader #post azkaban sirius imagine #post azkaban sirius black imagine #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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reinerispretty · 4 years

Text

reminiscence (? x f!reader) pt2

thank you so much for all of the positive feedback on the last chapter!! i’m super happy you guys enjoyed it :) just for some clarification, the reason i made who the reader will end up with a mystery is bc since she has amnesia, i thought it would be fun if we all found out together hehe :) enjoy this next chapter!!

pt1

pt3

“Thank you,” The woman said, hunched over as she caught her breath. When she stood, Bolin got a good look at her face. She wasn’t a woman at all: she was a girl, probably the same age as him. “I thought I had an agreement with the Triads to leave me alone, but that guy must not have gotten the memo.”

Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.

“Gotta keep myself safe somehow.”

“Who was that?” (Y/N) asked as Kya and Korra rifled through dressers and chests to find Air Nomad clothes that would fit her. Kya gave Korra a sharp look before the girl could answer.

“That was Bolin,” Korra replied cautiously. “He’s Mako’s brother.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) said. “He looked really nice. Did he know me too?”

“Um, yeah, I think so,” Korra said and Kya glared at her. “What? Am I just supposed to lie to her if she asks?”

“I appreciate the honesty,” (Y/N) admitted. “I would really rather no one tiptoe around the past.”

“If you receive too much information at once, or someone tells you something too painful, it could harm your chances of ever getting your memory back,” Kya said as she handed (Y/N) an Air Nomad dress.

“So everyone is just supposed to pretend that they’re fine with me? That hardly seems fair.” (Y/N) gave Korra a pointed look. “I know you know something that I don’t and that’s why you’re a little stand-offish toward me.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Tell me, please? I’ll be okay. I need to know what kind of person I was.”

“Not today,” Kya interrupted. “You need rest. Lots of it. You’ve been going since you woke up.”

Now that she mentioned it, (Y/N) did feel rather exhausted. She stifled a yawn. “I’ll lead you to your room,” Kya said. “Since Korra can’t be trusted to not tell you everything.”

(Y/N) stood as Kya grabbed her by the arm again. “It was nice meeting you, Korra, even if it wasn’t nice meeting me.” Korra didn’t reply. She just watched as the girl padded down the hall.

The room (Y/N) was given was bare. It held a desk, a dresser, and a bed. The window looked out onto the courtyard below. She could see the people down there, undoubtedly talking about her, and she reached her fingers up to open the window. She paused, thinking on Kya’s words. If she found out too much about herself too soon, she would risk the chance of losing her memories forever. She let her hand fall to her side.

Everyone down there knew who she was. Maybe they knew her likes, her dislikes, or even her birthday. She wondered if at one point they had been friends.

Her experience with Mako had definitely put a sour taste in her mouth. He had said she wasn’t a good person. Was she mean? Evil, even? What made her that way? What did she do to him that was so awful?

And then there was Bolin. Mako had mentioned his name earlier, when she had arrived on his doorstep. “Bolin’s not here,” He had said. Why would it matter whether or not Bolin was there? She sighed as she looked down at the boy dressed in green. What did he know about her?

(Y/N) felt the familiar stinging at the backs of her eyes that alerted her to tears. Since she was alone, she let them fall freely. She moved away from the window and to the bed, her body shaking as she cried. She felt so alone. How was she supposed to cope with something like this? She was completely lost on the inside and it seemed like the only people who knew her didn’t want her around.

She didn’t bother wiping her tears away. They fell too quickly for her to catch them all. She wondered if she had ever had someone that would wipe her tears away. She got under the covers and prayed that sleep would come to her soon.

---

Two years ago, Bolin had been walking down the streets of Republic City. It was a warm night, signaling the start of summer, so he wore his jacket slung over his shoulder. The streetlights shone against the puddles on the asphalt. It had rained earlier that day.

He and Mako had gotten in a fight over money again. It was stupid, really, but sometimes Bolin was just so sick of Mako treating him like he was incapable. He had slammed the door as he left their shared apartment and marched into the street, walking with no destination. He was far away from home now. He could tell he had been walking for a while because the neon lights of the shops had already shut off. Republic City was beginning to quiet.

He made a right onto a dimly lit street and noticed a female figure walking ahead of him. Bolin decided to stop. He knew sometimes it freaked women out if men walked behind them, even if there was no ill-intent behind it, so he leaned his back against the cool brick of the building and waited until she had rounded the corner to start walking again. That was when he heard the scream.

Out of pure instinct, Bolin started running toward the sound, his jacket billowing behind him. He skidded around the corner, watching as the woman he had seen struggled against a member of the Triple Threat Triad. He and Mako had done some work for them in the past, but he didn’t recognize the man. He was large, towering over the woman and probably Bolin too. He had his hands around the woman’s wrists and was trying to lead her into the dark alley beside them. “Hey!” Bolin called out. “Let her go!”

The man stopped, a sinister smile creeping its way onto his features. “This doesn’t concern you, kid.”

Bolin wracked his brain for a clever reply, but when he couldn’t find one, he resorted to his next best option. He stomped against the ground, causing small boulders to pummel the man. He let go of the woman’s wrists and she ran over to Bolin.

The man let out a roar, jumping into the air and sending a slice of firebending at the two of them. They screamed and Bolin grabbed her hand, running back down the street and taking the back alley ways he knew so well.

“My place is the other way!” She shouted at him.

“I don’t think you wanna take him to where you live!” Bolin shouted back. They made a sharp right turn onto one of the busier streets in Republic City. Bolin stopped, using his head start to earthbend the ground up, completely blocking the man from following them. They dashed into the crowd then, Bolin’s grip still tight on the woman’s hand, until he was sure they were safe to stop.

Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.

“Gotta keep myself safe somehow,” She said. She looked down at her hands and sighed sadly. “When he grabbed me, he made me drop my dinner.”

“Oh no!” Bolin exclaimed. “Come with me, I know a place!”

“Thanks,” She said, “But I don’t have any money on me.”

“Let me buy you dinner!” The words came out before he could stop them, and he knew Mako would be so mad if he found out, but he couldn’t help himself. The girl raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s fair to make you pay for my dinner after you just saved my life,” She said with a laugh. Bolin smiled at the sound.

“How about this: you can repay me for saving your life by accompanying me to dinner. And if I—hypothetically—ordered too much food and couldn’t possibly let it go to waste so you’d have to eat it…then I think that’s fair!”

The girl smiled up at him. “Then I guess, hypothetically, I’d have to say yes.”

Bolin grinned and began walking in the direction of the restaurant, then paused. “Just to be clear, you are coming to dinner with me, right?” The girl laughed again and nodded.

They slid into the booth of Bolin’s favorite twenty-four-hour noodle shop. “They’ve got everything,” Bolin explained as they poured over the menu together. “Ramen, pho, pad thai…you name it, they have it.”

The girl hummed. “Think they have sea prunes?” Bolin’s face contorted into disgust. “I’m kidding! I hate sea prunes.” She picked up her menu, biting her lip as she looked at its contents. “Do you like soup dumplings?”

“Like soup dumplings?” Bolin asked. “I love them! They’re my favorite!”

“Mine too!”

“We’ll get a double order then,” Bolin decided. He went up to the counter and ordered their food. When he returned, he leaned his elbows onto the table. “So, what should I call you?”

“You mean besides the girl you just rescued? (Y/N) will do.”

“(Y/N),” Bolin repeated. He liked how it felt in his mouth. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’m Bolin.”

---

“Bolin.” The boy snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at his older brother. They had returned home only a few hours ago and the sun was starting to come up. He could feel its warm rays cascading through his windows and onto his skin. “You need to go to bed,” Mako ordered.

“How can I possibly go to bed?” Bolin groaned, flopping sideways onto the couch. Pabu hopped up and curled himself into Bolin’s side.

“Easy,” Mako said. “You close your eyes and then you’re asleep.”

“Every time I try to close my eyes, I think of how (Y/N’s) on Air Temple Island and she has no idea who she is or who we are.”

“Try not to care about it, alright?” Mako poured himself a cup of tea. He had work in just a few hours. His under eyes were dark with exhaustion but as long as Bolin was awake, he’d remain awake. “We’ll figure it out and get her memories back and then she’ll go back to whatever she was doing when she left Republic City.”

Bolin chewed on his bottom lip. He had a feeling there was more to the story. The cogs in his head were turning tirelessly. He sat up, disturbing Pabu, and turned to Mako. “What if-“

“No, Bolin, you’re not gonna do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to make excuses for everything that happened because she has amnesia.”

“But what if there’s something bigger?” Bolin asked. “She’s been gone for months and says she woke up a week ago without her memory. What happened in that time?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. They’re gonna have her do some meditating tomorrow to try to bring some of her memories back.” Mako sat beside Bolin on the couch.

“I should go back,” Bolin started to stand up. “I need to talk to her.”

“Bolin, no.” His brother pulled him back down. “You heard Kya. She can’t find out too much or she risks losing everything. While she’s focusing on getting her memories back, you need to focus on what you know: she broke your heart, little bro. She definitely didn’t have amnesia then.”

Bolin’s eager appearance deflated completely. He knew his brother was right but there was still a part of him that wanted to go see her. Maybe if Bolin told her about her past, then it would be okay. They’d had the strongest connection out of all of them.

---

That morning, (Y/N) sat between Korra and Tenzin in a gazebo. Her legs were crossed, her arms were loose in her lap, and she inhaled deep breaths to try to connect to any of her lost memories. All that she got was a whole lot of nothing. She peeked her eye open to look at Korra, who was blatantly staring at her.

“Keep your eyes closed!” Korra snapped.

“Your eyes were open!” (Y/N) argued.

“No one’s eyes should be open!” Tenzin grumbled decisively. The two girls sighed and returned to their previous states. (Y/N) inhaled another deep breath and tried to do what Tenzin had told her. She recounted the first memory she had: waking up and gasping for air, the night sky high above her. She could feel the grass that surrounded her. Once she had gained her bearings, she took in her surroundings. A small fishing village sat at the bottom of the mountain she had laid on. She got to her feet, legs wobbling, and looked at herself. Her coat was covered in spots of dirt. She reached into its pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The writing on it was scribbled and quick, written with haste, and was obviously an address.

(Y/N’s) eyes popped back open. She didn’t notice anything different this time around. There hadn’t been anyone at her side. The first people she had interacted with had been the people in the village. They had asked her name and (Y/N) had started panicking when she couldn’t remember it. She didn’t want to delve too deep into that memory. She could still feel the pain and anxiety in it.

She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t remember anything! I’ve been trying for the past two hours and all I can see is the same memory I’ve been going over for the past week.” She felt the stinging behind her ears again, but took a breath to halt it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so frustrated. I just don’t know anything and I know you guys do and trust me, I understand why you don’t want to tell me, but it stinks not knowing anything other than my name and that I’m a bad person.”

Korra frowned sadly at the girl. She knew what it was like, to be judged before she got the chance to redeem herself. While she had heard some pretty bad stories about (Y/N) from Mako, she also recognized that he was biased. Especially when it came to Bolin.

“How about we go into the city and get some lunch?” Korra asked. (Y/N) looked up at her gratefully.

“I don’t know if that’s the wisest idea,” Tenzin’s deep voice rumbled.

“Relax, Tenzin. We won’t talk about her life. She needs something normal right now.” Reluctantly, the man conceded.

Korra helped (Y/N) to her feet and whistled for Naga. The polar bear dog bounded toward them, her tail wagging excitedly. “(Y/N),” Korra said. “Meet Naga.”

The polar bear dog gave (Y/N) a huge lick on the side of her face. She giggled, rubbing behind Naga’s ears. “It’s so nice to meet you!” (Y/N) squealed. “I wish I had a pet just like you!”

“She’s kind of the best,” Korra admitted as she hopped onto Naga’s back. She pulled (Y/N) up to sit behind her.

“I don’t doubt it!” With a whip of her reigns, they burst into a run toward Republic City. (Y/N) couldn’t contain her laughter as they sped toward the water. She didn’t realize that they’d be traveling by sea until Naga dove headfirst into the icy water. (Y/N) closed her eyes tightly, gripping onto Korra’s back. The Avatar laughed.

“You can open your eyes now,” She called back to her. Slowly, (Y/N) relaxed and looked around. They traveled under the water in a giant bubble. Korra’s arms moved in flowing movements in front of her.

“You’re waterbending!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“The Avatar is the master of the four elements,” Korra explained. “I’ve been training my whole life.”

“All four?” (Y/N) let out a gasp. “That’s so cool! I wonder if I was ever a bender.” Korra looked back at (Y/N) for a moment.

“You weren’t,” She said, her eyes kind as she stared at (Y/N). Although a little disappointed that she couldn’t bend, (Y/N) was grateful for Korra’s honesty.

“Thank you,” She said, a soft smile on her lips.

---

Tag List!

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#lok #legend of korra #korra x reader #asami x reader #mako x reader #bolin x reader #bolin #korra #mako #asami #writing #fanfiction

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

forgive and forget — harry potter

pairing: harry potter x female!reader

prompt: “kill everything dear to you and then you will know how it feels.”

t/w: mentions of death

a/n: this is set a year after the battle of hogwarts! wrote this at 1am n havent proofread it so chances are it sucks but i’m posting it anyway bc you only live once am i right folks

In the darkness and silence of a winter's night, the water is eerily calm—too calm, almost, with a foreboding feeling hanging over it. At the edge of the lake stands a girl whose heart has long since grown much too cold to feel anything but the wide, gaping void inside of her chest. She doesn't shiver; just stands there, holding her wand at her side, gaze fixed on the reflection of the moonshine against the shapeless water, waiting.

And waiting.

And when the figure appears from behind her—a loud, almost deafening snap in the complete and utter silence of the woods, she doesn't turn around right away.

Instead, she twirls her wand in her hand, frowning down at the lake as though expecting something to break through the calm surface and swallow her whole, carry her down into its depths and leave her somewhere deep, deep down, away from the rest of the world.

Thinking about it now, it doesn't sound that bad.

"Did you miss me?" are the first words that leave her mouth since having arrived there. Her voice is as dangerously calm as the lake. Just as foreboding—and it sounds like a warning.

But Harry doesn't heed it. Instead, he stands there, a mere five feet away, watching as she turns around, slowly, to face him.

The last thing he expects is for her to look at him the way she used to. He doesn't expect her to run toward him, take him in her arms, and hug him the way she used to, long ago.

Harry should be prepared for this. But when her gaze meets his and he makes out her eyes in the darkness, cold and unforgiving and void of any emotion, he can't help the way he sucks in a breath, how his heart clenches inside of his chest.

A strange chill settles over him. Sickness; something horrible swelling up in the pit of his stomach as he stares at the girl in front of him. It's not just the look in her eyes that is different. Her hair is cleaner. Shorter. More mature, tucked behind her ears and down her back. Without it framing her face, Harry's eyes are free to roam over the rest of her face, which is gaunt and sunken; there are bags under her eyes so deep he starts to debate whether or not he's looking at a corpse.

It's like seeing a memory that has haunted Harry for decades, when in reality it has only been a year. He knows that face like the back of his hand: her eyes, dark and barely crinkled at the corners. that nose, those careful lips. She is older, but so is Harry. She is a stranger in so many ways, but Harry would know her anywhere.

"[Y/N]," he breathes out, throat tight. His fingers grip even tighter around the wand inside his coat pocket. There's an undeniable sense of fear—dread—coiling around his heart. She stares at him, eyes still hard as ever.

And then her lips tug up at the edges. Her smile is bitter. It's the first real trace of emotion she has let slip, and Harry wonders if he should feel relieved that [Y/N] is still human and capable of feeling. Even if she is angry.

The worst part is that Harry can't blame her.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice barely a whisper.

The smile grows. Suddenly she's laughing—cold, harsh bursts of laughter with no real humor to it. Harry clenches his jaw, watching her. His heart is pounding erratically in his chest; he doesn't know if it's because he senses she's near and yearns for her, the person who it used to beat for, or if it's because it's scared of her.

Oh, how things have changed.

"Sorry?" she repeats, her laughter fading away into the night, replaced by a deadly sort of tension that now hangs above them. "Sorry?"

Harry feels sweat trickle down the side of his temple.

"You're sorry." Her voice is laced thick with equal parts mockery, disbelief, and anger. But even then her eyes are cold and blank as ever.

Since when had she gotten so good at hiding what she truly felt?

"I don't know what else you want me to say," says Harry through gritted teeth, hand tightening around his wand.

Her lips curl. She stares at him for a few moments, unspeaking, and then she nods. "You're right," she says curtly, turning once more to look at the lake behind her. "You know what, Harry? You're right. You killed my parents and walked away from it like it was nothing. There really isn't much else to say other than you're sorry."

He swallows. He can't feel guilty. He can't. "I'm sorry," he says again, unable to hide the way his voice trembles from frustration. Or is it fear? He can't quite tell anymore. "But I did what I had to do. They worked for Voldemort—"

"So you killed them," [Y/N] says, tone ominously void of emotion. "With no regard for their real motive. Without bothering to listen—"

"I had no choi—"

"And realize that they did it to protect their children." When she whips around, Harry sees that her facade of calm has slipped away completely—instead there is pure, unadulterated anger flaring in her eyes. "You say you had no choice but neither did they."

"They were Death Eaters," says Harry, taking a deep breath through his nose, sounding like he's trying to convince himself more than her. "It hardly mattered why they went to Voldemort's side. What mattered was that they did."

She scowls and takes a step forward. Angry eyes boring into his, she hisses, "Did it matter to you that I loved them?"

Harry's fingers feel cold, his neck too hot, the air pressing into him from all sides. He can't feel guilty.

He can't.

"It had to be done," he says flatly, fighting to maintain her gaze. He wonders if he's imagining the way her eyes seem to be glistening with tears. "I'm sorry. I know you loved them but it had to be done."

Harry is right; when she blinks and turns away, he doesn't miss the bead of liquid that rolls down the side of her cheek. All of a sudden he finds himself wanting to leave—to apparate away before he can hear any more. Because this is something that has haunted him for a long, long time, and even then, it is only now that he realizes he isn't quite ready to face it yet.

But here he is now, anyway, standing in front of the girl who once loved him and who he once loved—and maybe part of him still does, even after everything. But Harry knows better than to fool himself into thinking he can have her again.

Not after what he did.

Harry inhales. With difficulty, he keeps his eyes on hers despite the need to tear them away. To turn away and never once look back. But he has to do this now—it's his only chance to finally put an end to all the conflict that has been bothering him ever since he last saw her.

"I know it feels like you'd be turning your back on them if you moved on," Harry begins. This time his voice doesn't shake. "But they're gone. I'm sorry, [Y/N]—"

"Don't call me that."

"Your parents are gone," he repeats. He sees her trying to harden her gaze again—trying to build her walls back up—but she fails, lips pinching. Harry knows it means she's trying to hold her tears back. "They made the wrong choices and they suffered for it. I know what it feels like to lose people you love, but—"

"Do you know what the difference is between you and me?" she cuts him off. Her lips are trembling, angry tears spilling onto her cheeks. "It's that you picked yourself back up, even after you lost people. But I didn't. I haven't. And I don't think I ever will."

Harry feels his heart squeeze into itself inside of his chest.

He's fighting a losing battle. She isn't listening; she's too far gone.

"Do it again." Miraculously, despite the tears on her cheeks and the anguish in her voice, she still sounds ruthlessly angry. "Lose the people you love again. Kill everything dear to you again and then you will know how it feels."

Harry watches as she heaves in a deep, shuddering breath. He doesn't try to say anything anymore—knows that nothing he will say can ever truly heal her.

And with one last pained, scathing look, [Y/N] apparates away.

He never sees her again.

general taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03 @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy @kpopgirlbtssvt

harry potter taglist: @teheharrypotter

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic

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star-lemonade · 4 years

Text

Country Side Vacation (1/2)

Rating: R (AO3: E)

Word count: 3.6k

Genre: smut, romance

A.C.E Junhee x Reader x A.C.E Donghun

CW: smut, mentions of overstimulation, threesome, friends with benefits, a bit of unnamed ex bashing xD

Thanks to @alexing1061 for helping when I was stuck :3

Request: Ok so this is random and it just came to me and I just thought I need it from you bc you’re the only one I know who wrote Poly- So basically can I request something where it’s like you and all of ace are friends and there’s a water fight or whatever that you walk in on and coincidentally you’re wearing a white shirt and it becomes see through but you don’t realise and join the water fight and then ace get flustered and it’s just a nerve war and teasing back and forth and some spice and ty ❤️

You heard the fight before you could see it. There was yelling and laughing coming from the yard behind Junhee’s parents house. He had invited you and some of his other friends there as his parents had left on a two week vacation. Living in the big city was good, but getting away from the late summer heat and crowd was a welcome change. You stayed at a small pension, because you did not want to sleep on the couch in the living room.

The scene that greeted you behind the house was chaos. Somehow the five guys had gotten some water guns. The color on some of them was faded and the plastic of all of them looked dull. Yuchan ran around the yard trying to avoid Byeongkwan’s shots. He was not very good at it evidently by his wet t-shirt. Donghun was watching them, waiting for a good opportunity. His hair had gotten so long that he could tie it up and it looked beautiful on him. If you were perfectly honest, you had had a crush on Donghun for some time now. You had known him for about two years now and it felt like it was too late to make a move now.

Junhee emerged from behind a small shad. You felt a blush creep up your neck. His hair was wet and he wore a floral print shirt that he had not bothered to button up. Secretly you hoped he would never find a girlfriend just so you could stay friends with benefits. Park Junhee was probably the most gorgeous and most ridiculous person you had ever met. He had a smile that could sell water to fish only to drop it before it was paid.

After your break up with your ex, Junhee had come to your place.

###############

There was a knock on your door. I don’t want to see anyone. Who is this again? You did not move from the couch, hoping who ever was there would take the hint and leave. Even though you had finally got your shit together and had broken up with that jerk of an ex boyfriend, you did not feel good.

Another knock, this time louder.

“Please open the door! It’s Junhee.”

Junhee? What is he doing here? You threw back the blanket and staggered over to the door. A storm of knocks was coming down on your door now and when you opened it, Junhee almost fell into your apartment. He took a step forward to avoid the fall and back away again, pretending like nothing happened.

“What do you want?”

“Food and drinks.”

He picked up a plastic bag from the floor and showed it to you.

“Can I come in?”

Junhee gave you his best puppy eyes and it worked. You sighed and opened the door more. He beamed and entered your apartment. Only after he stood in the living room you noticed how your apartment looked. On the couch table were discarded snack wrappers and three mostly empty mugs. You had not washed the dishes in two days either. Fuck. I look like a mess.

Junhee sat the bag down on the couch table, took something out and grabbed the mugs with the other hand. He will see the kitchen. The mugs landed next to the sink that was already full and he put the other thing in the freezer.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

He had brought food from one of your favorite take-out places. You sat down on the couch and took a spoonful. No sooner it had touched your lips you realized how hungry you were. Not eating the whole day did that to you.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

Junhee had sat down opposite you and helped himself to some food too. He did not answer your question, so you added:

“Sit next to me.”

I don’t smell do I? No, I showered. Not too long ago actually. Standing under the hot water was a good feeling and you had slept in that day.

Junhee did not want to argue with you and had sat down on the couch. He placed more food on your spoon as you ate. Would be kind of romantic if I didn’t feel like crap and had not lost hope in men.

Junhee took the plates after you had finished and you got up to help.

“Sit.”

“But…“

You stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do and just feeling exhausted. He pushed you back down onto the couch and even wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. Defeated you sank into the soft fabric. Junhee took something out of the freezer and pressed it into your hand.

“You sit down, eat some of this and tell me what exactly happened while I wash the dishes.”

It was ice cream. The one you liked, from your favorite brand.

“ He didn’t even know that this was my favorite.. ”

A sob was rising in your chest but you held it. It made you shiver. A hand landed on your head.

“It’s okay.”

Junhee’s voice was soft and it broke your resilience. You began sobbing. It was unfair that you had put so much into your relationship, but all you got in return was cheating. Your ex had never loved you, you were sure of that. You had just been the most convenient option. Junhee pulled you into a hug and you cried against his chest.

“Everything will be okay.”

It repeated like a mantra in your ear.

The following week you tried to get your mind off your ex and when Junhee asked you if you wanted to go out for dinner, you accepted.

“Thank you for being there. Last week.”

Junhee sipped on his drink, some fruity cocktail, and looked at you.

“No problem.”

He insisted on accompanying you home because you were a bit tipsy. Unfortunately it also took out your filter.

“You know what the worst thing is? The asshole fucked her all the time. He went to her almost every day and nailed her. And I..”

Stopped yourself before you said it. Even your tipsy brain understood this was sensitive.

“You what?”

Junhee gave you a side look.

“Nothing.”

He pouted. This was not something he wanted to let go. Junhee did not give up,

“Come on! Tell me.”

You groaned in exasperation. There was no way you could say it.

“No.”

He caught your arm and spun around. His expression was dead serious.

“Please.”

You licked your lips.

“I haven’t had sex in months, okay?”

Without waiting for his response you tore your arm from his weak grip and almost ran the last few meters to the building entrance. Junhee did not follow you.

The next day however he showed up at your door.

“Hi?”

“Hi.”

Junhee stood awkwardly in the hallway. The fluffy sweater and dark blue jeans looked cute on him. Something tickled your nose. Junhee almost never wore perfume, but for some reason he did now. Very odd.

“What do you want?”

Junhee chewed on his lip and avoided your eyes. What is going on? Is he nervous?

“I think… maybe… how should I put this… theoretically…”

He stopped himself from rambling and took a deep breath. You had never seen him like this.

“Do you... want to have sex with me?”

His face was flushed with the most adorable blush. You fell open but no sound came out. This was not what he had said, no it could not be. Surely you had misheard him.

“Look, it is okay if you don’t want to. Totally fine. I won’t be mad or anything.”

His hand came up in a pleading gesture. You swallowed.

“We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway.”

You pulled him into your apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. All of this was very confusing. Why is he suddenly asking this? Without being aware of it you had started pacing the room. Is it because of yesterday? You stopped and looked at Junhee who was awkwardly standing next to the door..

“Are you offering out of pity?”

That thought of Junhee giving you a pity fuck was not very pleasant. You still had some dignity left.

“No. I just … want to have sex with you.”

This time he met your eyes even though he resembled a tomato now.

“Of course, only if you want to.”

The truth was you had never thought about having sex with Junhee. Not because he was not attractive, but because he felt so out of your league.

His hand came up to your cheek and his thumb gently rubbed over it. The blush was still on his face and you found that incredibly attractive. Almost as if suddenly magnetic your lips snapped to his. He froze as you moved against him. Up close he smelled like he had been walking outside, but also of the perfume and flowery shampoo. You were starting to feel awkward kissing his unmoving lips and wanted to pull away when his hand landed on the back of your neck. Your lips lost contact but his hand guided you back. The kiss was intense and needy. His tongue slipped into your mouth and a quiet noise escaped you. A hand landed on your waist and pushed you up against his chest. Despite him looking like a twig he felt solid and warm. You wanted to touch his skin so badly and snuck a hand under his sweater. He had tucked in the shirt he wore under and you pulled it loose.

“Do you want to move somewhere else?”

Junhee looked at you as you finally slipped your hand under his clothes and sighed at the soft skin of his lower back.

“Yes.”

You took his hand and led him to your bedroom. Surprisingly it was very clean. Stress made you want to tidy up and organize things. Even the bed sheets were freshly changed and nothing was lying around.

Junhee cupped your face with both hands and brought your lips together. His kissing made your stomach drop and your heart flutter in a way you had not felt in quite some time. It almost felt like you had a new crush but no sooner had the thought appeared, you pushed it aside. This was about sex, Junhee did not have feelings for you and it was not like you had feelings for him either.

“Everything alright?”

He had backed off a little and gave you a concerned look. Right I had been thinking, not kissing.

“Yes. Sorry I… it’s nothing.”

Junhee did not move to continue so you grabbed his shirt and back up to the bed. You sat on it and practically pulled him on top of you. He was heavier than you had expected and now his weight was basically pinning you into the bed. Yes, beautiful, warm Junhee was on top of you and everything else left your mind when he smiled.

“I’m sorry, I’ll only pay attention to you from now on.”

You put your hands around his neck and he pecked your lips.

“I sure hope so.”

His lips moved to your neck, kissing down towards your collar. Where he touched you your skin felt hot and a shiver went through your body. His soft hair brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck and the hot breath that followed his kisses was nerve racking. Something hard pressed against your leg. Wow, someone is eager. You had expected him to shift his hips away, but instead he tried to wedge one knee between your legs. You let him and a moment later the hardness was pressed against your leg again. Wondering what would happen if you teased him, you gently moved your thigh. The answer was a sharp inhale.

“Can I take off my shirt? I really want your mouth on my chest.”

It came out too fast for your brain to filter it out. Junhee seemed a bit dazed and just nodded without actually moving. You stared at him.

“I can’t take my shirt off like this.”

He smirked suddenly and instead of moving off you placed his elbows next to head.

“No. I guess. you can’t.”

Every other word was followed by a peck on the lips.

“Junhee!”

You laughed as he showered your face with little kisses. They tickled your skin and you squirmed beneath him. His lips catch yours with a different energy. It was sweet and warm at first, but then he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You could not stop the moan bubbling up in your throat when his knee pressed between your legs.

There was nothing you wanted more in that moment but to be naked already. You pulled on Junhee’s sweater and shirt, exposing his back to the cool air.

He stopped kissing you and sat up reluctantly.

“Okay, okay.”

You used the change to pull your hoodie and t-shirt off while Junhee watched. He waited for you to toss your clothes away before he started to peel off his sweater. The confidence in this part was written on his face even though he tried to hide it. You will like what you will see. That is what his movements said. No matter how much you wanted to rain on his parade, to be unimpressed, you actually loved his body. He was not the tallest or biggest guy you had ever seen, but his lean, definite chest and arms were making your mouth water. Your eyes got stuck on his stomach where you could see the outline of his abs appear when he breathed. Further down was something else outlined.

There was not much time to admire the view though because he followed your suggestion from earlier and his mouth landed on your collarbone.

You ran your hands over his back. The smooth skin radiated heat and you wanted to feel more of it against you. If you could have your body and his touching everywhere, that would be heavenly. The thought left your mind when his mouth reached the hem of your pants. You practically yanked him up by hair.

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

Your grip loosened and you were a bit sorry. It must have hurt.

“Can I use my hands or do you not want to be touched there at all?”

This was certainly not something your ex would have asked.

“Just don’t use your mouth okay?”

He rested his chin on your stomach and studied your face.

“If you’re uncomfortable we can stop.”

Stop now when my underwear is soaked?

“Can I touch you?”

Junhee swallowed audibly.

“Sure.”

He laid down beside you on the bed and finally you got to run your hands over his nice body. Kissing his neck earned you a whimper and it was very cute. You let your mouth wander down, tracing the outline of his abs with your tongue. He sighed and closed his eyes. A thin trail of hairs lead down from his bellybutton to the hem of his pants.

“Can I take them off?”

You hooked a finger into one of the hoops of his pants as he opened his eyes. There was no awkward tension between you two, just a kind of expecting anticipation and he smiled.

“Yes.”

Pulling down the zipper inevitably meant running your hand over the hard bump on his hip and you did that very deliberately. Going so slowly that it was almost just one notch at a time. It was driving Junhee mad. He bit his lip and his eyes alternated between shooting daggers at you and pleading you to continue. The pants had gotten pretty tight because of the teasing and you had some mercy. You pulled the pants down and let your fingers run over his bare legs in the process.

There was something vulnerable about Junhee lying in your bed with only his tight boxers. You could not help yourself but compare him to your ex who had never shown any cracks. He had been in charge because he was the man in this house. And here was Junhee. His arms were over his head with his hands grabbing the headboard, looking at you with a softness that made your heart clench.

You ran your hand over his firm thighs and cupped his hard penis. He closed his eyes and his mouth fell open a little bit. How had you never thought about how beautiful Junhee would look? You kissed the skin just above the hem of his underwear before pulling it down a bit. His hand was on your cheek.

“You don’t have to, okay?”

Oh. You had hated to give your ex blowjobs and at some point you had told Junhee while drunk.

“It’s really fine if you don’t. I won’t be mad.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek and his voice was heartbreakingly soft. You nodded.

“Okay.”

The underwear still needed to be removed so you hooked your fingers under the elastic and pulled it down. The trend of his body continued here too. He may not be the biggest but so pretty. You took him into your hand and marveled at the silky smooth skin. A decision was made in an instant. Your lips closed around the tip and you ran your tongue from the bottom of the head up to the slit. Junhee gasped and his hand was in your hair. Whatever he wanted to say was replaced by a moan as you took him into your mouth as deep as you could. The sounds he made the situation in your pants worse. The gasps and cute little moans were almost too much to handle. How will it be when he actually comes?

“Stop.”

He lightly tugged at your hair to emphasize his point. You let his penis slide out of your mouth.

“I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“Why?”

Didn’t all guys think it’s hot when you swallow?

“You don’t like it.”

That was true. The taste of cum was not a good memory for you.

“What do you want to do now?”

Junhee looked at you and for a second you wondered what would happen if you said you wanted him to leave. Would he just gather up his pants and go? You decided the answer would be yes. From everything you knew about Junhee, you were sure that you could trust him.

“I want you on top of me.”

He nodded.

“Okay just let me get something.”

While he left the room you used the time to look in the mirror and check your hair. He came back with an unopened package of condoms. I admire his preparedness. Junhee took one of the packages out and sat the box on your nightstand.

You watched as he grabbed himself and rolled the condom on. Yes, Junhee was beautiful but not only on the outside.

When he entered you it felt perfect, as if this was how it was supposed to be. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he began to move them. It had been some time since the last time you had sex, that was not with toys, and you suddenly felt self conscious, unsure. He stopped.

“You okay? You’re a bit cramped up.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek.

“It’s been a while…”

You did not know what else to say and hoped he would understand.

“Do you still want to continue?”

If you were honest you were not sure.

“Maybe you can convince me?”

“Okay.”

You wondered why his voice was so soft. It was almost as if he was talking to someone he loved.

He kissed you again, deeply. His hips had moved a bit away and after a moment you knew why. He needed the space for his hand to slip between you two and rub your clit. Whatever reservations you had had were blown away by his tongue in your mouth and his fingers between your legs. With the rising tension, the fact he was still inside you, it felt good. You wanted him to move and buckled your hips against him. The moan that followed made you want to move more to hear it again. Junhee’s voice had always been pleasant, but his moans were maddening. You pressed against him for more friction and he met your movements. Without either of you truly being in control the pace quickened.

He pulled his mouth off yours as he got closer. His eyes clamped shut as he drove into you hard and faster than before. You gasped when his hand found your clit again and rubbed it haphazardly. His breathy moans pushed you more towards the edge. They were beautiful to your ears and you could not get enough.

“Fuck.”

A wave of bliss hit you and your whole body tensed before going limp.

After the initial encounter with Junhee, surprisingly, others had followed. You had been sure the amazing sex would be a one time thing but the next week he had swung by again. Quite a few more meetings had happened after you got the message that you could ask him too. Another thing that had established itself was that despite his very forward behavior the first time Junhee preferred when you were in charge. He loved it when you rode him and pulled his hair. One time he asked you to continue riding him after he had already come. It had been scary and heartbreaking at first to see tears running down his face, but he told you not to stop. Afterwards he was the happiest you had ever seen him.

“You’re the best.” He had cooned as he snuggled up against you.

Splash.

To be continued soon :3

A/N: This got unnecessarily emotional??

#ksmutclub #a.c.e smut #A.C.E donghun smut #Donghun x reader #Jun x reader #star writing #request #kpop smut #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E x reader #A.C.E jun smut #Junhee x reader

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blushingbaka · 4 years

Text

love like summer rain;

✰ part one ✰ read prologue here ✰

|| summary - bokuto was never your first pick as a co-counselor, but eight weeks is plenty of time to change your mind

pairing: bokuto x fem!reader genre: fluffy camp counselor au, slow burn, mutual pining length: 1.8k

✰ a/n: mmm these were only supposed to be drabbles, but they’re turning out longer than expected hehe i’m having too much fun writing this though bc it allows me to reminisce on my old summer camp experiences !! i didn’t have a bokuto tho :’( but anyways i hope you enjoy this as much as i do <3

⋆week one⋆

It’s been three days since the campers arrived and you were exhausted. The second night was always the worst with all the campers forced to stay awake with either their excited restlessness or heavy feeling of homesickness. Every time your light slumber was interrupted by giggling or sniffling you would glance over to the other female counselor in your cabin Yukie to see who would handle it. She, like you, was assigned the eight-year-olds, but her co-counselor was Akaashi who was sharing the conjoined boy’s cabin with Bokuto. You had wondered how their night had gone, but it was hard to tell since Bokuto had greeted you as brightly as usual that morning.

Even now in the sweltering heat of the afternoon, there was no sign of his energy draining, and he almost seemed to be as impatient as the kids to get a canoe out on the water, bouncing on his toes. You hung in the back, happy to let a couple of the rec staff explain to the kids the basics such as how to move their paddles and how to properly wear a life jacket. Even though your campers seemed to be jittering with excitement, they thankfully had the wide focused eyes of rapt listeners. You were quite content being assigned eight-year-olds. Most of them seemed to be comfortable with the room of independence you gave them, but they were also innocent and sociable creatures, easily getting along with one another. You had been relieved when you weren’t assigned the preteens. You had handled them before, but that was with the aid of Kuroo, who just seemed to have a talent for connecting with them and coaxing their guard down.

As the rec staff began distributing life jackets, you wove your way through the campers making sure they had all fastened it correctly. Despite heaviness weighing on your eyelids, you couldn’t help but mirror their smiles as they hurried to the edge of the water, claiming a canoe and a partner. They had single kayaks for the counselors, so when it seemed most of the campers were cleared you lazily made your way over to the vest rack, where Bokuto was already standing, struggling to fasten his own. With his tongue poking out and eyebrows pinched together in concentration, you found it hard to suppress your urge to laugh. Even at first glance you could tell the vest Bokuto was fighting to fit around his chest was too small, but you were feeling too amused to immediately point that out.

“Having problems?” You cocked up one eyebrow, maintaining a calm expression as you reached for a vest your size. His eyes went wide at your voice, and you swore a pink hue dusted the tip of his ears as he stopped fumbling with the clasps.

“I think you might have grabbed a size too small” you continued easily slipping your own vest on your shoulders.

“No way! I grabbed the biggest size there was!” He insisted shimming off the life jacket so he could look at the size again. “See look right here! It says XL” he thrusted the vest towards your face. Again you found yourself pinching your lips together not wanting your laughter to offend him. Akaashi had advised you to avoid evoking a dejected Bokuto, which was advice you didn't take lightly.

“And what does it say under the XL?” You softly prompted. He knitted his eyebrows scrutinizing the words you gestured to. You had to acknowledge that it was partially faded from years of use, but the word Bokuto managed to look over was ‘kids.’

If you weren’t right about his ears being red before, they were definitely painted with the bright shade now, and his shoulders partially slumped in embarrassment. Not giving him much time to dwell on his mistake and not wanting to give your eyes time to linger on his exposed chest, you took the small vest from his hands and found him a more suitable one.

“Here” you held it open for him so he could slide his arm in. Your action caused his lips to curve up in a cute bashful manner, and as he pushed his arm through your fingertips grazed his warm, bare skin. He only wore the faintest sheen of sweat, and you couldn’t comprehend how he wasn’t melting in this heat. Too lost in your thoughts, you had instinctively started buckling the clasps, and Bokuto’s warm hand enveloped yours.

“Y-you don’t have to do that y’ know” Bokuto stuttered. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you suddenly pulled your hand away as if his touch had burned you. Bokuto stared at you his own eyes wide in surprise. Thankfully you quickly regained your composure, managing a short, shaky laugh.

“Sorry force of habit” you patted his covered chest before immediately heading towards the water, not wanting him to see any more of you in this awkward state.

Once you got out on the lake, your nerves eased, and you found yourself smiling contently as a slight breeze caressed your face. The campers’ laughter and efforts to coordinate strokes filled the empty space, and you noticed a particular pair stuck on a part of the lake’s shore, struggling to propel themselves back into deeper water. Somewhere within the time it took you to help them out, Bokuto decided to go on a splashing spree, filling your ears with the campers’ high-pitched and hysterical laughter as they tried to row fast enough to escape his range. You watched in amusement as even a pair of your campers who seemed to have their stroke patterns down also found the distance between them and their male counselor narrowing. They were no match for the strength of Bokuto’s strokes, his biceps bulging with every time he pushed his paddle into the water.

You found yourself moving closer to the action and just as you reached them, Bokuto had successfully doused them with repetitive splashes, their shrills of giddy laughter being broken up only by their half-hearted demands for him to stop. In all his enthusiasm, Bokuto hadn’t even realized you were practically right beside him. Taking advantage of the distraction, you gracefully skimmed your paddle across the surface of the water, taking pride in the fact your splash mostly got the back of his head. The sudden sensation of water striking him caused him to whip around, and his kayak wobbled momentarily with his sudden shift in weight.

“Y/N!” His mouth fell open as he stared at you with his wide, golden eyes. “We’re supposed to be on the same side!�� It was hard to acknowledge his whiny tone when that playful glint in his eyes only seemed to increase by your actions.

“Sorry” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, smirking. “You looked hot, so I thought I’d help you cool off” knowing what was coming next you began to move your kayak backward.

“Oh no, you don’t. You better prepare for my biggest splash yet” he boldly declared, easily guiding his kayak to face yours. Coming to the conclusion that he was close enough, he went in to glide his paddle across the water, but again enthusiasm was his downfall. He dipped his paddle too far into the water, and with the momentum of his swing, his kayak tilted all the way over. It happened so fast, you barely caught the flit of realization on his face before it disappeared under the water.

You and the campers that had gathered around to watch their counselors’ antics stared wide-eyed at the water, which Bokuto popped out of moments later, his head bobbing as the life jacket raised above his shoulders. He looked impossibly small with only his head visible and his hair sticking messily to the front of his face. Over your momentary shock, a throaty, genuine laugh shook your body, causing you to double over. A chorus of the kids’ laughter joined you, and you finally glanced back to Bokuto, letting out a final breathy chuckle.

“I’m sorry Bokuto. I didn’t mean to laugh so hard, but…” hearing your voice he shook his head vigorously from side to side, splaying small droplets of water across the surface of the lake. His hair no longer hung in front of his eyes, but now gently framed his face in a way that was foreign to you. Your words became stuck in your throat, taken off guard by this new image of Bokuto you were presented with. He looked somehow softer. There was no trace of embarrassment in his features, and instead, he seemed to be gazing fondly up at you, a toothy grin on his face. In an instant, your chest had tightened and your cheeks began to heat up, so you forced yourself to advert your gaze. That turned out to be a mistake as you missed Bokuto’s fond expression morph into a mischievous one.

“Hey hey hey!” he yelled, features impossibly bright. “Who wants to see, not one, but two counselors dunked into the water!” he raised his fists into the air, and your body went taut with realization. Of course, the kids were all too quick to cheer him on, the traitors, and he was at your side in no time, a blatant smirk on his face as his hands gripped the side of your kayak.

“Bokuto, don’t you da-“ but he had already tipped your kayak over, submerging you in the water. You rose back up quickly, sputtering and shaking your head. As you gently kicked your legs back and forth, you realized the water was surprisingly cool, but you didn't have time to focus on it too long. The first face you saw was the triumphant one belonging to Bokuto, and you narrowed your eyes at him although it didn’t seem to faze him.

“Sorry” he used a teasing tone. “You looked hot” he parroted your words from earlier, sticking out his tongue, and displaying no effort to hide his smugness. You tried to come up with a nice retort, but sudden loud splashes distracted you. It had seemed your and Bokuto’s antics had inspired the campers to ‘accidentally’ upset the balance of their canoes, causing them to join you in the water. You and Bokuto looked at each other at the same moment with this realization, causing you both to fall into soft, care-free laughter.

That amusement was extinguished when you realized you had to help all of them back into their canoes, but at that moment you were filled with blissfulness. Your exhaustion had melted away, and the cool droplets of water clinging to your face soothed you. Looking up to the sky, you saw that it was completely clear; however, the small thought crossed your mind that summer rain might not be so bad on a day insufferably hot as this one. Despite being an unpredictable and relentless force, it offered a reprieve from the blistering sun, which was a feeling you were sure you'd find yourself embracing now and again. And so, looking at the broad, gleeful grin Bokuto wore as he continued to play with campers, you thought maybe you could also learn to embrace the presence of Bokuto Koutarou.

✰ continue reading... part two ✰

#bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #Bokuto Koutarou x reader #haikyuu reader insert #bokuto series #bokuto imagine #camp counselor au #haikyuu fanfiction #love like summer rain series

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rubysunnday · 5 years

Note

Shelby sister going to tommy and graces wedding and surprising her family after not seeing them bc she went to war with them (unknowingly to them) and never came back until now

A/N: I changed it so that she’d been at boarding school because it just made more sense to me

Attending boarding school was one of the biggest regrets of your life. You hadn’t any of your family since the previous summer and you felt so alone. The subjects you were learning weren’t boring, it just wasn’t what you wanted to do with your life.

You’d been thinking about dropping out for a while. You’d missed out on a lot whilst you’d been away – Tommy having a child, John having a child, Arthur getting married and you’d decided that, despite missing nearly every other big event in your family’s lives, you weren’t about to miss Tommy Shelby getting married.

So, you’d written to Grace, someone you’d already met and become quite close to, despite living so far away, and asked if she’d allow you to attend his wedding and surprise them all. And then, maybe, move in with her and Tommy since you’d dropped out of school.

Two days before the wedding, you’d arrived back in Birmingham, suitcases in hand. You weren’t expecting anyone to greet you since you hadn’t actually told anyone you were coming back, but there was Grace, waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers and a huge smile on her face.

You’d all but sprinted across the road to hug her.

“Hey,” Grace chuckled, hugging you back tightly as you clung to her.

“Never let me do something like that again,” you muttered to her.

“I promise,” Grace said as you let go. She smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “How does it feel to be back on home turf?”

“I never thought I’d miss Birmingham, but I really missed Birmingham,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in. “It stinks but I love it.”

Grace smiled as she opened the car door for you, allowing you to dump your suitcases and slide across to the passenger seat. “I thought we could have a day to ourselves tomorrow before the chaos of the wedding.”

“A Shelby wedding wouldn’t be a Shelby wedding without chaos, Grace,” you told her, “it’s what makes us so unique.”

“Stressful is a better word, I believe,” she muttered, turning the engine on and pulling away from the curb.

“Why am I panicking?” You asked, pacing up and down Grace’s room whilst she put the finishing touches to her outfit. “I mean, I’m not the one getting married, am I? I’m just seeing my family again at a wedding without telling them –“

“Y/N,” Grace said, forcing you to sit down on the bed, “calm down. It’ll be fine. They’ll all cry and then hug you and then get drunk.”

“That’s what happened last time,” you replied, “so I’d be ok with that. I just don’t want Tommy to feel like I’ve taken the limelight away from him and you.”

Grace sat down next to you with a sigh. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you and how much he wishes you were here since he last saw you, y/n. He’ll be over the moon to see you – they all will.”

“Linda won’t.”

“Fuck Linda.”

You stared at Grace. “We’ve corrupted you already!”

Grace just sighed and shook her head. “It’s too late for any of us, y/n, we’ve all been corrupted.”

“Do I look ok?” You asked suddenly, standing up and smoothing down your dress nervously.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Grace said, putting the crown of flowers on top of your head. “You also look scarily like Tommy.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You gripped Grace’s hand tightly as the carriage rolled to a stop outside the church. Your stomach was coiling tightly and you were completely terrified.

“It’ll be fine,” Grace whispered.

Her father, who’d been very surprised to see you, got out first and extended a hand to you. You took it and allowed him to help you down from the carriage, making sure the heels of your shoes didn’t get caught in your dress. Grace followed behind you and you gathered up the back of her veil to make sure it didn’t get muddy or tangled up.

You could hear them all. You couldn’t see them, but just hearing them sent your heart all over the place.

“Ready?” Grace asked as she handed you some flowers. The music started up and there was a rustle as everyone stood up.

You nodded, taking a deep breath in and turning to face the aisle. Unlike most weddings, Grace wanted you walking down with her. You had decided to walk slightly behind her to allow her the spotlight, but you knew they’d still all see you.

Grace began walking down, shooting you a comforting smile over her shoulder as you followed, gripping onto the flowers tightly.

Ironically, Finn, the most unobservant person in the family, noticed you first. He gaped at you as soon as he spotted you and smacked Isaiah on the chest, pointing. That then led to Isaiah staring at you as well and you offered them both a cheeky wave as you passed.

Finn then tapped John on the shoulder and pointed you out to him and he immediately began pointing you out to everyone else in the family.

Tommy saw his wife – to – be first and his sister, the person he arguably loved the most, second and his heart stopped. You smiled at him as Grace stopped in front of him and stepped forward to take her flowers from her, giving Tommy a quick kiss as you passed him.

“Surprise,” you whispered to Arthur as you sat down next to him, putting the flowers next to you. Arthur pulled you into his side and hugged you tightly as the priest began droning on.

"I’ve missed you,” Arthur whispered, kissing your head. “We’ve all missed you.”

You smiled up at him, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m back now, for good.”

The first thing Tommy did after he’d walked out the church with his new wife, was run up to you and lift you up in a giant hug.

You giggled, holding onto him as he spun you around. “Hey, Tommy.”

“What are you doing here?” Tommy exclaimed, setting you back down on the ground.

“I decided that I didn’t want to miss out on anymore big events so, I sort of, dropped out of school…”

Tommy just laughed. “Thank god, I would never have admitted but I’ve really missed you and wished you’d come back.”

“Yeah, Grace said you hadn’t shut up about missing me,” you teased, and Tommy shoved gently.

“If it isn’t the one and only y/n!” John exclaimed, scooping you up and hugging you.

“Surprise!” You exclaimed, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around him. “I got fed up of school.”

“To right!” John exclaimed, setting you down on the ground. “It’s been boring without you, gorgeous.”

“Well, I am the life of this family,” you said, fluffing your hair.

Whilst the rest of the family dispersed to go chat to other people, Tommy stayed next to you, an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m not going to suddenly disappear, Tom,” you said softly, putting your hand up to his. “I’m here for good.”

Tommy nodded, leaning down to kiss your head. “I know you are; I’m just making up for lost time.”

You said nothing in reply. Instead, you simply nestled against his shoulder and sighed happily.

#sister!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #sister shelby #shelby sis #shelby sister

311 notes · View notes

lvmosity · 5 years

Text

saviour | harry potter

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!hufflepuff!reader

requested: yes! by @scoofpoof thank u ♡

request: can i request for a harry potter x muggleborn! hufflepuff! reader? reader doesnt know harry potter (gasp) but he does bc they grew up in the same place and he lowkey has a crush on her. reader still doesnt know harry potter in school n is one of the top students. harry knows that she is physically strong bc she plays muggle sports n knows self defense. shes kind but not a coward so one time harry asks for help when he is being bullied n she agrees... reluctantly. u can choose the ending. thanks!

genre: fluff maybe?

word count: 3.4k (ok i didnt expect this to be long)

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood & scars, reader is a badass

tags: @sadhwstudent

credit to the owner of the gif

It had only been less than two months since the news of Lord Voldemort’s supposed return from the dead had spread throughout the Wizarding World and all Harry Potter could do was watch in frustration as people branded him as a liar and deranged. He had to thank the Ministry of Magic, primarily Minister Fudge who took full control of this and covered up what he thinks to be complete utter nonsense. It wasn’t a surprise to him really as the Ministry of Magic were, after all, corrupt and incompetent.

Whilst Harry lied in bed feeling extremely alone and lost during those months, he did not get a single letter from his two best friends; Ron and Hermione, despite their promises. He was starting to wonder if they too had turned blind and decided their friendship wasn’t worth it but after finally meeting up one day for an explanation, he realised it was done so under Dumbledore’s orders which made the situation worse.

Then the events that followed after made it harder to cope with. He had discovered an old alliance formed by Dumbledore during the First Wizarding World and that half of them had either died or were seriously harmed. His godfather Sirius Black had informed him that the Dark Lord was in search of a special object that he had no access to during his previous attack, along with the mysterious actions of his headteacher who has ignored him throughout the summer. The pressure was starting to be a heavy toll on him, and he was forced to deal with it.

Unfortunately, it also became a difficulty attending school. His classmates had started eyeing him weirdly, growing awfully distant with him to which they would immediately stop talking once Harry entered the room, and some of his other so-called-friends had removed him from their lives. It also couldn’t help that certain students, none other than Draco Malfoy and his goons, had begun to bully him more than ever, hitting him with nastier remarks as well as the constant push and shove tactics.

Harry felt isolated and disorientated, felt as if no one had truly believed the words that came out of his mouth, felt as if he was made a laughing stock to the Wizarding World, felt as if Voldemort had already won the battle and it had barely even started. Ron and Hermione tried their best to cheer him up and distract him from reality but it would end in failure each time.

He was starting to lose hope, starting to think he was better off buried twenty-feet deep under the dirt since he knew his parents were the only ones who wouldn’t judge him, starting to accept the many labels plastered on him; he was a liar.

He just had spent a strenuous hour-long detention session with Professor Umbridge in the afternoon due to his apparent cheek talking as well as spitting ‘false’ information about the Dark Lord’s return. Feeling emotionally drained, Harry found himself making a bee-line to the school’s library to have a moment to himself, he wasn’t prepared to face his friends and hear their worries.

Night had already fallen meaning everyone would be asleep by now, the hallways had also gotten dark. Luckily enough, the candles were the only light source as it made it slightly easier for Harry to find his way through the darkness. However, he wasn’t able to see anything further down the hall and he worried that a prefect or a professor on duty might catch him and drag him back to the dorms. Although, he’d rather bump into them than Filch.

And soon enough, once he had turned a corner and heard hurried footsteps approaching up ahead in the darkness, he started to panic. It was only a matter of time before he suddenly collided into something hard and he desperately hoped it wasn’t any of the two. Waiting to hear a grumpy voice scold him, he hears a high-pitched squeal instead.

The unknown figure in front quickly whispers a ‘lumos’ before being blinded by a bright light. Harry hisses at the sudden flash and squints his eyes to see past it expecting to see Filch or a professor. To his surprise, he realised it was just a girl but it wasn’t just any ordinary girl, it was you.

You look at Harry with a bewildered look to which he returns. Opening your mouth to question his presence, your head quickly whips back and a small gasp escapes from your lips. Both of you hear another set of footsteps approaching from behind and you instantly grab Harry’s hand and rush off to find a room or a spot to hide in.

After locating a random closet room, you hastily pull Harry inside with you and shut the door from behind. Harry leans against the wall and starts to pant but you hush at him indicating to keep quiet. You whisper a ‘Filch’ to him and he nods in realisation but mentally facepalms seconds later because you couldn’t see it anyways since the room was completely dark.

Several minutes pass by and no sign of footsteps or a grouchy voice could be heard meaning the coast was clear. Relieved, you flick your wand and a light illuminates from the tip of it, now the room was bright enough to see.

You turn to Harry and smile at him sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for grabbing a stranger’s hand. “Sorry about dragging you here, I had to make sure the both of us didn’t get caught, you know how Filch is.”

Harry shakes his head rapidly, “It’s fine, I appreciate you looking out for me though.”

“No worries...” Your words falter at the end waiting for him to introduce himself as you had no knowledge of the boy standing in front of you.

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, well,” The sides of your eyes crinkled as you give him a friendly smile. “You’re welcome Harry, Harry Potter.”

You burst into fits of giggles, finding your small joke amusing. A faint blush creeps onto his face and Harry’s head shifts to the side in an attempt to hide it as he found you it adorable. Fortunately for him, you didn’t notice it but you noticed something instead and it wasn’t fortunate for him.

“Harry! Your hand’s bleeding!” You gasp as you reach out to his hand, lifting it up to your face to inspect it.

Harry winces at the sight of the blood, his scab had cut open supposedly from the harsh grip you had on him whilst you were running away before. It was only a minor cut and it didn’t really bother Harry whilst you reacted differently by shrieking as if he had lost a hand.

“What happened to your hand? Why do you have a scab?” You eye it closely, “It looks recent too.”

Harry scratches the back of his head with his other hand and stays silent, unsure on how to explain it to you that Professor Umbridge is a vile, old bat that enchanted a special quill to cut into his skin when he uses it. He also didn’t want you to worry too much and snitch on her to Dumbledore in case you would get in trouble.

Slightly frowning at his choice to ignore your question, you gently push him back to sit on a random obstacle as you rustle inside your school robes only to pull out a tiny first-aid box and kneel in front of Harry. You pick up a wound spray out of it and spritz it on his cut causing Harry to hiss at the slight pain.

Mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ to him, you continue to dab the blood away, taking extra care not to deepen it. Once you saw that the cut was cleaned up, you pick up a plaster and place it on his cut, softly smoothing it out so that it sticks on properly.

Harry watches you intently as you smile to yourself feeling proud at your work, even if it simply was just tending to your aid. Harry lifts his hands up and stares at the plaster, it was girly for his liking as it was coloured a pastel purple and had a daisy pattern. He found it cute.

"It’s my friends,” Harry looks back at you. “Mine recently ran out so my friend lent me a few since I’m always getting into fights.” You bite your lip and look at Harry, waiting for a shocked reaction from him, he probably doesn’t expect you to be a troublesome girl.

“B-but for a good reason! I only fight the bad guys, y’know the bullies and all.” You stutter, trying to defend yourself. You began to bring up past events of you arguing with a Slytherin called Pansy and how it ended badly, showing him old bruises on your arm that were close to fading away. You then bring up another fight including a boy from your house and rambled on about how he blamed you for messing up a potion to which you secretly made it blow up in his face out of annoyance.

As you continue to rant, you didn’t notice Harry’s gaze on you. He knew all about you and how you are as a person, he knew this because he’s observed you for years. Harry figured that you didn’t know him too well as you saw him as a stranger but to him, you weren’t.

The two of you grew up in the same neighbourhood, practically living across from each other but a few houses down. Both of you also attended the same school and shared most classes together, yet throughout the years you didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence until now.

This wasn’t a surprise to Harry as he was a quiet child and didn’t get on with the others in his year. He stayed reserved, spending most of his time in school sitting inside class with his teacher during break and lunchtime watching other children have fun. The teacher wouldn’t pay much attention to Harry but it didn’t bother him as he was much interested in watching you play on the field outside.

He was captivated by you. You were different from most girls in his year; you loved playing muggle sports as you would constantly single-handedly beat the boys at football. Gradually, he developed a crush on you. He would consistently hear stories from his classmates of how you would beat up bullies and stand up to anyone making fun of your friends, or rather anyone. You were strong for your age, in fact, you were always strong.

Growing up, the stories would get crazier and Harry got a chance to witness it come alive. During one chilly December night, he stumbled upon the scene of you being harassed by two men. Irritated by their actions, Harry was about to call them out but in a blink of an eye; you quickly grab one of their arms and twist it, launching him over your shoulder and slammed him down on the ground.

The other man shrieked in horror and ran away, bumping into Harry’s shoulder in the process. Satisfied, you calmly walk away from the groaning man and left a speechless Harry. From that moment onwards, his admiration for you tripled.

Not only were you strong, but you were also freakishly intelligent. Scoring ‘Outstanding’ grades in most of your classes to which you were one of the top students in Hogwarts, always positioning a place higher than Hermione (she hated that).

Harry was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he sees you with your head tilted to the side, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, I asked if you were alright. Something wrong?”

“Oh, er, n-no. I was just thinking about something.”

“Ah,” You place your chin in both the palm of your hands, looking up at Harry. “Say, you haven’t told me how you got that scab. What happened?”

Harry sighed. “Umbridge.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You stand up and sit beside Harry who scooches a bit to the side to make space. Although, due to how small the obstacle you guys were sat on, your hands were lightly brushing up against each other and Harry tried his best to keep calm and fight the uncontrollable blush.

“I don’t know why I’ve only just realised this but you were the guy that was with Cedric the night he died, right?” Harry turns his head to you, startled at the sudden change of topic. “And you’re the one who keeps saying that the Dark Lord has returned.”

No answer. Harry stays silent, he had a feeling that you were also going to make fun of him, call him a liar and walk off; forever ignoring his existence. But instead, he hears a soft giggle.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Harry shoots you a confused look, “What, really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just... mostly everyone doesn’t, and they bully me for it.”

You frown at the new information before your face relaxes. “I’m so sorry that’s been happening to you Harry...” Harry shrugs and you couldn’t help but start to feel bad. “I wish it was different. If there was a way for me to help, I would--”

Harry’s head perks up; “Then help me.”

“What? Harry, I barely know you.”

“But I know you.”

“You don’t even know my name--”

“Y/N, your name is Y/N Y/LN.”

“Okay, now that’s weird.”

Harry shakes his head, “It’s a long story but we grew up in the same neighbourhood and attended the same primary school.”

“Oh,” That made sense. You were beginning to think you had a stalker. “How come I’ve only just met you today?”

“Must be a magic spell I put on myself to be invisible.”

You playfully nudge him. “Oh shut up, a kid that young wouldn’t have been able to learn the spell for it yet.”

You both laugh and for a moment, Harry’s troubles had disappeared and he was enjoying the company, your company. As the laughter fades away, Harry turns back to staring at you and you question him, “What?”

“So, will you help me? With the bullying?”

You bite your lip and ponder for a few minutes. An hour ago, he was just a stranger to you (and whoa, has it already been an hour?) yet it felt like you guys had already met before, like fate had brought him to you and perhaps offered you both to initiate a friendship or more. Wait, what were you thinking? You’ve only just met the guy!

Your eyes meet up with his once more and he gazes at you softly, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t help but feel even more bad for Harry. What were you going to say?

“Okay.”

●●●

The next morning had arrived and like always, Harry had to deal with the usual weird looks and whispers from the students that passed by him in the halls. Ron and Hermione would instantly glare at them to which they’d shut up and walk off but they knew they’d start whispering again once they turned their backs away.

Frustrated at her best friend’s ignorance, Hermione pulls Harry’s arm back causing the three of them to stop in their tracks. “Harry, aren’t you going to say or do something about this? You can’t just ignore them!”

Harry whips his arm out of her grasp causing Hermione to frown. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright?! How could you possibly feel alright when everyone is going around making a mockery of you--”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Potter.” The three of them turn to see Draco and his two other delinquent friends walk up to them, a smug look plastered across Draco’s face. “Finding it difficult these days, aren’t we?”

Ron scoffs, “Screw off Malfoy.” He nudges Harry and a mumbles a ‘let’s just go Harry.’ as him and Hermione start to walk away but Harry stays put.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t had enough and dropped dead just like poor Ceddy. You can both die as cowards.”

Harry steps closer, glowering at Draco. “Don’t you dare talk about Cedric like that.”

Draco also steps closer, their foreheads almost touching each other as anger boils up within them. “Or what?” He shoves Harry back by the shoulders causing him to lose a bit of his balance but luckily enough Ron and Hermione were a few meters away to catch him in time.

Standing back up, he was about to lunge at Draco with his fists clenched up ready to land a punch but before he could, he was interrupted by shouting.

“Hey Draco!”

Everyone turns around and sees you up behind Draco whose head wasn’t turned around in time. He didn’t get the chance to acknowledge who the person calling his name was as you punched him square in the face making him stumble back in pain and tripped on his feet, landing hard on his back.

The rest stood there in horror and utter shock, their mouths slightly opened as their minds were trying to register what had just happened. Harry couldn’t believe it, you stood up for him. Were you watching the situation unfold?

Draco groans and looks up at you, pinching the sides of his nose bridge in an attempt to control his now bleeding nose. “What the fuck--”

“For your information blondie, Harry and Cedric aren’t cowards.” You slowly lean over Draco, peering down at him with narrowed eyes as you smirk. “And neither am I.” You wink and reached into your robes before throwing tissues at him, Draco watches them fall to the ground and your figure walks away, a pleased look on your face.

You make your way to the trio whose eyes were focused on you. You stand in front of Harry and hand him a potion. Harry, still speechless, stares at the unknown potion in his hands.

“It’s Murtlap Essence,” You lightly tap the sides of his hands that had his scab from last night. “Soak your hand with that, it’ll heal it.”

A warm smile appears on his face, the sides of his eyes crinkled making it more genuine. He was so thankful, he couldn’t seem to think of words to express his gratitude. For years, he was yearning for you to acknowledge his presence and the time finally came, better than what he expected it to turn out to be.

But his smile was enough for your heart to flutter and you started to notice his presence was stronger than ever before, you didn’t know why you hadn’t known him before but at least from now on; the image of his smile would burrow itself in your mind. This would be enough to want to know him more.

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like forever and the other two clear their throats, feeling awkward and unsure what to do or say. You and Harry switch back to reality and the realisation of staring at each other for a while makes you both flustered.

“Thank you Y/N, for everything. You didn’t need to punch Draco though,” Harry laughs and so did the rest of you.

You shake your head, “Nah, that pompous brat deserved it. I made sure to punch him hard so his father would hear about it.” You joked, giggling afterwards.

You faintly smile and point past the trio, indicating that you were going to take your leave. “I’ll see you soon Harry, yeah?”

He nods and you stroll past him, but not even several meters away until Harry calls out for you: “Hogsmeade. This Saturday, would you come with--”

“Yes.”

You hastily answer back without stopping or glancing back but the both of you knew each one had supported an excited smile, both now looking forward to the date that was soon coming up.

As Harry watches your figure get smaller further down the hallways, he felt his admiration for you become extremely stronger. He saw you as his saviour, back then when he was young and vulnerable but managed to make his childhood happy despite the problems occurring in his household. He saw you as his saviour right now, where he is older and still vulnerable with the bullying and all, but once again, you made his life worthwhile; he didn’t have to worry as much anymore.

He has you by his side now, and he’ll do anything to protect you in return as an act of kindness. Just like what you did by defending him back then.

#that one drarry scene lol #was tempted to put 'and they kissed' jafijbahf #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter scenario #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #gryffindor #hufflepuff

156 notes · View notes

ljandersen · 4 years

Text

Heart to Heart

Pairing: FemShep/Kaidan Alenko, ME-3 Word Count: 2300 Summary: Kaidan shares how his father looped him into joining the Alliance.

____________________________

Shepard gazed up at Kaidan. He stroked her hair idly, his eyes fixed on the observation window. She was starting to feel sleepy again. Her heart beat slow and hard to the rhythmic brush of his fingertips on her temple. With her head on Kaidan’s lap and the stars glittering before them, it couldn’t get more peaceful on a military vessel. But time was ticking down. Each breath was one less separating Now from the End. There was so much more she wanted to do with him. To know. She was wasting time dozing and not finding out. Shepard sat up abruptly.

“You all right?” he asked.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?”

“We ever end up on a couples’ game show, I need to know the basics.” Shepard twisted to face him and folded her legs on the bench. “Don’t hold out on me. What did you want to be?”

“What did you want to be?”

“Make me go first, huh?” Shepard pulled his hand into her lap. “ Fine. What did I want to be when I grew up? Well, not a farmer. Not a biologist or ecosystem engineer.” Shepard ran her thumb nail along the side of Kaidan’s finger. “I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I only knew I wanted to be in charge.”

Kaidan’s smile stretched. “Had your calling young.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess.” Shepard considered the idea. “When I think about it, I could have gone a lot of different ways. Could have ended up commanding a ship of pirates or smugglers, being in charge of a team of Terminus System mercs. Who knows? But instead, fate put me on the straight and narrow.”

“Fate? Or you realized the good you could do by joining the Alliance?”

“You know something,” Shepard said. “When I saw the Alliance fight on Mindoir, I wanted to fight alongside them. I knew right then. I had this feeling, I should be a part of it. I thought it was so I could make the bastards pay who did things like that. But I was wrong. It wasn’t about that. It was so I could be the one who got there sooner than help came for me. It was about helping the helpless, not killing the worthless. I wanted my family back. Wanted what happened to them to mean something bigger by my actions going forward. But it wasn’t dealing death like I thought, it was saving life. That gave meaning to it. Gave me meaning.”

Kaidan touched her cheek. “Shepard, your family would be amazed what you’ve done. You’ve made them proud a hundred times over.”

Shepard’s lips tickled with the beginning of a smile. She kissed her palm.

“What about you?” she said. “Your dad was military. This is what you always wanted to do?”

“After what happened at Brain Camp? No.” Kaidan’s fingertips traced down her jaw. He covered their hands with his palm again. “I always liked tech. I majored in engineering at the university in Vancouver. I think I’ve told you that.”

“Engineer Alenko?” Shepard cocked her head with a soft smile. “You wanted to map power grids and design Omni-Tools?”

“Something a little more exotic maybe. Off world. There were companies that contracted all over space, colonies or urban worlds. Variety of tech systems, challenging, a lot of movement and chance to see things. Opportunities to be on the edge of the unknown connecting comm systems and terra forming energy platforms.”

“Not a bad gig.”

“I didn’t think so. The right company, I could be working with interspecies engineers, learning with new technologies, applying outside ideas. See the galaxy, the cultures, the worlds.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well …” Kaidan drew his hands away and fidgeted with the boot propped on his knee. “After Jump Zero and everything that happened, you can probably guess. I didn’t know what to do with that part of myself. I wanted to be normal. I enrolled in the engineering program at VU. As students failed and dropped out of the program, the ones of us who pulled through became close. By the third year, we left the engineering dorms. We roomed together in a large house on the edge of campus. We studied together, went out together. I even stayed with some of their families.”

Kaidan rolled the boot lace between his fingertips. Shepard shifted on the bench and waited.

“And?” she prompted softly.

Kaidan hesitated but met her eyes. “The summer after our third year, there was an applied internship program. Prestigious, competitive. Teams submitted grant applications and project binders. GPA, extracurriculars, interviews. Our team was one of the teams selected. There were ten of us working on the project proposal. We all moved to Boston for the summer and first part of the fourth semester.”

“Something went wrong with your project?”

“No.” Kaidan chewed the corner of his lip then sighed. “Four months into the internship in Boston, I was at the lab. We all were. We were starting to get into the software application, running tests, joking around. I can’t even remember. Men showed up for me.”

“Men?”

Kaidan leaned an elbow on the back of the bench and touched his forehead. “I forgot to register. Forgot to inform the Bureau I changed residences, left the BC area. The Biotic Registration Bureau had tracked me down. They showed up at the lab since they didn’t know where I was staying.”

“They made a scene?” Shepard ventured.

“They were polite enough, I guess.” Kaidan eyed her for a moment, then sat up straight. He cleared his throat. “You see, I had never told anyone. Told anyone I was a biotic. Maybe they could have recognized it if they knew anything about biotics, but you know how it was, it was new. I’d never met another biotic myself outside of Brain Camp. It was rare, unknown, stigmatized. I just wanted to be normal. I felt like it shouldn’t matter. I didn’t use my biotics. I had good control, never flared. It was like they didn’t exist, at least, from the outside. Maybe I was in denial or caught up in being what I wanted to be instead of what I was, but either way, the result was the same. The Biotics Registration Bureau showed up for me. My friends, my best friends I’d done everything with for three years, they were shocked.”

Shepard reached over and gripped his forearm. “They turned their back on you? Because you were a biotic?”

“They turned their backs on me, but not because I was a biotic. What they might have thought of me being a biotic, I’ll never know. I never gave them a chance to find out. They rejected me, not because I was a biotic, but because for three years I never told them.”

“You weren’t lying.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t telling the truth either. We finished the project. After the internship, I finished the fourth year by myself. I saw them in class, but there wasn’t any going back.”

“You dropped out?”

“No,” Kaidan said sharply. “Of course not. I finished my degree.”

“But your plans to join a galactic tech company?”

“That last semester changed a lot of things. My dad …” Kaidan grinned at the floor. “My dad never quite gave up on the military angle. More than his own experience, I think he knew what I couldn’t accept: that it was a place where my being different wasn’t a liability but an asset. Where this part of myself I wanted to leave behind could actually be used for something good instead of just alienating me, scaring or hurting people. I think he knew it was the best path for me to accept myself, even be proud of it. I could belong somewhere, find meaning, help people, see the galaxy. Really, in a lot of ways, the perfect fit.”

“Your dad brought it up to you again?”

“He’d never stopped, but that last semester he knew I was struggling. I think he knew all his talk about the Alliance only made me dig my heels deeper. I had said ‘no’ so long, it was almost on principal then.” Kaidan laughed and rubbed his forehead. “There was a chink in my armor now though. I’d lost everything I thought I’d made since Jump Zero. I felt lost again.

“My dad had a spur-of-the-moment errand with an Alliance chum one morning. He’d picked me up from campus, a holiday or something. I was already strapped in when he told me. I swear he waited for the click of the seatbelt, then it was, ‘Oh, I just remembered. Told Chisholm I’d drop by with his book while he’s in town training the incoming officers.’ We could both see through the story. He knew I knew, but we just pretended. I turned on my Omni-Tool and said, ‘Whatever. Just roll a window down for me and don’t take forever.’”

Shepard chuckled and flicked his shoulder. “Your stubborn streak is well worn, I see.”

“Went pretty deep.” Kaidan laughed. “But, uh, I think I come by it naturally. My dad must have known what I’d say. He said he had to return a book, but when we got to the academy, all of a sudden it was books. Not two books or three books, boxes of books. Five or six boxes stacked to the top. I remember just standing there with the hatch up and muttering, ‘What the hell?’ I even started digging down and reading titles to make sure it wasn’t filler. I expected to see my mom’s old harlequins or something else off the shelf from home, but it was all military-related. He couldn’t haul in six boxes of books by himself, so I helped him. Conveniently, we took a very winding and slow path to Chisholm’s classroom. Dad kept pointing out different areas. I kept saying, ‘Are we going in circles? I’ve seen that plant before.’”

“And when you reached your dad’s friend?”

“What do you know, he’s in the middle of an applied skills class for sentinels. Up to that moment, I didn’t even know sentinels existed, a fusion of tech and biotics. I stood against the wall, sighed, and looked around a lot. I shifted the boxes in my arms and checked the time. But I didn’t forget what I saw. Dad was ready with all sorts of scripted ‘off-the-cuff’ questions for Chisholm about his teaching, the officer’s academy, sentinels, biotics. Dad introduced us.”

Shepard beamed at him. “Got over your stubbornness?”

“Yeah, I mean, I took my time about it. Couldn’t fold right away. I looked into it, networked, met with some other biotic officers. I swore Captain Chisholm to secrecy. He agreed not to tell my dad, but let me audit a week of his classes. Later, do you know what Chisholm told me?”

“What?”

“He said that morning, the morning I was picked up, my dad showed up to borrow Chisholm’s books. He took the whole bookcase worth. Even had a student haul it to the skycar with him. That was 0900. Then he picked me up at 0930. We brought them straight back. After I found that out, I didn’t feel nearly as bad taking my time. When I had my paperwork in order, just needed to push the button, I went home for the weekend to tell him.”

“Your dad was probably thrilled.”

Kaidan grinned. “I set down my bag, and Mom gave me a big hug. When she stepped back, she asked if I’d heard back from the recruiter, then she slapped a hand over her mouth. Turns out, Dad knew what I was doing the whole time. I would have been mad, but I could see what it meant to him. I was so fixated on avoiding an ‘I told you so’ and making clear it was my own decision, I never thought about it just making him proud. He broke out the expensive whiskey from the top shelf. Then we sat on the balcony, drank, and talked a long time.

“A lot of things changed from that point out for me. One of those things was with my dad. Up to then, I was a kid. An adult, but a kid in a lot of ways. After I joined, things were different. He was still my dad, of course. I looked up to him, respected what he had to say, but we were friends too. More equal footing. I went from fighting him and trying to prove myself, to appreciating his advice. I wanted his advice. He could see what was better for me sometimes than I could see for myself. Everything with the Alliance proved that.”

Air thickened in Shepard’s throat. “I’m sorry he’s MIA, Kaidan.”

“I’m sorry about your family, too, Shepard.”

She fell forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. He brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her lips. She crawled over him. He pulled back from the kiss with a tense laugh and looked over at the door.

“It’s almost morning, you know,” he said.

“Come upstairs with me.” Shepard tugged him to his feet. “You said you’re exactly where you want to be, right?”

“With you.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be too.” She grabbed his face with both hands. “With you. I don’t want your family ever reading those letters, but I’m glad you’re with me. I need someone making me eggs. You’re my best friend, Kaidan. More than a best friend. More than anyone’s ever been to me.”

Kaidan’s breath sharpened. “You’re that for me too. Always.”

“Always.” Shepard pecked his lips.

They burst out of the lounge and shot to the elevator.

From “About Mars:” AO3 and FFN

#Mass Effect #Fanfiction #shepard x kaidan #fShenko #Shenko #Kaidan Alenko #femshep #About Mars

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kxhlzn · 5 years

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[i.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, fluff, crack, angst, slow burn romance, lgbtq+ themes.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader (main couple), unrequited!beverly marsh/reader, eventual richie/eddie (possibly unrequited), eventual bev/ben.

➳ wordcount: 3.2k

➳ warnings: profanity, partial nudity (the lake), slight angst.

➳ song recs: "beverly" from the it soundtrack & "she" by dodie.

➳ author's notes: hi hi hi! this is my first fic on tumblr and honestly i'm a bit anxious about this bc i haven't written in ages lmfao. this is a series, so pls don't hesitate to send in asks and the like! nothing is set entirely into stone yet. please note! the characters are fifteen in this, and pennywise doesn't attack derry at all; so georgie is alive and well and chasing paper boats in the rain. richie & reader are both bisexual, ben & bev fall in love as kids. reader and bill are vv close but platonically.

June, 1989.

the first time you meet stanley uris, he is perched on a oak bench planted in the middle of derry park, his bruised knees pressed together in order to keep his journal steady. his chin is pointed to the heavens, eyes searching the clouds, a curious glow in them; cheeks dusted a light pink, he was angelic, the sun's rays a dull comparison to the golden glow of his messy curls. the boy had a nervous tick of tapping his pencil against the yellowed paper in his lap, followed by the curve of his brow when he noticed a bird flutter overheard.

you, at age eleven, were fascinated by him, and lacked a filter to save you from your mouth. it's almost as if the hinge of your jaw had lost a screw, and you feared if it hung open too long a fly might seek entrance there. of course, it would have been entirely avoidable if you hadn't sat your butt right next to him, and stuck your nose right where it didn't belong: in his journal.

"your handwriting is pretty, but your drawings can use some serious work. is that supposed to be a bird? it looks like it's having a heart attack," you had said, tilting your head, "the wings are too jagged and the legs too... sticky, you know? not like sticky like honey, but sticky like... you know, sticks? are you mute or something?"

your blank stare forces stanley's hand to shoot to the back of his neck as he tries to find the words to attend to all of your commentary. his mouth opens and closes a few times before you roll your eyes dramatically, slumping into the back of the bench. stanley clears his throat, eyes falling to the ground.

a silence ensues, and you glance from his crestfallen expression to the drawings. "and, uh, his eyes are buggy; they look like fat marbles. they're taking up his whole face."

stan releases a breathy laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at the graphite drawing in front of him. "they do, don't they?"

you mirror his laugh, and nod solemnly. "there's no saving them," you say, and decide to tell him your name, outstretching your hand proudly.

"stanley," the boy replies, meeting your grip and giving it a good shake. "uh, you know a lot about drawing. could you fix him?"

you hum, taking the journal from his lap and dropping it in your own. you tilt your head at the sketch, putting your chin in your hand. "it's going to be a tough job, but i think he'll survive. scalpel, sir?"

he hands you the yellow pencil, sharpened down half its original length. "anastesia? or uh," you inquire, not aware of how to spell or pronounce the word, "the stuff that doctors give people during surgery."

"anesthesia," stanley corrects, pulling a pink eraser from his pocket and giving it away.

"yeah, that," you bring the eraser down and the bird lines are soon gone, but the remnants of what was stays behind on the paper. "your lines are really hard. you've prolly got heavy hand, you know. but don't worry, i do too."

the next few minutes are in comfortable silence, save for your absent-minded humming. stanley leans over your shoulder, but not to the point of invading personal space, studying each pencil stroke gracing the journal. he makes a comment about the structure of the real-life bird, and you nod your head in agreement. the two of you synchronize nearly perfectly — you sketch what he tells you to. you aren't very observant to the outside world, but you focus on details in your drawings. stanley will mention that the creature has a stray mark on its beak, and you pencil it in without the graphite being too dramatic, which stanley is quick to do in his work.

after an hour of chatting and working, you are sitting on the back of the bench, feet placed comfortably on the seat. you are talking on and on about a story that happened during your english class, and you don't refrain a single detail. stanley listens intently, body slouched forward over his journal as he writes physical descriptions of the bird next to the drawing. he checks the time on his watch, and nearly jumps out of his seat. he swivels around, eyes blown wide, but you don't seem to notice as your arms wave about, mimicking a girl in your class.

stanley barks your name, which sounds sweet on his tongue, he realizes. when you focus on him curiously, he looks guilty. "i have to go. i was supposed to go to my friend's house so we could go to the quarry together. uh, unless you want to.. go?"

you grin, hopping onto the soil beside him. "for sure!" you hook your arm in his, and skip forward a few steps.

"wrong way," he says sheepishly.

you turn around, now exceedingly confident. "onward, steed!"

the next few years, up until freshman year, you are best friends with stanley uris and his gang of friends; bill denbrough, richie tozier, and eddie kaspbrak. bill was the kindest of all of them, a sensitive boy with a heart of gold. his love for art made him an easy companion, and you grew very close the summer of 7th grade, spending many hours a week at his house simply talking and making art. his little brother is like your favorite person, the little squirt constantly bugging bill about when he'll see you again, and telling bill he likes you better because you'll play with him.

eddie is a mother hen to you, warning you about the dangers you put yourself in on a daily basis. you are more reckless than the other boys, so it's common to see eddie turn an ugly shade of purple when he witnesses you do something exceedingly ignorant. with your asthma, he can relate to you, but you personally believe the inhalers you have are pointless and there's no need to rely on them, but eddie disagrees. when he takes a puff from his emergency inhaler, which is more of a daily one, he tends to shove one in your mouth too for simple sake of anxiety. you've found that he calms down when you play with his hair or give his scalp a light scratch, his voice lost in the serenity of it all.

ah, richie tozier; you two are scarily similar, and everyone is aware of it. he's of course referred to as "trashmouth", and you're known as "loudmouth", as richie has a tendency to speak inappropriate things, and you just keep speaking and can't properly whisper to save your life. a major difference between the two of you is your vulnerability, naiveness, and positive charisma. his talkativeness is characterized by sarcasm and the "class clown" stereotype, while yours relies more on really just being a chatterbox, whose thoughts spill out at rapid speeds without being filtered by your brain. fortunately, it's easier to make friends this way, and you tend to be the ice-breaker of your friends. richie, personally, admires this about you and thinks of you as an "innocent little ball of sunshine", and likes to put his arm on your head to show his dominance.

your relationship with stanley uris is a bit complicated; of course, at first, it was unproblematic being friends with him, as you were easy opposites. you spoke into the space that he was too quiet to fill, and it was comfortable for the both of you; you got to speak your mind without interruption, and stanley was able to have company that didn't force him to interact gregariously. however, as you grew with time, he found your carelessness to be irritating, as he hated feeling he had to be anxious all of the time; stanley enjoys turning his alarm off, and running on low function, and he thinks it is hard to do that when you're jumping off cliffs, climbing on slippery rocks with your eyes covered, and provoking bullies three years older than you. he finds you irrational and childlike, which is difficult for him to grasp as an inherently strategic and analytical person. you are a glass half full, and he is glass half empty. he prefers to consider the consequences, and you have a tendency to wait to find them out after you commit the deed. he has his future planned, and you want to live in the moment; you enjoy surprises, new opportunities, as there is something entirely boring about being sure what you plan to do each day. sometimes, you believe stanley wakes early, dresses in the outfit he put aside the night before, and takes a seat to write down a schedule. you shiver at the thought. unfortunately, the disagreements put tension on your friendship, as hanging out periodically ends with an argument, and one of you stomping out to rant to one of the others. you sincerely care for each other, but also find each other extremely irritating when the situation calls for it; which is becoming increasingly habitual as you grow taller with age.

but you also find him to be beautiful.

you're fifteen when you properly meet ben hanscom, beverly marsh, and mike hanlon. it's also the first time you felt something strike deep in your gut for that particular redheaded girl, and the way her newly chopped locks curled at the ends. she had tucked your hair behind your ear as you wrestled with the button on your overall shorts, and took your hands in hers, pushing them aside so she could slip the button through the hole properly. she was so graceful, elegant even, in the way she held herself. that day, you labeled the twist of your insides as insecurity, nothing else.

it was a mix of many things, you realized a long time after. insecurity, deep-rooted sexual confusion, and jealousy.

beverly is the first to jump off the cliff and into the lake below. after aiding you in your clothing disaster, she slips her creamy overdress from her shoulders, and gives her arms a good shake. she departs with a glance back at you, the sun beating down on her hair like fiery red flames, and her icy eyes contrasting its intensity. suddenly, you feel so small; so plain. before she could see your lip quiver, she was in the air, high like an angel, before falling towards the murky waters.

the stars in bill and ben's eyes, and the admiration in the rest of theirs, erupt a cacophony for you, striking your heart like a harsh note: these aren't your boys anymore.

bill jumps next, and then the others, eddie last. the splash sends spikes in your spine, but it's a warm hand on your shoulder that kick-starts your body. sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of stanley uris. his mouth is shaped in a firm line, a bit disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. he seems to be at war with himself.

he stays silent for a moment, eyes searching the sky for the right words. "i want to go last," he finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "i don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before i go."

you laugh softly, relieved. you are grateful knowing he wasn't going to pry in your hesitation, or your brief self-consciousness. even when the two of you bicker, you hold high respect for stan; he's a boy of few words. he isn't shy, and certainly isn't bashful; he simply chooses to speak sparingly, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always loudest. he doesn't word vomit to fill the silence; that is how you know his words are meticulously chosen, like pieces to a greater puzzle.

stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. his hand has long since abandoned your shoulder, and rather is cuffing his other calmly in front of his hips. the lack of speech isn't menacing or awkward, but instead a bit comforting; it gives you adequate time to finish undressing, tossing aside your socks and shoes. you pull the loose scrunchie from your hair, and give yourself a silent nod in reassurance.

"promise not to tell?" stan says quietly when he's sure you're more stable, curious eyes searching for yours.

"pinky promise," you insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. when his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. "i never break them."

and then you're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystalizing in your descent.

"i know," stanley whispers to himself. little do you know, he has the same epiphany you had just seconds ago, aweing after beverly.

he crosses his fingers behind his back, and steps off the cliff's edge.

air reaches your lungs when you pull your head above the surface, and you gather your sopping hair from your skin, laying it against your neck. you face the sky, and stan's dive is a flash of gold: like a bird, graceful in it's dip, his curls like its wings.

you find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

—

on a boiling day in the middle of june, you and the others spend a day in the quarry again, but instead have a picnic by the rocks rather than racing back into town for a snack at eddie's house. it was mike's idea; he hadn't told anyone until he showed up early that day, sweaty and beaming with a quaint basket and blanket tucked under his arm. you felt a bit guilty, honestly— you wish he would've told you so you all could pitch in.

he seemed ecstatic, though, setting it up, so you couldn't bring yourself to mention that.

beverly says she wants to sunbathe with you, so you agree with hot cheeks and position yourself awkwardly next to her, posture straight with your knees tucked under your arms. your stiffness goes unnoticed by her, thankfully, so you're able to admire her form in peace as she stretches her limbs out with a soft sigh. compared to her, you feel unbearably rigged, unbearably not feminine. a thought crosses your mind that her own feminity outshines yours so much that the boys must think of you as one of them, minus the third leg, and with twin petals blossoming on your chest.

the boys are curled around their usual spots, the multiple boulders a few feet from your seated position, chatting carelessly. mike is discluded, lost in preparing the perfect picnic for you all. perhaps if you had noticed the simplicity of it all, you wouldn't have blurted out something ignorant to force a tension in the summer air.

"do you guys think i'm pretty?"

the conversation drops briefly, takes a soft roar, and then entirely ceases as seven pairs of eyes draw to you, including mike and beverly. the red-haired girl has a smirk on her lips, tilting her head ever so slightly as if to test your patience and purpose.

bill clears his throat gently. "u-um, well, yeah of c-course.. w-why wouldn't w-we?"

you shrug nonchalantly, and the others eyeball each other, pleading for another to say something else. eddie and ben slyly play rock paper scissors for a sacrifice.

richie whistles lowly. "this is gonna be good."

your face's temperature soon begins to rival the sun as your breath hitches in your throat, attention turned directly on beverly, as though her presence might calm your nerves. it doesn't. your lower lip is caught between your teeth, as you grow progressively more embarrassed of yourself the longer the others stare.

beverly smiles gently, her intensely blue eyes never straying from yours. "i think you're the prettiest girl in the world."

you sputter suddenly, adjusting your aviators, and spill out something along the lines of "i have to go take a piss", and skitter off in the direction of the woods. you curse yourself the entire way.

richie laughs, breaking the tension. he pats stanley's bare back roughly as the lanky boy stares at the trees you disappeared behind. "and the hits just keep on coming."

"beep beep, richie," eddie scolds, and richie winks at him, suggestively nodding towards him. eddie rolls his eyes and his gaze drops to his feet.

"sandwiches, anyone?" mike whimpers, a lopsided grin as he holds up a loaf of bread. stanley gently pushes past him and disappears into the brush.

"well, i, for one, would like three," richie replies, slapping his thighs as he stands.

eddie mumbles a word or two about richie being "as selfish as ever", and makes his way to mike also. beverly is a bit quiet, and bill chooses to sit beside her; his hands fall to his knees, rubbing them subconsciously.

"u-um, you didn't do a-anything wrong," he says, aware of the deep concentration beverly has. he can usually tell when everyone is upset or has something on their mind. "she's j-just been a l-little self conscious lately."

"please," beverly whispers, lifting her head to the sky, "i can tell she's been different around me. i must have said something to offend her. i should apologize—"

beverly pulls herself up, dusts off her legs, and is yanked down by bill's shaky hand.

"d-d-don't—" when the girl steadies, he continues, "let them b-b-be. if y-you really did s-something to h-hurt her, s-s-stanley will f-find out. trust him."

the greenery is exceedingly massive— miles and miles of towering woodland, filtering in streams of sunlight, rocky terrain around every trunk. you find yourself breathing heavily while seated on a boulder that is tucked away behind a ledge, facing the opposite way of the opening that your friends are at. elbows pressed into your knees, you put your face in your hands.

the air is tightening around your throat, and your uneven breaths become wheezes. you fist your hair in frustration, and smooth it down seconds after. this turns into a cycle, as you calm your wild nerves. fuck. are you allowed to think of her like that? you inhale deeply, the scent of soil filling your senses.

twigs crack in the distance, rapidly approaching feet obliterating the silence that has so graciously aided you in your toxic thoughts. you run your hands through your hair, and then fist a handful at the scalp. you smooth it out tenderly. when the footsteps are extremely close, slow down their pace, and stop entirely, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"go the fuck away, bill, i don't need your lect—" you bark, waving him away, but are cut off by long arms wrapping around your neck. your anxiety washes away, but you make no effort to embrace them in turn. your hands become fists, with no fabric of a shirt to grasp. you don't notice the tears racing down your face until your eyes and cheeks burn furiously, and your throat is caught up in sobs. when you peek, the sight of stanley's dusty curls in your peripheral sends waves of numbness and comfort over your skin.

your thoughts become hazy once you've lain your head against the bone of stanley's bare shoulder, and you feel a weight on your body lift from you— and transfer to him.

you swear you can hear faint whispering, voice cracked and vulnerable: "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

the part that leaves you aching for days in the future, is that you're not sure he was talking to you.

➳ i hope you liked it! it's a bit short but idc cuz i'm tired.

#it #the losers club #stephen king #it 2017 #stan uris #stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #losers club x reader #beverly marsh x reader #it fanfiction #stanley uris imagine #beverly marsh imagine #kassie writes #BW

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