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har-rison-s · 3 years

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the betrayed

request: hello! im the anon that read your one shot ‘you don’t know me’ and has formulated a request based on that! drukkari x daughter!reader maybe ? 😚 so, like your other one shot, she was a former widow, who was one of nat and yelena’s sisters in ohio. so after they take down the red room, she’s now on the run with nat, steve and sam when they get an unexpected call from tony, saying that it’s urgent. so when they get to the compound, the eternals are waiting there and they ask her to help stop the emergence (maybe it takes place a little earlier here), and they tell her that she’s their kid. and she and all the avengers start to get mad because, where the hell were they when she got trafficked into the red room and where the hell were they during other calamities and whatnot. that’s it. thank you. it’s quite similar to the plot of your other one shot, but i really liked it so. 🤷🏻‍♀️😍

a/n: oh joy ! writing the avengers again. my god, i’ve kinda missed them and missed writing them. so let’s see how i manage to do it, if i’m any good at it. these nice dynamics omg bless. yes, the emergence is happening before the events of infinity war and endgame, it will be interesting. i’ve wanted to write bw!nat for so long, and black widow in general, my god, that movie means the world to me. i really say that about every mcu movie, don’t i… hehe. also pls excuse the title, it sounds cliché but i took it from the black widow soundtrack (i listened to it while writing this!!) so, happy reading!

my paypal (would be much appreciated since i’m saving up for uni next year :))

mcu masterlist

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, mentions of dreykov, the widows

Sitting beside Nat in that salvaged, kind-of borrowed Avengers jet that Mason got them, after all that fiasco with Ross and destroying the Red Room and Dreykov, feels like a fresh breath. Y/N feels like she could actually breathe for the first time in a while. She didn’t know for how long her breath was being held, exactly, but it was quite a while. And it felt good to get her lungs working again.

Reuniting with Steve was a relief as well—Y/N had learnt to trust the man. Maybe not yet with her life, but that kind of trust is on the way. He’s been supportive and not too invading towards her ever since she met him a few years ago that now feel already a much longer time. With Nat’s help and them both being in the same boat, the Avengers became Y/N's family as much as it did Nat’s. Course, she has her unstable made-up family of former Russian spies, but really—who’s to say the Avengers are any more stable than Melina, Alexei and Yelena? They’re just as broken up inside and now, on the outside, too.

It broke Y/N’s heart that her new-found family had fallen apart because of political reasons, and so quickly, too. She’d never expected this family to dissipate. She didn’t want to join either of the sides and tried to stay out of it all until she couldn’t anymore. She didn’t want to hurt any of her teammates, physically or emotionally. So, as a spy knows best how to, she hid away from her friends and public attention and reunited with Nat after half the team was put in prison.

And now that they have Steve back, now that the horror of the Red Room has been ended, they can break some of the team out of prison. Steve had a plan, and they stuck by it and everything went as smooth as butter. Only the team wasn’t intending on staying together. Clint said he didn’t want anything to do with this anymore—or at least for a while—and said he’ll lay low. Scott Lang was just grateful to be broken out of prison by the same man who asked for his help—he could barely shut up on the jet. Wanda wanted to be with Vision, and Sam said he had nowhere to go, really, except to stick with the team. Whatever’s left of them now, anyway.

So Y/N, Nat, Sam and Steve stayed together. On the run from the law and every known authority of the world, only having the used jet at their disposal, but they’ve made do of it for now. King T’Challa has been generous enough with his resources and technologies—the amount that the Avengers chose to take, that is, being as noble as they are—and so they’ve survived for the last few months on the run. It hasn’t felt any different to Y/N than her life was before. She was always running from something or someone, she just didn’t know if that was enemies, Dreykov or herself.

One thing she really wants to do with the time she’s given now is find her real, biological parents. Now that she’s found out that Alexei and Melina were just hoax-parents for a good cover, she knows her real ones are out in the world somewhere. At least Melina didn’t tell her they’d died, she sort-of dodged the question. Sadly, Y/N knows that Natasha’s mother was silenced by Dreykov quite a while ago already, and she hopes it’s not the same case for her own parents. She’s always wanted to know why she’s wrapped up by golden flicker-flames when she’s running, and why she can run and move faster than anyone she’s seen—even Nat—, and why her eyes glow a bright amber when her emotions are heightened. She’s been a mystery to herself and others since her broken childhood.

Y/N knows her parents are either magicians like Dr Strange, or they or she herself was experimented on when she was a child, like Wanda and her lost twin, or maybe her parents had extremely interesting abilities. Whoever or whatever they are, even with Nat’s knowledge and help, and with the jet’s never-ending database and search tools, they’re nowhere to be found. She’s tried a DNA test before, in Tony’s lab, but the results were inconclusive – that’s how he put it. Though Y/N wasn’t sure he was telling her everything at his disposal.

During their journey to another empty wasteland of the world with, hopefully, good views and some food, Sam, Steve, Natasha and Y/N receive a call to their jet’s communication system. They give each other strange glances, as this is a very much unexpected thing, especially during a time when they’re running from every- and anyone that knows how to contact them, and should definitely avoid calls. So they stay quiet and wait for the call to drop as they still look at each other and try to think of who could be calling. Only someone that has their communication system links. Wanda, Vision, Rhodes… No one else really.

“I know at least one of you is there,” a voice cuts through in the midst of the call still ringing, a voice they weren’t expecting at all, or at least were expecting the least of all. The team’s eyebrows and heads raise in surprise and they look at each other again, “come on, pick up! I know we’re… having a break-up at the moment, but I need your nomad opinion on something.” Tony speaks clear as day into their ears.

“Should we pick up?” Y/N looks to Nat with unsure eyes. She shrugs, and Y/N knows how Tony offended her the last time they spoke. She sighs courtly.

“Come on, I’m really having a crisis over here,” Tony almost whines, “there’s some weird people here that I don’t know if I can trust. Well, they look human, but I don’t think they are—but they say they know Y/N.” Her eyes grow to the size of dinner plates, and the trio look at her with shared confusion. “They say it’s very important… something about the end of our world…” Tony sighs, “just come. To the compound, please. You’re the only ones that can help.”

Silence settles upon the jet’s interior as every teammate thinks about what they should choose to do. Tony keeps quiet, uncharacteristically giving them some silence to make up their minds. Y/N just slumps into her seat. They say they know Y/N. Weird people. Could they know Y/N? How could they know her? No one knows her—hopefully—she doesn’t have any friends, any family. But wait—

“We’ll be there soon,” Steve picks up the call and answers Tony without consulting the others. But they don’t disagree with his view—if Tony says it’s urgent, it must be. No matter how pissed they are at him, or how upset he is with them. Some weird people at the compound… How did they get in in the first place? Why there? The end of the world? Steve looks at his team after hanging up that short call and sighs quietly, “let’s just see what’s going on over there. Decide the niceties and apologise later.” He huffs and walks to the captain’s corner of the plane.

The others agree in silence and settle in their seats. Sam, though, walks to their equipment room, thinking a fight might go down in the worst-case scenario. Natasha wants to do the same, but she sees how distraught and out-of-touch Y/N is, so she walks over and sits right next to her. “Who could they be—friends from our Ohio neighborhood?” She attempts a joke with a small smile playing on her lips as she looks at Y/N. She can only give her sister a half-smile back, and then she shakes her head.

“I have no idea,” she answers, “I don’t have any friends. And what Tony said about them…” she shakes her head again, “they look human, but he doesn’t think they are… what in the hell?” Y/N rubs her hands over her face, her elbows now rested atop her knees as she’s leaned forward with the top portion of her body. She glances at Nat over her shoulder. “Are you sure that was all of the Red Room that we destroyed?” Her eyes hold genuine worry. “I mean… what if it’s them again?”

Natasha’s heart breaks at Y/N’s words, even though she’s voiced the small fear that’s been festering inside Nat for these past months, too, she just doesn’t want to admit it. Natasha moves her hand comfortingly along Y/N’s back and Y/N immediately leans upward and into Nat’s hold, where she wraps her arms around the younger girl, embracing her sweetly. “I’m sure,” she says, “of course, there are still conditioned widows around the world, but if that was them coming after us, Tony wouldn’t be making the call.” Natasha elaborates. “There’d be no one alive at the compound. You know that. You know how we used to work.”

Y/N nods. “Then I really don’t know who it could be,” she says, “I mean, if my parents left me or if I was taken from them and my name got changed, how would they even know where to look for me? How would they know how I look or-or what’ s my name? I doubt it’s them.”

“You have told me you think they might be… not entirely human,” Natasha points out, “what with your glowing eyes and really fast running. You could even outrun Pietro.” She says and utters a quiet laugh. Y/N smiles to that and nods. “Neither of that could have come out of the Red Room. Those weird things you inherited.” Y/N sighs and then sits up straight against the wall, making Nat’s hands fall into her lap as they now sit side by side. Natasha moves Y/N’s hair strands away from her face, and still notes the far-away look in the girl’s eyes. “Want me to do your hair before we land?” She suggests, knowing something that always manages to make her feel better. Y/N turns her head to see Nat and then nods with her head, a soft smile now on her lips. Natasha smiles wider, “okay, let’s go to the bathroom, the lighting’s the best there.” She stands up and extends her hand toward Y/N, who gladly takes it and rises with her.

As they sit in the jet’s bathroom, facing themselves in the mirror, the old lullaby comes into Natasha’s mind. She starts humming it as her fingers thread through Y/N’s hair, grouping strands up and then forming them into beautiful braids around her head. Natasha thinks of Yelena as she starts making the hairstyle, she tries to replicate the hairstyle Yelena had during their Red Room mission. She misses Yelena, and no doubt Y/N misses her, too. She begins to sing to Natasha’s humming, it now serves as the setting tone for the song.

“Сияай прощальный свет,” Y/N sings, “тот свет любви последней.”

Natasha smiles and decides to sing, too. “Полнеба обхватила зари вечерней тень.”

“Лишь там на западе бродит сияние,” they sing together and smiles adorn both their beautiful faces. The girls’ eyes connect in the mirror’s reflection and sisterly love for each other passes through them simultaneously. “Последная любовь...” Y/N wraps her arms around Natasha’s waist and locks them there, and Natasha grins, knowing how much Y/N adores physical touch and how it’s her love language. Platonic love language for sure, romantic – she’s yet to find that out. Perhaps it will be different once she meets someone she has romantic feelings towards.

“We’re landing!” Sam’s voice comes from the hall and the girls tense up a bit, Natasha having to finish the braids in a rush now.

“Just coming!” Y/N lets Sam know as Nat hurriedly braids the very ends of her hair and tucks them with pins into a crown around Y/N’s head. The hairstyle looks just like Yelena’s, and Y/N notices that, “thanks. I love this.” She tells Nat and gives her a quick side hug before they’re rushing out of the bathroom for the equipment room, where their combat-ready suits lay for them to wear.

The four nomad Avengers stand by the windows as they land on autopilot, and they see Tony standing in full armour in the corner of the landing field, just by the entrance door to the compound. Part of Y/N suspects that Tony just wants to lure them into the hands of authorities with this distress call, and, knowing him, that might be the case. After what Tony did to Steve’s best friend, and how he immediately treated Steve and everyone else like an enemy because of a disagreement, Y/N doesn’t trust the man very much. And what Nat said he’d told her right before she disappeared off the radar, Y/N doesn’t like him very much, either.

The team makes their way out of the jet silently and cautiously, though still trying to keep up with the intimidating nature they know they possess effortlessly. It’s only Tony, but it might not be. He knows what these four are capable of, they have no reason to intimidate him more. And yet, because of what’s happened between them, Tony knows they might not like him or trust him now. But he also knows that this matter exceeds any quarrels or their personal relationships. As the strange visitors put it, they have less than two days to save the entire planet Earth.

Tony takes off his head cover as the team of four near him, and the look of worry is the clearest look of all on his face. Sure, there’s doubt and fear, but worry has the brightest colour. Steve is the most forward one of the four, stepping closer to Tony than anyone else. The other three just give him doubtful and paranoid looks. Mistrust. Tony sighs, knowing he deserves it, but shakes Steve’s hand. “Cap,” he says with a nod, looking into the man’s eyes, “good to see you. Thought I might never have that chance again.”

Steve gives him the ghost of a smile. A lot is on the man’s shoulders, a lot has happened between him and Tony, but he still maintains a bright attitude and his usual kind nature. He just does so effortlessly. “Thought you’d never want to see me again,” Steve admits, and Tony chuckles to that sadly, “look, I’ll be honest here—none of us know if we can trust you.”

“I know, I know,” Tony nods, looking the others and their stares of mistrust over again, “hey, guys.” He raises a hand in greeting to them, but only Sam returns it. The women aren’t fond of him—not the first time in his life, but definitely one of the first—and so Tony settles back. “I won’t tell anyone you were here – I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He puts a hand over his iron chest. Y/N sighs.

“We’ll get out before they come, anyway,” Natasha tells him, a glint of mischief in her eyes and voice. Y/N grins to that, knowing Nat is right. Tony smiles, realising that same thing.

“Where’s the trouble?” Steve inquires.

“Oh, you mean our humanoid guests?” Tony clarifies. Truth be told, he’d forgot about them entirely from the moment he saw Steve and the others. “They’re inside, let’s go.” He turns his back to the team of four and leads them inside. Natasha and Y/N still exchange looks of mistrust between themselves, but follow along. Tony leads them across the upper level of weapons and experiment halls and rooms, and Y/N and the others can see the group of people Tony mentioned in the great hall below, on level one. There’s… eight of them. Too many at first glance, but Y/N isn’t close enough yet to see what they look like and if she could know them. She doubts she does.

As the team descends the stairs to below, Tony steps back and only restarts walking down once he’s side by side with Y/N. She gives him a half paranoid, half angry glance, but makes no protest. “They said they knew me?” She asks him quietly and Tony nods.

“That’s why I plan on introducing you first.” He admits and Y/N raises her eyebrows. She hates open and public attention on herself, but this could be something important, so she guesses that Tony has made the right decision. The group of five reach the floor of level one and face the group of eight in front of them. These people have strange clothes on, Y/N notes that first of all, and each have their own colours. They really do look human. “Come on,” Tony gently nods with his head towards the left tail of the group, and Y/N walks over there by his side. “This is Y/N. You said you know her.” Tony says to two people standing in an embrace with each other. Their faces turn towards Y/N, looks of worry and fear filling their eyes, as well as tears.

By seeing the woman’s face, Y/N gets a strong feeling of deja-vu. Though not really deja-vu, more like familiarity and… recognition. But she just looks at the couple with wide, confused eyes. They don’t look much older than herself. Who are they? Why are they looking at me like this? “How do you know me?” She inquires in a quiet, but sure voice. Her arms are crossed over her chest in a pretzel to avoid picking at her fingers and therefore showing a clear sign of anxiety. This could all very well be just a circus act, and they could have SWAT clothes and equipment under all those weird robes.

“Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but,” the man starts to say, and he chews on his lip in clear anxiety, “I’m Druig. And this is Makkari,” he looks down to the woman in his arms, and she signs words with her hands. What surprises Y/N the most is that she immediately knows what the woman is saying. Hello, Y/N. She looks at her with confused eyes still, but then finds her hands signing a greeting towards Makkari, too. That surprises her even more. The man Druig smiles sadly, Y/N notices, at that gesture, “and we’re your parents.”

Now that sets her a couple steps back. Her head gets dizzy and she grabs onto the first thing closest to her, which happens to be Tony in his iron suit. He holds the woman and helps her steady herself. Tony looks at her to see what’s going on emotion-wise, and sees her eyes starting to glow a bright gold. That shocks the acclaimed parents, too, they each let out a gasp. Y/N looks at them once she’s steady enough again, and her stare is just fury. She doesn’t yet know why she’s angry. “How can that be?” She asks as she’s still in her state of disbelief, but she’s tipping over already. “Prove it.”

Druig sighs, his face nothing but sadness. Then he looks at her, and Y/N sees his blue eyes turned to the gold orbs she very well recognises every day in the mirror. And suddenly, in her mind it seems, she sees the man Druig with the woman Makkari, dressed differently though looking the same age as they do now, standing with a tiny ball of wrapped up clothes in their hands before a building stretching tall into the sky, its entrance door large, high and intimidating.

It seems they are to make a choice. And though it very visibly breaks their heart to do so, they make it. They leave the tiny ball right in front of the door, and with a closer look Y/N sees through Druig’s eyes that the tiny ball is just a tiny baby. Without asking she knows that it’s her, herself, wrapped up in clothes and fabrics to be protected from the outside weather. And now that she takes in how the building looks, she recognises it. The orphanage. The one she grew up in, and was later stolen from.

She doesn’t know how she saw those short moments, but as she blinks her eyes open, they’re gone and she’s seeing Druig and Makkari in front of her again, clear as day, in the here and now. Y/N doesn’t know what to think, what to believe, what to feel. If they really are her parents, then who are they, why did they leave her in the orphanage, where have they been all this time, do they know what happened to Y/N after they left her there? She finally looks into their eyes again.

“Who are you?” She manages to push out amidst all the other questions she wants to ask. She stands side by side with Tony now, but she knows her nomad group is close by, because she heard their footsteps coming closer.

“We’re Eternals,” Druig says, “we’ve been on Earth ever since its creation, watching over humanity and protecting them from certain… dangerous creatures.” He says not very convincingly, though Y/N can tell he’s telling the truth. “Though now it turns out to have just been a mission to collect as much human life as is needed for the planet to be destroyed. We’ve been fooled by our superior all this time, and we need your help.”

“See?” Tony whispers. “Told you it’s about the end of the world.” Y/N just gives him a glance before crossing her arms over her chest and looking suspiciously at Makkari and Druig.

My help? “Wait, so,” Y/N starts to say to get everything clearer, “you’ve been here for seven thousand years.” She says. “You’re seven thousand years old.” She states and the couple nods. “And apparently, you have magical powers. All of you, right?” Y/N looks around at the rest of the group of strangers, and they nod. That would explain why she herself has these weird abilities. She can’t believe this. “So…” she utters a dry chuckle, “why are you here now?” She looks back at Druig and Makkari. “Why are you here? Just to say hi? To tell us the world is ending while you haven’t helped in the least all the other times it was coming to an end?”

She didn’t expect anything more than she gets – the whole group being silent. “Yeah, we could have used your help against Loki and the aliens in New York.” Tony backs Y/N up, feeling frustrated by the news he’s received, as well.

“Or against Nazis in the 1940s.” Steve points out, his hand supportively resting on Y/N's shoulder. Makkari and Druig both see how this family—from afar not looking like one at all—Y/N has found is so protective over her.

“Or against Dreykov and his network of widows, who are girls trained to be assassins from a small age?” Y/N says and her voice reeks of disgust. Tears pool her eyes. “If you’re really my parents, why did you leave me at that place? Do you have any idea what happened to me?” Her lip begins to quiver and her voice shakes. She can’t keep her anger locked away anymore. “Why have you stood by all this time and just watched, knowing everything that happens in the world? Genocide, death, wars, little girls turned into assassins, people turned into monsters, thousands and millions of lives lost to pointless wars and disagreements?”

The desperate cries and voices of people under the rubble both in New York and Sokovia still ring in her ears as Y/N watches Druig and Makkari’s faces for any kind of answer. But she only sees sadness, regret, resentment towards themselves and their decisions. They’re folding into themselves because of this rightful outlash of a reaction, and it seems a part of them anticipated this kind of attitude from Y/N. They both know they did wrong, and have pulled themselves back from intervening in human affairs all this time. And they have many reasons for that, they just… want to let Y/N take her anger out. It feels better, it always does, even if it’s on them this time.

“I can’t do this,” Y/N raises her hands up in defeat, her eyes still glowing bright gold in her anguish, and she turns around and stomps away before anyone can say a word to her. Natasha gives her supposed parents a short glance that says much more than words would, and walks after Y/N. She affectionately lays her arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulls her into a side embrace as they continue to walk further away from the group, into the depths of the Avengers compound. Hand in hand. Sisters.

permanent tag-list: @hallecarey1 @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @ur-gunna-h8-ths s@betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @rottenstyx @deardeacy @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @beverlyparkerr @gasbomb69 @xoxobabydolls

druig tag-list: @quivvyintheclouds

would you be interested in being on my druig / mcu / eternals tag-list? let me know!

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

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Favourite Experiment- Sherlock Holmes x Reader (Part Seven)

A/N: Sorry for the delay between chapters! Uni just started and it threw a cog into the works but I’m getting there! Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.4k

Yourself and Sherlock read through the file on your way to the suspect's house:

Jean Heaney, 68, died six months ago after a short battle with cancer. Heaney left behind two daughters: Jessica Heaney, 37, and Lauren Heaney, 32. Only three months after Jean's death, Jessica was found dead in her home. Death confirmed as Jessica being smothered by her pillow in her sleep. House offered no security- victim's son away for the evening at a friend's house.

"How old's the son?" You asked, passing Sherlock back his phone as you finished reading.

"Nine. Let himself in in the morning and found his mother upstairs."

"Is he with his father?" Sherlock shook his head.

"The boy's father, Jessica's ex husband, died seven years ago in a car accident. All immediate family have died excluding Lauren, but she is naturally unable to look after the boy while she's still considered a suspect- far too risky given we don't know the motive. I believe he has been taken in by the foster system for the time being." You nodded, sniffed a little.

"So if Lauren did kill Jessica, the boy has no other family to go to? He's just going to be alone?" Sherlock nodded, absentmindedly scrolling back through the file as the cab drove on. "Jesus.." You looked out of the window, resting your temple against the glass as your fingers dug into your palms, just enough to leave small indents in the skin. You squeezed a little harder until you felt warm fingers cover your own and stop the movements.

"You alright?" Sherlock's voice was unusually laced with concern.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just.. The ones with kids- they never get easier, do they? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that the boy is physically okay in this case but still.." You looked down at your hand, Sherlock removing his instantly and coughing into it. "Reason I keep my nails short; I don't even think about it anymore. John used to go crazy at me for it.” You laughed. “I only stopped because when he saw he'd shove his hand or his arm in the way and he knew I wouldn't want to hurt him. I think Oz might’ve brought it back because he wasn't there. Just helps distract the brain for a moment, I think. I'll be alright once we get started." Sherlock nodded, passing you the phone to read through again- and if it seemed obvious that it was a clear distraction and to keep your hands busy, you didn't mention it.

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

The house you arrived at was a lovely little thing on a small estate- the kind where you could ask the neighbour to borrow a pint of milk and they wouldn't tell you to 'fuck off'. Natural port of call was making the rounds on the neighbours- asking people about Lauren, how she was as a neighbour, as a person. Steady conclusion gave the consensus of 'she's an angel', 'such a lovely young lady' and the likes.

After knocking on the door of Lauren Heaney, the young woman answered the door- a grin adorning her features as she happily let you into the house.

"You must be Mr Holmes and Miss Watson! That lovely gentleman from the police told me you'd be coming today. Could I interest you in some tea? Coffee?" You both declined the drinks but took the seat she then offered. "I'm not quite sure what else there is to speak about- I've run through so many people talking about what happened. I hadn't heard from Jess in a week before they turned up at the door to tell me she had.." Her smile dropped as she reached beneath the coffee table to grab at some Kleenex. "Oh, I am very sorry! It just doesn't get any easier to think about! She was my sister!" You had hoped upon entering this house that Sherlock was mistaken, that Lauren didn't kill her sister and she would take in her nephew and all would be good in this world. However, that blissful thought was chucked in the bin the moment she pulled the crocodile tears- you'd seen better acting in Eastenders.

"I understand completely, Miss Heaney. My colleague and I are simply here to gain some clarification on the circumstances as we are experts in our field. We will do whatever it takes to find the person who did this to your sister." You reached forward, circled your hand against her wrist in a feigned act of comfort but left your index and middle finger against her veins- pulse increased. Panic. Stress. Anxiety.. Shit. You sat back, nodded at Sherlock.

"So, Miss Heaney, I'm afraid I do have to ask you a few questions that you most likely have been asked before, but it's just to get an accurate report." Sherlock began, pulling out a notebook and a pen. "Where were you on the night that Jessica Heaney was murdered?" Lauren took a breath, sat back in her chair.

"I was home. Wasn't much going on- it was a Wednesday, you see. Ever since I left home ten years ago, Wednesdays would be the day that my mother and I would meet up; just do some puzzles, have some dinner. But, obviously, that hasn't been able to be the case for a while now. So I stay home, have a glass of wine in her memory and watch the telly." She spoke calmly, her speech rehearsed. Sherlock opened his mouth to say his next question when the front door opened.

"Darling? They didn't have any of your vanilla cappuccinos in Asda, but I've picked up some vanilla lattes for you to try? It's still Nescafe so I fi- oh. Hello?" A young gentleman had walked into the room. Lauren reached her hands out towards the man, beckoned him to her. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek and perched on the arm of her chair.

"Thomas, sweetheart, these are just a couple detectives come to talk through what happened with Jess."

"Oh, have you found out some new information? Caught the person that did it?" The man, Thomas, asked. You shook your head.

"I'm afraid not, sir. Just a protocol visit to establish a complete report our end of what happened that night." Thomas slid from the arm to the actual sofa, wrapping his hand around Lauren and pulling her close.

"Do you not think Lauren has suffered enough from you people asking her all of these ridiculous questions? Have some humanity! Her sister was murdered, you need to be out there catching the bastard that did that rather than interrogating my girlfriend." He spat, throwing his hands about all over the place. Sherlock cut in.

"I'm sorry, and you are?"

"Thomas Blackburn; Lauren's boyfriend."

"I see, and is this a new arrangement?"

"I can't see how that's any of your bloody busi-"

"Thomas, darling, calm down. Let the people do their jobs and we could be a step closer to finding justice for Jess." She turned to Sherlock. "I'm sorry, Mr Holmes. Thomas and I's story is a funny one, actually. You see, Thomas works with the funeral agency, but only on occasion. When he's needed, Mr Stevens from the parlour calls Thomas in when he needs a hand. Thomas was there at my mother's funeral six months ago. Naturally, I was absolutely distraught, but Jess was too preoccupied with her son, Ted, to pay me any mind- which is completely understandable, and I'd never hold it against her. Mum was never a real social butterfly so her funeral attendees were in low number; Jess and I invited the staff along to the wake as a thanks for their work. Thomas and I spent most of the evening talking together but then I was so emotional that I had forgotten to ask for his number before I left! And I know what you're probably thinking.. Think that it's terrible to pull a guy at a funeral.." You shook your head, forcing a warm smile.

"Not at all, Miss Heaney. Love can be found in the most mysterious of places, but that doesn't make any of those places a bad one." She returned your smile and rested her head on Thomas' shoulder.

"I tried to find him on social media but he's completely off the grid! Then I asked back at the parlour for his number but they refused to give it to me for the sake of Thomas' privacy. A couple months go down the line and the terrible news of what happened to Jessica came around. I was the only one left to arrange her funeral and, as luck would have it, Thomas had been hired again that evening! I don't wish to use the term fate in such unfortunate circumstances, but Thomas has been my rock these last few months and it seems as though the universe just wanted us together! Is it truly so terrible, finding love in such a place?" You felt your heart drop to your stomach as everything pieced together. You needed out of there before things became unprofessional. Your fingers began to dig into your palm again until they suddenly didn't. Sherlock plastered a smile on his face, reached to his side and took your hand in his own.

"Not at all. It simply finds us where it finds us! We were at a brutal stabbing in an abattoir." His fingers dislodged yours from their place and wrapped around his. Lauren and Thomas looked briefly horrified but the former soon grinned. "Well, I honestly see no reason for us to be here. As your partner mentioned, you've clearly been hounded by too many of us. We shall be in contact as soon as we get any more information on your sister but, until then, we shall say goodbye." He stood up on his feet, pulling you towards him as Lauren rounded the sofas and headed to the front door to let you out.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting the two of you- and to briefly hear a story more wild than our own! The best of luck for Jess' case, I do hope you find the killer sooner rather than later- it would work as closure for us all, and perhaps even bring Ted to my home. Thank you." She shut the door behind her as she turned and Sherlock walked you over to the small park round the side of the estate, his hand staying in yours until you sat down at a bench.

"The bitch.. The fucking.. how?! How could you do that?" You hands settled in your lap, squeezed and scrunched at the base of your shirt. "Please correct me, Sherlock. Please tell me that she didn't kill her own sister on the off chance the bloke she chatted up at her mum's funeral would be there. Please tell me she hasn't left a child without his mother for a guy." The man beside you sighed, pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled.

"Lestrade? Get your people to Lauren Heaney's house to make the arrest ASAP.. Of course we're sure.. I'll text the details but we're going home.. Yes we have to.. Because we do.. Bye." He tucked the phone back and made the attempt to reach for you once more, his hand settling just on your shoulder as he spoke. "Come on, I'll get a cab and we'll just go home. Lestrade can finish this one up himself- I'm sure he's at least competent enough for that."

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

You didn't speak as Sherlock pulled you up from the bench, or when he ushered you into a cab. Nor did you say a word the entire journey back to Baker Street. But the minute you walked through the doors of 221, Sherlock assumed his presence wasn't welcomed and went to head up the stairs to his own flat. That was when you reached your hand out, grasped onto his Belstaff sleeve and spoke one word.

"Stay." Then another. "..Please?" Sherlock nodded his head and followed you into your flat, taking off his coat and sitting the pair of you down on the sofa. Within seconds, you leant your head on his shoulder, felt your eyes burn as tears threatened to fall.

"Shh.. It's okay." His voice was low and smooth, barely above a whisper as his hand reached around your back to rest against the side of your head.

"I'm sorry." You sniffed. "I know you don't do the whole human contact and soothing thing, and this is the third time you've had to do it today because I've been an idiot." Trying to shift to sit back up, Sherlock's hand pushed a little, urged you to stay. So you did. "It's just the kid. Kids always bloody get to me and it's my biggest stupid weakness. I've seen people that have killed for fun, or over a fiver, or any ridiculous little reason- but I just cannot fathom how somebody could leave a nine year old boy without a family on the off chance they'll see the bloke they spoke with for a couple of hours at a funeral. It's just.. It's.." You felt your nose burn as a sob threatened to escape.

"It's not weak.. It just proves that you're human; everybody has their little things that get to them." He spoke. "Mine was never a type of person, it was just certain people.. There's not many people like us, or that understand us, but your brother always has. I literally jumped into a bonfire to save him." He laughed a little at the memory and at just how crazy it was. "It's not stupid.. You're not stupid." You sniffed again, smiled.

"No? Just insufferable?"

"Only if your tears stain my shirt. This is my favourite one." Your laugh was muffled by his shirtsleeve, his chuckle rumbling enough that you felt the vibrations through his chest. Neither of you spoke after that. Your chest still felt tight with emotion- eyes stinging from lingering tears, cheeks itching from the track marks the salty drops left in their wake. With his spare hand, Sherlock had started to text Lestrade the details of your findings. It wasn’t overly long until you felt your eyelids become heavy, the weight of emotion becoming exhaustion as you allowed your eyes to close and your breathing to slow. Sherlock had released his hold on you, shuffled and edged your body until you were laying on his lap. Seconds had barely passed before you turned your form into him, nose pressing against his belly, one arm up holding onto the leg you were laying on. Sherlock felt his cheeks burn and his hands become clammy- sensations that had before been entirely foreign to him, but had come around relatively frequently over the last few days.

He rested one hand against your back, the other fisted to rest under his chin as he leant on the arm of the sofa.

Reading human behaviours was a skill that Sherlock had taken some pride in over the years, but he had to admit that, when it came to himself, he struggled piecing the behaviours together and matching them with suspected emotional responses. He kept his eyes staring forward as he delved into his mind palace, flicking through files and folders and hidden papers to find things to match his responses (because whatever deity out there knows he’d never stoop to asking Mycroft for help). Eventually he stumbled across a few things that made sense.. Things Sherlock hadn’t thought about in comparison to his own life.. Things stored in files so untouched that they’d accumulated dust in a hypothetical location.. He began studying more intently to make sure his thoughts were clear and coherent when the front door burst open.

“Right I know I was a bit of a dick but seriously, Sherlock, the sugar pot is the WORST place to store your rat poison and I deserved to be a bit pissed.”

“Shhh!” Sherlock’s eyes shot towards the door, finger raising from beneath his chin to over his lips in a matter of seconds. John raised his hands in front of him in surrender and circled round to the front of the sofa. “Very rude, storming into someone’s flat without knocking.”

“And so is trying to murder me with pesticide.” Sherlock waved his hand.

“Please, it was a weaker extract. Month in the ICU at the worst for ruptured stomach lining.. Likely coma inducing, so you should thank me for almost getting you over seven hundred hours of interrupted sleep.” John fought the urge of putting Sherlock in a coma using his fist, and instead turned his attention to you.

“Speaking of uninterrupted sleep..?” He nodded towards your position on Sherlock’s lap- body tucked up in the foetal position, fingers pressing into the man’s thigh. “What happened?”

“Case. Nothing overly bad, just a murder between siblings. But the woman that was murdered.. she had a kid..”

“Christ, she’s never been good with the kid ones.. What’s happened then? Boy taken in by his dad?” Sherlock shook his head.

“Father’s dead.. So are grandparents. Father had no siblings, and his only other relative..”

“His aunt who murdered his mum.. brilliant.” John’s tongue pressed in his cheek. “Do you want me to take over? Not really your bag, this. Won’t be the first time I’ve had to comfort her after one of these.. though it makes a change that it won’t be over video call.” Sherlock would be lying if he said he wasn’t reluctant, but he knew that he should move. John was far better suited for the soothing aspects of emotional distress- Sherlock was typically better at causing it. So the curly haired man simply nodded, said nothing as he attempted to wiggle his way from your grasp.

“Don’t..” Your voice was groggy from sleep and crying, but you had enough strength in your dozed state to slide your hand from Sherlock’s thigh round to his back, gripping his shirt. “Please, Sherlock?” The man in question could only look up at John, silently asking him what he should do. The elder Watson was marginally baffled. Even when you were kids, it was very unlikely that you’d go to anybody for comfort-especially physically- other than John, and yet here you were clinging to a man you’d known for less than a week.

“Are you.. alright with it?” Your brother asked the man on the sofa.

“It’s.. acceptable.”

“Acceptable?”

“Fine. It’s fine. It’s alright, go about doing whatever it was you were planning to do before we came back home.”

“I’m meeting up with Greg, actually. Text him this morning. Just said he’s got some papers to go through so I figured I’d loiter at the Yard for a bit.”

“Mmm.. Holmes support group, is it? For.. misplacing.. some experiment equipment?” Sherlock asked, brows raising to the shorter man.

“Misplaci-“ John’s lips pulled in a tight frown, huffing, finger poking out to point at Sherlock as he shifted foot to foot. “It was sodding rat poison in the sugar pot-“ He breathed in to raise his voice, but cut himself short remembering your were slumbering nearby. “How do you even know about the- don’t answer that, actually. I don’t care.”

“Are you going to go then? Are you going? Have you gon-“

“Yes, Sherlock. Christ. And Y/N’s definitely alright with you? You’re not going to have a panic and leave her alone because she’s got a bit weepy?”

“Despite your assurances, I do, in fact, have some care for others. Not a complete machine.” Sherlock knocked on his head with his knuckle. “Bone, muscle and flesh- not android.” John nodded, headed to the door.

“Just let me know if she gets worse and I’ll come home.” Sherlock agreed to John’s request, closed his eyes and settled back into his mind palace to pick back up the papers he had thrown in a huff when John came in and distracted him.

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

The time ticked by and Sherlock had remained with his eyes closed, flicking between notes to try and come to a form of conclusion on his behaviours. He felt he’d almost got to the end of it when you stirred in his lap, fingers flexing between his leg and the flesh of his stomach. At the sensation, Sherlock felt his stomach seem to flip- almost like he was going to be sick, but the nausea wasn’t unpleasant. Weird. He filed away the new piece of information for later.

“Oh God, I hope I didn’t snore.” You spoke, rolling onto your back, head staying on Sherlock’s thighs.

“You didn’t.. Spoke a lot, though.”

“Really? That’s new. What did I say?”

“Nothing much.. just the odd ‘I wish I was as smart as Sherlock’ and then even a murmured ‘Sherlock is so devilishly handsome and clever, I’m so lucky to work with him.” Sherlock teased.

“Nice try, Holmes.. but I’d never use the word ‘devilishly’. At least make it believable.” You grinned, rubbing your eyes and stretching your bent legs out on the sofa.

“Of course! How silly of me to have not memorised an entire glossary of your commonly used words and phrases.”

“Precisely. Think it through.” Sherlock smiled down at you, shaking his head with a sense of fondness.

“Are you alright?” He asked seriously, eyes avoiding contact with yours as he felt a bit awkward taking your current position in account- apparently it’s only okay if he’s the layer and you’re the cushion; this way feels odd.. You nodded back, swivelling your body to sit up.

“Better. Despite your boney nature, you’re actually quite comfortable.. Think I’ll be making use of those thighs in the future.” Sherlock blinked. “Yeah, that sounded weird. My bad. Blame it on the fatigue.” You stretched your arms out in front of you, flexing your fingers a little. “Fancy a brew?”

“I’ve got it.” He pushed your body back against the sofa and headed to the kitchen himself. Rather than heading straight for the kettle, Sherlock began to rummage through your cupboards and the fridge, pulling out numerous pots and pans. You glanced over at him over the back of the sofa, eyebrow raised.

“What’s this then? Fancied some chicken with your coffee?” You asked, watching as the man covered the countertops with chicken breasts, some bacon and a box of eggs.

“I’m.. making dinner?”

“Is that a ‘I want to make it but I don’t know how’ or ‘I want to make it, am I allowed’?”

“The latter.”

“Oh.. Yeah, course you’re allowed. I just didn’t take you as the kind of person who could cook.. consider that a deduction I missed- must be good at hiding that one.” You left the sofa to wander into the kitchen, hopping up on the one part of the counter that hadn’t been covered in food.

“Just another form of science.. exacting temperatures, balancing and weighing ingredients.. it’s just edible.” He spoke as he threw some spaghetti into a pan.

“And..”

“..And John is quite good at cooking when he can be bothered, so I’ve observed him a few times.”

“I’ll agree with you there. Jammy git always managed to impress Mum with his dinners- I was lucky if I didn’t set the house on fire when I microwaved soup.” You reflected on the memories- John sauntering around the kitchen and throwing random things he found in the cupboard together to produce some Michelin Star dish. “So, what’s on the menu tonight, Gordon?”

“Ramsay?”

“Very good.” You praised, tapping the top of his head as he diced up the bacon strips.

“Chicken Carbonara. Can you pass me those eggs?” You did as asked, watching Sherlock gracefully crack some into a bowl, and separate the yolks from others. He cooked the chicken and bacon in a pan, eventually taking the pasta off heat and adding that in too. He stirred in the eggs until it was cooked- sprinkling on a dusting of Parmesan.

“So.. Brutal stabbing in an abattoir, huh? Some little romantic fantasy of yours?” Sherlock laughed, dishing the food out onto your plates.

“Better than hooking up at my Mum’s funeral.” He shrugged. “I had a full story lined up. I’m slightly disappointed that she didn’t ask.”

“I’ll ask then.. Go on, what’s our story of falling in love at an abattoir stabbing?”

“The killer was still in the building, so we went running after him. He started to think he was clever, winding his ways through the freezer sections.. But then you pulled on one of the levers that rotated the hooks and knocked him over with a disembowelled pig’s carcass. I swiftly put him in cuffs while I waited for Graham to catch up, and you fell- much like the killer, only metaphorically- head over heels in love with me.” He concluded, clapping his hands together and passing you a plate.

“Wait a minute.. I fell in love with you because you cuffed someone? Not you falling in love with me for the pig carcass gladiator moment? Seems backwards.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a two way system. You’ve not seen me place someone under citizen’s arrest, so you wouldn’t understand. I’m absolutely dashing.” You opened your mouth to speak but Sherlock shoved a forkful of pasta in before words could come out. “Eat, it’s getting cold.”

Neither of you made any attempt to move; you stayed on the counter with the plate on your lap, Sherlock standing beside you with his in his hands. After you chewed the spaghetti that had been forced into your mouth, your eyes widened slightly, reflexes taking over as you slapped the back of your hand against Sherlock’s chest and he choked around his fork.

“Christ, Sherlock, this is good! Really bloody good!” The man dabbed the corner of his mouth with his knuckle in an attempt to clear up the choking aftermath and flushed, staring into the food on his plate as though it were the most interesting thing in the room.

“It’s John’s recipe, I just copied what he does.”

“Sherlock, I’ve tried copying John’s cooking for the last fifteen years and could just about make scrambled eggs. This is impressive, take the compliment.”

“Well.. thanks?”

“Good.” You ate another mouthful, swallowed before speaking again. “Why don’t you cook more often? I’ve heard John complain about you never doing things around the flat- he’d love this.”

“I don’t cook for anyone.. Not usually, anyway. It’s, uh.. quite new.. very new, I suppose.” He stammered a little, shutting himself up with another forkful. “Plus, if John knew, he’d make me do it more and I wouldn’t like it anymore.”

“Well, consider me very much honoured, Mr Holmes. And I can only hope you’ll cook for me again; our little secret.. Even if I have to cry for a little bit first to earn it.” You joked. Sherlock shook his head.

“You don’t. I’ll cook for you when you want it, if you want me to. Especially if you don’t cry.” He coughed out a little. “I don’t want anymore shirts staining.” He ended with a smirk, poking his fork around his plate. You agreed to his terms and offered a hand for him to shake, grinning.

////////

After dinner, the pair of you found yourselves sat back on the sofa- neither of your wanting to lay down after such a full meal. Despite the relatively large size of your sofa, Sherlock had sat himself right beside you, his knee occasionally knocking into yours as he shifted in his space. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d chosen the proximity, but you weren’t going to make a point of it either. You were quickly working your way through The Office, having now reached the end of the second series and watching your way through ‘Casino Night’. The pair of you had decided to finish the series before Sherlock would go back upstairs and answer the many questions Lestrade had sent to him throughout the evening about the earlier case- especially since John had sent a (barely decipherable) drunken message about twenty minutes ago saying he was on his way home and Sherlock didn’t fancy another round of ‘you tried to kill me with rat poison.’

Watching the screen as the episode came to a close, you both stared as Pam and Jim headed back into the office, you grinning knowingly just before Jim finally pulled Pam in for a kiss. As they pulled away, the screen went dark and the credits rolled.

“That’s how they’re ending it? There?!” Sherlock was all but on the edge of his seat. Quickly, he spun to his side to face you. “But Pam pulled back? Is that a bad thing? Is she going to ignore it again?! God, they’re so explicitly in love with each other than even I can bloody see it. This is infuriating.” You could only laugh as he got so riled up about the show. “It’s not funny, you’ve ruined me. I’ve spent years perfecting a way to only fill my brain with useful information, and now I have a file on all the reasons that prove Jim and Pam logically need to be together.” He huffed.

“And they didn’t even need a stabbing in an abattoir..” You teased.

“Can we watch one more?”

“Sherlock, John’s going to be back soon and you need to help Greg out so he can finish his papers in the morning.”

“At least tell me if they stay together by the next series.”

“That’s spoiling.” Sherlock placed both hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little.

“You have to tell me or I’ll be annoyed all night. It only makes sense that they stay together, they clearly love each other. They have inside jokes, and laugh about everyone else they work with, and clearly care about each other more than others and— why are you laughing at me?” You couldn’t help letting out another laugh, shaking your head at Sherlock and how he’d become so invested in a comedy show that aired over sixteen years ago. “Stop it.. Stop laughing, you’re worse than John.. Stop.” He moved his hands to hold the side of your face and cover your mouth to hush you, beginning to laugh himself as you fought against him. Eventually you both calmed, the hand covering your mouth dropping to fall back into his lap as you both let out small breaths of laughter- staring at each other and grinning like idiots. Even after you stopped, neither of you moved. The thumb of the hand that Sherlock left on your face brushed at your cheekbone softly, your own hand slowly lifting to grip onto his upper arm as you shuffled closer.

Sherlock’s heart began to race in his chest as his body moved without his mind’s consent- entirely unaware of what he was doing, what he was supposed to be doing, and what the hell this meant. Just as you felt Sherlock’s other hand press against your side, you heard the door to 221 slam open, the loud voice of your inebriated brother booming outside your own door.

“I’m hooooooome.” He sang, knocking on your door and then shuffling to the stairs- the sound of his footsteps making it evident that it was a bit of a struggle. You breathed out another laugh, dropping your head forward so your chin touched your chest.

“I should probably uh.. go. He’s going to-uh.. need help getting to bed.” Sherlock stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper as his hands dropped from your form and he moved to stand up. You nodded, standing with him and heading over to your door. Before he opened it to leave, you wrapped your arms around his middle for a moment.

“Thank you, again. For helping after the case, and for dinner.. and for making ‘Casino Night’ a little bit funnier.” You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, providing you don’t trigger a hungover John to kill you.” Sherlock only nodded and headed out, walking straight over to his flatmate and helping him up to 221B.

After shutting the door, you headed into your bedroom and flopped on the bed, sighing up to the ceiling.

TAGLIST: @momos-peaches , @starryeddie , @ask-the-elf-stuff , @lie-ana , @lov3vivian , @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 ,

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

tongue-tied like we’ve never known || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, swearing, not really proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: two single parents try to start their lives again...

Mornings were always the worst for you. Trying to pry Tommy out of bed, and even yourself for that matter, was always an incredibly stressful task. But you’d learned to live with it and quickly come to accept it. After all, he was only young now. He’d be old soon enough and you knew you’d miss these youthful years.

You stood by the school gates, waiting for little Tommy to come bounding out of school to tell you all about his latest adventure. You always looked forward to hearing how his day went. As small children scrambled out of the doors after their teachers and straight into the arms of their parents, your eyes fell onto Tommy. He was with a boy you didn’t recognise. “Look, look! Meet my new friend,” Tommy grinned as he stood before you excitedly. “This is my mum.”

“Hello,” the little boy, dark-haired with perhaps the most striking green eyes, smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oscar,” you smiled. “Are you new?”

The boy nodded, his cheeks flushed slightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tommy had made a new friend. He’d been kind to the new kid and offered him a form of friendship.

You were tugged away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You quickly turned to see a man, a little taller than yourself. You figured this was Oscar’s father from the dark hair to the green eyes. “There you are,” he smiled warmly and it seemed to make your heart flutter, as if he was smiling at you.

“Daddy, this is my new friend, Tommy,” Oscar grinned excitedly.

For the first time, the man shifted his gaze from the two young boys to you. Your stomach lurched as you made eye contact with him. “You must be Tommy’s mum,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking it gently. You hadn’t felt like this since you first met Tommy’s dad. It was all of eight years ago now on a night out with your university friends, most of whom you didn’t even speak to nowadays. He had been kind then and polite and the sort of man you’d always envisioned yourself marrying. So, you ended up getting together and everything seemed great for the first year and a half. But then things began to decline and you both seemed to lose trust in one another and you felt as if you were putting all of your energy into this relationship. It was killing you. But then you fell pregnant with his baby and he broke up with you anyway. You went back home to live with your own parents for a while before you eventually found a proper job and moved into your own house.

Anyway, you found yourself walking down the street, Tommy and Oscar running ahead slightly, with Harry. You had Tommy’s light bag clasped between your hands, listening to Harry tell you about Oscar. “And yeah,” he concluded, “we moved down here a couple of weeks ago, just the two of us.”

“What about Oscar’s mother?” you couldn’t help but find yourself prying.

Harry seemed to tense slightly, before shrugging, “She was never really around much. Her parents thought she should have gotten an abortion but she didn’t want one and had the baby anyway. So, they kicked her out and she left Oscar with me and moved to Dublin with her friends.”

“That’s shitty,” you sighed. “At least you have Oscar, though, right?”

He nodded, smiling, “Exactly. What about Tommy’s dad then?”

“He was a dick. He broke up with me a couple of months after I told him I was pregnant,” you replied.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “sounds like a dick. Does he see Tommy then?”

You shook your head, your eyes caught between Harry’s and your son's lively figure running up and down the path ahead of you with Oscar. “No. He’s tried to reach out a couple of times but I haven’t let him see him. I just feel like introducing him to his dad six years later could just, you know, fuck it up. Besides, if he didn’t want to be with me through all the shitty, difficult stuff, then I don’t think he’s allowed to enjoy all the joys of being a parent.”

“Well,” he smiled, “good on you.”

And that was how you met Harry Styles. Over the weeks that followed, you would walk Oscar and Tommy to and from school with him. Tommy would spend time round at Harry’s and Oscar would spend time round at yours. And it felt like every time you saw Harry, you felt simultaneously more comfortable around him but more and more nervous.

But you hadn’t dated anybody since Tommy was born. Having a young child seemed to be a deterrent for a lot of people. Or maybe had more to do with the fact that you didn’t have time for a relationship between work and raising Tommy. Sure, you’d been on plenty of dates and it wasn’t as if you weren’t ready to get back into the world of dating and relationships. If not for yourself, for Tommy. You wanted him to have some kind of parental figure that wasn’t you.

You found it difficult to focus on the book you were reading when all you could hear was the two boys laughing loudly upstairs. Oscar was round for dinner and Harry was due to pick him up any minute. And as a knock at the front door finally snapped you into a new state of consciousness, you got up to answer it. Harry stood happily on the other side, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Evening, Y/N,” he smiled.

“Evening, Harry,” you mocked. “Do come in.”

You opened the door wider, allowing the man to step into your home. You called down Oscar and Tommy, only to be met with groans. They appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces twisted into bitter scowls. “Why?” Tommy sighed. “Can he stay for a bit longer?”

You exchanged a glance with Harry, who shrugged. “Fifteen minutes,” you sighed. Really, all you wanted was to go to bed. They grinned and dashed back into Tommy’s small bedroom. You guided Harry into the kitchen, letting him sit himself down at the table. “Do you want a drink?” you asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he smiled.

You grinned, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, “Suit yourself. So, how was your day?”

“Stressful,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”

“Anytime,” you shrugged. “He’s delightful. Besides, you’ve looked after Tommy so many times, I kind of owed you.”

“Nonsense,” he laughed. “We’re not exchanging favours. We’re just… helping out a friend.”

You couldn’t help but let yourself deflate at ‘friend’. You had known all along that you were just two, young single parents that only knew each other through their six-year-old sons. But a tiny fragment of you hoped what was happening meant something more to Harry, like it did to you. There were instances of harmless flirting and subtle glances. “Right,” you nodded, forcing a soft smile. “Well, thanks for helping out a friend.”

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the table and your eyes wandered from their tips to the tattoos that peeked out of the cuff of his jacket. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked and you almost cringed at the small talk.

But alas, you shrugged, “Not really. I have some work to catch up on, so an action packed day for me tomorrow. What about you?”

He shook his head, “I wish I had plans. Could go out for drinks or something, but I can’t because I have a needy six-year-old.”

“Treasure it while it’s still here,” you said.

“Believe me,” he grinned, “I am. God, I’m so scared for the day he just… stops needing me. You know, the day he just sort of realises that he no longer needs me to wash his clothes or walk him into town or buy him things. And it took me ages to get used to putting somebody before myself, I don’t think I could imagine living without him now. Like, one day he’ll go off to uni and get a job and only come home every other birthday or Christmas.”

You smiled gently. You were sure he’d never been so vulnerable with you before. “It’s weird to think that’s what we’re doing with our parents now. We fear the day our kids stop needing us, but our parents are living that day.”

He hummed in thought for a moment, “I should probably go see my mum soon. I haven’t seen her in months. And my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Gemma is her name. She’d love you.”

“I’m sure I’d love her if she’s anything like you,” you said.

You took a final gulp of your orange juice, your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You looked at the clock on the wall, noticing twenty minutes had passed since Harry arrived. “Right,” you smiled. “I’ll go get Oscar.”

And as you walked towards the kitchen door, Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

You turned back to look at him, your heart pounding heavily. All kinds of questions and hypotheticals raced through your mind as he paused for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody else, Y/N?” he asked.

“Meet somebody else?” you repeated, though you were sure you knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, you know… like somebody to replace Tommy’s dad. Somebody for you to settle down with and raise Tommy together. Do you think you’ll ever meet them?” he asked.

You were utterly confused as to what had prompted him to ask such a question. But you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t hear your heart in your temples or taste your blood in your mouth. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d like Oscar to have a mum.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think that would be great for him. I’ll go get him.”

That night as you lay alone in your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share your bed with Harry. To feel his body beside yours on cold nights. To be woken up by his lips peppering your face in light kisses in the morning. To discuss all the trivial things when neither of you can sleep at night. Maybe he was trying to tell you something that evening…

Oscar had become ill over that following weekend. Nothing too serious, but something that warranted a day or two off school. So, after you picked Tommy up from school, you drove to Harry’s to check if they were both okay. Tommy sat at the end of Oscar’s bed, recounting everything the young boy had missed at school, while you busied yourself in Harry’s kitchen. You were heating up some of the soup you had made for the poor boy. “You’re really too kind. You didn’t have to do this,” Harry told you as he made you a cup of coffee.

You shrugged, “Well, Oscar’s like my second son at this point.”

He smiled, albeit his cheeks a little red, “I’m glad you think that. I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as a mum at this point too.”

Now it was your turn to turn red. Your face heated up at Harry’s passing comment. Did he really think of you as a mum? “That’s sweet,” you said. “About what you said the other night… about meeting somebody, my friend says she knows a guy she thinks I’d get along with. So, I think I’m really going to try dating.”

He stiffened slightly, “Oh yeah? That’s great, Y/N.”

He hugged you and you couldn’t help but feel so safe in his arms. The hug was perhaps a second or three too long, but neither of you pulled away. And, as your bodies were pressed together, it was almost as if you shared a brief but looming epiphany together. “But,” you began again, “why try dating a stranger when I already know somebody?”

“That’s a good point,” he whispered softly, finally pulling away to make eye contact. He explored your face and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks.

“I mean, this guy that I know, he’s sweet. Really sweet. He’s super funny and caring and so, so generous. And he has a kid himself, so he won’t be put off by the single parent thing.”

He understood what you were trying to tell him, “Sounds like an angel. Who is this fine man of whom you speak?”

You grinned, “I don’t know if I should say. He has tattoos and green eyes.”

“So he’s incredibly handsome as well as being an angel?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you chuckled. And, as if the sky were falling down, Harry wasted no time in pressing his lips to your own. He kissed you and you kissed him back. All of your prior dating worries just seemed to slip away as you buried your fingers in Harry’s soft hair. It was only when you heard a quiet ‘mum?’ from the doorway did you jolt apart. Tommy stood in the threshold of the kitchen and suddenly the microwave went off, notifying you that Oscar’s soup was ready. You and Harry turned back to each other, finally registering Tommy’s presence, “Shit.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles oneshot #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry oneshot

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness.

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in.

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t.

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess?

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good.

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that.

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time.

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious.

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes.

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety?

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore.

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time.

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives.

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable.

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly.

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion.

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone.

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in.

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair.

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least.

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does.

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries.

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you.

He needs this.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere akaashi keiji #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #tw blood #tw violence #tw murder #slasher-ish vibes #tw dub con #just a little #not super proof read because it's 3:30 in the morning

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theasstour · 4 years

Photo

𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace” Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment — that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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bukojuiice · 4 years

Text

rose-colored boy

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: college/modern au, fluff, humor, love at first sight cliché, mikasa is your cute little sister, armin, sasha, jean, and connie are your besties, and eren is a himbo who works hard and has terrible friends.

ೃ warnings: strong language and mild suggestive content

ೃ part 1/??? of my (eren x reader) college au!

ೃ word count: 3000 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist

ೃ This is my very first snk x reader fic! so i hope you bear with some errors! qwq

i’ve been following the anime ever since it was released in 2013, and this is the first time i’m going to be writing for it. this month’s manga chapter really took me out so why not channel my sadness thru writing an fluff! eren fic? 🤧 i hope you enjoy either way!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ in which (Y/N) (L/N), 20, still in school, and regretfully-unregretfully-her little girl scout sister's assistant, meets eren jaeger in an embarrassing too innocent door-to-door cookie sale whilst a humiliating party was going on.

cookies, suspicious maybe-maybe-not pot brownies, meddling little sisters and friends, “oh my god they were roommates” vine on replay 24/7, homework, tears, and fairy lights bring them together.

“I’m going to enter now.”

“Ahhh yes, please!”

“Shut up, please.” Eren muttered to himself as he tossed and turned around in his bed, but still couldn’t get to sleep. “When will they ever stop doing this?” Why did Eren’s next-door roommate and his girlfriend have to do this five times a day? They had a lot of stamina for 21-year-olds who didn’t have anything better to do.

Eren’s thoughts eventually brought him to his parents.

His parents- did they even exist?

For pretty much 14 years of Eren’s life, they had been out of town or out of the country. His older brother, Zeke, blonde, bespectacled, tall, and sometimes too far up his own ass older brother who Eren is able to confide in from time to time, recently got a girlfriend whom he’s hopelessly in love with (they’re even thinking about getting married which isn’t really a problem since the girl is genuinely nice to his older brother so Eren is good with her.), so… things in the family had been a bit rough and busy to say the least.

Communication with his parents wasn’t always the best.

Eren would study late at night back when he was seven, because no one bothered to help him with homework. Along with the fact that he wasn’t the brightest kid in class, and he knew that very well, but he had ambition and he was determined to make it big in the world. He focused more on sports, particularly Soccer in middle school and high school, and tried to balance that with his studies. After being granted a Sports Scholarship from Shigashina University, Eren decided to rent and share a flat, living with his batchmates who he met at a mixer party (before Uni started as this whole meet and get to know each other kind of thing) and whom he was so quick to call his ‘friends’, just so that he could get out of the hellhole that was his own house.

But things turned out much worse than expected.

Eren thought that the ‘College Life’ was to focus more on pursuing your future career and make a name for yourself but… it was the other way around.

He thought that after Freshmen year, everyone would take things seriously. Sure, have some drinks, get wasted after finals, or have house parties from time to time. But he was unfortunately, dragged into the wrong crowd. After attending around 5 parties in the first few months of being generalized as one of the infamous and pompous freshman archetypes present in every university, he called it a year and spent the rest of his nights doing homework, projects, playing video games, staying at the school soccer field until 10PM while his roommates were probably smoking crack and not caring about the number of units they needed to take for each of their goddamn subjects.

He was ~living the life~ and now that he regrets most of the decisions he made in freshman year, the only option that he has left was to wait until his third year and move to a different apartment.

Now, here he was, Sophomore year, nearing the end of the semester, and very much eager to get the hell out of here and also study for his upcoming finals on Constitutional Law II, as his professor, Mr. Erwin Smith, was going to throw hands if one of his students score below average on the exam.

“EREN MICK JAEGER! BROOOO!” Eren winces when he hears the shrieky and annoying voice of his flatmate Thomas Wagner, calling out to him. “Wanna go and party with us?” Eren smiles halfheartedly, shaking his head, “Ah, no thanks. I have a game tomorrow and finals coming up on Thursday.” Thomas smirked and wrapped his arm around Eren, “Oh fuck that, live the college life ya spoon.”

“No, really I have to study.”

Thomas frowned and groaned, “Oh god, you’re such a killjoy. Fine, if that’s what you want. Don’t blame us if we tell you to buy some beer down the block.”

Eren cracked an obviously fake laugh and pushed Thomas away from him, “You’re an ass. That only happened once and that was when we first met. Don’t you even dare try to ask me to buy you shit again.”

“Woah. Woah. Woaaaaaah. That was a joke Eren. Loosen up will you?” Thomas raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the brunette’s sudden aggressiveness. He hums Moves like Jaeger by Maroon 5 as a way to spite Eren whilst passing by him down the staircase.

The brunette shook his head, tying his hair into a bun carelessly and sprinting into his room without uttering another word.

Eren just wanted to study. He really did.

Instead, his roommates, all of them, mind you, were all partying in the lounge and the music was too loud and Eren was too annoyed.

They did manage to bring him out and make him stay in the kitchen where he mindlessly glared at anyone who came in. He sighed and tapped his pen restlessly amongst the insane amount of books on the table.

There was a knock.

His roommate, Floch, came in the kitchen with his girlfriend who Eren couldn’t even name with all the women he has brought into the apartment. She was hanging onto his arm and giggling. Floch’s eyes were red and his speech very slow and lazy. "Eren!" he said with a sly grin.

Eren raised an eyebrow, shooting him an irritated look. "What now Floch? Are you here to tell me to take a shot again?" The ginger-haired’s girlfriend giggled once again and kissed Floch’s cheek. Floch laughed and swatted her away, though he missed by a long shot. "Someone's at the door," a thumb pointing to the den. "wouldchumind ge'in it?" another giggle. The girl nodded sloshily. "Yesss! Erenieee get 'em door, please. Be a dearrrrr."

Eren frowned and stared at them menacingly, earning no reaction from the two as they were mad drunk. "You were just in the den," Floch’s eyes widened. "My lovey wovey-we was in the den?" His girlfriend’s mouth went into an O. "Di'nt notice tha'!"

Eren sighed and stood up. He miraculously got through the throng of bodies and to the front door. "Yes?" he called out exasperated, not knowing who was outside.

"Do you want cookies?"

Eren turned and looked to see a little raven-haired girl, a girl scout no less, a blonde-haired boy pulling on a trolley who looked significantly shorter than him, wearing rimmed glasses, and an overall appearance whom his “friends” would immediately label as a nerd they had to be a few feet away from if they saw him and lastly, a girl who looked very tired and very done with life.

Beautiful (h/c)-colored hair, her eyes looked like the starry night sky, twinkling as he catches her gaze and a smile that looked forced, but warm all the same.

A girl who was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Eren was captivated. His heart was beating like crazy and he could feel his ears turn red. He would make a fool of himself if he looked red as a tomato right now.

"Um," The girl peeked inside and grimaced, squeezing the hand that was her little sister's shoulder and catching Eren’s gaze. "Mikasa, I don't think these kinds of guys would want cookies."

“Unless they're pot cookies,” Eren almost said. Mikasa pouted and widened her eyes at Eren.

The older girl crouched down and frantically covered her little sister’s eyes. "Nopenopenope, Mi, don't pull that on him."

"But (Y/N)!"

(Y/N).

Her name was (Y/N).

Eren smiled sincerely (for the first time today) and leaned back inside to the drawer by the door to grab the extra cash he and his roommates put there for emergency pizza and stuff. "You know what? You're absolutely brilliant at selling cookies. I'll take one."

Mikasa smiled back at him cheekily and tugged her older sister’s hand. "See, (Y/N)?! He wants some! Go get 'em!”

The raven-haired girl then turned to the blonde teen, practically jumping up and down. “Armin look! We sold another one!"

“We did!” The boy who was apparently named Armin, clapped his hands together, then gave the little girl a high five. “You’re a natural at this Mikasa!”

(Y/N) looked at Eren, then Mikasa, and sighed. She grabbed a bag from the trolley Armin was dragging around and pulled out a box of cookies. Eren grabbed them slowly from her, their hands almost touching as he gave (Y/N) a small smile. The (h/c) girl blushed lightly, though not visible enough for the brunette to notice.

"Hope to see you again!" Eren called out when the siblings said their thank you's and bid farewell.

And, this time, even for the slightest moment, Eren’s serotonin levels were going straight through the roof. His heart was still beating loudly, almost in sync with the trash music his roommates were blaring on the speakers. and for a moment, even just for a moment.

He felt genuine happiness that he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

The three of you continue to walk animatedly, now that the coast was clear and the guy from earlier wasn’t within earshot, your blonde friend just had to break the silence.

Armin smiles, pushing his glasses up to the crook of his nose. “(Y/N), you did see how he looked at you right?” The blonde chuckles softly, catching his best friend off guard.

You blinked. “Him?” You try to stop yourself from smiling, blushing profusely. “Geez Armin, I don’t even know his name yet.”

“I’ll bet you 100 bucks that he goes to our Uni.”

“Even if he does, it’s not like we’ll talk to him or anything. Judging from the place he lives in and the people he was hanging out with, we’re in two completely different worlds.” You shook your head in denial, holding Mikasa’s hand, your interlocked arms swinging playfully. Armin gives you a knowing look in response.

Mikasa continued to wave back at the boy whom they had just sold cookies too. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Wasn’t he nice (Y/N)?” Mikasa asks her older sister. (Y/N) returned her sister a small smile, “He was.”

"I hope we see him again!"

"I'm sure we will."

The day of Eren’s dreaded finals finally arrive.

He has prepared tirelessly for this. Hours upon hours of hard work. But, before he finally gets his well-deserved sleep, he has a few more hours to cram and absorb more knowledge for his exams.

So, what better way to do so than head straight to the library as soon as it opens at 6 AM?

This time, no one was going to bother him. No annoying roommates and no distractions.

Eren heads over to a table near the coffee and snack machines. He puts down his bag on a seat next to him, and begins to study once again. Looking through the course materials and the lessons that he still didn’t quite understand. Eren was so absorbed with studying and relying on his gut feeling that no other student in this university would think of going to the library at 6 AM on the day of finals… then he’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Sasha, should you even be eating mashed potato this early in the morning?” Armin asks the brunette worriedly, a huge tone of concern in his voice.

“Armin! Don’t chu worry! I ate heavy breakfast! Bacon, Eggs, and Toast! Did you not see me in the kitchen!?” She reassures her blonde friend, continuing to scoop up the mashed potato on a reusable cup.

“Liar.” Connie hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I was awake since 4 AM. Not once did I see you sneak into the kitchen until (Y/N) woke you up.”

“Atatata. Can we… stop with the negative vibes for a second?” Jean tries to become the mediator by holding his hands up against his two friends who were about to start an argument. “It’s finals week. We have to keep a clear mind, body and soul-“

“Jean, you know that’s BS.” You yawn widely, still practically half-asleep.

“Oh, come on! Can’t you just let me be positive just this once!? If we fail this exam I’m going to blame you!“

The five of you continue to talk mindlessly on the way to the library. Connie pushes the glass door open, very much excited to have this huge library all to yourselves.

Until…

There was someone already there.

Your eyes immediately come into contact with Eren’s. His radiant jade eyes staring into yours, mouth practically agape, his hands holding on to wooden chopsticks as the hot air of instant ramen breezes through his face.

“Oh?” Connie blinks. “Guess we aren’t the first ones here then.” He whistles.

“(Y/N)!” Armin nudges you in the arm in an attempt to tease you. “Guess your wish came true huh? We did see him again! By himself too!”

“W-what am I supposed to do exactly?” You turn to Armin, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Say thank you to him! Offer him to go on a boba date or something!”

“You got the Sasha seal of approval (Y/N)! He’s hot!” Sasha motions you a thumbs up and you can’t help but feel yourself already wanting to die of embarrassment.

The four of them slightly push you towards his table. With your friends cornering you like this, there was no way of escaping this.

All you had to do was talk to him and properly thank him for buying cookies from your little sister.

That was it.

No need for any extra ad-libs or poor and bad attempts of flirtation.

Just thank him (Y/N).

You can do this.

You breathe a hefty sigh then approach his table with confidence. The brunette continues to look up at you whilst turning the page of his reviewer that he wasn’t even looking at.

“Hi again! I just wanted to thank you properly for helping my sister and I, out the other day. Mikasa really appreciated the gesture you did for her, and she couldn’t stop talking about you to our parents since we saw you. You see, none of the other girl scouts want to be paired up with my sister because they think she’s an emotionless and monotonous freak. They’re really mean to her but she really wants to continue being a girl scout so my friend and I accompany her whenever she has to sell cookies!”

“It’s N-no problem!” Eren quickly replies, running a hand through his hair. “Why would they say such horrible things to your sister like that? Judging from the way she acted in front of me, she was quite the opposite. In a positive way of course! Those kids are just assholes who are intimidated because another girl their age is seemingly better than them.”

You giggle in response. “Thank you. I’ll tell Mikasa that you said that!”

There was short silence for a few seconds until you realized that you forgot to say something.

“Ah! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) by the way!”

“Eren.” He smiles, reaching his hand out to you for you to shake. You grip his strong and calloused hand firmly, and Eren could feel his ears turning red again while you were about to blush as red as a tomato.

You hear your friends snickering in the background and you took this as a sign to go back to your table. “I guess, I’ll see you around campus?” You ask, tilting your head. For, you actually really wanted to see him again after this.

“Yea! I’ll be seeing you!” He grins widely, watching you leave where he was seated. His smile then envelops into a frown as soon as you went away then he goes back to studying.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Connie whispers loudly, calling you over by waving his hand. Why was this dunce being so painfully obvious? “Ask him if he’s looking for an apartment or if he wants to live with us!”

“Already!?” You ask in disbelief, a bit shocked by what Connie had just said. He scoots to the left, as you take a seat between him and Sasha. “Guys, you’ve known him for like… 3 minutes. Only Armin and I actually interacted with him before this.”

“He has to pass the vibe check first.” Jean shrugs, sipping on an iced expresso. “But, yeah, he does seem alright from a few feet away.”

“Come on (Y/N)! Ask him!” Sasha nods approvingly. “It’s weird that he’s studying alone like this while we’re in another table trying to remain unaware that he looks lonely as hell.”

“UMmMM… maybe he wants to study alone because that’s the only way he can focus? That’s a thing that normal people do, Sasha.” You remark sarcastically, trying to think up of more reasons to not approach him again.

Armin clears his throat, “Look, (Y/N), it won’t hurt to try right? Besides, don’t you feel a tiny bit sorry for him? He does seem lonely and you do have a crush on him so… more ways to interact with him right?”

Your shoulders slump and you breathe a defeated sigh. “Okay okay fine.” You make your way to Eren’s table again but before you do, you turn to your friends. “By the way, I don’t really have a crush on him just yet. I just find him cute okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” They say in unison as you continue to walk back to the brunette’s table.

“Hi again Eren!” You wave and try your best not to fumble or look painfully obvious that you were infatuated by him. He looks up and you try your best not to smile like a weirdo.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Would you like to come over to our table and study with us?”

To be continued.

#shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x you #snk #aot

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themaribatpit · 3 years

Text

Jasonette July Day 12: Dare

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Dare Rated: T (Drink responsibly my friends) A/N: Maribat fangirl went to Uni in the UK. Most people thought they could outdrink the Americans, and that American beer tasted horrible. DC fanboy isn’t much of a drinker. Also we planned this earlier, but I saw this blog post from @ritacrow-blogrequesting something similar a few days ago, so here you go. I don’t know if you’re a fan of the in vino veritas/drunken confession trope, so feel free to skip it if you aren’t.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Tim asked hesitantly, as they gathered in the Wayne Manor lounge. “Because Pixie Pop here issued a challenge, and I don’t plan on letting her win”, Jason explained with a smirk. “All she said was ‘American drinking laws are bullshit’, and it’s not like you don’t know the name of every single bar in Gotham that doesn’t card.” Tim retorted. “She also said American beer tastes gross, so I don’t know why you brought Budweiser of all things”.

“She dared us to try and drink her under the table, and I’m sure as hell not backing down.” Jason hissed, and Tim decided that it was pointless trying to argue. The whole reason Tim and Steph were even involved was because they had just turned 18, which meant they were allowed to take part in this little drinking competition. Alfred was in the corner of the room keeping score, someone had to, considering the night they were about to have.

After they all gathered in the lounge, it was time for the challenge to begin. Barbara quietly sipped her glass of wine, curling into Dick’s side as she watched the movie playing on the TV. Jason and Dick had downed a bottle of beer each, waiting for Marinette to finish her first glass of wine. Marinette rested her back against Jason’s arm as she watched the movie play out, the night had just begun and she wasn’t about to let them win. She wouldn’t be able to look any non-American person in the eye if they knew she got out drunk by them. Marinette took in the soft glow of the lounge, alternating between leaning on the sofa or Jason’s leather-clad shoulder. It almost reminded her of her home city at night. She looked around at the people she had come to know, fairly certain she had the dopiest smile on her face at that moment.

She had arrived in Gotham City not long ago, and she was surprised to find that some of them welcomed her with open arms. Not all of them, obviously, some were a bit more welcoming than others. Bruce didn’t really trust her as a magic user, and Damian usually kept to himself. Preferring to be alone with his pets, Titus and Alfred (the cat). The others assured her not to take it too personally, that they are like that with everyone. With Jason, it was hard to tell what he thought about her. Dick was like an older brother to everyone, and in some ways reminded Marinette of Chat Noir, alot. While Barbara, Steph and Cass were like the sisters Marinette didn’t have. Tim was at least somewhat curious about her powers and how they worked, hard as he tried to fight it in the beginning.

With Jason, it was much harder to tell at times. He wasn’t quite as closed off as Damian, though sometimes she found him in the Wayne Manor library reading by the window. They had each other’s backs in a fight, and the fact that she was much smaller compared to him earned her the nickname “Pixie Pop”. They worked well together on missions, and there was plenty of friendly banter between them. There was almost a veneer of sarcasm and bravado.

The only time it showed any sign of falling was when his pit madness took over. Even then she was more focused on asking Plagg and Tikki for help, seeing as it was their magic causing this. There was no fixing it, but they had managed to help get it under control. Marinette was almost frustrated when he woke up to find her waiting at his bedside, after working around the clock to keep the madness at bay. The sounds of him screaming and thrashing around were still ringing in her ear, and the most that he could muster was “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there, Pixie.” he drawled.

“Pixie, you there?” Jason gently poked her on the shoulder and she realised that she had been staring into her wine glass for a moment. She took a large gulp before setting the glass down on the table, the night had just begun.

As the night went on, Tim was not impressed with how beer tasted. “People actually drink this stuff for fun?” he muttered. He was starting to think Marinette might have a point about how American beer tasted. Sadly the old adage of “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear” meant that it was too late to try Steph’s approach. Steph was nursing a Jack Daniels and coke as she watched the film, letting that light of the TV screen dance in front of them.

Later into the night, Tim was getting tipsy at that point. Considering this was his first time drinking, Marinette gave him a smile that said “you get points for trying”. If Steph wasn’t drunk now, she was going to be feeling the effects very soon. She mostly drank spirits chased down with soda and juice. Barbara had already left after a couple of glasses of wine, deciding to leave the rest of them to this game. Jason and Dick had beer bottles lined up in front of them, almost as if they were competing with each other first. Marinette continued to leisurely sipped her wine, knowing that she was their final boss at that moment.

In the end, only Marinette and Jason were left in the lounge. Steph left had already left, and Tim followed not long after, Alfred helped get Dick into bed after he nearly passed out on the coffee table. “It’s you and me, Poxie Pip” Jason slurred, Alfred occasionally came in to check on them.

Marinette, who at this point was slightly tipsy, leaned in close and whispered in his ear “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“There’s worse ways to go, Pixie, trust me.” he laughed, Marinette gave him a very sad smile. He finished the last of his beer bottle before laying down on the sofa, resting his head on Marinette’s lap. Marinette was certain she could feel her face heating up, she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at him.

“Are you sure my teeny tiny legs can support your big head?” she joked. Great, now she was doing it too. she looked away in hopes that he couldn’t see the blush on her face. She didn’t get Asian glow, but now she was really hoping she had that as an excuse.

“I’ve seen you lift goons twice your size and throw them across rooms,” he laughed “besides, this feels kinda nice.” he mumbled.

“Yeah but that was me as Ladybug, it’s also what keeps me from tripping over air and landing on my face.” she explained. She didn’t think her heart would be able to handle looking down to see one of the few times she saw him completely at peace. She was used to people who preferred her as her alter ego anyhow.

“I guess you win this round,” he slurred, Marinette still hadn’t moved his head from her lap. If anything, her free hand was working its way through his dark locks of hair. He smiled, letting himself be lulled to sleep by the simple yet kind gesture. “Serves me right,” he yawned, “getting drunk with a fairy princess.”

Marinette turned her attention back to the last of her wine, “there he goes again, making silly jokes like that.” she thought. “Especially with one as pretty as you,” he laughed. Marinette was about to get up at that moment, now he was just being ridiculous. “I like you...” were the last words he said before letting sleep take him.

It was everything Marinette could do not to drop her wine class on the floor in shock. Marinette thought she heard wrong. She shook her head, what did it matter? I mean, she had called her friends pretty loads of times before, it’s not like he said he loved her or anything. These were things that you said to friends all the time, right? At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Alfred came in and saw Jason asleep in Marinette’s lap. “I was just about to leave could you maybe help Jason get back to his room? That would be great thanks Alfred.” she quickly spluttered before dashing out of the lounge and down the hallway in search of an empty guest room to sleep in.

Jason tragically awoke the next morning with a hangover and a vague memory of what had happened the night before. He thought this was probably the very reason why Bruce did not drink. Alfred came in with a tray of chilli dogs and water, to nurse the hangover. “Thanks Alfred,” Jason groaned, “do I even wanna know what happened last night?”

“If you must know Master Todd, you won second place in last night’s drinking competition.” He explained, Jason sighed, Marinette wasn’t going to let him live that down. He still had to admit he was impressed with her. “Miss Dupain-Cheng seemed rather flustered after you compared the experience to ‘getting drunk with a fairy princess’ and confessed your admiration and affection for her.” It was all coming back to him now, and he was about to be sick. He told her that he thought she was pretty and that he liked her. He wasn’t wrong, but it probably didn’t sound as romantic coming from someone who was probably very drunk. He reached for the chilli dog, hoping that he would be able to keep it down. “In vino veritas indeed, or in birro veritas in your case”, Alfred quoted. Jason took a sip of water, still too stunned to speak. “If you still hold such affection for Miss Dupain-Cheng, might I suggest telling her when you’ve sobered up?” he suggested, giving Jason a slight sympathetic smile.

“I’ll try, thanks Alfred” he replied as Alfred left the room, leaving him to his thoughts.

A couple of days later, Marinette was sitting in her studio, drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate. Jason hadn’t called her or spoken to her since the party, and she had hoped that he had just drunkenly forgotten his little drunken confession. It wasn’t that Marinette didn’t reciprocate his feelings, it just felt like there was no point in putting stock in something he said while he was so very drunk. It almost made Marinette laugh a little at the thought. Her phone buzzed, it was a message from Jason: “Hey, you busy today? I’ve got something to tell you. Sober, this time”. Marinette smiled, maybe this time there was truth in the foul tasting American beer.

BONUS: The next morning in the Batcave... Tim: That tasted like actual vomit. Dick: It's an acquired taste, Baby Bird. Tim: Which is to say you were peer pressured into liking it.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #ml x dc #maribat

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