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goldenlikedayl1ght · 8 months

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we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.��

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local-crying-boy · 1 year

Note

Can we have a part 2 of it was our plan where its after the cullens come back but y/n is still kinda distant from jasper?

A/n: I hope this is what you expected!

It was our plan PT. 2

Fem! Reader X Jasper Hale

——————————————————————————————————

Pairing: Female human! Reader X Jasper Hale

Genre: Oneshot, angst to fluff

Warning: none that I’m aware of, use of Y/n

Summary: When the Cullens returned to Forks, Jasper Hale seeks you out so that he can apologise, but you avoid him at all costs.

Word count: 1.4k

Part One here

——————————————————————————————————

Hate. Resentment. Sadness. Three annoying feelings you felt in your bones, throughout your body.

You absolutely hated that the Cullens - despite agreeing with you with you former plan - had left Forks without warning. Okay, yes, Jasper did technically 'warn' you, but he left immediately after telling you and left no room for discussion about you going with him!

You had resentment for Jasper for leaving you on that day, he had loved you and loved that you had gone as far to plan how you would leave Forks. I mean, what kind of person would leave the person they loved immediately after telling said person they were leaving and then leave without a proper goodbye?

But, ultimately, you felt sadness every waking hour. You were heartbroken at the fact you’d never get to see Jasper again, never get to kiss him, never get to hug him, never get to hold his hand, never get to be beside him ever again. You were upset because there was literally no one like Jasper Whitlock Hale, there would be no man you would love as much as you loved Jasper.

You wouldn’t go as far as to believe you were depressed, in fact, you had given into the anger instead of the sadness. You tried everything you could to get rid of that sadness, and, so, that meant you felt pure anger for Jasper.

In months that the Cullens had been gone, you had focused on many different things, however boring it may have been. You had organised your room, studied a lot, finished many of the books you wanted to read, attempted arts and crafts, sports, and much more. You even tried to help Isabella Swan out of her depression about Edward leaving, though it proved more difficult the more you tried.

Your grades went up due to your endless studying, even in the subjects you struggled on most! Your parents were proud at that, though they still worried that you had not properly been upset at Jasper’s absence. You'd been sad in your own time, sometimes you would give yourself a few moments of sadness before you would quickly despise yourself for being upset that Jasper left.

You hated him.

You hated the man you loved most.

You despised Jasper Hale.

So, when the surprising news of none other than the Cullens returning to Forks arose, you did not hesitate to ignore the supposed amazing news.

While Bella quickly went back to loving Edward, and practically planning for her own transformation into a vampire, you stayed as far away from Jasper and his family as you could. You couldn't bare to see him, you couldn't bare for him to try and apologise. You didn't want to go back to him. You didn't. Defiantly not.

Nevertheless, all you wanted to do was fall back into his arms, hold him, kiss him, love him. You wanted Jasper back, you wanted to love him, you wanted to be around him, to feel the coldness of his hands when he held your hand throughout the halls of school and as he walked you to your front door.

You missed the vampire's stupid Southern drawl, the way certain words seemed to roll of his tongue and make your knees go weak. You missed his golden coloured eyes, followed by his dark coloured eyes depending on the day. You missed the way he would walk you to your classes, the way he would carry your books when you had too many, the way he would drop you off at home after your dates, the way he was always respectful to you and your boundaries.

On Jasper's side, he had been trying desperately to get your attention, to find you while you were by yourself.

Though, due to your stubbornness, Jasper was unable find you by yourself and, if he wanted to catch up with you with his speed, he was unable to because you were smart enough to stay with other people. Or was it stupid?

Either way, Jasper had beaten himself up senseless because he felt so incredibly bad about how he left things. All he wanted to do was make it up to you, he wanted to be with you again. He knew you wanted to as well, he could feel it. Though, he could also feel your anger, your frustration, towards him.

On one particular rainy day, you had your hood pulled up over your head and your coat zipped up all the way, hands shoved in your pockets to keep them safe from the freezing rain.

Thankfully, Jasper had seen you walk out of the school, you were walking home that day, Jasper remembered from your weekly routine and because - on these days - he would be the one to take you home. He was walking quickly towards you, silent but quick. He knew he couldn't use his speed to catch up with you, but he had been so desperate to do so.

"Y/n." He called out to you, causing your heart to drop at the sound of his beautiful sounding voice.

When you didn't reply, he said your name again, now only a few feet behind you. "Please, Y/n."

"Don't, Jasper." You sighed out, but, in reality, all you wanted to do was hug him. "I don't want to hear it."

The coldness in your voice shocked him, he'd never heard you speak so rudely to anyone, let alone him.

"Y/n." He repeated, his voice was pained, you could hear the sadness in his voice. No one needed his power to know the heartbreak he felt.

You turned around to face him, rather abruptly. You would have preferred to not even face him, you knew his saddened face would break your beak into a thousand little pieces, would make the heartbreak physically hurt you.

"Don't, Jasper." You said again, your voice was trembling, but the anger was clear. "Don't you dare, you left. You left me, here by myself."

He looked you in the eyes, he could see your glassy eyes and how you were fighting the tears.

"You don't get to be heard out, not when you left like that." You scowled at him, hands in fists and you almost wished he was human so you could actually hurt him - as terrible as it may sound. "I was here, while you were... Wherever the hell you were!"

You sniffled, you were trembling and you could feel the rain down your cheeks. Or was it tears? "It wasn't fair."

"I know, I know." He said softly, he took a step closer to you, his arms extended as he reached out to you. "I shouldn't of said goodbye like that, I am so incredibly sorry."

You shook your head as he walked near you, you took a step back and it took the hint. His arms hung loosely at his sides, he wasn't going to touch you if you didn't want him to.

"Please, Y/n. I was afraid." He said, the saddened tone that escape his mouth seemed so unnatural for someone like him. He'd never sounded like this, never sounded so broken. He spoke again, but his voice was quiet, he was still aware of the people around him, the handful of students who were watching the scene unfold. "You saw what I almost did to Bella, I never want that to end up happening to you. I would never be able to live with myself again if I was the reason you got hurt."

He wanted to attempt to reach out to you again, but he didn't want to risk of getting rejected again, he wasn't sure if he could handle watching you back away from him again.

"Darlin', I never want to be the reason that you get hurt, that you..." He trailed off this time, he didn't want to say what he thought.

"That I die?" You finished for him, anyhow, with a hushed voice and a broken voice much like his. "That's what you want to say, isn't it? You don't want to be the reason I die?"

You shook your head again, now certain that you had been crying, tears streaming down your face like a river alongside the rain droplets. "You don't trust yourself, Jasper, but I do. I always have, I always will."

"I am dangerous." He whispered out.

"No." You whispered out, you walked over to him with your arms extended. You grabbed his hands. "No, you are not."

You both locked eyes, his with his golden eyes and your glassy eyes. Your words had echoed in his mind, you believed that he was good, you believed that he wasn't the monster he saw himself as.

You quickly embraced the frozen vampire, and he wrapped his arms around you. Both of you had missed the other's touch, both of you were desperate for the other's touch, and both of you finally got the one thing you desperate missed: each other.

In this moment, in the moment you held each other in the pouring rain, outside of the school, you thought that maybe - just maybe - things will be okay.

Masterlist

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oopsimbug · 9 months

Text

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around.

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to.

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that.

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind.

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table.

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year.

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him.

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts.

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness!

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next.

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact.

“Hello,” Y/n began.

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied.

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf.

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all!

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.”

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched.

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of.

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process.

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking.

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.”

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher…

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage.

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up.

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond.

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication.

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar!

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl.

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!”

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister.

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows.

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket.

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in.

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued.

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs.

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!"

"My nephew does too!"

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits.

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home.

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile.

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her.

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her.

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles.

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone.

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?"

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart."

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking.

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him.

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass.

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down.

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences.

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone.

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you”

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became.

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!”

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour.

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began.

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.”

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?!

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to.

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.”

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch.

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…”

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property.

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip...

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine.

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily.

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package.

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry.

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!”

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too.

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!”

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile.

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew.

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky.

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another?

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down.

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-”

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper.

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her…

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out…

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful…

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created.

Left, right, left again, right again.

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways.

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up.

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent.

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents.

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings.

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens.

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read!

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and-

Damn!

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be…

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers.

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically.

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library.

He seceded first! HA! She won!

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go…

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way.

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory.

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

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sevenpoyo · 1 year

Text

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #margo kess x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr my beloved #atsv x reader #atsv spoilers #spider byte x reader #the prowler x reader #42 miles morales x reader

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Note

do you have any hcs for what dating natalie would be like?

Dating Natalie Scatorccio Headcannons

(pre and post crash)

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, regular yellowjackets things, tell me if i missed anything!!

pre crash

IM SORRY I LOVE NATALIE BUT…. SHES A LITTLE TOXIC BEFORE THE CRASH

and i mean you can partly place the blame on her using and also her home life, but still

she gets a little jealous…. gets a little crazy….

but sooner or later she’ll finally realize that she’s just being a little silly and apologize to you

date nights for her depend on her mood. if she’s happy? you’re going out and doing something! think shauna and adam in season one- mini golfing, jumping off bridges, etc

if she’s not in a good mood, then she probably just wants you and let’s be honest some drugs and/or alcohol (I LOVE HER I SWEAR)

if her dad is still alive then he’s real suspicious of y’all but HIS DAUGHTER BEING GAY??? HE REFUSES TO EVEN ENTERTAIN THE IDEA

just some gal pal’s to him

NATALIE AT SCHOOL IS WILD

when she’s not skipping she’s probably finding some way to annoy you

“will you come to practice today?” “sorry nat i have to study” “oh, okay. will you come to practice today?” “no, i have to study” “that’s cool. will you come to practice today tho?”

and if you’re also on the soccer team she is so happy!!! loves talking to you about what happened during the game bc unlike other people she knows, who don’t like soccer, or aren’t as into it as her, you just get it like no one else does

communicating with looks across the fields for sure

if you’re not on the team you basically are bc she INSISTS you come to every single game and every single practice

“PLEASE I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW I HAVE TO STUDY!!!!” “but like we win every time you’re there so….”

coach martinez genuinely told you to stop studying and get on the field and you were like ???

but he insisted so you walked out there until natalie was like ???

“you do realize y/n is not actually on the team, right, coach….?”

wilderness

natalie is so done with the wilderness as soon as she gets there like

especially during the summer months even if you suck you’re going hunting with her

like literally imagine just sitting on a tree stump while natalie just goes PEW PEW PEW and the brings back like a bunch of dead rabbits bc she’s amazing like that

she LOVESSSS reminding you (and everyone tbh) that she was the one to get the food

“omg this is so good” “thanks yeah what can i say i have a gift”

she totally finds a little corner of the cabin somewhere and just is like: me and you here ok? ok

winter months get crazy

all of sudden she’s like no don’t come hunting stay back but like you’ve gotten weirdly into it now and besides YOU WANT TO BE WITH HER??

“no you can’t come”

“why?”

“bc it’s cold!!!!”

“ok and??? you’re going!!!”

“ITS DIFFERENT OK”

“NO ITS NOT???”

eventually she’ll probably cave in and let you come but TRUST she is wrapping you up herself you look like a little penguin at the end probably

but if it’s ever like REALLY cold she is not above begging to make sure you stay in the cabin

—-

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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lost-walmartbag · 1 year

Text

Warning: swearing

Background: Kyle decides to speak to you after years of silence

Status: ongoing

Previous part

Next part

Peace by your side: chapter one

September is an awkward month. It's not insanely hot but it isn't cold enough to not want to die every time you see stairs that are more than three steps. Sometimes it feels like the world is taunting you telling you to suffer. One day it rains and you think it's okay to finally wear that long sleeve you've had saved up only to look like a sinner in church by lunch.

So why do I keep making the same mistake every single year? It's been this way since I was a kid, but apparently, my brain turns to jelly by summer and stays that way until winter because nothing sticks. It wouldn't be so bad if the walk to school wasn't adding to how uncomfortable I felt in my long-sleeve shirt.

It would also help if I didn't know Kyle was behind me. I knew I shouldn't hate him but fuck. He didn't even try to stay friends after 'the incident' with our moms happened. I don't know many details all I know is I wasn't even allowed to think of the name Broflovski within a 20-mile radius of my house, let alone be friends with one.

Just walk straight for another 7 feet. Turn left. Another 20 feet. Turn right and boom you'll be able to avoid him properly. You got this Y/N!

It sucks that it has to be this way. Kyle just had to make it awkward by keeping his eyes on my every movement. He thinks I don't know he's staring at me right now, but of course I do. And it fucking sucks.

Just as I was about to take that left turn Kyle decided that today of all days was the day to speak to me again after eleven years of pure silence. Of course, I didn't help that but that's beside the point.

As I try to turn the corner, Kyle catches up. He is now on my right side and I try my best to ignore him until he speaks.

"H-hey. Um, how have you.." He stammered out before clearing his throat. "How've you been?"

I cringe hearing him stumble over his words. He was always kind of shy. Of course, he knew how to stand up for himself and I'd even seen him get in a few fights in middle school, but for some reason even when shy he was open with me. He never stumbled over his words when he was with me. Well, at least he didn't use to.

He noticed I hadn't responded and even though I was looking forward I could see his once-shy smile falter. He cleared his throat again and looked down at his feet while still keeping up with my pace.

Which I increased on purpose. Take the hint dude.

"Did you have a good birthday?"

"I guess." I manage to let out.

"Oh cool. Cool." He said, clearly struggling to figure out what to say next so the conversation didn't die. Not that it was really alive to begin with. I decided to put him out of his misery.

"It literally rained last night why is it already heating up?" I muttered and out of my peripheral, I saw him crack a smile.

"Yeah Mother Nature is a bit weird, isn't she? Pulling a weird prank that you fall for every time." He said huffing out a laugh.

I couldn't help but smile a bit even though I tried my fucking hardest to fight it. "I'll get it right one day."

"You know it's not so bad. At least you aren't a daywalker?" He said basically forcing a laugh out of my throat.

He used to do that a lot. Whenever I was upset about something he would bring up how amazing it was that I wasn't a 'daywalker' like him. It was a term Cartman had come up with, that he absolutely hated but then coined it for himself. He was a hypocrite like that.

I looked up at him for the first time since he walked to my side and I felt my breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. I knew I avoided looking at him for the last eleven years but how the fuck did he change so much since the last time I actually looked at him? When did he get tall? When did he cut his hair? When did he get so....hot?

I quickly looked away. Fuck. Yeah, real smooth Y/N. Apparently, he seemed to think so too because I could see his shoulders shaking in my peripheral. My cheeks heat up and all I want to do right now is push him into traffic, or more preferably, myself.

As we turn right he switches over to my left side.

"Is it already too hot for the long-sleeve?"

"Y-yeah," I say feeling the heat run up my neck to my cheeks. I just want this to be over. "W-why are you even talking to me right now?"

"Oh um, I." He started. My question seemed to really throw him off and I couldn't help but feel bad about how mean I sounded.

"Sorry um, that was rude. I just- I mean I-"

"No no, it's ok. We haven't talked in a while and I...I guess what I'm trying to say is.."

Before he could finish speaking, a soft hand grabbed my arm and pulled me further away from his side. I look to my right seeing Heidi, pulling me away from Kyle. Heidi knew as much as anyone why I hated Kyle and she both loved and hated him for it. Loved because she happily filled his 'best friend' role when we stopped talking. And hated, because she was there to see how torn up about it I was.

I still am some days but I won't tell her that. She tapped me two times on the arm as her way of asking if I was okay. I tensed my arm in my way of telling her I wasn't.

Did I want to know what Kyle wanted? Yeah of course. But did I want to stay here trying to awkwardly fumble a conversation with the dude who has been ignoring me for almost 12 years? Fuck no.

She cleared her throat and I let out a silent groan as she prepared to act her ass off.

"Oh my god! Y/N I found this really cute bag at the mall yesterday you totally have to come with me it would totally go with that outfit you got last month." She said in an exaggerated valley girl voice as she practically dragged me away.

I looked over my shoulder to see Kyle start to reach out but stop himself. He watched me for a moment before hanging his head and kicking a small rock in front of him.

It's better this way. I used to miss Kyle and seeing him today just made things hard. If that's not a sign that we should keep this 'pretending the other doesn't exist' thing going I don't know what is. We both know it'll end badly if we don't.

I turn to Heidi who once out of earshot stopped talking about shoes and makeup and let out a deep breath.

"The things I do for you." She said dropping the weird valley girl voice.

"I appreciate it."

"Why was he talking to you anyway? What did he say?" She asked pulling her hand away from my arm.

"He asked about my birthday and-"

"Did you tell him about it? About the...thing?" She interrupted.

"N-no I just said it went well and then I asked him why he was even talking to me and then you came."

"How do you feel? He hasn't said a thing to you since you were what? Five?"

"Six." I corrected her.

"Six. And now outta nowhere, he wants to act all buddy buddy?"

"Look I don't know either ok?" I said with a sigh and leaned my head back as we walked to class.

"OK ok. How do you feel about it?"

"Fine? It's not like I died."

"No Y/N. How do you feel about it?" She repeated and I knew I wasn't going to get out of this easily.

"I feel...I feel. Not good? My face was on fire when I looked at him. I didn't notice how much he changed since the last time we talked and fuck when he laughed or smiled or breathed I felt...fuck I don't know."

"Was it purring?"

"Heidi! Ew gross!" I said putting my face in my hands as she laughed.

"I hate him if you hate him. I just wanna make sure we're on the same page. Do you still hate him?"

I bite my lip. Yes of course I still hate him. Is what I wanna say but is it the truth? His smile was so warm. He really didn't change that much. I used to love the person he was and if he's still that person does that mean that I still love him? Platonically of course.

"Hey~ Earth to Y/N~" Heidi said moving her hand in front of my face and stopping outside of our class.

"Yes of course I do. He abandoned me. Didn't even try not to. I hate him."

"Are you telling me or yourself?" She asked softly and I could tell she was serious. I look into her eyes and sigh.

"Both."

"That's ok. Let's go do math."

"I'd rather die." I grumble as we walk into the room.

"You will one day just after math."

A/N: Yo. Thought I could post since I had some free time to finish up this chapter. Hope It was to your liking cause I did like writing it. Also if you guys have given me a request don't worry I will get to them......eventually. Hey don't hate me please I just need some time and I really hope you guys can accept that and support me for that. I will get to them promise promise promise. So if you're thinking about sending a request I will do it but don't expect it soon. Especially if you can see and want it to be long. Anyway, enough of that. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it. I love you all 🩷🩷🩷🩷

#south park #south park x reader #fanfic #south park x you #x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader

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sehunniepotwrites · 2 years

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SHELVED AWAY | JH.S

SYNOPSIS. You and Johnny have been academic rivals since the day you first met. Top Two on the Dean’s List for your university’s English Department, it was hard to tell who claimed the number one spot on the list. You always butted heads, whether it was over who led the discussion in a course lecture, who got a higher grade on a paper, or who helped more customers at the bookshop you both worked at. When a bet to see who could sign up more customers for their shop’s loyalty program came to life, the both of you would stop at nothing to win this little game even if it meant getting closer to the other.

PAIRING. coworker!Johnny Suh x (f) reader GENRE. college!au, bookshop!au, enemies-to-lovers!au, academic rivals!au, suggestive, humor, fluff (?) WORD COUNT. 4.6k+ WARNINGS. characters are like cat-and-dog, make-out scene, profanity, name-calling (lmao), they bicker a lot

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

There were many things you loved about your university.

You loved how the campus was swarmed with trees, each building surrounded by a lush and vibrant green in the spring and summer months and warm brown shades during the cold of autumn and winter. You loved the sense of community your school upheld, always hosting events that were opened to anyone and everyone in the immediate area. The way it made you feel at home when you were miles away. The friends you made in your major and the small department you belonged to.

You adored it all.

The one thing you hated about your university though wasn’t a thing at all. It was a person who went by the name of John Jun Suh. People in the English department, whether it be faculty, staff, or fellow students called him by Johnny but you wouldn’t succumb to calling him by his preferred name. It made you seem closer to him than you really were and you despised that even being a possibility. You weren’t close. You were far from that.

Johnny Suh was your rival in every sense of the word. The top two students in the entire department—he concentrated in Literal and Cultural Studies while you dabbled in Creative Writing—you never saw eye to eye.

Even in a shared lecture hall, you and Johnny were miles apart, distance fueled by your competitive spirits and mutual distaste for the other.

Miles apart and still butting heads as academic rivals were destined to do. The discussions in the courses you shared were led by your volleying, voices only increasing in volume as you challenged each other’s thoughts and cruxes. Fighting for the attention of the professors. Competing for the highest grade on the latest paper or the spot of tutor in the Writing Lab.

And just how you had a certain way of doing things, Johnny did the same, using a completely different method.

In other words, the two of you were complete opposites.

While you preferred the lighter side of fiction, he longed for the darker bookish themes. The same went for your style of dress—your academia-themed wardrobe was filled with whites, off-whites, and the lighter colors of the spectrum whereas Johnny’s clothes consisted of darker statement pieces including black turtlenecks and dark brown slacks with matching coats. Dark shades and fits that only accentuated his devastatingly handsome figure.

When you felt comfortable studying during the light of day, you always caught Johnny entering the library in the dark of night as you left for home.

He was a bookish social butterfly, his wings fluttering about here and there around the English department building and in any club that sparked his interest, while you stayed in your tightly-knitted group of friends.

Your friends never understood why you hated him. Yes, you were rivals when it came to grades and other educated-related things, but they truly believed you would get along if you really got to know him.

You hated him because it seemed as if he was blessed with everything in life—intelligence, a light and friendly attitude despite his dark attire, physical features that rivaled ones belonging to the gods. Thick hair that looked good in any color. Eyes that shined behind the glare of his rounded specks. Proportions that made both men and women alike swoon. A voice filled with a variety of colors. Johnny was almost perfect without even trying and you despised him for it.

They were wrong about you and him. So completely wrong.

You knew it. You were almost certain Johnny knew it too.

There was no way you could get along with John Jun Suh. Never in your wildest dreams.

You thought you would find solace working in the town center’s bookshop. Clearly, as Johnny stood before you, with his brand new name-tag pinned against the expanse of his chest, you thought wrong.

To make matters worse, you were the one assigned to train him, to show him the ropes. According to your boss, there was no one better to show the giant how everything works around the store. Your boss wasn’t wrong, you just hated the fact that you had to share one more thing with Johnny Suh.

With and without your help, Johnny picked up quickly and worked his way up to one of the shop’s top sellers list. Once again, you two were tied for a title. Your boss, sensing your drive to compete, fueled the fire even more in the form of commissions.

As one of the only bookstores in your college town, your place of employment was quite a popular place. People of all ages flocked to your store to find the book they were seeking and it was time to take advantage of it. In order to engage with customers, your boss launched a loyalty program in which people could earn points that led to discounts. An employee of the shop would earn a commission every time someone signed up for the program under their recommendation. The staff member who received the most commissions within three months after launch would get an extra bonus. It was a fantastic plan, one that was well-received by the staff and the public, especially by you and Johnny.

The two of you found it as another way to compete, especially when you were the highest performers in house. A bet resulted from this “friendly” competition, the loser having to do whatever the winner wanted of them. You remembered the day the bet was established, the rage festering inside you egging Johnny on.

“I’m going to get that bonus, Suh, just you wait,” you said, pushing yourself off the shelf you leaned on. “Just you fucking wait.”

Johnny’s face whipped straight to you with a smirk permanently etched on his full lips. With raised brows, he answered, “Oh, I think you’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart, because that money is mine.”

He tried to distract you with silly nicknames and it didn’t work. “Stubborn as ever, aren’t you?”

“I’d say the same about you,” Johnny lowered his lids, lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks. He crossed his arms against his chest, muscles straining against his tight shirt’s form hugging fabric. You willed yourself to look away from the bulging muscles that caught everyone else’s attention. “I’d suggest a bet but everyone knows I’ll win.”

“Oh, please. You’re too confident in yourself!”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ve been here longer and I have more customer service experience than you, John, so I clearly have the upper hand,” you argued as your feet led you to him.

“And yet all the customers come to me when we’re servicing the same area, I wonder why that is,” Johnny shrugged, “Must be your resting bitch face scaring them away.”

You scoffed, “Is that supposed to be an insult? You need to try a little harder to actually hurt my feelings.”

“Believe me,” Johnny paused to say your name and you tightened your fists to fight the shiver his words caused, “I’m only just getting started.”

“Okay, if it’s a bet you want, fine. I’m in. Loser gets to grant the winner’s wish, no matter what it is.” You stuck your hand out and it lingered in the air for a second too long.

When you tried to pull it away, Johnny’s hand reached out to join them together. You ignored the electricity that shocked your brain. The feeling of warmth his touch gave you.

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Good!”

“Good.”

Neither you or Johnny announced what you wanted as punishments, saving the surprise for when the three months concluded. Despite that, you were not one who took losing well. So, you did whatever means necessary to win. Johnny did the very same.

Your coworkers gave up on winning that bonus because no one was as passionate as you both were, parading around the grounds while sabotaging each other. Johnny hid your online orders and you stole his customers. You had yelling matches in the stock rooms, ones others could hear if they passed by the back doors. They never stopped you–they knew better than that–instead, they just let it all unfold, wondering where your arguments would lead you next.

“Stop taking customers away from me!” you screeched at him one day when the shop was devoid of people. It was a slow day so far with no one else but Johnny and a few more coworkers to keep you company.

You passed the point of annoyance and almost grabbed the closest hardcover within your reach. A good hit on the back of Johnny’s head would do your coworker some good. Johnny deserved it, especially when that specific guest signed up for the program right in front of you. You caught Johnny double checking the person’s entered information on his computer screen, reading everything back to him to check for accuracy.

You couldn’t believe he ripped another one away from your fingertips. According to the data up till then, tallied on a whiteboard in the break room, Johnny was five commissions ahead of you. You were in the lead last week but he intercepted so many of your customers in the past two days, Johnny saw catching up as child’s play. That last customer made it six.

Johnny simply rested his sharp chin, “You were taking too long so he came to me. Seemed like he was in a rush.”

“I was trying to find him the perfect copy,” you spat back. “A lot of the covers were damaged during shipping.”

“And some people don’t care about that stuff.”

“Are you saying you don’t?” you asked.

“No, I do. But others, like that guy who just left, don’t.”

“Whatever, fucker,” you turned away from him, logging back into your computer that kicked you off during your time away.

“Such eloquent words coming out of that pretty mouth of yours,” Johnny laughed, satisfied with the irritation in your voice. Your mind fixated on the compliment and you did your absolute best to ignore minuscule, barely-there thump in your chest. “Wonder what other insults you can come up with. Maybe you’ll dive into some Shakespearean ones, those are always fun.”

“Watch your back and your customers, Suh,” you threatened, fingertips pressing harshly against the keys.

He heard the anger with every little click. “Sure, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Just for that,” Johnny smirked, “I don’t think I will.”

“Thief.”

“Slowpoke.”

But as the months passed, there were times when Johnny would get a little too close to you and his presence didn’t bother you as much as before.

His voice wasn’t as irritating from near or far. Your eyes stopped twitching when Johnny would change his commission count on the communal white board.

Sometimes, you would feel his large, warm hand on your back as he tried to get to his register. Other times, you felt his breath hitting your cheek while he leaned down to look at your computer. When you argued, you were suddenly hyper aware of how his body was less than an inch away from yours. How he, at times, would stare at your frowning lips for a beat too long. Or how his biting words turned a little kinder when you were having an off day.

Those things shouldn’t have affected you in the way that they did, making your heart rumble in your chest like an earthquake shaking your entire world. But as much as you wanted to deny it, Johnny tugged on your heart strings. Unknowingly, his actions made you revisit the chapter of your story that focused on love. Little by little, they added words to pages left untouched for many years, bringing the paper to life. And you weren’t sure of where this plot point was taking you next.

“I didn’t know you liked this genre,” you approached him one day as Johnny sat in the break room. His nose was stuck inside one of your favorite novels, one that you recommended to anyone who asked for a romance suggestion. The book itself came out two weeks ago and it sold out within hours.

You, being an avid reader and book reviewer, received access to an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review. And an honest review you gave that had everyone who followed you buzzing until the release date.

“Well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Johnny smiled softly at you, his long fingers coming up to slip a bookmark in between the pages he left off on. He slid past you, gently placing the novel back into the small crevice of his work locker. “It’s really good so far, I see why you’ve been raving about it. I’d keep reading but my break’s up,” he said to you, his hand grazing at the small of your back to move you out of his way, “but I’ll talk to you more about it later, yeah? I marked some quotes I liked.”

Your gaze followed him out, not knowing why that touch and his words made you freeze in place. It made him seem like a romantic, something that you really wouldn’t have guessed.

There were a lot of things you knew about Johnny Suh. You knew how he irritated you to death and how he always came in early for his shifts. He hated being late. He was always on time.

You knew how he preferred darker neutrals than your lighter colors when it came to wardrobe palettes. How he belonged to a different English concentration but still took creative writing courses to expand his verse.

But there were a lot of things you don’t know about him, too. You didn’t know how he took his coffee in the morning or who his favorite author was. His favorite genre of book or his preferred type of music when he studies so diligently on his breaks. You didn’t know how he liked to spend his time away from school and work. Whether he preferred plain sticky notes or the Disney Princess ones he was currently placing on the pages of your favorite book.

You didn’t know if he was dating anybody or remotely interested in anyone at the moment. Not that you actually cared.

There were a whole lot of things you didn’t know about Johnny but just looking at him with your beloved novel in hand, marking the pages with his own inklings, you felt your heart wanting to learn more about the coworker you came to hate. Yearning to occupy the spot in front of him and exchange his current thoughts on the book. Longing to hear how his mind interpreted fact and fiction.

You didn’t know much about John Jun Suh but the book of your heart had already opened its pages up, ready for him to fill you up with words and maybe, his love.

It was the second to last week of the bet and you were working the busiest shift of your life.

There was a signing with a popular author earlier in the day, flooding the store more than usual. It ended around an hour ago but the weening crowd from the event lingered in between the aisles. Some of your coworkers already clocked out for the day, only assigned the hours of the signing. But you, of course, were not able to leave as you were that day’s shift lead. So you carried on, starting your rotation as the customer service stand in the middle of the store.

You smiled at a customer who approached you, grabbing their sheet of confirmation paper for a book on hold. Gesturing to the back room with the paper in hand, you said politely, “Wait right here. I’ll be right back with your book.”

The customer nodded at you in reply and with that, you were off. Johnny, who was manning the other customer service computer next to you, followed suit. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to walk faster but with daddy long legs behind you, it didn’t take long for him to catch up to your pace. Pretending the tall boy with the stupid round glasses and the stuck-up dark academia fit wasn’t there, your focus remained on the paper in your grip. Studying the printed font, you maneuvered through various bookshelves without looking up until you reached a door that read “Employees Only.”

Swiping your employee card to grant you access, you hurried in to keep Johnny out. Kicking the door closed you didn’t work–Johnny’s long foot caught it before it shut and you cursed. You wished it slammed against him, inflicting some sort of pain—much like the pain he caused you.

Sighing, a realization hit you. He was never going to leave you alone no matter how hard you tried. But did that truly upset you or did it leave your body buzzing with nerves?

“You’re ignoring me,” Johnny deadpanned as your hands ghosted against the spines of many books lining the shelves. His heavy footsteps echoed in the room; it was louder than your nervous breaths. Being alone with him did make you nervous, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

You would never admit to the butterflies you felt when he was around or the way your heart pounded erratically against your breastbone. You would never admit the way the scent of his perfume drove you a bit mad—almost as mad as the famed hatter—or how irritatingly handsome he looked when he studied at the counter, full lips in a pout and rounded glasses sliding down the slope of his nose.

Or how much you liked when he did little things like holding the door open for you when you had a dolly filled with merchandise. Making sure you got a worksheet that you missed during a class discussion. How you grew sweet on him when he’d drive you home after a shared closing shift, expressing his concern for your safety.

Johnny said he wouldn’t want any girl to wait out in the dark for an unreliable bus. He’d rather see you home so he was one hundred percent sure you made it back to your apartment in one piece. Johnny wouldn’t leave the lot until he saw your bedroom light turn on. He memorized what floor you were on the day he took you all the way to your door. It was the night some loiterers were being loud and obnoxious at the front of your building. You didn’t feel safe walking past them on your own, frightened by the drunken catcalls they threw at people passing by. So like any good person would do, Johnny draped a protective arm around your shoulder, told you to keep your pretty little head down, and led you to the elevator.

You even caught yourself dreaming about him during the day and night, random thoughts of him streaming into your consciousness. They were like little movie reels playing in your head. Scenes of him sitting in the corners of the shop, reading and annotating the books you recommended to guests, or him sipping on that large cup of iced americano that he consumed daily.

You would never admit to any of those things, especially not to him.

“I’m not ignoring you, you’re too insignificant to ignore.”

Johnny laughed a light chuckle as if he thought your response was cute. You hated it.

“I just don’t want anything to do with you, and also— I. Am. Working,” you hissed as you finally reached the shelf you were looking for. The customer had ordered a new contemporary romance novel—one you found yourself indulging in during your breaks before it was released—but it was nowhere to be found in your stock.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Johnny’s voice came from behind you. You felt the heat of his body and you clenched your hand, ultimately wrinkling the paper you held. That was fine; the customer didn’t need it after your interaction anyway. It was going straight to the trash, just like your heart was.

Your not-so-fragile heart was going in the damn garbage because you were letting a stupid pretentious English major rile you up over the dumbest things. An ounce of hate consumed you as you came to this epiphany. You were supposed to hate him, despise him for challenging your position as the top seller in the store, and for stealing your spotlight from the English department. So why didn’t you?

“God—where is that damned book?” Your irritation seeped through your words and the way you slammed the metal shelves.

Johnny chuckled, easily snatching the paper from your hands, earning a small huff from you. He took a glance at it before shifting his gaze to the higher shelves--the ones you needed a step stool for. Your co-worker, smug as he could be, found it easily and with confidence, he reached for it. The action pressed you against the shelf, your hands immediately finding purchase on the metal to steady yourself from the unexpected weight. His strong, hard chest was against your back and his hot breath hit your ear. “Looking for this one?”

You stiffened against him. You could not move, not when Johnny’s weight trapped you between his arms. Not when the sweet scent of his cologne was flooding your senses. Not when his low, husky voice whispered in your ear.

“I don’t need your help,” you hissed back, fingers gripping onto the edge of the shelf.

“You need my height.”

“There’s a step stool right there for me to use so no, John, I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do, sweetheart, you couldn’t even find that book for that sweet customer that’s waiting for you out there.”

The nickname, although a bit heart-fluttering, was also somewhat degrading and it set you off. Fire seeped through your veins. With a breath, you turned so that you were chest to chest. With furrowed brows and a piercing glare, you said, “I don’t need you—“

“You sure?” Johnny leaned closer, his hazed eyes dipping down to your frowning lips for a fraction of a second.

You caught the action and again, your heart tried pushing its way out of your body, “—or your help or your teasing here and in class. I’m tired.”

“I’m not.” Of course, he wasn’t. He never was. That’s what made him so annoying—his persistence.

“Give me the book, John.”

“Nah, I think I’ll hold on to it for you.”

“Hand it over.”

Lowering down to her level, he smirks and says, “Why don’t you make me?”

“Don’t think I can do it?”

“Oh, I’d really like to see you try.”

Johnny’s challenging words pulled you to do something unexpected. Instead of replying with words, you accepted his provocation by yanking him to your level and fitting your mouth against his. Your fingers curled in his long, soft hair while his free hand drifted to your waist. It wrapped around your middle, further trapping you in between his build and the cold metal shelf.

Johnny kissed you like it was something that he wanted to do. Like it was something he was meant to do. Whenever you moved, he followed. Every little tilt of the head or breath you took was followed by him finding his way back to you. There was no escaping his lips, his scent, his whole entire being. Johnny was all around you and for once, you let yourself indulge in the moment.

When Johnny swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, you opened yourself up to him. You allowed him to explore parts of you that had been closed off for many years. The levels of passion were on an equal scale, the tiny noises escaping you matching the level of Johnny’s eager groans. He made you forget where you were once his grip found its way to your chin, pulling you to close the space you created as you took a needed breath. The task of helping the customer was temporarily erased from memory as he pulled away just enough to whisper your name against your lips.

But it all came back to you once you felt that book–the one you fought him for–press against your middle. It was wedged in between your bodies, distracting you from the pleasure that came from kissing your rival.

So, as Johnny went back in for another kiss, you grabbed the book out of his loosened grip and shoved him away.

Taking a good look at him, Johnny’s face was red and his lips were all kinds of swollen. There was a dazed look in his eyes, one that was so hazy, it was the dreamiest thing you had ever laid eyes on. His hand remained at the level of your head, fingers twitching, as if they wanted to grab hold of you once more. Your name barely escaped his lips when you slowly retreated towards the exit. You created a wider space between you, with the coveted book in one hand and the other blindly reaching for the door handle.

“There. See?”

“See what?” Johnny said breathlessly.

“I tried,” you replied, staring right into his eyes. If you looked elsewhere, if your gaze wandered back down to the lips that tasted so addicting, you would have folded and ran back right to him. Shaking the book within his view, you continued on, “And when I try, I always get what I want.”

Giving him no time to talk back, you opened the door and made your great escape.

His brown eyes remained on the door long after you left, waiting for his heart to calm itself. His fingers rubbed against his lips, mind still clouded with no one else but you. That wasn’t an odd occurrence to him, it was actually quite a normal one. Not that you had to know.

Johnny opened up to the thought of you long before that kiss occurred.

It happened earlier in the year, when he saw you tutoring his friend Mark in the English department’s writing center. You diligently helped the struggling student, offering him constructive feedback with a high amount of patience. You stayed hours after your tutoring shift ended, making sure Mark hit every point on the grading rubric to ensure that he would get a passing grade.

There was no need for you to go out of your way like that but you wanted to out of the goodness of your heart. And just like you assisted Mark, you continued to go above and beyond in your bookstore clerk duties to guarantee that every customer left satisfied.

Your dedication to your work was admirable. It made you all the more charming in Johnny’s eyes, even more charming than the first time he laid eyes on you during first year orientation.

A new book opened way back then, the love story in his heart practically writing itself. But as your treatment and obvious distaste towards him worsened over the years, he shelved that book away. Despite the harsh treatment he didn’t deserve, Johnny’s heart always held a soft spot for you; the page he left off on dog-eared for him to return to. It remained folded, the crease pressing a permanent indent into the page in case Johnny wanted to explore his feelings in depth once again.

And as you rang up the customer that you fought over, Johnny went through the library of his mind, searching for that book he filed away. And once he found it, he pried it out of the shelf and opened it back up, undoing the crease that bookmarked where he left off.

Johnny was ready to fall in love again but more importantly, he was ready to fall in love with you.

EMPLOYEE BULLETIN BOARD. Hey, everyone! I’m back. Long time no chat <3 First of all, happy new year! But more importantly, happy Johnny day!!! I went through my archives to find this. It was originally planned to be a longer fic but I lost inspiration for it. Maybe I can come back to it one day and fully flesh it out. But until then, this is all I’ve got (until Jaehyun’s birthday). Please tell me what you think of it. I feel like I’m a bit rusty ;;;

A big thanks to @lavendersuh for reading through this multiple times and editing/suggesting things when she saw fit. You’re the best, Em <3 @smileysuh you’re the king for also skimming through this. And @yutaholic for indulging me as I spam her with all my ideas uwu. You’re awesome!!

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @ppangjae @sokkigarden @kaepop-trash @suhnnyskiess @baekhyuns-lipchain @bebsky @bat-shark-repellant @renjuunsz @ferxanda @lebrookestore @tyongblr

NETWORKS. @neowritingsnet

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #ankathia #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny fic #johnny x reader #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines

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goldielia · 6 months

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connor x vienna lore

soccer gf x hockey bf

morning person x morning person

physical touch gf x words of affirmation bf

stargazing gf x watching her instead bf

always cold gf x always warm bf

yapper gf x listener bf

“i can do it myself” x “i know you can but let me” (both are both)

both their mothers make albums for each year since 2010 (one for every year they've been best friends for) because there's hundreds of pictures showing connor and vienna and their relationship. when they look at them together as a couple they can literally see the journey from blatant teasing over affectionate banter to love.

connor isn't really around through viennas high school time, busy with hockey and spending a lot of his time in regina but he makes it a priority to take his favourite girl to prom. they've pinky promised on it when they were 14 and he was about to be playing whl when prom seemed like such a big deal and she couldn't bear the thought of him not being her date. (she didn't even think about it anymore until he timidly asked her a few weeks before prom if their deal still counted because if yes he would need to buy a suit and corsage).

vienna wears stars on her nails always, she first started when she was in middle school and used little nail stickers. now when she gets them done she will still get at least one star, sometimes making the whole design about them as well. connor picks up on that very quickly and when they've been together for a few months he starts going with her to manis and getting little stars to match hers.

after going to prom together in may and their moment at the draft in june, connor and vienna are attached at the hip all throughout summer. when they move into their chicago apartment together it takes connor a mere two weeks until he needs her to be with him officially and because he knows she hates big gestures he decides on only getting her flowers.

they make an effort to keep their relationship as private as possible, which doesn't mean they're quiet about it though. connor somehow manages to include her in nearly all of his instagram posts without ever showing her face. it's as quiet as her arm somewhere on the side of the frame or the bracelet she made him clearly visible. other times it's as loud as him literally tagging her. her instagram is private though, her profile picture shows her from behind and there's no information about her visible except for her first name so all his fans are clueless. it takes them a few years until they reveal their relationship in a more public manner but it does happen.

#connor bedard x reader #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard x oc #connor bedard #vienna ainsley summers #goldie's yeah i like you au

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lavenderfeminist · 2 years

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The thing about straight men is that they will literally tell you TO YOUR FACE that they don’t view you as a romantic interest, and if you’re a stupid, naive lesbian like I used to be, you WANT to believe them so bad. Because men never just want to be your friend, and you’ve learned the hard way that when a male friend realizes you don’t like him the right way, he abandons you. Every time. Maybe this time will be different. You just want to think that for once, someone you admire will want something from you other than what you can’t give them.

When I was a senior in high school, I went on a field trip involving an overnight bus ride, and the only people I knew were two guys from my computer science class. I had a pair of two seats to myself and planned to sleep at some point, but one of them kept texting me to go over and sit next to him. I considered myself friends with him; we’d hung out a few times, gone on previous long field trips together, and he’d always been ADAMANT that he had plenty of platonic female friends, he was even friends with his ex! I thought “thank god, THIS ONE won’t get the wrong message. THIS ONE doesn’t want anything more from me. He likes me the same way I like him.” Yes, that girl in our class said he liked me, but she was wrong. For once in my life, I decided I could be friendly with this man and not be afraid he’d see something that wasn’t there. I knew it was going to be several hours before I’d want to sleep, so I scooted over to sit next to him. We talked on and off, he taught me a new game on his phone, a few hours passed uneventfully, and then he said he wanted to sleep. With only that as warning, he put his legs over my lap, and started nod off. So there I was, without the courage I would have now to push him off, realizing I wanted to go to sleep myself but that I was becoming distressed, trapped in an upright position, and very cold beyond the uncomfortable warmth of this man’s extremities on me. I finally nodded off for about 15 minutes, and then I was awoken by this man telling me “you can lean your head on my shoulder if you want to.” I really didn’t, I’d now been woken up, my legs were falling asleep, and I was starting to think that even if I was comfortable enough with him to do so, despite this man’s ABUNDANT previous protestations to the contrary, he would absolutely get the wrong message. This literally continued for hours: I’d try to fall asleep, he’d remind me that it was “totally okay to lean on me”, I was by this this point wondering if I should just give in because I was exhausted and it would make him shut up, and his legs were still trapping me in place. We finally got to a diner at about 6 am, and after breakfast I returned to MY seat and passed the fuck out. Within the next few days, everything shut down due to the pandemic. I told myself I was silly for being disturbed by what to him was just the platonic interaction he’d promised. We stayed in touch. Months and months later, I started talking to who would become my girlfriend, and the next time he asked me what was new, I mention her briefly. That’s something friends do, isn’t it? He never responded to my messages again.

#so anyway I’m never being friends with straight men again! fuck them!

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lets-all-calm-down-a-bit · 1 year

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Hiii, i absolutely adore your style parent hcs. Do you have some more?

YESSS I WAS WAITING FOR ANOTHER ONE!!!! YAYYY

1: Kyle is called Dad or Abba (Dad more commonly because he is used to it with his own father, but his mom encourages Abba when she visits because she originally wanted Kyle to use that as a kid as well)

2: Stan used to be Uncle Stan since Stan was originally less of a co-parent and more of a friend that visits often and spoils the kids rotten. This stopped the moment Mordecai walked in on Kyle and Stan kissing. That was probably the most awkward conversation Stan and Kyle have had with the kids in their lives. For a short period of time (about a month) he was just "Stan", but that quickly faded into Papa. It was really cemented in when he officially moved in with the family.

3: From the time Kai was born till he was around 6, Stan had his own apartment. He would spend most of his time at Kyle's house and with the family, but he had such a busy work life that he didn't want to settle down and make anything official. He didn't want to end up being a practically absent father due to his schedule. Kyle hated this, but understood where his worries were coming from. It was their most significant topic of conflict until Stan finally got it through his head that he was pretty much already a father to these kids, and he was doing really damn well. The arguments typically go as follows:

Kyle: Come on Stan, you practically live here already. Why don't you move in?

Stan: But what if I'm a bad Dad?? What if my work gets in the way and I end up being a shitty father??? I just can't do that to them 😫😭

Kyle: ...

Kyle: You take Kai to the arcade every weekend. He literally calls you Papa.

Stan: sTiLL!!!!😫😭😥💔

4: When Celine was a year and a half old, Stan finally moved in with Kyle. He was still constantly worried that he wouldn't be a good enough father, but he no longer let that affect how close he was to the family. He put his whole heart into being the best dad he could be.

5: Kyle was the one to get the kids enrolled in school and fill out all the important paperwork. Stan's a little scatterbrained when it comes to stuff like that, but he takes them to school and picks them up every day so they don't have to ride the "stinking ass-sweat hormone pit" that is the bus. Those are Kai's words, not his. He got a whole lecture from Stan for that one.

6: Kyle may not be the best at cooking, but he can make one thing better than anyone you've ever met (except his mother.) He got a book of family recipes from his mother, and every Passover he makes the best matzo ball soup you've ever had in your life.

7: Stan stands by the fact that you can find the best shit at thrift stores, so he tends to shop there for furniture, knickknacks, and clothing. Kyle on the other hand... He's the guy who religiously shops at REI and other overpriced outdoors stores because he thinks they're neat. He goes camping, hiking, and everything under the sun just so he can have an excuse to shop at these places without Stan nagging him about how unnecessary it is. Those kids have the nicest mother fucking winter coats you've seen in your life. Kyle just came back home one day after being out for a few hours with two 200-dollar winter coats for the kids. Stan was flabbergasted, to say the least. Kyle tried to defend himself by explaining that the coats were listed to be the safest in cold temps, but honestly, there's no way to defend that rationally lmao.

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rose-pearls · 2 years

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Prompt - Losing you

Prompt: I don’t want to miss you like this

Ice had always been a great man, one of the best aviators in the Navy that became one of the best Admiral’s. Ice and you had met after Top Gun, and you couldn’t help but fall for the great man. The two of you quickly got married and had three kids that somehow always seemed to have too much energy.

Ice loved coming home seeing the children already in the garden playing, trying to avoid doing their homework while you were in the house trying to watch them while making dinner. The holydays quickly became his favorite moments, seeing the children at Christmas morning, seeing them get dressed up as pilots for Halloween to look like their dad.

Of course, the three of them decided to follow their father’s footsteps and joined the Navy, your husband had been so proud of them that he always made sure to be there for their important moments in the Navy, just like he did when they had a sport event at school or a school play.

Tom ‘Ice’ Kazansky was a deeply respected man in the Navy and had been seen as someone that couldn’t be weak and that would always be in the Navy. You had thought the same thing, you husband was a strong man, always moving and doing things.

The day they told you that he had throat cancer made you realize just how wrong you were, no matter how strong he was, he was still human. He hadn’t really reacted to the news; he was quite literally ice cold as he asked the doctor what would be happening next. It felt like your world was falling apart as you heard the treatments the chemo he would have to do. That night you left the bed to cry silently in the bathroom not able to stop when Ice came in to hold you close as he cried with you.

No matter the treatments it still didn’t calm down and the doctors started looking grimmer by the sessions and you knew that it was going to be the end and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. Ice started telling people, your children hadn’t believed you at first and after a few hours after the news you found yourself with the three of them sobbing in your arms. Maverick, Slider, and the flyboys couldn’t believe it either and they decided to move closer to be there for Ice and you, hoping to be able to spend some time together.

After that everything went too quickly, one minute he was laughing and the next he was coughing so hard he had to be brought to the hospital and they told you that he only had a few hours left and not two or six months. Your children arrived and the flyboys quickly came with Bradley in tow who looked scared.

Everyone took a bit of time with Ice alone to say their goodbyes and you hold Slider while he sobbed in your arms after talking with Tom for the last time. Your children held each other and Bradley after saying goodbye to their father and his uncle Ice. Maverick had joined Slider and you in an embrace not hiding the tears any longer and sobbing with Slider. It was your turn and after making sure that everyone else was alright you went to your husband of thirty years who was trying to smile through the oxygen mask.

“How are you holding up handsome?”, Tom looked tired, and he took your hand softly squeezing it in reassurance. You looked at each other for a moment, like you did often in the early hours of the morning.

“I have thought of how to tell you goodbye every night since that day they told us you had cancer and I could never find the words, not being able to imagine you being gone. And even now I can’t even tell you how much I love you, Tom. You gave me three amazing children, you made me so happy even through the hard times you were always there.”, you finally feel the tears you had been holding back falling down and Tom looks pained at the sight of them, so you squeeze his hand.

“I know, you don’t like to see me cry.”, he smiles lovingly at me, and I don’t know what to do anymore.

“You are the greatest man I know, and you will always be the one for me. I knew we would lose each other one day but I never thought it would be so soon. I missed you every time you went on work trips and missed you when I didn’t saw you during the day, but I don’t want to miss you like this.”, you try to stop the tears, but it seems futile as your husband tugs on your hand to bring you closer and you lie down next to him.

“I love you.”, you hear him croak out and you hold him close to you trying to not sob and asking him not to leave you behind, not yet. You don’t feel ready to see him go and go back home without him knowing he wouldn’t be coming home.

“I love you too.”, you feel his hand softly caress yours and you lift your head up to see his steely blue eyes looking tired and you know that this is it.

“It’s alright, we are going to be okay.”, you reassure him, knowing that he would try to stay if he knew you weren’t going to be okay.

“You don’t need to worry we’ll figure everything out.”, he looks unsure, but you squeeze his hand holding it tightly.

“You can rest now, I’m here. We can sleep together for a bit, you look tired.”, he nods softly and smiles at you full of love. You cherish his smile, knowing this is the last one you will get. He closes his eyes and falls asleep and after a few minutes you feel his heartbeat stop.

You stay there not wanting to believe it just yet, that that feeling of losing him that you never wanted to feel will settle in soon. You will have to miss him in a way that you tried to avoid.

#top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #tom iceman kazansky #ice x reader #tom kazansky fic #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x y/n #tom kazansky

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my-castles-crumbling · 10 months

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Chapter 10- Clandestine

Hi guys! Sorry it took a bit longer than usual to update! Things are crazy with the holidays and my birthday coming up! It might take a little longer to update again next time too (usually I aim for every week, but it might be more like two weeks) but rest assured that I am NOT abandoning this and my updates will become more regular after this month. Thank you all for loving me and supporting me! CW: internalized homophobia, internalized transphobia, dysphoria, transphobia (this chapter is a bit better than usual lol)

It’s odd because, when you live with pain and discomfort every day, you almost forget about what it is like to live in the absence of it.

The binder Remus had given Regulus was so much more comfortable, so much more breathable and flexible, that it was like Regulus was truly breathing for the first time in a long time.

Literally.

He still experienced a bit of back pain from time to time, and sometimes struggled to get the binder on correctly, but the ability to partially unzip the garment and still wear it made it so he could take a break without feeling the awful creep of nausea upon him. He felt like he could be himself without the pain. Like he wasn't being punished for being who he was.

He also felt strangely safe, knowing that Remus had taken the time to look out for him. To help him.

It was a nice feeling.

“Why do you still insist on changing in the bathroom?” Evan drawled one cold evening as Regulus brought his usual bundle of clothes into the offending room.

He froze.

“Because he doesn’t want you oogling him while he takes off his shirt,” Barty replied for him, not looking up from his Transfiguration text. “It’s uncomfortable enough for me, thanks.”

It was a question he’d gotten a fair amount in the beginning of first year, but they’d let it go as they’d become accustomed to each other. Up until now, it seemed.

Regulus took a breath, heart beating in his throat. “Jealous, Ev?”

“Dunno, just realized the other day that you let fucking Pandora in the bathroom with you, but you don’t let us,” Evan shrugged.

It was true. Pandora and Dorcas both occasionally accompanied him to the bathroom, either to pass him the sanitary products he was terrified of holding, or to help him adjust his binder. He’d never realized Barty had noticed.

But Evan just shrugged a bit and continued. “Just wondering what you and Pandora were getting up to in there. If you’re the first of us to kiss a girl, especially my sister, then-”

“Oi!” Barty interrupted, ignoring his homework, now. “I’ve already kissed a girl!”

“Kissing your muggle neighbor on the cheek behind the slide when you were six does not count,” Evan chided, rolling his eyes.

“And your pillow counts more?” Barty shot back icily.

Evan ignored this, though his cheekbones turned a bit pink, and brought his fingers to his temples, massaging them lightly. “Fine, Bartemius, you're a total whore. But Reg, if you’re kissing my sister, please spare me the details, I-”

Regulus snorted. “I’m not kissing Pandora.”

But in the back of his brain, he wondered why he’d never really thought about kissing girls at all. It seemed that Evan and Barty had.

The first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, approached in the beginning of November with much speculation. Most people were betting on Ravenclaw, as their Seeker was probably the best in the school.

Privately, Regulus thought he could beat him. He was above-average at best and could easily be tricked by a few simple slightly questionable plays. But that was a thought for another time.

People were also looking forward to seeing the match since there were new players on both teams, including one James Potter.

James Potter, who already was well-known amongst the students for being decently smart, for making everyone laugh, and for being the crush of many of the girls.

Regulus, who had still been flying around the Pitch and practicing, had seen Potter fly this year. Somehow, he’d gotten better. Bigger and stronger, too. Summer had suited him. Somehow, it seems almost unfair that Potter was so….Potter and Regulus was so….not.

Regulus had a feeling Ravenclaw would have a fight on their hands, but Dorcas, Evan, Barty, and Pandora all were convinced it would be a landslide. For some reason, Regulus kept his mouth shut about it. He wasn’t sure why, but talking about Potter made him a bit nervous and on-edge, and he didn’t want to voluntarily bring him up.

So he watched and listened as more and more students decided that, while this would be a fun match to watch, it probably wouldn’t bring any surprises.

The morning of the match dawned cold and clear, and when Belby, a fifth-year, came around and asked for bets, all of Regulus’s friends put money on Ravenclaw. He wasn’t surprised, but he kept quiet. Until he could grab Belby himself.

“Twenty-five galleons on Gryffindor,” he muttered, not loudly enough for Pandora to hear. An upset Pandora always tugged at his heartstrings because she was sweet and kind in a way the others just weren't and he was sure she would see his bet as a betrayal.

“Gryffindor, hmmm?” Belby smirked, probably thinking he was tricking a stupid second-year out of a good amount of galleons. “Alright. Good luck.”

Regulus handed over the money without a word, resisting the urge to trip Belby, and walked into the Great Hall with his friends, hoping he made the right choice. It seemed, when it came to James Potter, sometimes his brain didn’t always make sense.

When they got inside, he noticed that Potter seemed at-ease.

If it were him, Regulus knew he wouldn’t be nearly as relaxed. Crowds of students surrounded Potter, patting him on the back, wishing him luck, and he just seemed to glow with it. Like it was easy.

Regulus wondered if he was nervous. If the great James Potter was ever anxious or scared.

He fiddled with the rock in his pocket and watched from afar as Potter flashed a grin at a couple of fourth-year girls, and suddenly, he wanted to crush the rock in his hand.

Mentally, he shook himself. Why would he be upset at Potter smiling at girls? Was he jealous? Jealous that Potter received interest from girls while none of them really looked at him? He remembered the conversation with Barty and Evan about kissing. Was Potter kissing people? Should he be?

He breathed, smoothing his thumb over the stone, and walking towards the table. No, he wasn’t very interested in dating. Perhaps the negative emotions came from just seeing Potter get attention. It wasn't like the general population of Hogwarts gave a shit about Regulus, after all.

Yes, that was it.

The match was…there were no words for it.

Regulus loved Quidditch, in a way that he rarely expressed. He loved the intricacies of the game, the way each move had to be calculated and thought out, but that it required a natural ability at the same time. He loved that there were so many rules to think through and weigh. He loved, really, that it was a bit violent. That he could let his anger out on the Pitch, without being judged.

But he mostly loved flying. The feeling of being above it all. Like he was watching his life from above.

It made things seem easier, somehow. Like he could escape. Fly away. Be free.

It helped, too, that flying didn’t require a gender. That he was just a human, on a broom, moving together. His broom, certainly, did not care if he was a boy or a girl. It only responded to skill. Quidditch was not about what your body looked like, but about your grit and abilities.

And watching Potter on a broom.

Somehow, Regulus could tell. Potter lived for flying as much as he did.

Potter moved as if he was dancing in the air, and he smiled the whole time. He was born to fly, and Regulus felt breathless just witnessing the way he dove and turned throughout the Pitch, as if it was as simple as breathing.

Watching Potter fly was like watching an artist paint, and Regulus was hypnotized.

James Potter scored 15 of the 18 goals Gryffindor managed to snag. And even though Ravenclaw caught the snitch, Gryffindor won. Because of him.

Regulus couldn’t decide what the best part of the whole thing was- seeing Potter do a victory lap around the pitch, seeing all the Gryffindors cheer Potter’s name, or receiving 50 galleons from a very upset Belby.

“What’d you think of the game?” Sirius asked him the next day as they flew lazy circles around the Pitch.

It was amazing, he wanted to say. I wanted to play. Potter was fabulous.

But instead, he murmured, “I think a lot of people were shocked by the outcome. Potter did surprisingly well.”

“Yeah, thank Merlin,” Sirius responded with a grin. “He was terrified.”

Regulus thought back to what he had seen before the match- Potter surrounded by a crowd, grinning and at-ease. “He didn’t seem to be.”

“Adrenaline,” Sirius laughed. “And a lot of pep talks. Remus is actually better at them than you’d think, the big softie.”

Regulus nodded, contemplating the conundrum that was James Potter.

“Where’s my present?” Sirius asked with a pout, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Regulus scowled. “What makes you think-?”

“Because you love me. Even though you refuse to acknowledge it most of the time,” Sirius grinned.

“‘Love’ is a strong word,” Regulus said lightly, rolling his eyes and holding back a smile, but he tossed a small box to Sirius all the same.

“Oh, Reggie, you shouldn’t have! I had no idea!” Sirius teased, opening the box while gripping his broom with just his legs.

Regulus had chosen to get Sirius a Gryffindor hat. He’d seen many of the other students wearing hats with their houses and he’d realized that Mother and Father would never buy him anything with Gryffindor colors. He hoped that Sirius would appreciate it, even though it wasn’t a lot (he wasn’t allowed access to all of the money in the Black family vaults). But as he watched a bit apprehensively, Sirius pulled the hat out and grinned. “It’s perfect, Reg!” He jammed it on his head, messing up his hair, and accidentally dropping the box.

“Shit,” they both murmured, watching the box fall toward the ground in strange fluttering movements. But then, Sirius sent him a competitive look and shot after it, Regulus on his heels, laughing breathlessly.

He studied in the library with Remus a few nights a week.

It’d started as a coincidence. Regulus went to the library to escape Barty and Evan's chaos. Remus did the same with his friends. After the first few surprise meet-ups there, they’d made it more official, scheduling times to commiserate together.

Because of this, Regulus started to notice things. Times when Remus was undoubtedly exhausted. Times when Remus was almost limping, he could hardly walk right. Those seemed to be right before or after a particularly terrible migraine.

He felt sympathy for the other boy. Remus seemed a lot like him- quiet, studious, sarcastic, and a bit self-conscious. But, where Regulus coped with eye-rolls and high walls, Remus was kind and open.

He was almost too safe to be around, because Regulus found himself voluntarily sharing information on more than one occasion. It was strange, and jarring, and always left him feeling a bit raw. But Remus never judged.

“My parents expect me to wear dresses during the holidays,” he murmured into his book one day, the old anxieties of Christmas starting to return.

“Your parents are horrible. And remember, boys can wear dresses,” Remus returned. “Whatever they make you wear or do, doesn’t change who you are.”

Those words stayed with him.

“My roommates asked about why I don’t change in front of them again,” Regulus murmured another time.

“Tell them if they want to have a dick measuring contest, they could’ve just asked.”

Ah, yes. Remus really was lovely.

He’d had an easier time in the past few weeks, not struggling nearly as much with the feelings of betrayal he sometimes wrestled with when thinking of his own body.

The end of November brought cold weather, which allowed Regulus to wear sweaters over his crisp school shirts. He liked this, because the more layers, the easier it was to hide things. He felt more like himself.

Pandora and Dorcas, along with Remus and Sirius, helped him.

Of course, a huge part of him felt like a burden, felt like he shouldn’t need help. Like he should be able to deal with this on his own, or like he should just be able to be normal. But it was easier to accept the help when he felt more like himself. When he could look in the mirror and see the boy that was in his head. It felt more worth it. Like he was sane.

It also helped that at Hogwarts, Sirius and the others didn’t get in trouble for helping him. He was allowed to be who he was.

He hardly asked for help, but he found himself accepting it a bit more.

Barty and Evan were…unique. They were funny, and sarcastic, and witty, and a bit crass. They were intelligent, but sometimes they made stupid decisions. And they were stubbornly curious.

Which is why Regulus should not have been surprised when they did what they did.

This time it was Dorcas who accompanied Regulus to his dorm between classes. Regulus was busy grumbling as he walked, as his Potions partner had spilled something all down his front just a few moments ago. He barely grunted as Dorcas discreetly handed Regulus the things he needed.

“I’ll wait for you, yeah?” she asked. “I have classes in the same wing.”

Regulus nodded hurriedly, grabbing some things in his wardrobe. “I’m just going to change, too.”

Dorcas gave him a vague nod and lay on his bed, cracking open the book he had at his bedside. “You act like you have no emotions, Reg, but then you keep fucking poetry by your bed-”

“Fuck off,” Regulus muttered, still sour.

He quickly used the restroom and then peeled off his jumper and school shirt, examining his binder closely to see if any of the dubious substance had seeped through to the third layer.

Sure enough, there was a small stain there.

“Idiot,” he said of his Potions partner, and unzipped the sides, still leaving it on. He reached for the hidden drawer in the bathroom cabinet that he kept his others in; the drawer only he could see or access. It had been something he’d been given last year and he’d just started using. He grabbed another and began to shut the drawer.

And then the commotion began.

Barty and Evan burst into the bathroom, with Dorcas protesting and yelling behind them.

Regulus, shirtless and holding a second binder in his hand, stood, stunned.

Then, silence. His stomach began churning. His chest grew tight. He wanted to run, or hide, or yell.

And Barty and Evan both stood, staring. Eyes on chest.

Goosebumps burst out on the back of Regulus's neck, and he felt cold and clammy, as if he was staring in the mirror with nothing covering him.

To his credit, Evan seemed to understand what was going on rather quickly, because his eyes widened and he muttered, “Shit, sorry, Reg,” while turning to go.

But Barty.

Barty looked shocked. Confused. And underneath those emotions?

Disgusted.

It took Regulus a moment to recognize it, as he was still fighting through his own surprise. But then, there it was. The look his parents gave him. The look he saw in his nightmares. The look that made him want to fold in on himself in mortification and despair and self-hatred.

“...what the fuck, Regulus?” Barty asked in a soft voice.

Okay so I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter and I'm being so real when I say your comments help SO much- even if it's a few hearts! I would really appreciate some positivity and encouragement! Also, I love messages here as well! They seriously make my whole day!

Read the WIP and leave comments and kudos here:

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