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writing-havoc · 2 years

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Shattered Paintings

♡ Summary: Your first kiss shared with The Kaz Brekker

♡ Pairing(s): Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows

♡ Warning(s): None

♡ WC: 3.4k

Even more Kaz. He's just a very neat character. He's got so many layers that are fun to peel back and try and piece together with others. Lemme know what you think. Hope you like it <3

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Kaz's heavy footsteps fell behind you as you ran down the wet stones of the Zelver District. Jesper would be making his way back to the Slat utilizing his own route whilst Inej followed from above, keeping an eye out for anybody who managed to follow you guys out.

"Left." Kaz called, and you hooked a left immediately down a path between two houses. It was small and a few things blocked a clear path, but it was manageable to get around with the speed you set.

You were about to pop out of the otherside when a hand grabbed the back of your jacket, yanking you back and down to the ground between a few tins of garbage and an empty overturned crate of who knows what.

You almost jabbed your elbow into the gut of whoever grabbed you until you seen the crow head of a cane in front of you.

"Easy there. Need those." Kaz's gravely cadence immediately recognizable.

Relaxing, you put your arms down, slumping against the wall of the building behind you. The stones were soaking your pants, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be dried or cleaned off later.

Rapid footsteps passed the entrance to the alley in which you disappeared into. It helped that earlier you had made a right, obscuring their vision while Kaz pointed to this split and tucked the both of you away.

However the adrenaline caught up to you, and you began to giggle as Kaz's hand slipped away from your clothes and was tucked onto his lap.

Really, you tried to hold it in, but the more you did the worse they became.

"Quiet." He hissed. "They may well still be in earshot."

"Sorry, sorry." You apologized, a snicker making its way out. "They're just... so fucking stupid." To make matters worse, you could just barely hear them yelling at eachother about losing the both of you.

But it's not even that either.

This mission was simple. So simple, even, that half your normal crew was able to stay at the Slat while the four of you left to do this mission alone. And it was so unbelievably simple you were surprised it went wrong in the first place.

To your astounding luck, you had planned to rob this guy at the exact same time as another pair of people did. Whilst you snuck in from the front, they snuck in from the back, keeping out of sight as they snagged whatever looked valuable while your group snuck to the second floor for a painting that was stolen and a necklace of great importance to someone, which Kaz planned to obtain and sell for an even higher price.

So long as the night went right, the Crow Club would be a hundred and fifty thousand kruge richer.

And really, you would still be a hundred and fifty thousand kruge richer. Just... not in the way that was originally planned.

Because just as you made it down the stairs, the other group of thieves (who were laughably less skilled and that much more stupid) were about to walk out the front door.

A staring contest ensued, everyone blinking at eachother. All hell broke loose moments later, breaking everyone's shock as the original owner of the house came back and yelled for the Stadwatch.

And for some gloriously stupid reason, you guys and the other group of criminals decided to run in the same direction with Jesper hauling the painting in one direction while Kaz slipped Inej the necklace and ran in another.

To top it all off, the second group decided you would be easy prey, and attempted to chase you in an effort to get whatever goodies you had stolen and take them for themselves.

It was pure comedy. Fit for a play that any tourist would find exciting and laughable for locals who knew better.

So who could blame you for your barely contained laughter? The situation was comically stupid and the odds of it happening were pretty nonexistent. But, since it's you guys, the odds were ever in your favor.

Kaz whacked you with his cane. Not meant to hurt but definitely meant to knock some sense into you before you blew your guys' cover.

You turned to him and found him smiling too. It was barely contained and you could see he was desperately trying to cover it with a smirk.

"Just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep it together. "Just hold it for a few more minutes. Hopefully you'll wear out by then and we'll have the opportunity to leave."

Even in your adrenaline drunk state, you took the time internally to appreciate the man beside you.

Kaz Brekker was not a man of expressing emotions. In fact, you could say he was allergic to the very premise of such a thing. And as such, it made him a rather hard man to understand and someone he had hoped would be impossible to get close to and even more impossible to love.

But you always liked impossible odds, even if you didn't plan on taking them.

The way you had gotten together wasn't conventional at all. It was an uncharacteristically warm Thursday afternoon that was ending up to be pretty grim when you came stumbling into the Slat with a knife sticking out of your thigh and a swollen lip.

In your pretty banged up state accompanied by a minor concussion, when you had seen Kaz come running to you, you said the most awful pick-up line known to mankind and proceeded to pass out on the floor.

You awoke a day later with a headache, an incredibly sore thigh, and Kaz resting in a chair beside your bed.

Talking out what you had said when he awoke was one of the most embarrassing things in your life, but in his own Kaz way he steered the conversation in exactly the way he wanted and, quote unquote, "confessed" to you with nothing more than a few simple words and piercing eye contact.

That was nearly a year ago, and every day since then you learned more and more about Kaz that never seized to surprise you.

Like now. He took his hat off temporarily and slicked his hair back, revealing a slight ravens point hairline. You could have sworn it was smooth, but now so close to him you realized you were wrong.

He cleared his throat as he put his hat back, using his cane to stand up and peaked out the other entrance of alley from which you came and gave the all clear.

You began walking, but it wasn't long until you sank into a squat and barked out a loud kind of laughter that echoed of the walls. Someone shushed you from down the street, but you hadn't a care in the world.

Kaz and his cane stopped where they were and came back toward you.

"Get up." He ordered, but it lacked his usual venom. It wasn't quite fond, but it was leaning in that direction more than his usual tone, which says a lot for him considering you were in the middle of the street in a pretty wealthy neighborhood.

You wheezed. "I can't." You wiped your eyes. "I'm really trying here Kaz but it's just too good."

"You're insufferable."

He snapped his fingers the best he could beneath his rubber gloves. You wiped your eyes with a laughter contained in a breath, and took Kaz's hand in yours, allowing him to pull you up.

It was a new development, the touching.

Of course you could touch his gloved hands when he offered, but it was the lack of hesitation on your side that was new.

It took a long, long talk with Kaz before you both came to the agreement that should he offer his hand to you, you shouldn't be expected to hesitate. He wanted you to know he wouldn't be offering if he wasn't sure.

It took a solid two and a half weeks before you truly let yourself take what he was giving, but it made your relationship a lot better when you became confident in his confidence.

Without gloves, though? That was a territory you had only explored twice in just as many months and required completely new boundaries. It was a slow process you had grown accustomed to. Evey time was electrifying and you couldn't be prouder of him.

He let go, urging you along. While the brunt of the laughter was gone, you still giggled. You caught him giving you a side glance, and the only thing he had to say about it was a barely amused head shake.

Eventually, you made it back to the Slat. When you entered, Jesper and Inej were already inside and waiting by the staircase, goodies in hand. Kaz ordered for Jesper to take the painting to his office whilst he took the necklace from Inej with a nod.

The painting wasn't even that large, but you guessed his leg might be bothering him a bit today. It was chillier and damper than usual. Never good for the joints or, in this case, unproperly healed tibia breaks.

With very minimal complaining and some showing off for Wylan, Jesper took the painting up the stairs two at a time, rushing into Kaz's office. You heard the thud of the frame hitting the floor, then Jesper emerged and nearly threw himself down the stairs and into the crowd of the Slat. Though you knew he would be going for Wylan the moment he was free.

Inej had disappeared off elsewhere, the Slat a bit overwhelming as of now. Nina was sitting at a table across from Wylan with some waffles piled on a plate in front of her, Matthias nowhere in sight. He must be asleep about now.

Kaz began his trudge up the stairs. And though, now that you see his even more awkward gate, his leg was bothering him, he hurried up at his normal pace. You followed along, intending to unwind in his office and see what he was going to be doing with the necklace.

Kaz's office smelt the same as it always had. Like fresh paper, ink, and a distinct woodsy scent you're not sure where it originates from. There was also a slight rose scent from a nearly burnt through candle on his desk that was snuffed out a hour before you left.

When the door was closed, the both of you began your nightly wind-down routine. You took the top layer of your clothes off and put them on the coat rack besides Kaz's items, toeing your shoes off and placing them next to it. You unbuttoned the top button of your shirt and stretched out your limbs, a yawn escaping your lips as you walked to the window behind his desk.

Meanwhile, Kaz having put his coat and hat on the rack the moment he entered the room, kept his shoes on and made his way over to the bathroom.

That consisted of taking off his gloves, washing his hands, splashing his face and scrubbing it a little before drying everything off and putting his gloves back on. His hair was always a little damp at the front, and he would slick it back in a way that always made your guts turn a little mushy. And he knew that, highlighted by the smirk that would plaster on his face when he looked at you right after, a few strands of hair bouncing back to cover his forehead.

He was a devilishly handsome man and he was infuriatingly aware of it.

If he used that power in business he would have the whole of Ketterdam on their knees.

You leaned your elbows on the sill of the window, looking out at streets of Ketterdam. It wasn't exactly evening where golden light would bathe the streets, but it was getting there. The yellow wash of the buildings were getting a little redder, voices below starting to talk about turning in soon and whether they would have time to see certain shops and plays before it starts to get into the true danger hours.

Granted, every hour in Ketterdam is a danger hour, but at night and the hour or two leading up to it it's just that much worse.

A few houses down across the street you could see a building being rebuilt after being demolished the day before, and couldn't help but wonder if they're going to fix that leaning problem the house next to it is having. Probably not, since pretty much all houses are leaning on one another, but it would make building the new one way easier.

"Y/n, love, come here a moment?"

The pet name made your heart soar, so of course you had to make his life a little difficult.

"Sorry," you tilted your head, "what was that?"

He sighed. "Y/n, love," he repeated with a little amusement, "come here a moment please?" It was a mocking and very unenthusiastic tone, one that would usually have you slapping the opposing person for their rudeness and audacity. But it's Kaz, so-

"What is it?" You turned around, surprised to see him already looking at you from over his shoulder.

He looked back in front of him, curiously attracting you over to peek over his shoulder, careful not to touch him.

His throat was awfully loud as he swallowed his spit, skin radiating warmth. "Why is this here?"

His pen pointed to a specific spending on the ledger. Upon further investigation, you sucked in a breath to your teeth, flinching enough that it made an eye of yours close.

A little bit of your hair fell to his shoulder, and you just barely missed the way goosebumps attacked his skin when gravity took it grazing against his neck.

"You've gotta know why, Kaz."

"It's the third time this month."

"And it's also the third time this month that bastard of a woman dished out more than she could take."

He sighed. "We've been through this. If you're gonna smash her over the head with something, please make sure its not a painting ive had to go off and steal- better yet, take her outside."

A rumble escaped deep from your throat, scratching it. "Fine."

A moment of silence lapsed between you as he checked the painting and something else off.

He shifted in his chair a bit. "What'd she say this time?"

Immediately your face flushed. You leaned away from him, standing straight now as you fiddled a chipping in his chair.

Kaz put the ledger balance down, now turning in his chair to face you, bad leg spread out over the expanse of the carpet.

He didn't press, though. You just needed time to work out the words.

"She just..." You looked into his eyes as they stared into yours. You put a hand over your eyes as you continued. "She was saying some pretty nasty shit."

"About?"

"About... you, mostly. I was gonna let it slide, I really was. People talk shit about you all the time—" he blew a quick exhale through his nose as a laugh "—but... I don't know this time it just..." your volume took a deep dive, "really bothered me."

With your hand over your eyes you couldn't really tell what Kaz was thinking (you probably couldn't tell anyway) but honestly, you don't think you want to know.

It was stupid, really. You let your emotions get the best of you in the most embarrassing display possible more than once and in the exact same way.

But really, it was Vicki's fault. She should have learned the first time that talking shit about those you care about was an express ticket to getting her ass handed to her. And to make it worse she hardly fought back and always cried like a bitch about it afterward. She probably doesn't even know how to fight back, you think. But she just kept doing it after the first time.

You heard that she doesn't just do this at the Crow Club either. She's done this at various clubs across town and has a knack for getting kicked out of almost all of them because, as you can guess, she dished out more than she could handle and it caused one too many outbreaks of violence.

She was insufferable. The first time she was just being downright racist and the second she had made fun of you in retaliation for the first attack. This was probably an addiction that you were fueling but you just didn't care.

"Third times the charm, right?" You said, voice small with an equally small and nervous half chuckle.

You hoped that saying rang true this time. Because if she decided she was gonna talk shit about Kaz's gloves and limp one more time you don't think you were gonna be able to hold back from doing some serious damage. Bones and cartilage might break.

There was silence for a long time after that. "A long time" might be an over statement, but it was long enough that your arm was beginning to grow uncomfortable keeping your hand raised. The seconds ticked by and each one brought you closer to just turning tail and jumping out the window, height and consequences be damned.

The cool feel of leather on your skin nearly made you jump. It wrapped around your fingers, pulling your hand away from your eyes while the other hooked into your pants and pulled you to the left.

Shock had you stumbling after the pull instead of questioning it, bringing you between Kaz's legs. Once you were where he liked, he let go of your hand and unhooked his finger.

With a bit of unease, he took his gloves off, gripping them together before setting them down gently on his desk. His attention traveled back to you in a matter of moments, his long slender fingers planted on his thighs.

Honestly you were... more confused now. You thought for sure you were gonna get something along the lines of a stern talking to, not anything like... whatever this is.

He cocked his head ever so slightly, urging you to lean down with a wave of his hand.

You leaned down cautiously, trying to keep your balance and not tip over onto him. That would be a horrible setback. When it seemed you leaned down far enough, he urged you down even further.

You took a step forward, getting steady as you were not even a full six inches from his face.

His eyes looked over your face, analyzing everything. Deep brown looking the barest bit golden where the sun was catching them. They traveled the expanse of your own, dipping down to your lips.

Pale slender fingers came up to the side of your face. He stopped for a breath, then placed the pads of his fingers to the sides of your warm face. A gasp escaped your partially parted lips, both at the temperature difference and the severity of the action just committed.

He leaned forward, and you couldn't help but lean in too, following the pull of his fingers.

You held your breath, face barely an inch apart from his. As his eyes fluttered shut so did yours. He took the leap, his lips barely ghosting over yours.

It was a startling realization to come to that you could feel his breath on yours. It was shakey and incredibly uneven, but you let him have this. Your face flushed even hotter.

This man had you in a chokehold.

He pulled back, his fingers detaching from your face. You opened your eyes to find his yet again already looking at you. His arms were shaking and you could tell it was taking a bit of a toll on him. Yet he disregarded the gloves, letting his hands fall to his lap as cold sweat beaded down the side of his face.

"What was that for?" You asked, voice on the cusp of a whisper.

He took a deep, steadying breath. "Thank you." His voice was rough but his gaze was sharp. Yet it still had that softness that he used only with you.

You didn't do well at schooling your expression, then, letting it display something between shock and endearment.

His gloves lay still on his desk, a bundle of leather resting atop damp ink. You took them in your hand, holding the fingers as you offered them to him. You smiled wide, a fond giggle sneaking out.

"Anytime, Brekker."

With the faintest of smiles, he took the gloves, slipping his hands into them.

There was not a moment he wanted to spend in this cruel world not loving you. Even if, sometimes, you shattered his paintings over a person's well-deserved head.

#six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #fanfic

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goodnightmemes · 3 years

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DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

Lines taken from 2x07-2x12 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part one.

❛ I thrive on chaos. But this is good, too. ❜

❛ I had to do a little creative problem-solving at someone else's expense. ❜

❛ Pardon my tits. ❜

❛ Are you trying to fuck her or set her on fire? ❜

❛ Sometimes the truth speaks from a peaceful place. It's taken me a long time to find that place, but I think I have, and it's telling me you're not the right one for me. I'm so sorry. ❜

❛ Is that what I am? Clean? 'cause I don't feel that way at all. ❜

❛ No, I won't do that. I won't let you turn me into you. ❜

❛ Hope you don't expect me to comment on that so you can record it on your hidden tape recorder. I wasn't born yesterday. ❜

❛ Your past is a bigger mystery than fucking Jimmy Hoffa. ❜

❛ No matter what you try, no matter when, no matter how hard you work, I'll always be a step ahead of you for one simple reason. I own you. ❜

❛ When I'm alone and it's quiet, I get scared shitless, like I start hearing what's really going on inside. ❜

❛ 'Cause when you're around, I kind of feel like I can deal with anything, you know? ❜

❛ I've always worked best in the shadows, and that's where I have to stay. ❜

❛ You can't go back. You know that. ❜

❛ You are not allowed to talk about anyone I date as long as you're seeing little Miss "pardon my tits." ❜

❛ She is obviously a vampire. A gross english-titty vampire. ❜

❛ Can't change who I am. I'm crass and dirty, and...I have a very filthy mind. ❜

❛ Jesus Christ. They sell anyone a gun in Florida, won't they? ❜

❛ That man. He wasn't trying to rob you. He was trying to kill you. ❜

❛ Nothing you could do,___, would scare me. ❜

❛ Whatever comes, we'll get through this together. I'm not leaving your side. ❜

❛ I need to embrace who I am, who I've always been. ❜

❛ It's like I've been living underwater, holding my breath, and now I can finally breathe. ❜

❛ ___ almost had me believing it was possible to change, to become something else, as if that ever really happens. I've always known what I am. ❜

❛ I'm finding it's best to accept things you can't change, you know? ❜

❛ Is this the monster that you keep telling me about? ❜

❛ Trust me, when you meet the monster, you'll know. ❜

❛ Nice. My subconscious isn't even bothering with symbolism. ❜

❛ I feel...such regret, which is rare for me. But not that I don't mess up. I do...just never so stupendously. ❜

❛ If they're looking for proof, they won't find it. Not here at least. ❜

❛ Then maybe you should come with us, because who knows what secrets will come ❜ pouring out of me once the drinks start flowing. ❜

❛ I'm done with it and you. Did I not make that clear last night? ❜

❛ Those friends of yours, they didn't even know you. They just see the mask, but I see it all. ❜

❛ Can't live with her. Can't kill her. ❜

❛ Fuck! I'm talking about my feelings. What the fuck is your problem? ❜

❛ I've always sensed there was something... off about him. Like he's hiding in plain sight. ❜

❛ If you got in the middle of this and you got hurt… ❜

❛ The only way I can help you is if you turn yourself in. ❜

❛ Don't you disappear on me. ❜

❛ I want you to know that you meant a lot to me, more than you know, and... I just want to thank you for that. ❜

❛ If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. ❜

❛ Sleep would be nice, but there's too much to do. ❜

❛ Okay, I may be sleeping with him, but it doesn't mean he tells me shit or listens to me about anything, so stop asking! ❜

❛ That's right, motherfucker! It's over. ❜

❛ I knew there was something with you. But this shit? ❜

❛ What can I say? You were right about me. I never held it against you. I don't now. ❜

❛ It's a graze wound. Minor tissue abrasion. No hemorrhage along the bullet track. Sorry. I think I'm gonna live. ❜

❛ If you're not gonna let me go, then kill me now. Just get it over with. ❜

❛ You're a killer. I catch killers. ❜

❛ So it's okay to take a life as long as you get a paycheck for it? ❜

❛ Either kill me or set me free. ❜

❛ Taking a life is one thing, but the care and feeding of it is another. ❜

❛ I'm generally confused most of the time. ❜

❛ You ever care about anyone? Then you shouldn't have to ask. 'Cause when you care about someone, you do what you have to do. ❜

❛ I remember when life was easy, when the only question I worried about was "who's next?" Now it's: "How can I dodge my protective detail? "What should I do with my hostage?" These are not easy questions. ❜

❛ It's not about what I think. It's all about the evidence. ❜

❛ Hair-pulling may not be manly, but it's very effective. ❜

❛ If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead by now. ❜

❛ You are the only one I can count on, jackass. ❜

❛ It puts a pit in my stomach that I can only interpret as... sadness. ❜

❛ You working on an exit strategy? I'm afraid that's not gonna happen. ❜

❛ How come there's never a circus when you need one? ❜

❛ What was that shit last night? Some kind of fucking scare tactic? ❜

❛ Don't test me. I could have killed you. I didn't. ❜

❛ You're actually angry. I've never seen you angry. This is good. ❜

❛ I should warn you. You can't play on my feelings. I don't have any. ❜

❛ It's a tough job. It can wear on even the best of us. ❜

❛ I yell a lot...and bitch and complain, and I keep expecting people to guess what I want, but I never really say it. ❜

❛ And that was exciting, you know? The not knowing. What might happen, what could be. It was all possibility. ❜

❛ Your life is going to rest in the hands of the criminal justice system you put all your faith in. I wish you the best of luck. ❜

❛ You need help. Let me help you. ❜

❛ You don't have to do this! You don't have to kill this man! ❜

❛ Sorry it had to go down like this. But there really was no other way. ❜

❛ Stay away. Just stay away from me. ❜

❛ Did you happen to be stuffing a human leg into a garbage bag at that point? ❜

❛ There's that anger again. You got to let that out. ❜

❛ You're spinning. Let me help you. It's only a matter of time before you'll hurt someone else. ❜

❛ Take responsibility for who you are. ❜

❛ Why can't you just let me go? ❜

❛ If I got to choose a person... A real person... to be like, out of anyone, it'd be you. ❜

❛ Who joined who in the shower this morning? ❜

❛ For such a neat monster, I'm making an awfully big mess. ❜

❛ Maybe this is how evil works. Destroying everything it touches. ❜

❛ I've been held prisoner in a cabin for two fucking days. Fucking hellhole. ❜

❛ After everything we've been through lately, I just want... to be together with you guys. ❜

❛ You told me to take responsibility for what I am. You were right. ❜

❛ I can't live in this house of cards anymore, waiting for it all to fall down. I need to do something, you know? ❜

❛ If I do this, I need a day to get my affairs in order. ❜

❛ Mention that when they interview you for the story of my life. ❜

❛ Don't leave me in this cage, anything could happen. ❜

❛ I lie to everyone I know... except my victims right before I kill them. It's hard to establish much of a rapport there. ❜

❛ Sorry about the cage. ❜

❛ I've always been curious to try. Do you have any weed? ❜

❛ Love's a battlefield. Or in your case, a restraining order. ❜

❛ When a pretty girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, we're powerless to resist. ❜

❛ I met with a lawyer yesterday. He helped me prepare a living trust that gives you control of all my assets in the event of my death or... certain other situations. ❜

❛ God. Go away. This is creepy. ❜

❛ I'm free tonight, you wanna stop by? We'll have beer, a couple of steaks? I wanna talk to you about something. ❜

❛ I just need you to know that... you and the kids are very important to me. No matter what happens, I want you to always know that. ❜

❛ I know I've been taking things slow with us, but it's not because I don't have feelings for you. It's more like I have too many feelings, and I just wanna make sure to get it right. ❜

❛ I want you gone. Tonight. ❜

❛ I've spent a lifetime keeping up my guard, watching my back, wearing my mask. Relief was never in sight until now. ❜

❛ Lately, I was starting to feel like I had my head pretty far up my ass. ❜

❛ You decide who you are, who you want to be...and you hold onto that and ride it out. ❜

❛ I need some help! Just open the door! I'm being held captive. ❜

❛ Damn, it's good to see another face. I never thought I would. ❜

❛ When something beyond reason happens, it turns skeptics into believers. ❜

❛ If you believe that God makes miracles, you have to wonder if Satan has a few up his sleeve. ❜

❛ I can't exactly feel their pain, but I can appreciate it. ❜

❛ I kinda forgot who I was. I got it straight now. ❜

❛ The term is homicidal maniac. Not that I'm judging. ❜

❛ A public place. You thought I was gonna...That I would slip my needle into your neck? ❜

❛ You're afraid of me now, aren't you? ❜

❛ You're emotionally color-blind. You use the right words, you pantomime the right behavior, but feelings never come to pass. ❜

❛ You know the dictionary definition of emotions: longing, joy, sorrow...You have no idea of what any of those things actually feel like. ❜

❛ I created a monster of my own. ❜

❛ What did you do to make her so pathetically crazy for you? Does your dick dance? ❜

❛ What're we doing home in the middle of the day? She asked, hoping for sex. ❜

❛ Why? Why do I have to make up my mind? ❜

❛ I've never put much weight onto the idea of a higher power. But if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force out there wants me to keep doing what I'm doing. ❜

❛ As it turns out, nobody mourns the wicked. ❜

❛ Am I evil? Am I good? I'm done asking those questions. I don't have the answers. ❜

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp meme #inbox meme #ask meme #rp memes #*tv #*dexter #*mine

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

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Sol et luna — The Sun and the Moon | G.W.

(Soulmate!AU)

pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of food and eating, alcohol, vague mention of sex, insecurity

summary: You head out to the countryside with your friends, renting a cabin by the lake for two weeks, during which you notice a correlation between yours and George’s soulmate tattoos, unsure what to do about it.

word count: 9130

tags: @izzyyy-1 ; @amourtentiaa ; @hufflepuffalice ; @slytherclawbitch ; @famdomhideout ; @mollenniumfalcon ; @accioweaslcy ; @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts ; @justasmolballofstress ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @calmspencer ; @pandaxnienke ; @harrysweasleys ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @4amhotchner ; @weasleysprofessionalhoe ; @lunarlovegoodx ; @henqtic ;

a/n: This took me so much time and effort, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback, thank you!

masterlist | taglist form

—⒈—

You gazed out of the car window, sitting in one of the back passenger’s seats. The journey was pleasant, a nice prologue to the vacation you were about to begin – Ginny, Hermione, Angelina and Alicia, your travel companions sharing snacks and blasting muggle pop songs while singing along.

Natural curiosity made you wonder what the atmosphere was like, in the other car – which Fred, George, Lee, Harry and Ron travelled by. They had been driving behind you for some distance, before passing you by and disappearing in the distance – you supposed Fred had a bit too much fun behind the wheel.

It seemed like you’d be lucky with the weather for most of the two weeks of your stay at the cabin – that day was pleasantly warm with just a bit of refreshing wind, and the Sun was shining beautifully in the bright, blue sky.

The whole area around the place you were supposed to be staying at was just stunning. The cabin was by the lake, surrounded by nature, with just a small village nearby – no noise, no pollution – it was really going to be a great vacation.

When you arrived at your destination, the boys’ car was already vacated, parked in the front, some distance from the cabin.

“Took you long enough!” Lee commented, emerging from the front door after hearing the commotion of your group unloading the car. “Why such a hurry?” asked Ginny, pulling her last bag out of the trunk and stepping aside to make room for you. “Yeah, we had a great time..” added Angelina, already carrying her bags inside, and shrugged at him defiantly.

You made it inside with your heavy luggage and did not hesitate to dump it on the floor right after you entered, to have a look around the place. The layout was quite modern – the front door opened into a great open space, which still had a cosy feeling to it. Complete with a lounge area, a dining table to fit all of you, and an open, yet a bit secluded kitchen. Directly opposite the front door, on the far end of the room was a large, glass sliding door, giving you a preview of the back of the house, where you could see a deck, complete with a furniture set. Looking at all the spaces, you couldn’t help but imagine small moments you could have throughout the following fortnight, what sharing a house with your friends would be like.

Most of your friends were downstairs, you heard their bickering in the background as you debated just taking half of your baggage to then come back for the rest, when George approached you, without you noticing. “Want any help?” he asked, with no tease to his tone, nor any exaggerated kindness – merely, as if giving a helping hand was the simplest thing in the world. “Uhm…” you stammered, knowing well you did - but also thinking, you could do this on your own just fine.

George, evidently bored of waiting for your reply for more than two seconds, grabbed the bags with a scoff and a small smile. “Thank you,” you said, genuinely, signalling you had not lost your ability to speak too.

Walking out the back, onto the deck, you could see Fred by the lake. You took a moment, standing by the bannister – listening to the sounds – the very faint sound of water moved by the gentle wind, soft rustle of tree leaves and the birdsongs, undisturbed by anything. You could smell the grass, the trees, the flowers around, as well as the lake water.

You walked down the wooden steps and through the grass field, to the lake, to have a closer look.

Fred was skipping stones, he turned around for a moment when you walked up and smiled, acknowledging your presence – then continued. You watched him closely – there was something satisfying and soothing about skipping rocks, yet you were never able to do that yourself. No matter how many times it was explained to you, you had barely succeeded a couple of times in your life. You’d prefer to avoid sharing that fact about yourself - so for now, you just enjoyed watching Fred do it.

As he threw another rock, it splashed a bit, startling you. You winced a bit at the sudden contact of the cold water against your exposed legs – Fred snickered at you, and you heard George laugh, as he was approaching from behind.

Seeing him once you turned around, you felt the sudden need to explain yourself. “It’s cold,” you said sheepishly, a bit embarrassed, and followed with a chuckle. George scoffed, grinning. “Don’t give us any ideas,” Fred feign-threatened with a mischievous smile, yet you didn’t understand him. “…or you might end up finding yourself in the water,” George followed, looking you straight in the eye with the same expression. You felt a shiver down your spine.

“You wouldn’t…” you pointed out, wanting to believe that and crossed your arms over your chest. Fred and George knew a boundary. Right? George shrugged, continuing his act as he walked up to you. “We’ve got two whole weeks, love,” he said melodically and squeezed you against his side, way tighter than necessary.

When Angelina, Ginny and Harry came back from a grocery run, they gathered the whole house to take a walk around the area together.

Each step you took was as easy as if it was weightless; soaking up the views around you, you breathed in an immense sense of freedom, unobstructed by anything. You had left all worries, responsibilities and expectations at home. The sounds of the surrounding nature paired with the footsteps of the nine people around you were like music to your ears.

“Look, a tree!” Fred gasped in the most obnoxious way, pointing at one, with many other trees around you. Fred Weasley would never admit to be enjoying himself on a simple walk and he evidently found the tranquillity too boring. You could almost feel Angelina’s eye roll to your side before he spoke again.

“Merlin’s beard, a rock!” he exclaimed with another gasp as he looked to the side of the path, keeping his acting level high. “We get it, Weasley, no need to keep going,” Alicia told him. “No, I don’t think you do,” he replied, and the conversation continued.

You smiled to yourself, realising that the two weeks with all of your favourite fools has officially started and you couldn’t wait to see what it would bring.

—⒉—

The next day you woke up quite early, while your roommate, Alicia was still out in her bed. Walking downstairs, you saw that you weren’t the first one up in the house.

Hermione was strutting around the kitchen in her pyjama and dressing gown, with her hair up a bit messily, most likely making breakfast for herself. Sitting by the kitchen island over a bowl of cereal, was George Weasley.

“Morning,” you said quite cheerfully and Hermione said it back with a smile, while George just lifted the fingers of one of his hands in a lazy greeting. The kitchen was neat, all cleaned up after you all had dinner together last night, in a family-like atmosphere. So you fixed a quick breakfast with a mug of warming tea for yourself, and sat down by the island counter too.

Day two was pretty slow, you could tell everyone was just enjoying being able to do nothing, away from home. After lunch, you sat out on the deck with a coffee, following a game of cards played by the boys. It wasn’t a game you knew before, so you did not join them, but enjoyed watching from the sidelines instead, secretly rooting for whoever was doing the best each round and slowly memorising the rules.

Hermione enjoyed reading outside most of the afternoon, unbothered by anything or anyone – one could feel a bit calmer just by looking at her, in her element. Angelina on the other hand, felt inspired to move her usual workout routine out onto the grass, then hung out inside after a shower. Alicia turned back to her old hobby of drawing – Ginny, energetic by nature, seemed to be everywhere at once.

You had volunteered to prepare dinner for everyone that evening, and so did George Weasley. Happy to not have to do everything by yourself, you wondered how much experience he had in the kitchen, it was something you’ve never talked about – maybe he’d inherited Molly’s skills?

Frankly, you’ve never really had much opportunity to hang out with or even talk to George without anyone else around. It only made you more happy and excited – getting to know your friends more personally being added to the list of this vacation’s benefits.

You found George already in the kitchen, examining the contents of the fridge. During a short conversation to decide what you were going to make, you were able to deduce, he did know his way around the kitchen pretty well - just not Molly’s level quite yet.

It seemed that awkward silence did not exist around George Weasley, though it felt odd having such a simple chat with him – just about what’s been going on recently in your lives, or what you were hoping to do throughout the rest of the stay.

As you finished one step of the recipe, you moved over to stand next to George to help him out. You began to peel some veggies for him to chop, when you noticed the tattoo on the front of his left forearm. It caught your eye because it was similar to yours - well visible on your right forearm, resting next to his above the countertop. You found it quite funny at first.

But then you had a closer look.

Your soulmate tattoo. It had appeared on your 18th birthday, and you were pretty lucky it did. According to folktales, one’s soulmate tattoo would appear on midnight of their birthday – but it was never mentioned which one. Some people found out much later in life, some already married and with kids, having married said soulmate or not, some people would die before theirs would etch into their skin.

Yet yours had appeared. Half a full Moon, cut off with a clean line, facing your palm.

His – half a Sun, cut with a clean line, facing up, towards his elbow.

He noticed that you had stopped working. Out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed the two tattoos as well - and once he followed your gaze, he knew, you’d been staring at them.

Would George Weasley be your soulmate? How could he? - it didn’t make any sense. Sure, you got along fine, but you were both so different. What could he possibly see in a girl like you? Not just appearance-wise, but personality. He was wild, funny, charismatic – a breath of fresh air on a hot, sultry day; a rainbow on the plain sky. In comparison to him, you were boring. You’d never even considered George as anything more than a friend, he was just out of your league.

“…Are they… matching?” he asked very slowly.

It was over now. Once he became aware of the similarity, or rather the correlation, the matter became serious, disallowing you to just put it away, until you’d figured out how you feel about it. Did they?

“I- uh… I dunno…” you muttered, struck dumb. “They have to, they wouldn’t-…” George stammered, thinking way quicker than he was able to speak. “They wouldn’t be that similar if they weren’t supposed to match, would they..?” he noted with some confidence in his voice, only making you all the more nervous.

He took notice of your silence and frown, and waited a few seconds more, hoping to see just a glint of enthusiasm break out on your face - but it didn’t.

“You’re disappointed…” he said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “No,” you denied almost immediately, shocked by his statement. You, disappointed with him? How much you’d give for a guy like George to see you, to really see you. “No, I-… just thought you probably are,” you mumbled quietly, trailing off the sentence, wishing for that conversation to just stop.

George caught on, however, he opened his mouth to speak, to express himself, but he really didn’t know how – your words just puzzled him. Why would you immediately assume he’d be disappointed to have you as his match?

“We should really get on with it, it’s gonna overcook…” you concluded firmly, glancing at the pot on the stove, closing the previous topic. George didn’t feel in place to drag it further since you clearly didn’t wish to talk. But he was really not pleased with how that conversation had gone, and it left him with this uneasy feeling somewhere in his chest, eating away at him.

—⒊—

It seemed as if your mind was permanently clouded now. You kept shifting between obsessively thinking, about what George being your soulmate would mean, and not believing it was true at all. The Sun and the Moon?

But he was right, the tattoos wouldn’t have that much of a correlation if they weren’t a pair. And as you kept going in circles, each time you came to this conclusion, you felt the nervousness start to take over. How were you supposed to act around him now? Because of that, subconsciously and without thinking, you avoided him – just to not have to wonder about what your interactions should look like.

George gave you space, you were glad he didn’t try to corner you, but during dinners you’d feel his glances on you from time to time - as if he was trying to see through you, to find out what was going through your mind.

It’s been two days, spent awkwardly avoiding George with your eyes every time everyone ate together. Two days of trying to appear busy at all times, so that no one would notice that something’s troubling you, and ask about it.

That night you had trouble falling asleep, your distressed mind wasn’t helping you. The air inside felt stuffy, even with the window open. You gave up, for the time being, kicked off your blanket, put on your slippers. The main room was semi-dark illuminated by strong moonlight coming through the large windows. The Moon was full that night.

Upon opening the glass door you welcomed the slight chill on your skin, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You turned around to close the door behind you when a voice spoke to you.

“Hi,” said George softly, sitting to the side on one of the outside sofas. Your heart almost stopped when you noticed him - the one person you tried to avoid, and you knew it was too late to run away. “Hey,” you replied with a defeated smile, wondering if he was aware. He gestured to the seat next to him, smiling at you, almost shyly.

You were glad the only light came from the Moon in the sky because you could feel yourself shaking slightly, as you walked up to him and took the spot. You sat down and looked ahead, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. You could smell his scent, feel his presence right next to you and it felt like too much to bear, too personal.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately…” he began, vaguely, and you could sense what he was thinking. “I wasn’t avoiding you..!” you blurted without thinking, only realising afterwards, that it made it sound exactly as if you were. He hummed shortly, biting his lip with a small frown.

You sighed deeply and said, “I wasn’t avoiding you,” truthfully, making sure to accentuate the last word. Because you weren’t, you were only avoiding your cluelessness which took over you while you were around him. “Oh,” he replied after a second upon working out what you meant, “…okay,” but did not ask further.

“You know, nothing has to change,” he began, and you turned to him to listen intently. “I mean, don’t force anything. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he continued, bringing you some comfort, yet simultaneously a bit of confusion – what was the custom when finding out you were soulmates with someone? Did people usually throw themselves at each other immediately, that’s why he was saying that?

“We can take this slow, alright?.. Figuring out this whole- ‘soulmate’ thing.” You nodded, not sure what to say, crossing your arms over your chest as the slight chill of the night started getting to you. George looked at you for a bit, thinking, then lifted his arm gently, inviting you in. You ignored the small voice in the back of your head and scootched closer, allowing yourself to be embraced. For the first time, somewhere in the back of your mind, you welcomed the thought of having him as a soulmate.

You stared up at the Moon and it seemed to be staring back. You just couldn’t decide if it was taunting you – pointing out your silly overthinking, or rather comforting you in a motherly way, feeling partially responsible for binding your fate with the one of the man next to you. Why was it the Moon? The Sun – it fit George. Blinding you, only allowing to be admired from afar, yet never to be looked at directly.

“I’d like you to feel comfortable with me… so, whatever’s troubling you, I’m here,” George said with such sincerity, it sent shivers down your back. “… but no pressure,” he hasted to add with a chuckle.

“Thanks, uhm-…” You wondered, would he want to confide in you? “...Same to you.”

—⒋—

The following day, you woke up lighter in spirit. Knowing you could give yourself the time you needed, gradually lifted off the pressure of figuring out where you were standing.

After breakfast, when your friends were occupied inside or still sleeping, you decided to go out into the backyard. As always, welcomed by the birdsongs, you allowed your eyes to feast upon the views for a moment.

Without much thought, you walked up to the lake and as if it were mandatory, crouched to dip the very tips of your fingers in the water.

You saw the rocks by the edge of the water and stared at them for a moment, debating. Fully prepared to fail, you picked a flat-looking one and got up. You took a deep breath, then swinging your wrist – threw it, and with a loud ‘plonk’ it went down.

You heard a muffled snicker behind your back and you turned around instantly, to see George there. “How does this keep happening?!” you exclaimed, as he walked up to you without being able to hold back his grin. “What do you mean?” “You keep walking up behind me without me noticing..!” you explained, beginning to laugh and he chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “I walked out soon after you because I was bored inside, but I couldn’t help myself when I realised you didn’t see me,” George explained, and you accepted it.

“You need to swing it like this,” he instructed with a demonstration. “I know, that’s what I did,” you replied defensively, certain that all the rocks in the world just had a pact against you, not allowing you to skip them.

“Look,” George said, showing you once again how to do it. His rock skipped so many times, you lost count.

“Now you try and let me see,” he told you, watching you closely. You felt a bit of pressure, but even though you knew you’d fail again, you tried. And the rock sunk.

“Is that okay if I show you?” he asked and you didn’t understand at first, before he made a move to stand behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other over your hand, but waited until you replied.

“O-okay,” you stammered, so he picked out a rock to hand it to you, then moulded your body into the right posture, to then help you throw the rock. You noticed how tiny your hand was in comparison to his. To your amazement, it skipped a solid 4 times.

Both his hands were on your shoulders when you turned around and smiled, beaming at him, and he thought he could get used to it.

“Do you want to try on your own?” he asked, but you couldn’t get a word out, because you didn’t. He nodded, holding back a smirk, then repeated the whole process, and the throw was successful again.

You did try throwing by yourself after that and it was as if the curse has been lifted. Thanks to George you got the swing of it, with each time it seemed easier and easier, and you did better and better.

In a moment of confidence you joked about having a contest – and George, being George, wouldn’t let you back down. But he’d also let his rocks sink right away from time to time on purpose, to then pretend he didn’t know what happened.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, on your way back towards the entrance. It was amazing how nice it felt to be taught something, by someone, who didn’t make you feel inferior. “Anytime,” he replied. “But tell anyone about this…” you changed your tone, to feign seriousness for that threat.

“What’re you gonna do to me, huh?”

A certain sense of companionship was formed between you and George from that moment on, some type of feeling, quite hard to describe.

Your relationship was an odd one now. In any other circumstances, the two of you wouldn’t be close enough to really know you could depend on each other, trust each other with anything. But such a simple thing as a possibility, that you could be destined for each other - by fate, or magic, or whatever it was – changed everything.

You also found yourself paying more attention to him – catching yourself pointing out all the small things you liked about him, in your head. Like his soothing voice, or the facial expressions he’d make.

George sat in a chair next to you during dinner that afternoon. Again – previously, you would’ve seen it as a coincidence, but now you knew it wasn’t. Maybe the fact that you had been the first one to sit down and all the other chairs were empty, contributed.

There were moments where it felt like the two of you were sitting in a separate little room, surrounded by invisible walls. Nobody else noticed when George accidentally made a piece of salad fly right onto his shirt, while you stifled a chuckle – earning a light shove to your legs underneath the table. Throughout the whole meal, from time to time you’d hear him mutter jokes or anecdotes about his brothers when they spoke, while more of your stifled chuckles served as a reward for him.

The next day, Friday, it was very warm right from the morning, and it was only getting warmer as the Sun kept rising. By the time everyone was up and breakfasted, the weather was just perfect to enjoy the lake.

Once you walked out the back door in your swimsuit, you felt a bit more self-conscious about being so exposed – more so than usual, not really understanding the reason behind it.

After setting up your towel next to Angelina, you were content to spend some time just lounging there, maybe reading a bit, while the girl went off into the water.

As you followed her with your eyes, your gaze ended up on George, far away from the shore. His hair soaking wet, water dripping down his face with pure happiness written all over it, with his contagious, soul-lifting smile.

You couldn’t help your eyes wandering down a bit – you’ve had a few opportunities to see George shirtless before, you were perfectly aware of how fit he was. Why was he making such an impression on you now, then?

He turned his head all of a sudden, making you freeze as he caught your eye. He sent a cheeky wink in your direction, with a grin, and you quickly dropped your head. Ugh, why have you done that? It was simply the most awkward thing you could do. But what should you have done? Smile? Wink back? Why did this man have to be so forward, making you flustered?

When you looked back up, he was occupied by something else, once again.

The next day, a few of your other friends and some people invited by the boys were to come by for a party that evening. There were a few more of them than you had expected, most you haven’t even seen before.

The party wasn’t concentrated in one part of the house, there were people all over – you spent the majority of the evening out on the deck with your closest friends and a light drink in hand.

Music was blasting from the inside, but you enjoyed your time away from the main crowd. Your housemates were scattered all over, you saw most of them at least for brief moments – the deck was where everyone headed to cool down.

Once it was dark and the chill started setting in, you came back inside. Seeing George with a group of people – who you assumed were his friends – felt odd. For a second, a thought crossed your mind, that you should be spending this time with him. Everything indicated that you were his soulmates, so you should be bonding, should you not? Why was he in the presence of some other girls, then?

But you shook that off – it was irrational. George was his own person who could have his own friends. Hell, you couldn’t even be sure if he was single..! You stopped your brain from going down that path too, grabbing something to drink, and approached some of your other mates.

For the rest of the night, however, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. It was natural, he looked so good. How could you not have noticed he was that handsome, throughout all those years? And the outfit he had on didn’t help in keeping your eyes away, either.

What you didn’t notice, though, was that his gaze landed on you, from time to time, too. Not once at the same time as you, not once catching your eye, no matter how badly he wanted to. But you just seemed totally uninterested in him.

—⒌—

The next morning, you left your room in your PJs. You passed by Ginny, sitting in the lounge room with a newspaper, lazily skimming the articles. Going into the kitchen, you noticed George having breakfast there, with some girl sitting next to him, leaning into his personal space a bit.

You tensed a bit, feeling hot all of a sudden. Did she spend the night with him, then? Why else would she be there right now? Most people have left right after the party.

“Morning,” George greeted you with a small smile. You almost smiled back genuinely, but then the girl greeted you as well. She was very pretty. “Hi,” you replied, forcing a polite smile, before you turned your back to them, to prepare your breakfast.

The girl continued her sweet talk, trying to keep up the conversation by asking about his shop. She flirted without any shyness, not caring that they weren’t alone in the room. You envied her in a way, you could never bring that kind of confidence out of yourself.

George didn’t seem interested, though. You supposed she wasn’t his friend, after all, but someone else’s and just taken a fancy in him. But the way she talked did not strike with much intelligence.

You dragged out making your food, not wanting to sit down with them, making the situation feel even more awkward. Luckily, once George finished eating, they both went away somewhere. And you didn’t want to think about her all throughout your breakfast, but it was very hard not to.

“Too bad I didn’t wait with having my breakfast,” George said sliding into the seat next to you, startling you a bit. “Why?” you asked, with a slight tone of confusion. “So that I could have it with you,” he replied cheerfully.

“Bimbo not entertaining enough?” you said, regretting it instantly. “Ooof,” you practically heard his shit-eating grin, not daring to look at him as you bit your tongue.

“Aww, are you jealous?” he asked merrily, leaning on the counter, trying to get you to look at him. “No, I have no reason to be.” “If you say so,” he almost sang, teasingly.

“How did you sleep?” you tried desperately to change the topic. It was only afterwards that you realised you could’ve made it even more awkward if he had slept with that girl. “Alright. Can’t sleep for too long after having a bit to drink, though. How about you?” “Yeah, alright too,” you replied, and had no more ideas as to what to say.

Once again surprising you by doing things not at all out of the ordinary, George invited you to have some tea with him outside.

You set your mug of tea down on the table out on the deck, but you stood there for a bit, with your arms crossed on your chest.

“What is it?” George asked, having already sat down on the sofa. “It’s a bit colder than I thought, with the wind. I think I’m gonna run up quickly and get something more to wear.” “There’s my jumper laying somewhere in the lounge, you can take it if you want,” he offered, surprising you a bit. But you did want to.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, turning to the door. “You can put it on in front of the bimbo,” he said after you with a sly smile, making you shake your head, holding back a grin.

But you did, feeling a bit guilty about this childish behaviour. Just a bit, though – it was satisfying.

It gave you a bit of a boost in confidence – and since you were wearing his jumper already, why shouldn’t you sit down right next to him? That’s when you realised – you felt comfortable around George, inside and out. None of it was awkward – the silence, all the things you did or didn’t say; your morning hair or your oily face you haven’t washed yet after waking up.

“It’s been a week now,” George conversed.

Since you noticed your tattoos? That’s a bit of an exaggeration…

“Since we’ve come here,” he added, noticing your puzzled expression. “Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” “It’s gone by quickly,” you replied, frankly, frowning a bit. You didn’t know where all the days have gone. “Oh, we’ve still got a week,” he tried comforting you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, we do…” you replied, deep in thought, leaning more into his side.

The fact that a full week has gone by was worrying you, that the second one would pass just as quickly. What could you do, to use it to its fullest?

You did not have to wait long for an opportunity to present itself.

Overall, since that conversation on the deck on Sunday morning, George and you would hang out more. Just like the previous day, late in the evening, already in your PJs, you sat with him at the dining table playing various Wizarding games.

You were starting to feel tiredness get to you, everyone else in the house had already gone to their rooms for the night, and your laughs were often followed by yawns you tried hard to suppress.

“Let’s go for a walk,” George suggested out of the blue once you finished a game. “What?” you questioned, wondering if he was just joking. “I don’t wanna go to sleep yet, the night’s warm… let’s go for a walk.”

You studied his face for a moment, but he appeared absolutely serious, looking at you back with a small smile. You glanced outside through the great sliding doors, as if to check if it was really dark, despite knowing the time, then at your attire.

“Go get changed, I’ll wait here,” he convinced you.

Once you were out of his sight you ran up to your room as quick and quiet as possible, then changed, careful not to wake your roommate.

You took the path leading out from the cabin to the forest. You had to admit it was exhilarating. George’s spontaneity awoke something in you, the way he just made up his mind in a second and stuck to it. You’d have never think of taking a nightly stroll through the middle of nowhere, you’d be terrified of doing this alone. But the fact that he was walking next to you, and walking so casually, with his hands in his pockets, made all of that feel just as normal as anything else.

The walk woke you up, the comfortable silence broken from time to time by either one of you.

“Are we going somewhere in particular?” you asked, swaying your hands inside the pockets of your unzipped hoodie. “Nah, not really,” George replied indifferently, shrugging. “But- you’ll remember the way back, right?.. I haven’t been paying attention to where we’re going at all,” you said frankly, as you stepped off the path, walking straight through the forest now

George laughed at this, he found it cute, how you followed him into the forest without any care. “What were you paying attention to, then..?” he asked teasingly, giving you a meaningful smile.

“Nope, not getting dragged into- AAH!!” you screamed, scared by a bird suddenly moving around in leaves on the ground. Instinctively you jumped back and half-hid behind George, grabbing onto his arm. He tried his best to hold in a laugh, as you were coming down from the shock.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching out his other arm to you. You hugged him tightly, hiding your face in his chest. “Now I’m just annoyed I got so startled over some stupid leaves,” you complained after a small groan. You allowed yourself to stay in his arms for a bit longer, feeling those negative emotions leave you as if nothing bad could happen to you there. “That’s alright, happens to the best of us,” he comforted you.

As you pulled away, you made a move to hold onto his arm but he took your hand instead, holding onto it firmly.

“Look,” he said softly after you walked a bit further, pointing with his finger, where between the trees you could see water.

In the opening there was a small lake – it had a mysterious feel about it, seemed long unvisited, the boardwalk a bit old, yet sturdy as ever.

You sat down at the end of it together, above the trees was a perfect view of the sky above the valley, sky littered with stars.

“I should make it a point to stargaze more often,” you admitted, in awe of their beauty. George watched you, face illuminated by the moonlight. “I could remind you from time to time,” he offered.

You dropped your gaze, deep in thought once more. All of that wouldn’t stop once you left the cabin – George would still be in your life, out there, in the real world.

“Mhm… you could,” you agreed, dropping your head to the side, leaning it on his shoulder.

—⒍—

“Soulmates?” asked Alicia in a tone of surprise. “… the two of you?” added Ron doubtfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?” George snapped at his younger brother.

You and George talked the same morning about how it was probably the best time to just tell your friends everything. You were getting more suspicious looks from them, whenever you’d hang out late with George, whenever the two of you would have tea out on the deck together, or when George would make some kind of teasing remark to make you laugh. The looks kept getting bolder too, though none of your mates dared to suggest there was something going on between you. That’s how you went to share the revelation with them during dinner one evening, showing them your tattoos too.

“Maybe just that you have nothing in common..?” Ginny suggested boldly, clearly unpleased with the idea for a reason unknown to you. You glanced at the rest of the table quickly – no one else spoke up, but their faces appeared to say that they agreed with Ginny.

“That’s not true…” you said, getting a bit more emotional than you would’ve wanted, more emotional, than you would’ve expected.

It made you angry, though you couldn’t understand why. You got along with George just fine, so how dare they think you have nothing in common?! What right did they have to have an opinion on whether or not the two of you were meant to be?

“If you say so…” Hermione said softly with a small smile, then frowned at Ginny, silently reprimanding her.

Meanwhile, George was looking at you, judging your reaction – as if checking whether you meant what you said, if you weren’t about to agree with Ginny with a hearty laugh, having all that’s happened yet between you go to waste. Unknowingly, you glanced at him too – you locked eyes for a moment and you exchanged nervous smiles through the ripple between you.

And the rest of the dinner went on in silence.

Surprisingly, no animosity was left afterwards – you still felt a bit watched while around George, but now for a different reason. He, however, did not seem to care one bit.

George floated in the water peacefully, making all appearances that he’s simply relaxing, as most of the cabin’s inhabitants were doing at that moment.

But he was wracking his brain, glancing at you every once in a while – he told himself it was boredom, and getting your attention would be the best way to relieve it. It was like some force, drilling inside him constantly, the inability to leave you be when he saw you lying on your towel in a bathing suit. So he was thinking, thinking of a way to poke the ants' nest that was you.

You did not expect a thing – all of a sudden George ran up to you and scooped you in his arms. The feeling could be pleasant, were you not worried about what he had in his mind.

You yelped in surprise. “What’re you doing..?!” you asked, more as a formality, not expecting to receive an actual answer. “I promised you something when we arrived here,” he replied with mischief written all over him.

“No, George..!” you pleaded, hanging onto the back of his neck as he ran in the direction of the lake and onto the boardwalk. “Yes, George..!” he exclaimed, before jumping off, into the water.

Once you surfaced, he was already above the water, along with his shit-eating grin. “Idiot..! What if I drowned?!” you shouted, trying to keep serious, but it was hard to keep yourself from laughing. “Come on, I wouldn’t have let you,” he reassured you, making your heart thump for some reason.

He flashed you another dazzling smile, before swimming off on his back.

“I’m not swimming after you!” you called, before heading out of the lake.

Slight goosebumps appeared on your skin once you were out of the water, but you were not cold. Getting a drink of water, you heard splashing behind your back – signalling someone was coming out of the water.

A pair of footsteps was definitely approaching you, until you felt George’s big hand on your waist, making your skin tingle, as he stood next to you.

“You’re not really upset, are you?” he asked with a small smile, just to make sure, as you took another sip. “No,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the bottle you were closing now.

Then, suddenly, he leaned down and kissed you on the cheek. “Good,” he concluded, before walking off again.

You looked at his back, dumbfounded. He just left you there, puzzled, and weirdly lightheaded.

—⒎—

You looked around the room – the room in which you’ve made a bit of your own space, even though you’ve not spent all that much time in there, throughout all of your stay. The inside was brightly lit up by the sunlight pouring in through the open windows, the light wind swaying the curtains, but you didn’t feel like staying there.

Outside the room, there was nobody, you knew your housemates were somewhere else, in one of the rooms.

The downstairs was peaceful, all the windows along with the back sliding doors open, inviting nature in and calling you to go outside. Going down the steps, you judged it must’ve been late afternoon on a sunny day – the kind of sunlight that does not suffocate with heat but allows you to enjoy the outside and somehow makes everything look more beautiful.

Then you noticed George there, standing by the door – he turned around to face you, smiling right away, making your heart swell. You wanted to run up to him, drown in his arms.

He told you there was no time to lose, you should go outside and enjoy the time you have left, so you gave him your hand and allowed yourself to be pulled outside, through the deck and onto the plain grass by the lake.

You regretted not having spent more of your time admiring those views around – the mountains, the trees and various other plants. Everything was blossoming, despite it being the middle of summer – flowers all around you, on the trees and shrubs, flowers in the grass George was now pulling you onto.

You sat side by side on the grass, holding hands still, and his hand in yours felt like nothing else. The warmth of it – entirely non-physical – was so great, so extraordinary, and it seemed to radiate all throughout your body to your very heart.

And your heart, it felt as if it was about to stop and as if this was the only way it could function now, looking at him. His smile, his happiness felt like the sole fuel that could power your being and in a moment, you knew there was nothing you wouldn’t do, to make that man happy.

He looked at you adoringly, how you wished you’d have at least a fraction of the size in his eyes as he has in yours.

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. – you repeated, though the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth.

But he’d heard them – shifted closer to you and placing his hands on your waist, rendered you hopeless. With great difficulty, it seemed, you placed yours on his shoulders – and it felt unlike any other similar action, that simple touch made you feel so connected. How you wished to have more, as his lips were coming closer and closer, excruciatingly slow.

Almost there.

“Y/N..” you heard a female voice from behind the same moment as you closed your eyes, but you didn’t pay attention, you were too close now, you had to kiss him.

“Y/N, wake up,” the voice repeated, and everything was gone – the sunshine, the grass, George too.

You groaned in frustration, rolling onto your stomach and hiding your face in your pillow. “What,” you grumbled against the material.

Alicia chuckled, “It’s kinda late, sleepyhead,” she replied, before stepping out of the room.

To say you were confused was an understatement. Frankly, you were annoyed, you just couldn’t be sure at what exactly.

Was it at yourself? At your brain, for making you dream that dream? – Why would you dream about George this way, why would you feel about him that way in a dream, it didn’t make any sense – and it frustrated you, even making you embarrassed a bit. How were you supposed to look him in the eye now? Or was your annoyance the result of the dream ending? Because it felt so wonderful? Because that short, single dream you didn’t even get to experience a kiss in, felt better than any romance you’ve ever had in real life?

Only downstairs, Fred and George were, to avoid boredom, teasing their little brother in a childish game, tossing his wand lazily between themselves. Ron, at first even tried to get it back, but he was losing motivation, thinking they would have to give it back eventually.

“Hey,” you greeted everyone quietly, walking down the steps, headed to the kitchen.

“Aaay, look who’s up!” exclaimed Fred. “Sleeping beauty,” added George, making your cheeks heat up suddenly.

Ron seized his chance, snatching his wand back, to both twins’ dissatisfaction.

It was pretty late, you’ve noticed, glancing at the wall clock – everyone else was already up.

The girls were having coffee at the table. Joining them with your breakfast, you’ve noticed they were chatting about how none of them was ready to leave the vacation to go back to their daily life at home.

“It’s brilliant here,” Ginny admitted with a bit of a pout. “If we could just stay here, life would be great, I mean, look,” she pointed at you with a chuckle, and you showed her your tongue teasingly. “Had such a good sleep?” she asked. “Just great,” you replied with a snort.

Once another slow day was starting for you, you took a bit of time for yourself. After everything that’s been happening those last few days, you needed to let yourself think.

Going over and over your thoughts, as the sun travelled along the sky, you finally allowed yourself to come to conclusions. It was all intense, feeling as if long months have been condensed into a few short days. As if the most important moment got concluded in a single sentence. So what would happen if you’d missed a bit?

At first, George felt a shift. As if something changed in your pace, and now you were always a step ahead of him. Always slipping away.

Until it seemed like a whole earthquake, when he started feeling as if he was a stranger to you. Fully deprived of you.

It was on Friday afternoon, when Fred came up to him outside, wanting to discuss some business matters. Even interaction with Fred seemed unsatisfying to George at that moment, when it felt like a piece of him was missing.

He was humming and nodding in response, tracing fingers over his tattoo absentmindedly.

“Getting the silent treatment, are you?” Fred quipped with a raised brow, giving up his attempts at a serious conversation. “Huh?” George was pulled out of his thoughts. He scoffed, “I guess.” “And what did you do, dear brother of mine?” Fred leaned back in his seat, expecting an amusing confession. Instead, George frowned a bit sadly, “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’,” Fred repeated, “have you tried asking?” he asked dully. “No.” “Why?” he questioned, confused by his brother’s behaviour.

“I don’t… We’re not…” George shook his head. “Do I have any right to? She’s allowed to do what she wants,” he sighed, fiddling with his hands a bit frustratedly. “Soo, what do you have to lose, huh?” Fred asked simply.

George thought for a moment. Reluctantly, he agreed with Fred, admitting to himself that not having asked you sooner was probably stupid of him.

The very same day, before dinner, he tapped you on the shoulder gently. “Can we talk? After dinner, outside?” he asked quietly, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. He didn’t fail to notice how you avoided his gaze, hesitating to answer. “Okay,” you finally replied, getting into your seat, disappearing inside your bubble hastily.

It was hard for you to focus on your meal and your appetite was barely there. You pretended to follow everyone’s conversation, sipping from your glass from time to time with a friendly smile.

Your heart was thumping wildly, as you kept glancing at your friends’ plates – judging the time left before the dinner would be considered over.

—⒏—

The Sun was setting, lighting up the sky with pinks and oranges. You could almost look at it – half of it hidden below the line of the horizon, only half visible. It was soothing.

George walked up to the edge and leaned his elbows on the bannister, looking out at the nature all around.

“Did something happen?” he asked, getting the question out rather quickly. “No,” you answered, feeling deep down that it was a lie, as you walked up to him. “Are you okay?” he continued, looking at you this time, almost frustrated. “Yes,” you lied again, trying to sound persuasive.

He sighed quietly, turning away from you again. “You… you’ve been avoiding me again, haven’t you..?” he said, with hurt in his voice.

You felt so selfish at that point. You were thinking about yourself all this time, seeing George as the one who always initiated things, who always strikes up conversations. You didn’t take any time to consider how your distancing yourself would make him feel.

“You’re right, I’m sorry…” “Why? Have I done something?” he questioned again, with his heart-wrenching sincerity. “No..!” you hasted to let him know. He didn’t interrupt again but just stood there, leaning on the wooden bannister, hoping to get an explanation that would soothe his heart.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve been great, this whole time,” you began opening your heart to him. “I’ve noticed myself starting to fall for you. That’s when my doubts started coming back to me.”

George’s facial expression was unreadable, showing his pleasure upon hearing about your feelings for him, along with worry about those doubts you’ve been having.

“It’s just that… I still don’t know if we should be so sure, about us being soulmates? I’d love for it to be you, I really do, but what if it’s not?” you paused, allowing that sickly cold feeling to sink in again. “What if we started going out, maybe we could even be happy - but what if 2 years, 5 or 10 years from now, you find your other half of the Sun? What then?!”

“Who cares about stupid Sun?! What if it’s the Moon I want? It’s the Moon that always draws me in. It’s the Moon’s beauty I’m always admiring. It keeps on changing, and each yet each of its phases is just as mesmerising as the other,” he recited, full of emotion, having your eyes well up with tears.

“I care about the Sun. It’s always there, bringing me warmth, comfort, happiness… It’s got better and worse days, sometimes being dimmed by the clouds, but I’m the happiest-“ you paused, having to take a deep breath to keep your tears from falling. “-when it’s shining bright. And my world would be forever dark without it.”

George turned his head away and looked up into the sky, trying to keep himself together. As the Sun set fully, it magnified the silence around you, despite birds, crickets and cicadas in the distance. A single tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it with your hand quickly.

“Well, you know there’s a way to find out,” George stated. It confused you, however, there wasn’t a way you knew of – there was barely any information regarding soulmates, circling around, wizard to wizard. Perhaps if you went to the library and browsed some books on that type of magic, you’d find out more. And if he knew of a way, why has he only mentioning it now?

“You don’t…” he noted. “I thought you did, that’s why I-…” “Well, what is it?” you asked impatiently, as everything indicated he was telling the truth.

George got visibly flustered, something unusual for him. He had trouble getting himself to look you in the eye, even. “The tattoos are supposed to… tingle, or something like that, when… the soulmates kiss for the first time.” “Oh,” you managed to get out, hearing a faint ringing in your ears.

Why did he have to say that? – you thought to yourself. Some first kisses happened suddenly, in the moment, some with a bit of nervousness, after chasing around each other for a while – but this felt pressuring – you wished he would’ve just kissed you first.

But then the real fear struck you – with the real possibility of finding out whether or not you were soulmates, you were scared of it. You were scared of it not being George, as he stood, now in front of you, waiting for anything else from you.

“Say something,” he pleaded in a whisper. “I’m scared. I want it to be you,” you replied, barely audibly, not daring to look him in the eye.

That’s when he bent down a bit, cupping your face in his hands to look into your eyes. You surrendered under his gentle gaze, so dear to your heart. He saw that, reading you like an open book, and leaned in quickly to connect your lips. You jerked away, however, after they barely touched, having felt an incomparable to anything else kind of sensation, right where the other half of your Moon’s circle should be.

“What was that?!” George asked between laughs, party out of relief, partly just seeing you jump around as a giggling mess.

You jumped at him, throwing yourself at his neck, pressing your face into his shoulder. He squeezed you back just as tight, picking you up to twirl you around, eliciting more heartfelt laughs of pure joy out of you, reaching right into the depths of his heart. You both knew now.

“So am I gonna get a real one now?” he asked with hope in his voice. “Mhm,” you hummed happily in reply.

Looking into his eyes once you’d finally allowed yourself to open your heart to him, you felt almost dizzy. You couldn’t help the grin on your face, seeing how he looked at you, placing both his hands on your waist, getting used to having you within his reach, to feeling you underneath his fingertips. His lips were slightly chapped but ever so sweet and loving. He wished this kiss could last forever, but your soaring heart said otherwise. You felt a smile creeping onto your face until you could not fight it anymore, beginning to giggle.

George shook his head gently with a charming smile. Glancing at your forearm, however, he could not believe his eyes.

There, instead of a lonely half a Moon, was his part of the Sun attached to it, creating a whole. He lifted his own arm, to reveal the exact same image.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Note

For the sharing a bed ask bc I can't remember for the life of me if I've sent one to you yet 🙈 'they took turns sharing it while the other was on watch' or however exactly that one was worded ❤️❤️

aaa tysm for the prompt! i loved it and i hope you enjoy! continuing with the no plot just vibes agenda~

send me a prompt

rated: g | words: 3679 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, shelter from the storm, snowstorm, tending to wounds, comfort, fluff

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Exhaustion followed both occupants of the crumbling bothy like a shadow. It clung to them, slowing their movements, as if it was physically attached to their ankles like two weights. Booted feet were dragged across the polished, undulating stones underfoot, worn down after years of use, and finally came to stop in the centre of the main room.

Years of use didn’t warrant years of upkeep apparently, Riza thought, as she did a sweep of the building. It was not in the best condition however it was still standing, and it was shelter from the storm outside. That was all Riza was currently concerned with.

There were only two rooms, plus a bathroom with a functioning sink and toilet – surprisingly enough. The pipes grunted and groaned, screaming in protest at being used, but it worked and was clean. A worn plaque above the sink indicated the water was drinkable as well, which was the best news she’d heard all day. A small blessing in this wretched situation they’d found themselves in.

To counteract that thought, at that exact moment, a howling gust of wind rattled the door thoroughly and whistled through the cracked class of the windows to its left and right. The Colonel whipped around to stare, partly in fright and partly because he was on edge. They both were. The sudden scream that sounded as the wind tried to force its way inside through the glass made Riza jump as well.

They shared a look and the Colonel’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So much for the famed northern hospitality,” he muttered. His words held a bite to them, however Riza was unsure whether it was directed at the situation itself or at anyone in particular.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault they’d found themselves in this situation, however it was not ideal, nor was it pleasant. The first point on their ‘bad things that have happened today’ list (at this point, they were up to around number six) was a snowstorm had rendered their transport from the station in North City to the town they were supposed to be visiting useless. The truck owner boasted it was an all-terrain, all-weather vehicle, that he was handpicked by the military for transport because of his “beauty’s” prowess. He quickly stopped bragging though and started muttering angrily at his prized possession, kicking the tyre in fury as it sat pitifully in a snowy ditch, unable to escape the confines of it. It was safe to say his “beauty” fell short of the mark for the two soldiers. No amount of pushing from the three of them would shift it. However, they had deadlines to meet, so were forced to say their goodbyes and go ahead on foot.

There was no way they’d make it in time but at least they could honestly say they had tried when questioned.

It was by a stroke of luck they’d stumbled upon a walker’s bothy. Night was creeping in quickly, especially with the ongoing snowstorm. The world was turning greyer by the second and when Riza spotted it, she made a beeline straight for the shelter. The wind was too loud to talk over, but the Colonel saw her beckoning gesture and nodded, following behind her without question, already trusting her judgement and thought process.

The main room housed a single wooden bedframe with no mattress. There was another spot where another bed frame should be, but only half it remained. It had been broken in half. Whether that had been from an accident, an act of vandalism, or due to the passage of time, Riza wasn’t sure. Not that it would be of any use to them split in half, but simple curiosity had the Colonel searching the rest of the small building for the other half. There was a large stone fireplace that was bereft of any wood, they noticed with dismay, however after venturing through to the second room on the left, there was a massive pile of it within. It was a supply for the winter months for anyone who needed it, so the piece of paper tacked to an old corkboard on the wall said. There were two chairs placed around the fire and some cast iron cooking utensils stacked in a neat pile upon the hearth, lifting their spirits slightly. They had rations from the truck driver that would not require their use, but the sight of them was still a positive.

“I think we’ll be safe enough to sleep here tonight,” she announced, ignoring the Colonel’s petulant comment.

“Lieutenant,” he called quietly to her, catching her attention. When she turned her head, he gestured to one of the chairs. “You should rest.” He glanced down at her feet, and Riza knew exactly what he was thinking.

She’d stumbled and twisted her ankle while they walked. The pain had eased completely the more she’d walked, so Riza assumed it would be fine. Now they’d stopped, it was throbbing in time with her pulse. It appeared to be worse than she’d thought.

Just what they needed.

She sighed and mentally added that as number seven to their list.

Sitting on one of the chairs, Riza sighed quietly in relief as it lessened the pressure on her injured joint. The Colonel followed suit and he too sounded extremely relieved to finally sit down.

“What a day,” he muttered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Riza hummed in agreement, causing him to reopen his eyes and glance tiredly over at her. She shifted in place, feeling a shiver travel down her spine.

Without a word, the Colonel stood and ventured into the other room. He came back with arms full of firewood and started the process of arranging them within the fireplace. After a single snap the fire roared to life, filling the room with a soft orange glow and warmth. A few minutes later the invading bite of the winter chill was beginning to alleviate and Riza could feel her muscles relaxing.

“Do you think there will be anything outside waiting for us?”

His question was so sudden as he stared into the fire that it took Riza a moment to process it.

“Pardon?”

The Colonel blinked and tore his eyes away from the dancing flames. He repeated his question as he turned to look at her, expression serious.

“Like what?”

“What about bears?” He looked genuinely concerned.

Riza blinked at him. “Probably. I think so, yes.” She faintly recalled hearing stories about the size and might of the bears in the north but elected not to bring it up. She didn’t think that would have been beneficial or productive in that moment, especially not after recognising a faint glint of fear that was discernible in the Colonel’s eyes.

“Do you think we should be concerned?”

Riza glanced over her shoulder at the door as it rattled on its hinges. “I don’t think so. We’ll be safe in here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you know any bears that can open doors?” Both her brows lifted as she regarded him.

“I know a bear could open that door,” he scoffed, jerking his head towards it. “It’s hardly a strong line of defence.”

That was true. One more gust of wind might snap it off one of the hinges. The top one rattled playfully to emphasise his point.

“I think we’ll be okay, sir,” Riza replied smoothly, trying to keep her amusement out of her tone.

The Colonel scowled at her anyway. Apparently she hadn’t been entirely successful.

Riza chuckled upon seeing his expression. “City boy,” she muttered to herself, her tone light and playful.

“I would say it was a legitimate concern,” he replied haughtily.

“You also thought there were bears in the woods outside my father’s house.”

“I think my point still stands.”

“Bears do not exist in every wooded area and forest, Roy.” She rolled her eyes at him in amused exasperation, momentarily forgetting herself.

It was so easy talking to him like this. The two of them were alone together and stuck in a predicament that neither could have ever predicted or conjured up, yet here they were. It was surreal, but it was nice. Despite everything that had happened today she was still relatively happy. She was grateful to be with him. Ideally, she’d have neither of them stranded in a snowstorm, however she was glad he was here. If there was anyone she’d want to be stranded with, it would be him.

After she’d realised her minor slip up, Riza paused and glanced over at him, noting his soft expression and smile. It was so genuine and happy that she didn’t cringe or apologise. She didn’t feel the need to.

“We sound like we did when we were children,” he replied.

Riza felt her own nostalgic smile spread across her face. “We do.”

“I’ll take first watch,” he offered.

Riza opened her mouth to protest but he’d already shoved a threadbare blanket he’d found towards her. Riza didn’t particularly want to use it – she had no way of knowing how clean it was – however the building was not heated in the slightest, aside from the fire. It was built for hikers who were well prepared with sleeping bags, which they were not. For survival, Riza had to accept any kind of warmth she could get.

“You need to rest that ankle,” he added.

She nodded and took the blanket from him. Riza settled herself on the hard, wooden bedframe so she was facing into the room. It was warmer than facing the cold stone of the wall beside the bed.

“Colonel?”

He glanced over at her expectantly.

“Watch out for those bears.”

* * * * * * * *

The wind had died down throughout the night at least. Roy had been partly joking when he brought up the bears that may be lurking outside for them, however now that he’d put the idea inside his own head, he couldn’t help but take an extra glance every now and then out the window.

Just in case.

It was worth bringing it up to hear the Lieutenant’s laugh. To hear her accidentally call him by his first name. It had been so worth it.

To whittle away the time his mind tried its best to summon a plan of attack against any bear that did appear, going over how he would react and how he would fend one off, but Roy had come to only one conclusion after about half an hour of plotting. It was folly. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to take on a bear. His eyes narrowed at the rickety old door and took solace in the fact the doorway looked too small for a bear to fit through. They were safe from them so long as they stayed inside, and that was good enough for him.

Now the bear appearance dilemma, likely or not, had been put to bed, Roy’s thoughts turned towards the Lieutenant. He glanced down at her ankle as she lay sound asleep, remembering how she’d stumbled and fallen in a snowdrift. Insisting she was fine, they’d pressed on. They didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway, but he was still concerned. He had a strong inkling she was suffering for it as they travelled. A sprained ankle under normal conditions would ease with rest, but that was not a luxury they’d been afforded as they traversed the snowy landscape to safety. Snowdrifts up to their knees were common and Roy had felt dead on his feet when they finally came to a stop inside this shelter.

That was one blessing of the day, at least. He’d simply laughed at their luck, shaking his head, now they were safe beneath shelter, dry, and out of the storm.

But if he’d felt tired down to his bones, then he couldn’t imagine how the Lieutenant must have felt upon their arrival.

Steadying his resolve, Roy determined there was no imminent danger. No bears coming through the night to get them. Now the storm had eased, looking through the shards of the window, Roy could see the gorgeous landscape splayed before him, illuminated by the moonlight, and enhanced by the heavy snow. It looked a lot more inviting than it had a few hours ago.

He wouldn’t, but he was tempted to wake up the Lieutenant to show her how beautiful it looked.

Roy smiled to himself, the thought dredging up an old memory from their past. He faintly recalled doing something similar when he’d experienced his first winter at the Hawkeye house. He’d ran to her room without a thought, excited and eager to show her how the dark forest outside had transformed into a silvery white and green wonderland.

It had been something he’d been desperate to share with her.

“Colonel?”

A tired voice called to him, and Roy immediately lost his interest in the world outside. He turned, seeing the Lieutenant blink tiredly at him.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, an air of concern about him. He hadn’t expected her to wake so soon, and if she did, he knew she’d want to take over watch duties.

She shot him a small smile, placating his nerves somewhat. Pushing herself up into a seated position, the Lieutenant stretched her arms over her head.

“How’s the ankle?”

She grimaced, but only slightly. “Better now that I’ve taken my weight off it.”

That didn’t answer his question entirely. “Is there any pain?”

She was silent as she looked down at her legs. “It does throb every now and again. That’s what woke me up.”

Roy nodded, dismayed to hear she was in pain. If he could take it away, he would, but they didn’t have painkillers in their first aid kits. The only thing that would help was a support, which the Lieutenant had already put on after gently easing her boot off. She didn’t react to the angry red hue of her skin, but Roy felt his stomach tense. It hadn’t looked good. The compression support had been slipped on slowly, but Roy saw the way her eye twitched twice and how her jaw clenched while obviously trying to conceal any kind of pain.

“Why don’t you try and get a few hours sleep,” the Lieutenant offered. “I think I’ll be up for a while now.” She swung her legs around and to the floor, visibly wincing when her sore ankle contacted the floor. Another appeared when she tried to stand, but Roy quickly scrambled towards her.

“Please, stay seated,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.”

The Lieutenant shot him a strained smile. “That doesn’t bode well for us for tomorrow,” she quipped.

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but she was right. Still, hewas right. She shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.

“Regardless,” he admonished, placing his hands on her shoulders as a gentle restraint to keep her in place. “All the more reason to remain seated and keep resting it then, right?” Triumph flashed through him, and he smirked when the Lieutenant’s lips pursed, because she knew he was right.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, though,” she warned.

His shoulders fell in defeat, glancing down at the bed. His mind rejoiced with the idea that sprung into it, however it was so far out the realm of what was appropriate that it was completely out of the question.

Roy retracted his hands as the Lieutenant placed both hands by her sides and effortlessly slid herself backwards, so her back came to rest upon the stone wall behind her. She made herself comfortable and looked at him expectantly, patting the space beside her to indicate he should join her and sit.

Even if it wasn’t appropriate to share a bed with his Lieutenant, Roy only needed to take one look around them both and remember where they were. This day was already bizarre enough. What was one more occurrence to add to that list?

He wouldn’t particularly class it as sharing a bed with her either. They would both be sitting upright, looking out at the room, with considerable distance in place between them.

“We can take turns with the blanket,” she smirked as she handed it over.

Roy snorted lightly and gratefully received her offering. The room was warm enough with the fire but the stone behind his back still stubbornly clung to the icy temperatures from outside, refusing to accept the warmth they’d provided the room. Wrapping it around his shoulders, Roy settled back in place and made himself comfortable.

He woke with a start a few hours later. His head jerked upright and swung left and right, unseeing as he still tried to shake the vision from his dreams.

“Colonel? Colonel!”

He paused for a second, recognising the voice. It was from someone he thought he’d lost in his dream.

“Roy,” the Lieutenant called to him.

It was enough to surprise him, that it brought him back to the present. Glancing to his right, he saw his Lieutenant still seated next to him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes were searching his, moving back and forth frantically as she scanned his face with worry.

“Yes,” he breathed, trying to get a hold of his racing heart to slow it down. He was all right. She was all right. They were safe. He gulped down air, trying to get enough into his lungs and take away the fear that had both restricted them and wrapped tightly around his heart. “Just… A bad dream.”

The Lieutenant nodded in understanding and patted his forearm. That was when Roy realised she didn’t remove it, and that it had been there the entire time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “Thank you, though,” he quickly added. “It was just… the usual,” he offered. The usual nowadays was him losing someone dear to him. The Promised Day had not been kind on his mind. To this day he still suffered, and he didn’t particularly want to relive it after it was so fresh. His reply was code enough that the Lieutenant knew exactly what he was referring to. They’d already been open about what their ‘usual’ nightmares consisted of nowadays.

As suspected, realisation dawned upon her features, and she nodded in sympathy.

“I… I need some time before I can sleep again,” he admitted. There was no shame in his voice though, not with her. Never with her. They were both very well acquainted with the reasons the other struggled to sleep. “You should try for a while.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced. She gave his forearm a squeeze and again, she didn’t remove it. “Wake me if you need anything, all right?” She waited for him to verbally agree with her. Only once he did, did the Lieutenant’s eyes close.

Watching her do so caused Roy’s brow to furrow slightly in confusion.

She must have moved closer to him as he slept, because where there had been about two feet of distance between them before, there was now mere centimetres. Just enough distance for the Lieutenant’s head to loll and fall against his shoulder comfortably as she slept.

He’d been startled awake, so Roy hadn’t realised he’d initiated it. In sleep, his head had bowed and rolled to the side, seeking out her presence. After shifting closer, the Lieutenant had eased him from his uncomfortable position and lifted his head to lie upon her shoulder.

Now recovered from the turmoil of his dream, Roy smiled down at her and relished in the comfort her presence brought him. The weight of her head against him eased his mind and slowed his racing pulse. He could breathe easier with her lying against him. A peace washed over his body, relaxing his taught muscles, and soothing his very soul.

Despite their predicament, he was glad she was here with him.

The grip she had on his forearm loosened, so Roy snaked his hand over to it, hooking their fingers together and holding on tightly. The Lieutenant stirred next to him, disturbed from sleep.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

There was a brief pause with no reply, then the Lieutenant’s grip on him tightened and remained.

“Okay,” she exhaled peacefully. She moved next to him, shuffling closer, which Roy was more than happy to indulge in.

As she was lulled back to sleep, her grip on his hand slackened but Roy never let her go. He anchored himself to her.

They’d get through this and get home. Not that she’d allow it of course, but Roy would carry her through the snow with that ankle if need be to ensure their safety. It had been the day from hell professionally, however ending it with the two of them curled together on that uncomfortable bed, gripping onto one another, was not bad in the slightest. Roy thought that was the closest to heaven he was ever going to get.

* * * * * * * *

Their luck must have finally been turning for the better, as that morning a group of hikers entered the bothy loudly, laughing and joking with one another, while Roy helped the Lieutenant strap up her ankle. They were offered food and directions to the nearest town, which was only two miles away. The group set off with them, insistent on offering their help and support, and even assisted the Lieutenant with some painkillers as well.

After the day of travel they’d had before, it brightened up both soldier’s moods somewhat as they set off again through the snowy northern landscape with their new company.

Thankfully, they didn’t come across any bears.

They made it to the town in one peace and called North City Headquarters for assistance. And also requested back up for that assistance.

Just in case.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes #oh hey the manifesting worked lol #no plot just viiiiiibes baybeeeee #this was more taxing that it should have been asdfsg but it felt good to write again 😌#ask #roseofbattles #fic request #miles adrift inches away #there was only one bed

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moriartysnerd · 4 years

Text

Jim Moriarty x fem reader Harry Potter! AU

An: this is kinda short, not really anything big. Just a cute little story. I want to start writing more one shot story’s in this AU. There will be many more parts, I just needed some soft fluf, tell me if there’s anything specific you’d like to see!

_______________________________

How you loathed mornings. The sun had finally just begun to hit your eyes as you awoke to the soft click of the dorm room door closing and giggling slowly fading away behind it. You finally managed to open your eyes and looked around. Everything around your bed was so clean, and all the other girls had left. The images of what you and sherlock did last night flashed in your mind. You where always so tired after a revision night with the ravenclaw. You struggled to keep up with him half the time, you couldn’t imagine how you two had become friends in the passing years but there was no getting rid of him. You wiped your eyes clean before getting up and preparing yourself for the day. Sherlock seemed to of gotten everything ready for you. Even folded your uniform. The neat freak. You smiled to yourself, slipping into your attire and then reaching for your tie. It was blue. Not only was it blue, it wasn’t yours. Sherlock’s cologne swiftly surrounded you as you picked it up. He’d taken the wrong tie. No. Of course he hadn’t. Sherlock Holmes didn’t make such simple mistakes. He was either marking you, or he wanted to tell you somthing. Either way, unless you wanted house points off you had to wear a tie. Unfortunately, you wernt in the mood to deal with a professor harassing you over somthing so simple. It was settled. You’d wear it.

It felt like it took you forever to get ready that morning, the minutes where dragging and so where your feet. Finally your hands reached for your bag, tossing it over a shoulder and groaning at the heaviness. Seems Sherlock had packed that too. You groaned in defeat as you realised you wouldn’t have the time to resort you bag and headed out of your room and down the stairs, making your way out of the common room. It still made you laugh to think that Sherlock had some how found a way to sneak passed the magic and get himself into the girls dorm room. He was bright, you’d give him that. He was also somewhat of a charmer. Always helping the other girls in your dorm room, Or waiting outside when any of them needed to change. He was more than welcome to say he wasn’t really a people’s person, but most of all. The girls loved the drama he could indulge. Sherlock could deduce things so easily with substantial evidence. He was a drama whore, he just didn’t admit it. He’d figure things out about couples, teachers, classes the works. It was like a super power. It even had its perks. He was a bright wizard and you where somewhat in his shadow, it didn’t help that people constantly doubted your intelligence. Thinking you where only friends with Sherlock so you could pass classes. You worked your ass off for those grades. With or without Sherlock.

You stumbled your way into the great hall, sighing softly when their was no sign of Sherlock. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He had your tie, he wanted something. You walked past a table, picking up an apple and taking gentle bites out of it, the noise of people chattering filled your eyes as you stared up at the huge Christmas tree in the corner. That’s right, Sherlock would be going home for Christmas. He’d invited you, but you’d declined. Christmas was for family after all. You smiled a little shaking Your head, you had Netflix and chocolates for Christmas. Plus most if not all the girls in your dorm would be gone. A practically empty school. Perfection.

You hadn’t noticed how far you’d wondered out of the great hall until you’d made your way to the whomping Willow tree. You knew not to get too close, she didn’t like that. You sighed softly as the wind blew through your hair, letting the breeze comfort you effortlessly.

“Blue tie L/N? Honestly, that man has you collared like a mutt.”

The Irish voice broke the silence, you didn’t face him. Moriarty. You knew it. You could feel it in your stomach. You and Moriarty weren’t really on speaking terms, he’d been harassing Sherlock a lot this month and you’d always been the one having to comfort the Ravenclaw after Moriarty visits. It didn’t help that Moriarty and Sherlock both shared a house. They where both Ravenclaws. Both so alike yet so different. Sherlock found it impossible to sleep in the same room as the man stood behind you. That had started the whole “study nights with Sherlock” thing. Sherlock would sleep with you, unbeknownst to the teachers, you where close. You wanted him to be safe.

You took yet another bite of your apple, the sour taste now running down your tongue and slipping down your throat. It was bitter. You threw the apple towards the willow tree and it sprang into action, destroying it in seconds. It was almost a warning. A warning for James to back off. Maybe he couldn’t find Sherlock either and that’s why he wanted to play with you. You wanted to tell you darker male to leave you alone, to push past him and never see him agian, but you couldn’t. In an odd way he had you wrapped around his finger, and only he knew that.

“I came out here looking for Sherlock. He has my tie. I wasn’t going to risk the house points.”

You stated, Still defiant and refusing to look at him. You knew it made his blood boil. He was taking time to give you attention. Attention that wasn’t being reciprocated.

“Didnt you hear? He left this morning.”

Those words rang in your ears as you swallowed dryly. He left without saying goodbye? It was stupid, of course it was, but it still bothered you. You two where always together. Then he just leaves? You thought you’d atleast get another week with him before he left for Christmas. You shook your head silently, finally looking into Moriartys deep eyes. Your stomach couldn’t handle it for too long as you looked away.

“Whoops. Have I told you something I shouldn’t? You should be used to this though, shouldn’t you? You’re always second best to him. If he leaves you. He still has John. Who do you have L/N?”

He practically sang those words but that didn’t stop the truth from hitting. You where going to be alone on Christmas. No matter what way you looked at it. Moriartys eyes softened as he looked down at you, was it pity? Possibly. You never knew with this man.

“He has a family. Which is more than either of us have. He’s his own person. He can leave if he wants too.”

You gently gripped Sherlock’s tie and pushed past moriarty, swiftly walking back inside. You weren’t about to doubt your best friend over this. No way. The day slowly blew over, you had been bored out of your mind without Sherlock. He annoyed the hell out of you, without him even magic couldn’t keep you entertained. 4 o’clock eventually chimed and you made your way to the library, there was one thing you could do that would pass the time. Work. You spent a good few hours revising alone. Picking out books and writing. Even practicing a few non-threatening spells while alone. You grew tired early, the sun just beginning to set as you put your last few books away, packing up your things and wandering down the empty corridor your ears picked up the soft Irish chuckle of moriarty once agian.

His laugh was sweet, it belonged in the hearts of millions. It was a shame it belonged to such a horrid person. You continued towards his voice, your feet moving without your mind even telling you too. He was stood near an open window, watching the sunset. He had quietened down and whatever he was laughing at had long since passed. Your hands traced the wall as you came up behind him, staring at the sunset, unsure of what to say. You knew this man. You knew him well. However once you started hanging around with Sherlock, you drifted. He was no longer the most important man in your life.

“It’s nice hearing you laugh agian..”

You spoke softly, looking up at moriarty, he didn’t even glance at you, but still acknowledged you. You gripped Sherlock’s tie a little tighter as you looked down. You felt the gentle touch of a hand brush yours as moriarty moved to hold your hand, still staring out. It was golden hour. Everything was beautiful. It was as if nothing had changed between you two.

“I do miss you sometimes darling, i must admit I hate how Sherlock acts like he owns you.”

Moriarty spoke gently, weaving a hand around your waste and holding you from behind, head placed on top of yours. Neither yours nor his eyes left from the gorgeous veiw of the lake just outside the window. Everything in that moment felt so right. You couldn’t even stop yourself from your own thoughts. They where a mess. Leaving you confused and somewhat brave. You couldn’t even prepare yourself for what was to come, but one string of words slipped out and for once, you where glad they did.

“Spend Christmas with me jim....”

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years

Text

Such Good Friends

Prompt: Fake Dating Turns Real

Day: 3

Word Count: 2,298

It had started out as a joke.

A prank on Desdemona, really, as Deacon and Sole often pulled, considering it was the most entertainment they could get, staying underground with the Railroad for months at a time. Tinker Tom had made a light comment about the fact that he thought Sole and Deacon were together, and, well, with the way Deacon’s eyes lit up with an idea, Sole knew there was no easy way for them to get out of it.

If they tried to brush off one of his pranks he would often turn to them with pouting eyes, disappointed and whiny, and they didn’t have the energy to deal with that at the moment. So they gave in and casually confirmed that they were together. Deacon sat back and rested an arm on the back of his chair, grinning in satisfaction. He had a new way to torture the rest of the Railroad while they were waiting for the Institute to get off their backs.

And then it just… kept going. Sole fell into such a routine after a month or so that even after they could leave the Railroad HQ, they automatically responded to the questions about them and Deacon being together without question. Of course, they knew internally that Deacon wasn’t with them. He didn’t care for them like that, they were just really good friends that had bonded over some terrible shit that had happened. They were playing a practical joke, that’s all.

Deacon often would sling his arm over their shoulders, both as a way to sell the joke and to tease Sole, who he knew was much more reluctant to be part of this than he was. Sole would wind an arm around him and lean into him, partly playing along with the joke, and another part finding themself craving his company, though they told themself they would never admit that. If they did he’d never drop it.

It was easy to find themself back in this rhythm, sharing the weight of their steps with him as they walked through Goodneighbor, raising a hand to acknowledge the drifters they saw all the time when they were around for work. Deacon didn't say a word about the way they sought out contact first, and simply hooked an arm around their shoulders and smiled. They were a little too good at playing the happy couple sometimes, Sole thought.

They felt empty as soon as they stepped through the gates that led them out of Goodneighbor, Deacon’s arm falling away from them, his form leaving theirs. The distance was ridiculous in their mind, an expanding void that left them cold. God, they felt dramatic. With a subtle shake of their head, they readied their weapon in preparation for returning to the wildness of the Wasteland, and pushed away any thoughts of Deacon. They were friends. That was all they were allowed to be.

When they finally found a place to rest, halfway back to Sanctuary as they needed to speak to Preston, it was in an abandoned house. Sole found themself brushing their fingers against the deteriorating walls decorated with crumbling wallpaper, ash staining the tips of their fingers as they moved through the rooms. Deacon allowed himself to watch them through his sunglasses, head tilted in a way that made him look like he was simply examining his weapon, as they stepped through the house.

They looked like a ghost. He could imagine them, in their past life, walking through a clean, pristine environment, the house warm and bright without the traces of the wasteland. He wondered quite often if they missed it. Who was he kidding, of course they did. But he had to ask himself if they would trade the life here for their life before the war. Sacrifice everything they'd gone through for another few days somewhere else. Without him.

Maybe that was one of his biggest insecurities, maybe not. Deacon would never let himself dwell on it long enough to consider it seriously, but it popped into his mind at the most inconvenient of times. When they were wrapped around him at the Third Rail. When they threw their head back and laughed at a joke he made, clinging to him to avoid falling out of their chair. Is it worth it? He would think. To stay here, with me? Would you give anything to leave? Would you miss me if you woke up tomorrow and it was all a dream?

He swallowed the bitter taste that flooded his mouth and watched as they stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by broken glass, dirt smudged against their cheek, their eyes catching the light as they got lost in their thoughts. The way the setting sun filtered through the broken walls made them look like a painting, something you’d see in a museum of beauty persevering through the ugliest of environments. Like the flowers that grew through the cracked concrete of the broken roads from another time, another world he wasn’t part of.

They looked up through the remains of the ceiling and tilted their head, looking at the dancing colors of the sky that shifted as the sun continued to set. After a moment, they closed their eyes and imagined having peace with Deacon. Finding somewhere they’d never have to worry about raiders or the other horrors of the wasteland and could simply exist with him. They wondered if there was another time where they were happy. Where their biggest worry was the bills and what to have for dinner when they could never agree.

Later that night, when they had started a fire to fix some meat over and sat down for one of their many late night discussions, Deacon indulged himself. He asked what it was like, before the war. Before they found themself frozen and thawed in a time period no one would want to wake up in, before they had to fight for every breath they took and defend everything they owned with a ferocity they could’ve never imagined before. Before.

Sole sighed and paused to think, slowly shifting around the beans in their can with their fork. He let himself watch them again, watch the gears turn in their head as they dug up memories from their other life. They hummed. “It was… simple. Boring, actually, some days, despite the war. It was a privilege to be bored back then. It was hard to work as a librarian when something so significant was happening elsewhere.”

Deacon nodded, encouraging them to continue. “But it was a nice kind of monotony most days. I liked working somewhere quiet, where people could escape from what was going on. I was lucky since I got to shut out the shitty things and focus on books for a while.”

“What was it like? Working there. What did you do?”

He was fascinated. He could never imagine a world like theirs, where they could just work with books, something considered a rare resource nowadays, and go home to something clean and neat and do it as much as they wanted, over and over again. “It was nice. It was always quiet as a general rule, so people could read in peace. My job was to deal with the shelves, so I would take books on a cart out to the shelves in different sections and put them where they belonged. I spent a lot of time organizing, too. It was nice, straightforward. Everything had a place, including me.”

Their smile was sad as they looked at him. He almost found himself craving more information, needing to know more about something he’d never be a part of. They sighed and put their food down next to their boot and leaned forward, elbows resting on their knees, hands clasped in front of them loosely. “Sometimes we’d have kids who came in and I’d ask them to tell me about the stories they’d chosen. The way they lit up and got lost in these fictional worlds… it was something special.”

The wind whistled through the broken slats and Deacon could almost imagine the carefree laughter of kids carried with it from ghosts of the past, much like the one sitting before him. It was easy to imagine Sole carefree, as well; it was all he wanted for them. “I always walked the same way home, which now I realize was stupid as hell. A great way to get stalked, or worse. But I walked the same way home in the evening and made dinner when I got home. I’d feed my cat. His name was Muffins.” They laughed at this and Deacon smiled. “And then I’d tidy and sit down at the terminal and email some friends I had to move away from when I graduated college.”

“Tell me about them?”

The night continued as Sole talked themself hoarse. They drew laughter out of Deacon easily with silly stories of their college antics, tales of being late to classes they didn’t want to take, rushing through campus like they had mutants on their heels. They described their favorite coffee shop in detail to the point where Deacon could almost smell the coffee permeating the air.

It was an accomplishment, Sole thought, when Deacon sunk down in his seat and slowly eased off to sleep. They struggled not to laugh when they noticed him getting sleepy, his head nodding forward as he fought to stay awake and keep listening. Instead, they kept their voice level and continued speaking about their past life, a life they missed, but not as much as they missed Deacon when he was away, and watched him sink right into the grip of sleep. As soon as his breaths were even for a while, they eased their speaking off, careful to make sure he wouldn’t wake, and sat back in their chair. They guessed they had first watch.

It was nearly a week later when Sole was relaxing on a chair in their house in Sanctuary, legs thrown over one of the arms, torso crooked as they squinted at the book they held. The ink was smudged from the wear and tear that came with existing in the Commonwealth, dirt staining the pages. The writing was barely legible and it was a fight with every word to understand the writing, but they would get there through sheer determination alone.

Deacon knocked his specific pattern on their door and they looked up expectantly; not many settlers knocked and they knew that rhythm anywhere. “Deac!” They called out as the door opened.

A familiar face poked through the door and they smiled, putting down their book and looking up at him expectantly. “What’s up?”

“I have something for you.”

Their smile dropped slightly. It was a toss up with surprises from Deacon, whether or not they’d be pleasant. To his credit most of them had been very nice as of late, which was simultaneously wonderful and suspicious. “Should I be scared?” They asked.

Deacon shook his head and stepped through the door, his hands behind his back. They leaned in an attempt to get a look at what he was hiding, though they nearly tumbled off of their chair. With a huff they straightened themself up; they had to return to work in a few minutes, there was no way they could afford to get injured, especially in such a dumb way.

Deacon approached slowly, purposefully trying to make things look more ominous, a wide grin on his face. Once he stood in front of them he brought his hands out from behind his back and watched their jaw drop. “Deacon.” Their voice was a light gasp as they looked from his hands to his face in wonder.

In his hands was a tiny, black kitten. It mewled pitifully at Sole and they felt their heart jump. With careful motions they reached forward and Deacon handed it to them, revelling in the way they sucked in a breath and let out a quiet “Oh, precious” and brought the kitten to their chest, cradling it like it was made of glass. After a moment of stroking it’s tiny head they looked up at him as if he held the world in his hands, their eyes brimming with tears. “Was this because…?”

“Muffins? Yeah. I heard about one of the settlements having a litter of barn kittens and had to take a chance. I remember you said you missed him the most from before and, well, here we are. I know this kitten won’t replace him and that wasn’t my intention-”

Deacon was cut off by Sole unfolding themself from the chair, still holding the kitten protectively, and kissing him. They pulled away after a moment, suddenly awkward. Deacon found it hard to look at them despite the fact that they couldn’t see past his dark sunglasses. “Uhm.” Sole opened their mouth, fighting to find the words to explain their actions.

Deacon paused. “Damn, if I knew that was how you would say thank you I would’ve brought the whole litter.”

Sole looked at him with a relieved grin and shook their head, leaning into him in a way that was all too familiar. They turned sideways, making room for the kitten, their shoulder blade against his chest as they brought the kitten up to eye level. “What do you think their name should be?” Sole asked.

“Missile launcher.” He replied automatically.

“Deacon we’re not naming the cat Missile Launcher.” Sole looked at him in mild disappointment, unsurprised.

Less than a month later, it wasn’t uncommon to see Deacon and Sole walking through the paths of Sanctuary, lost in conversation with each other, Missile Launcher trotting eagerly between them, tail swaying contentedly.

#Fallout 4 #fo4 #Deacon #fluff #friends to lovers #oneshot #imagine #fake dating #au

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ladyanaconda · 3 years

Text

Helluva Dad Vol. 1: Murder Family

"Dad, dad, dad! Wake up, dad!"

Striker grunted as he covered his head with his pillow, but it was no use as the intruder hopped on his bed. "Kiddo, unless there's a wild animal or a homeless drunk inside the house, go away and let me sleep."

"Daaad, you promised that you'd take me along to the living world this time!"

Striker took a peek at the clock on his bedside table. "Not at 5:36 AM, boy. Couldn't you wait until I'm actually awake?"

"What am I supposed to do 'till then?"

"I don't know, use your imagination."

"But dad-" Out of patience, Striker bared his teeth at his son, tail rattling. Jake raised his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving."

Once the door closed shut, Striker went back to sleep… For about thirty seconds, that is, until the door slammed open and Jake jumped into his bed again, screaming in fright and knocking the air out of his father.

"What the fuck, Jake?!" Striker all but shrieked.

"There's a spider in the living room!"

"... What?"

"Spider!"

"And why didn't you squash it?!"

"It's a big spider!"

Striker's eye twitched. With an irritated grunt, he got off the bed, rolled up a porno magazine on his bedside drawer, and stomped his way towards the living room, Jake trailing closely behind.

"I can't believe it, A son of mine is afraid of a tiny, insignificant…" Striker trailed off and stopped in the doorway. A hog-sized hellantula was tearing the couch apart with big, sharp mandibles. "Boy, go get the rifle."

Once the issue with the spider was taken care of, Striker found himself unable to go back to sleep after the fiasco, so he went to the kitchen and poured himself a big cup of black coffee before making breakfast. Thankfully, Blitzo wasn't inside his fridge this time around, though he made a mental note to go get some more groceries.

As he served the fried eggs and wild hog bacon, Jake walked into the kitchen. He was covered in sweat like he had spent an hour lifting five-ton weights. "Dad, wouldn't it have been easier if we cut up the spider's carcass and take it out piece by piece?" he whined.

"And make a bigger mess I'll have to clean up? No, thank you." Striker placed one of the plates in front of his son. Jake frowned.

"Puaj. Tomato."

"Stop complaining and eat, boy. It's good for you."

They are in silence for the first few minutes. Striker would subtly glance in Jake's direction every now and then, smirking internally at the boy's expressions while he begrudgingly ate his vegetables.

"So, ready for today?" he asked casually.

Jake's expression brightened. "How's the living world like? Is it cool? Does it look anything like hell?"

"You could say so. The only difference is that there are humans living there instead of demons."

"Humans? What are those?"

"Well, you've seen the clients at I.M.P, right? They used to be humans during their lifetime. When they died, they came to Hell and became Sinner demons because they did bad things in life. However, some of them have..." Striker toyed with his bacon as he thought of a proper word. "...pending business with someone in the living world. Our job is to finish that business in the client's stead.

"So… The people who go to I.M.P. are dead humans who want to fuck up someone who fucked them up in the living world?"

Striker snapped his fingers. "Bingo. You're getting the hang of it, kid."

"Hey, dad, think I could use the-?"

"No."

"Hey, you didn't let me finish!"

"Sorry, kiddo. I thought you were going to ask if you could use the blessing-tipped rifle." Striker replied, his eyes reflecting off the knife he was using to butter his toast.

Jake laughed nervously. "Speaking of which-"

"No."

"Come on, dad! When will you let me use those?"

"When you're ready, not a second sooner."

"And when will I be ready?"

Striker dropped his fork to place a hand on Jake's shoulder. "We'll both know. Until then, finish your breakfast."

*HB*

"Moxxie, stop shaking. You're gonna shoot our only hellhound!"

"Wow, I feel so loved here."

Striker watched, uninterested, as Moxxie pointed the crossbow with shaking arms at a photo depicting a human family. "If this were real, he'd already been dead."

"You're not helping, Striker," Millie growled before focusing back on Moxxie. "Just take a deep breath, and let it out."

"But it's a family. Under what circumstances would we ever need to kill a human family?"

"Who knows? Maybe if that's what the client wants." Striker said matter-of-factly as he polished his pistol.

Moxxie wasn't convinced. "Maybe like a shitty dad, or a mob family. That's understandable. But to eradicate an entire innocent-seemingly in this instance-upper middle-class family bloodline?"

Loona frowned. "Hey!" You don't know they're innocent! This kid probably sets dogs on fire, maybe this girl gets off bullying Australian kids online, and this guy…"

"That guy definitely watches," Jake added grimly.

"Couldn't have said it better, little guy." Loona shared a fist bump with the impling.

"Exactly! Humans are full of secret nasties. It's why so many of them end up here."

"But-"

Striker had enough. "Allow me, Mildred." he stomped his way to Moxxie and picked him up by the throat. "Look, wimp, guilty and innocent aren't our business. We're assassins, not charity workers. Killing a target," he swiftly aimed his pistol at the photo and fired a clean shot at the woman's face, leaving a hole in its wake. His point made clear, Striker locked gazes with Moxxie, hissing. "Now pick a bloody target before I throw you out the window."

Moxxie fell to the ground with a loud thud. Millie handed him the crossbow again; he aimed the tip of the arrow at the father's face, trying to imagine it was Striker.

"I just think it's a bit excessive and we could be a bit more selective, is all."

Blitzo slammed the door open at that precise moment, startling Moxxie into firing the arrow. It bounced all around the room, hitting the computer, making a second hole on the photograph, and striking the bottom of the eel tank. Moxie jumped into Millie's arms while Striker quickly picked Jake up from the eel tank when he noticed it wobbling.

"Daad, I nearly had it!"

Blitzo caught the arrow just before it struck the client's skull. "...our newest client!"

The eel tank fell and shattered, spilling its contents all over the floor. The eels burst into electricity, setting the entirety of the room on fire.

Striker frowned at Jake, who was stunned into silence. "To think that could have been you."

"Damn it, Moxxie! I just bought those eels!"

They were forced to evacuate the building as the firefighters arrived and did their job. Striker was sure that this little incident didn't leave a good impression on the client, but surprisingly she didn't cancel. Guess she really wanted that person 86'd.

"Way to go, jughead," Jake told Moxxie sarcastically as they watched the firefighters carry the eels into their truck.

"Shut up, you little brat," Moxxie murmured.

Millie frowned at him. "Mox, don't talk to Jake like that!"

"He started it!" Striker rolled his eyes. Moxxie is 'supposed to be the adult who shouldn't stomp down to a child's level.

Wait a minute. "Did anyone save the fancy book?"

"You mean our only ticket to the other side?" Luna slipped out the blue, fancy-looking tome from her clothing without bothering to look up from her hellphone. "Yeah, got it."

"And that's why you're my favorite, Loonie!"

"I thought my dad was your favorite." Jake pointed out.

"Who says I can't have two favorite people? Your dad's my favorite employee and Loonie here's my favorite adopted daughter. You get a tweat now!"

Millie drew the chalk pentagram on the nearby wall. The lines glowed an eerie red color as the circle expanded and the area inside transformed into a forest. The portal was open.

"Cool! Can I draw it the next time?"

"Maybe. Let's get this over with."

Striker would never admit it out loud, but he found these trips to the living world… relaxing. The air smelled cleaner, like trees and nature instead of sulfur, ash, and lava-like Wrath. Its landscapes were more varied, prettier, and calm, at least compared to Hell's ecosystems. This place was particularly breathtaking; a wide lake surrounded by forest and mountains with the sun setting, giving the sky reddish colors that reminded Striker of Bombproof's mane.

Jake seemed to be having similar thoughts. The impling was looking all over the place, eyes wide. "Whoah…"

"Hey, hey, hold your horses!" Striker picked his son up by the shirt before he could dart into the woods. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I wanna look around, dad! This place is so neat!"

"It's your first time on the surface, right? Don't worry, Jakey!" Blitzo pulled Jake into a hug. "Just stick close to uncle Blitz and everything will be fine!"

"Sides, you and I got a very important job! We're going to keep an eye on... Well, the house, just in case something goes wrong!"

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Millie, I might be a kid but I'm not stupid."

"Oh, I know you aren't, Jakey." Millie chirped, ruffling the boy's hair.

Blitzo, Striker, and Moxxie silently moved closer to the house and leaned against the wall. The former two peeked through the window. It seemed like a normal-looking household with a mom, dad, and two kids. The target was coming out of the kitchen, platter in both hands.

"That's gotta be her." Blitzo chuckled darkly. "Ready to do your cowboy thing, Striker?"

As he was about to point his rifle, Striker glanced sideways to Moxxie. The cowboy sneered. "Actually, Blitz, this one's far too easy. We should let Moxxie have her."

Moxxie blinked. "Me?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, I don't see another Moxxie around here, do you?"

"He's right, Mox. This one's simple enough for you to handle."

Moxxie's face fell after peering into the house. "It's just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital."

"You snooze, you lose, Mox."

Striker readied his rifle, taking a few steps back to aim. He set his eyes on the blonde human female, licking his lips in anticipation. "I've got you, bitch."

"Wait, are we actually killing a family?" Moxxie asked.

"No, don't be a puss. We're just killing a mother." Striker positioned the rifle as it clicked.

"Yeah, we're ruining a family," Blitzo added cheerily.

"B-But… hold on, hold on. Let's just think about it."

He was pulling the trigger when the rifle was suddenly pushed upwards. The movement made the bullet miss its target by a few inches, hitting a mirror instead.

"Why, you-!" Striker grabbed Moxxie's throat, hissing and rattling his tail.

"What the fuck was that, Moxxie?!" Blitzo snapped. Moxxie seemed to go into a panic attack of sorts, prompting Striker to release him.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, tears in his eyes. "They just seemed so wholesome and happy, I panicked!"

Striker rubbed his temple, murmuring under his breath while Blitzo facepalmed. "Get the fuck over it, you baby dick-!"

PAM!

Striker roared in pain as a bullet blasted through the wall, hitting him in the arm. He gripped the wound as blood scurried out of the wound. Fuck, and on his aiming arm!

"New hole! Scatter!"

"Dad!"

Jake's voice brought Striker out of his daze. The last thing he saw before something struck his head was Millie picking his son up and fleeing the scene. Everything went black afterward.

…

As consciousness returned, Striker felt as if he had been trampled over by a stampede. His head hurt like hell and his wounded arm was no better. He tried to move but found himself unable to. Something was binding his hands behind his torso.

"Striker! Wake up, partner!"

"Wha…? Moxxie?" As his eyes got adjusted to the darkness, Striker realized he was tied up in a bizarre chair, hands tightly bound behind his back. Moxxie was in a similar dilemma on the chair to his right. "What the fuck?!"

"Thank satan you're awake! We're in deep shit!"

"You think?" Striker hissed. "Moxxie, I swear, if those bloody humans don't kill you, I will!"

"Hey, you can't blame me for us getting caught!"

"Oh, really? None of this would be happening if I had hit the target and been done with it! God damn it, Moxxie, I had a clean shot and you made me miss!"

"H-How can you kill a mother and leave orphaned children when you have a kid yourself?!"

"Because that's what we were paid for, for Satan's sake!"

They could have continued to argue if it weren't for the two presences in the room. As they looked around, they saw the two kids from before. He might have confused the little shits with implings if they had horns and red skin; their glowing red eyes and devious sharp grins would make the sadistic smirks of the Princes of Hell look like nervous smiles.

Moxxie chuckled nervously. "Well hello there, little ones. Aren't you cute?"

The children spoke simultaneously in a low, almost inhuman voice. "It's nice to have new critters to play with."

If he didn't know any better, Striker might have thought they were in the Cannibal Colony back in Hell. The entire room was adorned with human heads, limbs, and even organs. The 'food' on the table consisted of a roasted fully-grown man with livers and kidneys as side dishes.

"Moxxie, when we're out of this ordeal, I'm going to fucking pummel you." Striker hissed.

They struggled against the ropes, but the kids had made a surprisingly good job with those knots. They were good enough to impress even Striker himself, and he was an ace when it came to tying up knots. Sadly, there was little he could do with an injured arm and Moxxie's wimpy little arms were hopeless. Striker growled. If only he could reach his knife…

A light outside the window caught his eye. Then a second appeared, then a third, fourth, as if someone was lighting up torches. Striker paled.

"Jake!"

"Millie!"

Both imps shared a concerned glance. The girl pulled out a serrated knife on Moxxie; to Striker's surprise, the wimp pushed the chair backward and fell on top of her. He took advantage of the distraction, using his tail to pull his knife out of his boot and expertly slice through the ropes. Once free, Striker sent the boy flying against the wall with a kick. Moxxie, too, had managed to free himself with the girl's own knife.

Striker tipped his hat with his good arm. "Not bad, wimp."

"Can you move?"

"I'm not limp, it's just a scratch." Striker wrapped his red bandanna around the wound and pulled out his pistol. "Now let's blow a hole through that bitch's skull."

*HB*

Jake had never been so frightened in his entire life. Well, maybe that time when he nearly got eaten by a serpent, but it was different. At least his father had been there to save him. But this time it was him who got hurt and there was nothing Jake could do to help. He tried to save Millie when she got K.O.'d, but he stood no chance against a fully-grown human and was knocked out as well. When he regained consciousness, he found himself tied to a stake in-between Millie and Blitzo.

"Striker had that fucking shot. Goddammit, Moxxie."

The crazy woman was cackling evilly as she held up a torch. "Satan! We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell! May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!"

The torch landed a few feet away from the logs, setting them aflame. The fire rose up around them as Martha laughed maniacally… until she realized they weren't screeching in agony. Blitzo snorted.

"Yeah, that's not exactly how it works, lady. Sorry, your fire doesn't actually hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that'll get your dick hard."

Jake blinked. "She's a dude?"

"Grown-up stuff, kiddo. You should ask your daddy about it."

"Well, I'll just shoot you in your smart ass mouth!" Jake gulped as Martha pulled out a rifle on them.

"That would be more effective."

"Blitzo!"

Jake closed his eyes shut, whimpering as he heard the familiar click on the rifle. There were two gunshots, but he heard no screams from Blitzo, Millie, or his own throat, and no searing pain. Jake opened an eye warily. There were two smoking holes in the sockets where Martha's eyes once were. Her body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

A few steps back were none other than Moxxie and dad, both holding their pistols.

"Moxxie! Striker!"

"Dad!"

"You're not getting your god damn paycheck for this one, Moxxie!"

As Moxxie untied the ropes, Jake jumped right into his father's embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck. Meanwhile, Moxxie and Millie hugged and nuzzled each other affectionately.

"I'm sorry, sir. I compromised our objective and put us in harm's way. It won't happen again. I promise."

"Apology accepted." Blitzo pulled Moxxie into a hug, but Striker noticed he was whispering something threatening (apparently), judging by Moxxie's expression.

He waited until Blitzo let go to punch Moxxie with such force that he fell to the ground.

"What the fuck, Striker?!"

"I keep my promises, Mox."

*HB*

Striker wasn't very fond of parties. Frankly, he just wanted to go home, fall to his bed, and sleep, but Jake begged him to stay a little longer to eat cake. After what the boy just went through, he didn't have the heart to say no, so he conceded. Besides, the look on Moxxie's face was fun to look at. He had no idea what put the wimp in such a mood, but he had the feeling it had to do with what remained of the target's bloodline.

"You sure you can ride back home with that arm? I wouldn't like to lose my best shooting asset!" Blitzo protested as he climbed onto Bombproof's saddle, Jake seated in front of him.

"Big deal, it's just a scratch. Nothin' to worry about, Blitz." Striker grabbed the reins with his good arm, the injured one resting on a sling.

Bombproof moved at a slow pace, so it'd take them longer than usual to get home. Millie had once suggested that he and Jake move to Imp City; there was a vacant apartment in the building she and Moxxie lived in and she'd be thrilled at the idea of being neighbors (Moxxie, of course, didn't share the sentiment). Striker regretfully declined the offer (to Moxxie's relief). He was a country person at heart and would rather stay in Wrath. Besides, he wanted his son to experience the ups and downs of rural life.

A loud yawn made him look down. "Tired?"

"No, just resting my eyes," Jake said simply, but the exhaustion in his voice said otherwise. Striker chuckled.

"How about you 'rest yer eyes' for a while, then? I'll wake you up when we get home."

"Really, dad, I'm not tired…" Jake trailed off as he leaned back against his father, resting his chest against his chest.

Striker smiled a bit as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Surely not, kiddo. Surely not."

#helluva boss #helluva boss au #helluva dad #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #helluva fanfiction #helluva moxxie #helluva jake #helluva blitzo #helluva millie #helluva loona #one-shot #helluva boss fanfiction

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murder-raven13 · 3 years

Text

My Haikyuu Ships pt. 3

A/N: Part 3 because I am a hoe that procrastinates

Warning(s): cursing, not proofread, this has again become kind of relationship hcs, loooooooooooooooooooog, I added another ship because my memory sucks

Word Count: 3,401

Part 1 Part 2

Tanaka x Ennoshita

So, Ennoshita is calm and collected but also very insecure. Doesn’t trust in his own skill or ability to lead nor the relationships he’s built with the team. Tanaka, on the other hand, is loud and confident and dedicated. He also refuses to let people talk bad about themselves or let other people talk bad about the people he cares about. This really helps with Ennoshita’s insecurity because Tanaka is brutally honest and Ennoshita knows that, so he believes Tanaka. And Ennoshita can keep Tanaka in line and on track. Tanaka is the type that’s only truly dedicated to the things he cares about, so other things tend to fall behind. School is one of the things that gets left behind. But Ennoshita is there to keep Tanaka on track, making sure that he’s doing what he has to to ensure that he can continue participating in his passions. They’re both really good together, covering the other’s weaknesses with ease and letting themselves lean on the other when they need it. Very sweet boys with a very soft, fun relationship.

Yachi x Kiyoko

Okay, Kiyoko is a bit of an outsider and she’s not good at expressing herself. But she is sure of herself. She knows her capabilities and has confidence in her looks and, after a while, in her relationships with those close to her. But she’s never had a relationship with a female that she’s been sure of. Then Yachi comes along, basically worshipping the ground Kiyoko walks on, and completely anxious about literally everything. Yachi is a big ball of stress and love, and she turns to Kiyoko first, for everything. She believes in Kiyoko, knows that Kiyoko will always fit with her, doesn’t mind that Kiyoko has flaws because Kiyoko is perfect to Yachi. And Kiyoko helps Yachi build her confidence. They’re a very domestic couple, I feel. The kind that would be able to just sit in silence while they did their homework or just watch TV together every night. Kiyoko makes sure that Yachi doesn’t overwork or overstress herself by giving her massages and calming baths. Yachi makes sure that Kiyoko is happy and sure of their relationship, completely free with her emotions and her words whenever they’re together, by ensuring that Kiyoko knows Yachi is there, always, the peaceful shadow in Kiyoko’s life. They’re just neat together.

Yachi x Ushijima

Ushijima is a very simple man and very devoted man. His partner’s needs and feelings are a priority to him, even though he may struggle to pick up on body language. He’s big and strong, but very gentle, astoundingly so for someone so brutal on the court. Yachi is pretty much the opposite. She’s tiny and unsure and anxious. And Ushijima terrifies her at first. He’s giant and strong and stoic. This boy does not look welcoming, especially to someone as tiny and panicky as Yachi. So, it takes a while. Ushijima doesn’t think much of her at first because she doesn’t seem like much but he sees her struggling with a near panic attack after she gets separated from the team one day and he just really can’t stop himself from wanting to protect this tiny human. He becomes a kind of balm, a protector that makes Yachi feel safe because, no matter how scary the world it, Ushijima is there to keep the brunt of it away. And Yachi serves as a constant reminder of Ushijima’s strength, a reminder that he’s needed, loved, for all the qualities about himself that he’s spent his entire life strengthening.

Atsumu x Hinata

Can I just say disaster? [that’s gonna describe quite of few of the remaining ships tbh] They’re a disaster but, like, a good disaster. Atsumu and Hinata have the same zeal for volleyball and Atsumu fell in the love the first time they played a game against each other. Hinata took a little longer to fall. Together, though, they’re good. They have a place to channel all their chaotic energy. They mess with each other a lot, perpetual state of war via prank. Sometimes, much to the chagrin of those that know them, they keep score of who can prank the most other people. But most of the times it’s kept between themselves. This is a very fun couple. The kind that goes on spontaneous beach trips at 2 in the morning and plays until they can’t physically move. So in love with each other they sometimes forget other people exist. They’re both absolutely blinding, all radiance and sunshine, burning with so much passion that other’s have struggled all their lives to deal with them. They get lost in each other, reverent and worshipping and all to pleasantly blinded by the other.

Atsumu x Sakusa

Sakusa is mean, a meanie. He’s so mean to Atsumu. Most of Atsumu’s time is spent just pouting at Sakusa until Sakusa has to desperately try and hide the blush on his face. That pout is his favorite of Atsumu’s expressions and Atsumu has a lot of them. Sakusa hates being the in public eye but that’s unavoidable with his career. But Atsumu, glorious, blinding Atsumu is there to keep the crowds and the germs and all of it focused on him. He keeps the world away from Sakusa when Sakusa can’t deal with it. He’s always, always making sure Sakusa is comfortable and clean and happy. And Sakusa is the motivation Atsumu needs to truly take care of himself. Atsumu gets so focused on volleyball and being the best that he forgets some things, like resting and self-care and showering, all things that Sakusa is religious about. They make such a good couple because Sakusa needs Atsumu to be the light and Atsumu needs Sakusa to be his guiding hand.

Osamu x Suna

Chill babies. Osamu and Suna are both so chill, or at least they both seem that way. Osamu’s chill is kind of fake. It’s not that he’s not chill, it’s just that he’s surrounded by things that push his chill into a little corner and beat it up. And by “things” I mean Atsumu. Osamu loves his twin, no doubt, but his twin is also the most exhausting person alive a majority of the time. They’re constantly in competition. They have the same face and yet Osamu is constantly preferred less by fans besides the fact that he swore he would be more likable than Atsumu because he didn’t want to be alone like Atsumu. So, the team and those that know Atsumu all prefer Osamu, but everyone else doesn’t. In comes Suna, who captures everything on his phone, and I mean everything. Every fight, every argument, every moment, everything. This lets Osamu look back at how he and Atsumu interact and realize how tired he is of it all. And Suna is more than willing to just lay there, doing nothing, when Osamu needs somewhere quiet to be. Suna is Osamu’s refuge from Atsumu, whose passion and attitude make him too much sometimes. And Osamu lets Suna chill. He doesn’t expect emotion or passion or anything chaotic from Suna, he just wants Suna to be Suna, a lazy little shit that likes to cause trouble whenever it’s easy to do so. Osamu, to Suna, is a partner, someone that knows him and accepts his limits, respects how he is a person.

Osamu x Hinata

Okay, Hinata is really just like a nicer, more likable version of Atsumu’s energy. Osamu would be one of very few able to keep up with Hinata’s energy in a relationship without getting swallowed up in it. Osamu would be so supportive of Hinata’s volleyball career, would undoubtedly practice when Hinata begged him. He doesn’t mind, he misses the game. But Hinata never tries to pull him back into volleyball, he understands what Osamu is passionate about and supports the fuck out of it. Loves Osamu’s food, constantly bragging about it. Osamu can go nowhere with Hinata without turning bright red at some point. Also constantly bringing people to Osamu’s restaurant. The team won a game? Onigiri Miya. Someone got engaged? Onigiri Miya. Man has no shame. And Hinata’s so cute and famous that this really does bring a bunch of people to the restaurant [Osamu is salty about it and so is Atsumu].

Ushijima x Hinata

So, I’m a whore to enemies to lovers and I’m a whore for height differences; what you gonna do about it? Nothing because nothing can be done. Hinata has similar energy to Tendou, except Hinata is much nicer than Tendou and a different kind of chaotic. Hinata is unfiltered passion and confidence. Ushijima is concentrated passion and confidence. The two of them together are constantly challenging each other because Hinata never stops striving to be the best, a trait Ushijima greatly admires. And Hinata is always so impressed with Ushijima’s skill and power and size, loves that he’s found another volleyball idiot to be with. Hinata drags Ushijima into life experiences and Ushijima brings Hinata home whenever he’s drifting too far. They’re a very strange couple to others because their energy is so different. Definitely the couple whose house is more plant and volleyball stuff than anything else. Hinata will definitely tuck himself into Ushijima’s side until he’s almost completely hidden, may have once gotten into Ushijima’s hoodie with him, because he’s a little shit and Ushijima cannot say no to him [and he doesn’t really mind have Hinata so close].

Yachi x Oikawa

Oikawa is used to girls fawning over him. But Yachi is too shy to do so. Literally will not admit she finds him pretty. She just kind of ignores him, which pisses Oikawa off because this small, adorable girl won’t even spare him a glance and that’s never fucking happened before. Honestly starts pursuing Yachi because she didn’t seem interested at first. The first time she calls him pretty, he blushes, which was not a reaction he was expecting from himself. Realized he liked this cute ball of nerves more than he was originally supposed to. Yachi helps Oikawa realize he doesn’t need to be fake all the time, that not everyone has to life him, because he has the people who matter. And Oikawa helps Yachi become more confident, more sure of herself, more comfortable with defending her ground [she has to in order to deal with his damn fangirls]. Oikawa is a clingy ass person, but he understands that that makes Yachi a little uncomfortable in public, so he cuts back on the PDA, until there is a guy talking to Yachi, then he’s all hands on deck. Will definitely save Yachi from stressful situations. Loves that Yachi brings him lunch every day.

Suga x Ushijima

Suga hates him at first. It’s so funny. Because Ushijima is just captivated because Suga is pretty and kind and caring and so observant, if not the greatest setter. He’s got a bond of trust with his teammates that Ushijima admires a lot. And Suga is willing to do whatever it takes to win, even if that means he has to step into the background. But Suga hates him because he thinks Ushijima is perfect. It’s not true hate, just irritation. But it’s enough to keep Suga away. And then Suga starts realizing all the ways Ushijima is far from perfect. He’s stoic and bad at talking and communicating and all together a disaster at social interaction because he’s so brutally honest without thought. And Suga starts to like him, how could he not. This man is a mess and handsome and Suga’s a little whipped. It’s Tendou that gets them together because Tendou notices that Suga’s feelings have changed and knows that Ushijima’s crush has not. So, he sticks them together and, true to character, Ushijima confesses without much thought [despite the fact that he blushes]. Together, they’re a very mature couple and I do not mean that Suga gets any less meddlesome. I just mean that they’re relationship is very domestic, very stable. Their relationship is a constant, a comfort, something to always come home to. And Suga has his school students and Ushijima has his volleyball career and then they have each other. Works very well.

Bokuto x Hinata

Bright disaster bois. Can I just say good luck to their friends. These two are constantly feeding off each other’s energy. Hinata hypes Bokuto up and Bokuto pulls Hinata forward. All the time, constant movement with these two. They’re almost never home. Either at the gym practicing, out getting ice cream, at an amusement part, or trying to get themselves lost. They’re impossible to keep up with, but so fun to watch. They’re such a happy couple, always smiling, always laughing, always with a new story to tell. Little explorers. But always together. People can see it, too, how utterly bright the two of them get together. It’s actually ridiculous, Kageyama hates them [he thinks they’re cute but he would literally rather die than admit it].

Tanaka x Yamamoto

Chaos personified in a relationship. They’re both threatening appearance wise so whenever they go out together, they’re absolutely avoided by everyone. But they’re so nice all the time. Constantly giving out compliments, definitely the couple that will talk about attractive people they see on the street together. Also definitely the couple that is constantly hyping each other up, in everything they do, even like brushing their teeth. They’re stupid. Always having fun together.

Matsukawa x Hanamaki

These two both have resting facial expressions that aren’t actually indicative of what they’re feeling. This, on top of their personalities, means that these two are the ultimate pranksters. They can keep a poker face like nobody’s business. Absolutely impossible to read. And, unlike some of the other prankster couples, these two do not prank each other often. No, no, no. They team up on other people. Like demons. No one is safe. If you are around, you are a potential target. And they love it. It makes them laugh and its something they can unfailingly do with the other. It’s a bonding thing for them, would definitely make pranking people a date. Other than that, though, they play a lot of video games together. Plus, the lack of emotional expression of the other’s face has never thrown either of them off because they rely on body language and other cues because they themselves understand that the face isn’t always reliable. Very understanding and super in tune with each other.

Aran x Kita

So, y’all remember when Aran got onto Kita for questioning if it was okay or normal for him to feel happy? That was the Moment. Aran lives in Japan, but he is black and his name is foreign. Because of this, he’s been an oddity his entire life. That doesn’t mean that people don’t like him or that they make fun of him for it, in fact, plenty of people react like the Miya twins. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an oddity and that people react to it. Kita is also an oddity, not because of his name or his ethnicity, but because of his personality. He doesn’t act like a child and is super dedicated to a strict routine that includes keeping everything religiously clean. Not a lot of kids are like that. And Kita himself has said that he thinks more like an adult than a child, he’s aware of the fact that he’s not like his peers. This helps connect the two of them. They don’t react to each other for what makes them odd, they’re simply friends. Kita has never thought much of Aran’s name or the fact that he’s black and Aran doesn’t mind that Kita doesn’t exactly act like a child. They trust each other, they rely on each other. And they found their common ground at first in the fact that they’re both different in some way.

Takeda x Ukai

I have shipped these two from the very first conversation I saw them have. Ukai was irritated by Takeda, but admired and acknowledged his unwavering persistence. And Takeda went full creep and learned everything he could about Ukai so that he could manipulate him into coaching the team. Like, this meanie does not give up. And Ukai both hates and loves this trait. Because this adorable teacher should not be able to make people bend to his will like this, dammit. And Takeda is adorable, Ukai knows [he pretends he doesn’t]. Takeda knows that Ukai is a big softie despite his appearance, that he cares a lot more than he lets on, and that he is, legit, a concerned parent half the time [what other kind of person gets onto children all the time to make sure they’re eating properly?]. He also knows that Ukai is smart and dedicated and cares a great deal about his family. So, once Takeda had his sights set on Ukai as a partner, Ukai really couldn’t [and didn’t want to] say no. They become Parents, no questions asked, but not like real parents, like the uncles the kids are always left with. [Ukai thinks he’s smooth-he is not, Takeda finds this adorable and won’t say anything about it].

Tsukishima x Yamaguchi

The only reason this ship made it to the third part is because I wanted a childhood friends to lovers in every part. It really is law. Please, Tsukki is such a grumpy baby and Yamaguchi is such a stressed out puppy. Tsukki is soft for this man and this man alone. Literally cannot actually be mean to him. Yamaguchi knows it to [whenever Tsukki tells him to shut up, Yamaguchi knows that it’s for one of two reasons: Tsukki is flustered or Yamaguchi is doing something Tsukki finds cute and is flustered]. Yamaguchi is a walking protector, will snap at people for attacking Tsukki even if he himself is terrified. And Tsukki has unwavering confidence in Yamaguchi’s abilities. They know each other. Yamaguchi knows that Tsukki is a big softies, that he’s insecure sometimes, that he loves anything strawberry flavored and anything to do with dinosaurs. He knows and he loves Tsukki for it all. And Tsukki knows that Yamaguchi is insecure and quiet and doubtful, but he also knows that Yamaguchi is dedicated and kind and everything he never thought he would find in another person. Yamaguchi is where Tsukki goes to feel safe being himself. And Tsukki is where Yamaguchi goes to feel secure. They’re safe together.

Nishinoya x Yaku

Honestly, they’re both gremlin smols and I love them. They constantly learn from each other and push each other to be their best. Yaku is a team mom and Noya is team problem child. So, they work pretty well together. Noya gets Yaku to loosen up a bit and Yaku gets Noya to calm the fuck down. Noya lowkey makes him nervous sometimes but thats because Yaku is scared of his own feelings. Like, how can he like this wild mess so much? Please explain it to him, he would like to know. But he does love Noya, a whole damn lot, and he’s not doing anything to change it.

Kyotani x Yahaba

I cannot believe I forgot to add their part. I’m mad at myself. Kyotani is a big scared asshole. He doesn’t want to let people close to him, he wants to be the best, and he definitely doesn’t want others to know enough about him to see him as anything but strong. So, being vulnerable isn’t his strong suit and he doesn’t let people in. His respect is hard earned, his affection even more so. But Yahaba is a pretty boy with a very strong center. He refuses to take any shit from any one. But he doesn’t act that way unless he needs to. And Kyotani needs him to act like that. And once he does, it gets much harder for Kyotani to believe that Yahaba is just a pretty boy. Yahaba can and will put Kyotani in his place. And Kyotani is constantly pushing Yahaba’s buttons, forcing him to reveal bit by bit how strong is personality actually is, how much he wants to be the best as well. Best bois. Mad dog and mad dog trainer. I love them. Probably my favorite Haikyuu ship, out of the 50 million I have.

This is the last part, yay!!!

I have too many ships, some pls help me.

This post legit won’t save half of the tags. I’ve typed them twice and it won’t keep them on the damn post. So, I had to go with just one or two tags for each to make sure each ship was in the tags.

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solari-writes-things · 3 years

Note

Hello hello :-) Can I ask a SFW alphabet for Buck, or something similar please ? <3

✨ Solari Says: I decided on the SFW Alphabet because I've never done one of those in my writing blog just yet! So I hope that you enjoy it!

gif credit: to the OP.

MORE BUCK | MORE R6S | > MASTERLIST < |

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sébastien shows affection in small doses. He's not one to latch on, like Tachanka, but he does minor intimacies. An arm around the waist, hand holding, your head on his shoulder. However, that is in public. Should you find yourself in private, there are forehead kisses, cheek kisses, arms bundled around you as he stands behind. He's one to rock back and forth, as you're carrying out your duties, making it much more difficult but much more enjoyable to finish your tasks at hand.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, Sébastien is one of the greatest. He'll be your hype man, minus the loud. He'll be your instigator, your greatest advisor. Whatever you need him to be, he has a talent for it. You want to be encouraged to enact a bad idea, as long as it doesn't put your life at risk, he'll tell you to do it. You want him to encourage you to finish you house work, he'll tell you to do it. Hell, he'll even help.

If you were a recruit to Rainbow, it all started because you started fidgeting with one of the puzzles he left lying around on the mess hall table. He came up to talk to you about it, and you were initially worried that he would be much more confrontational--just for him to be much more laid back and interested on the steps you take to solve it. After all, you were apparently close.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Absolutely. He enjoys to cuddle when you're both alone, having nothing to do. It's one of the ways he unwinds through a hard day, after a mission. Spooning, nuzzling, the whole nine--as long as you're comfortable! That's the only contingency, complete with constant check-ins.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Sébastien is a very neat man. He usually keeps his belongings and his gear very organized, and that reflects to his cleaning. He's, as much as it was a shock to you, a very good cook and he was eager to show off just a bit when you two began to link up. He's open to the idea of settling down, being something he's wanted to do since he's been in the military for such a long time. As much as he enjoys it, the aspect of leaving for something greater does sit in his mind.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's forward, he's serious, and he's straight to the point. Simple as that. He finds an appropriate time, of course, pulling you to your quarters and letting you down easy. Depending on the reason, he's more than likely to stay friends--unless it's something you don't deserve.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's very open to commitment. Being someone who's sort of waited around for someone he's wanted to settle with, he has no problem waiting for that right person and the right time. Patience is one of his strongest virtues, and it shows.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's as gentle as they come. No one expected it from him, considering his laid back and adaptable attitude. But when it comes to you, his significant other, he's mushy. Gentle touches, softer voices, the whole deal.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He absolutely does. As low-key as he is in public, he will never deny an opportunity to give you a really big hug. It's as often as you would prefer, unless he wants one himself. His hugs are gentle and loving, and in a fashion where he makes you as safe as possible.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not fast at all. He's usually running at your pace in terms of your relationship, but saying that is on his terms. Even so, he's probably the first one to say it--even if it does take him quite a bit.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's not a jealous person. Even if he ever was, he wouldn't handle it like a child. He'd be straight forward and honest, you can always cout on him to do just that.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are soft and tender, should they last more than a few moments. If it's in passing, it's a a soft one on your temple or your forehead. He enjoys being kissed on his cheek or his temple, but he'll never deny being kissed on the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's exceptional with kids. Being the middle of three, he's had to take care of younger siblings and knows the ins and outs of doing so. However, he is not one to sit around with them. He'd take them outside, participating in activities.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are spent one of two ways: in bed or out on a jog. Usually it's the latter. He's an early riser--he can't help it after being in the military. He'll make a hearty breakfast to fuel the morning workout, alone with a smoothie or a protein shake.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are usually spent keeping busy. Fidgeting with his puzzles while there is soft music or television in the background. He wants to keep his mind going, unless it is time for bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's the kind to reveal as needed. A certain topic of discussion requires a certain answer, he's more than happy to say it. He doesn't hide anything, really, but he won't recklessly speak either.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's one of the most patient people ever. It comes with working with so many different personalities in Rainbow. So good luck angering him, it ain't happening. Unless something were to happen to you, then that's when he'd be upset.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers pretty much everything. It shocks you, quite honestly, because even you don't remember saying most things. But here he is.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

You went out in the snow together. It was during your time home, and he decided he wanted to just take a small stroll. He made you cocoa in a travel mug, held your hand, and you both just... talked. It was quiet, where you were staying, so the moment felt so intimate as you both opened up to one another about your pasts.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's fairly protective of you should the time come. Missions, in public, should you end up in danger he's the first to step in your line of sight.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Considering how lax he is about most things, the attention he puts into things is staggering. Everything is done to his liking, but when it comes to anniversaries and gifts he pays close attention to your likes and interests throughout the relationship. You could passively say something is nice, and if he feels you've been thinking about it, he very much might pick it up for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He doesn't have many bad habits, actually. Maybe that he gets a little too immersed in his busywork should it keep his interest.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He mainly worries about his physique should the time call for it, and focuses a lot on his facial hair. He doesn't let his hair grow past a certain length, either, otherwise it becomes too distracting.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If it was during a break-up, not necessarily. During your relationship, though, he'd miss you while you were away. Little things would remind him of you and he'd hold onto those.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Whenever he finds time, he usually sits down and watches movies. He's a bit of a cinephile, knowing many little facts about movies that he can get his hands on. If he loves them a lot, he can name directors and dates, and random fun facts.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn't like lying. It's a huge deal breaker for him, and it will immediately give you the boot. He also prefers if someone is honorable, and if they can admit their faults should they be at fault about something.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He prefers to lay down on his stomach, or spooning. He doesn't snore, and he doesn't talk in his sleep. However, he does tend to shift around a lot.

Rainbow Six Tag List: @kind-wolf General Tag List: @sazafraz :|: @tsumethedrifter :|: @angelaiswriting

if you wish to be added to the tag list, please comment or message me!

#sebastien cote #buck rainbow six #buck rainbow six siege #sfw headcanon #rainbow six siege #r6s #solari writes things

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pagesoflauren · 4 years

Text

Henry Cavill Vampire Anthology: Memories Bring Back Memories...

darkish!vampire!Napoleon Solo x reader

Warnings: not-fully-fleshed-out vampire lore, vampire-typical violence, angst, pseudo-blackmailing, mentions of trauma/parental neglect

A/N: So, played around with an idea and based it on this creepypasta. I had also read a fic with this idea with Harry Styles, but I can’t find it anymore. I hope y’all enjoy this 🤞🏽

Your eyes sting when you first open them, the sight of the bright hospital lights making your pupils constrict painfully.

You’re connected to various machines through tubes attached to your arms. You can hear the steady rhythm on the heart rate monitor grow increasingly faster as you fail to get your bearings.

Somewhere in your subconscious you know you shouldn’t move so violently, but you do. Your arms thrash and tug at wires, causing the wheels on the machines to roll across the tile floor.

Cool hands press against your hot skin. Your muscles move to cringe away from the shock until you look into the face of the person.

It’s a man; a beautiful stranger with blue eyes and perfect features.

You must be dead.

“Relax, darling,” he soothes you, the prosody of his voice a little sing-songy compared to others you’ve spoken to. You don’t know anyone who speaks the way he does.

“Who are you?”

He looks so pained, his eyebrows coming together and moving upwards. His eyes drift down for a moment as he appears to collect his thoughts before meeting yours again. He runs his knuckles against your cheek. His touch is so unfamiliar that you lean away from it, though he acts as if he’s done this a million times before.

“You’ll remember soon.”

A lie, but you don’t need to know that.

“I’ll get the nurse.”

He reaches over to the space next to your head. The button clicks when he presses it and a white light above it turns on.

He takes in the wild look in your eyes as you take in your surroundings, looking at spots behind him before scanning the rest of the room. Your breathing slows, as shown by your chest slowing but also by the audible sound of your lungs shrinking as your ribs close around them.

He finds such beauty in the way your body moves in sync, how your heartbeat also loses speed. Your body temperature goes down, some of your warmth disappearing from him.

You’re quite perfect, aren’t you?

Though, he made you this way.

You foolishly let your guard down while walking home and unfortunately crossed paths with him on the verge of a literal mental breakdown.

Mortals use that term to describe when they’re under excessive amounts of stress and lose all sensibility.

His kind uses it when their minds follow their bodies: dead. When their brains lose their mental vigor, they turn to humans to fulfill their needs.

Most people don’t survive an attack from those like him. They are drained of their very essence. Everything that made them who they are, the experiences that shaped their beliefs, the emotions that arise when they navigate the world… is all stolen away in a few moments with a bite at the back of the neck.

Others, like you, come out in better shape. A little disoriented, more recent memories lost but still many intact ones. Enough to allow you to still function, only less effectively than before.

You were an easy target. Napoleon was ready to empty your little head and leave you a slump on the street. But your memories intrigued him.

Your mother. Your father. A second man he can assume is a step-father. An empty road at night illuminated by passing headlights. Dingy living in the city you’re currently in, riddled with rats and flies. Tables filled with food while your stomach grumbled, seedy customers that grabbed your retracting hands, shady characters you pass on the way back home from work.

Napoleon knows that life. On the run in strange cities, sneaking around, avoiding an entire task force created especially for him. He knows women. He’s certain he’s met every single type of them in the long time he’s been alive and has been around long enough to have met each type twice.

There’s one type of woman he actively tries to avoid, though. The type of woman that led to his heart shattered on the floor when it was still beating: the ones who need him; the helpless kind.

That’s exactly what you were. It was clear there were things you were ready to forget. You needed a clean slate. He could help you rebuild your mental health, give you beautiful memories to hold on to.

You needed him.

The nurses were saying you had a case of memory loss from when you fell and hit your head, but your boyfriend was there to take care of you. He had all the paperwork filled out because he was the one that took you to the hospital three days ago.

You were knocked out for three days.

It overwhelmed you, but they reassured you he was your emergency contact.

As such, after all the tests and brain scans, you were given into his care. His embrace felt foreign, but you didn’t protest when he insisted you take his hand as you walked to his car together.

You twiddled your thumbs as he drove through a city you swore you have never seen before. You have an overwhelming sense of deja vu, something that rings a faint bell when you see a certain street corner or the unlit neon sign of a restaurant. It sounds when you pass a dilapidated apartment building with chipping paint and a rusty fire escape. You can conjure an image of what a unit inside would look like, hear the creaks of the floor, or the failing stovetop as you try to boil water.

His house is out of the city, on a quiet street straight out of a magazine. The inside is neat and it almost puts you off. You don’t feel at home here.

“How are you feeling, darling? You need a rest?”

“I think so. I-I don’t remember anything, it’s a lot to be in here.”

A gentle hand lays on your shoulder, turning you to a corridor. “Last door on the right. I’ll make you some tea.”

Tea? Do you like tea? You can’t remember…

You’re startled by the light tap on your bottom that makes you stumble forward. When you look back at him, he’s heading towards the kitchen.

The bedroom is fairly simple, with blue checkered covers you could expect from a man your boyfriend’s age.

Taking a look around, you find your makeup on a vanity by the window. There are two sets of drawers and you assume the one next to the vanity is yours.

Sirens are going off in your head now. There are no bells of recollection.

You go into the bathroom, sliding the glass door of the shower cubicle open.

It was the nicest shower you had ever seen, with a dark blue backsplash and five different showerheads. On the floor, you find products that are far out of your budget. They were the luxury items you saw in the drugstore that you would only hope to afford one day.

You pick up the bottle of shampoo. It’s heavier than you expect, brand new.

“Darling?” his voice calls into the bedroom. You hear the teacup rattle on a saucer as his footsteps draw closer. “Ah, there you are.”

You put the bottle down and turn to face him. His large frame fills the doorframe as he leans against it, the cup and saucer looking so delicate in his large hand.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” It comes out as a whine, but you can’t hold in your frustration. Surely, you’d have some memory of this.

“You fell pretty hard, darling. I was very distressed,” he explains, placing your drink on the counter next to the sink.

“But I really don’t remember anything. This house, the bedroom, the shower...I don’t even remember you…or what I called you.”

“Napoleon,” he supplies. “You always called me by my first name.”

You didn’t know his name until now. All the other women he’s known called him by other names, aliases. His name is reserved for his mother.

And now you.

“It’s so much, Napoleon.” He sees panic return to your eyes. It’s the same look you had when he grabbed you on the street. You clutched at the arm that constricted around your neck, breathing weak utterances of “please” over and over again.

“Maybe...maybe I could go somewhere, just for a few days. And if I rest, just, outside of here, I’ll have a clear mind and can remember…”

He looks down and sighs. He pushes off the doorframe and takes short, careful steps toward you.

“Darling, I hate to tell you this,” he begins, tucking your hair behind your ears. His palms cradle your jaw, tilting your head back so you can look up at him. “But your memories won’t come back.”

You blink rapidly in disbelief, shaking your head as much as you can. “But...but the nurses said--”

“The nurses don’t know what they were talking about,” he says gently.

You say nothing, staring into his beautiful face, searching for answers.

“You won’t get your memories back because I have them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Does your neck hurt?”

Icy fingers touch the back of your neck, a jolt of pain shooting down your spine and your knees buckle. You clutch at his shirt to keep yourself standing.

“Ah, it does.” He smiles, prominent pointed teeth glinting in the bathroom light. “Because that’s where I bit you. And I have all your memories, darling. Apart from the few that are still bouncing around that pretty head of yours.”

You push him away as best you can, which isn’t very much, and back away. The glass door rattles as you come in contact with it, trying to create more space between your bodies.

“You...you can’t be--that can’t be true. That’s impossible.”

A bite on your neck? Something you’ll never get back?

Vampires feed on blood, not memories…

“You came to this city to escape your broken family. Your father abandoned you. Your step-father didn’t care for you. Your mother was so blinded by love to see how you were neglected.”

The bells again. Bells are better than sirens, but not this time.

“No.” You refuse to listen.

“I’m here to keep you safe. You need someone to keep you safe. And you need someone to rebuild that little memory of yours.”

The gears click in your head. You have happy memories of you and your mom. No man was there. He could be lying.

But how could you know with certainty?

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“I don’t know, darling,” he says, stepping towards you again. He leans down, pressing his nose to yours in an Eskimo kiss. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity @stargazingfangirl18 @lovemarvelousfics @rainbowkisses31 @richonne4life @damnndeanndamnn @meetmeatyourworst @tinyplanet-explorer @vivien-1211 @unknownmystery22 @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mariaenchanted @gotnofucks

HCVA Tag: @october505

Peeps I hope are interested: @searchforanotherway @threeminutesoflife @sapphirescrolls

#henry cavill #henry cavill au #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x you #napoleon solo au #The Man from UNCLE AU #The Man from UNCLE fic #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from UNCLE (2015)#tmfu fic #tmfu fanfic #Henry Cavill Vampire Anthology #ficsofpagesoflauren

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themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Text

“you should lie down”

So I wrote this prompt once already with canon Spencer and the team...

...but since it was prompted a second time, I thought I would fill it with little baby boarding school Spencer!

(you can prompt me with anything from this list, or anything you want!)

things I’ve written | boarding school AU tag | my ff.net | my AO3

----------

Hotch frowned. Spencer’s books were spread across the library table, his backpack was propped up on a chair, and the papers were covered in his scribbled handwriting...but Spencer was nowhere to be found.

“Spencer?” he said tentatively.

“...down here.”

Hotch frowned and looked under the table. Spencer sat cross-legged in the small space, surrounded by books, his chin resting in his hand. “We didn’t see you at lunch,” he said.

Spencer drummed his fingertips against his cheek. “Wasn’t hungry.”

Hotch crouched down, frustration mounting his chest. “We’ve been worried,” he said. “No one’s seen you or heard from you in hours.” Spencer raised and lowered one shoulder in an apathetic shrug. “Morgan’s been looking for you all over campus. Penelope and JJ are worried.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been worried. After what happened we-”

He stopped. Spencer slammed a book shut and threw it down. “I can’t do it!” he said.

Hotch blinked. “Can’t do what?” he asked.

“Any of it!” Spencer burst out. “I need to write this stupid English paper and none of it makes sense!”

Hotch rocked back on his heels. “Take a deep breath,” he said. “You’re a genius, Spencer. You’ll be fine.”

“Sure, whatever,” he snapped.

“You’ve been running yourself into the ground,” Hotch said. “When’s the last time you actually got some sleep?”

“Some times when I sneeze, my eyes close,” Spencer said flatly.

Hotch sighed. “If you stop and take a break for a second, things will be easier,” he said.

“It should already be easy!” Spencer shouted, thumping his fists against his thighs. “Why is it so hard?”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Hotch said, his voice coming out more stern than he meant. “That’s enough.” Spencer knocked a pile of books aside and scooted away from Hotch, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Cut it out! Stop having a temper tantrum.”

He didn’t notice Alex approach until she was standing next to him, the toe of her heeled mary jane tapping lightly against the floor. “Hey, Hotch?” she said. “Any reason you’re having a shouting match with a table?”

He looked up at her, fighting back the sudden surge of embarrassment. “Spencer’s...in a mood,” he said.

Alex surveyed the chaotic mess. “I didn’t even know he was here,” she said. She knelt down beside him to look under the table. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Spencer slunk down further, crossing his arms and tilting his chin to his chest. “Nothing,” he said.

Alex raised an eyebrow at Hotch. “Dad, you want to fill in here?”

“He skipped lunch and no one’s seen him all afternoon,” he explained. “We’ve been looking for him everywhere. And now he’s freaking out over an English paper, of all things.”

“Ah,” she said. “I’ve been there before. You hit that overload point, didn’t you?” Spencer shrugged. “You’re overwhelmed and the easy stuff suddenly feels really hard.”

“It should be easy,” Spencer mumbled. “I don’t know why I can’t do it.”

“You can, just not right now,” Alex said. “You should lie down. Get some rest, and something to eat, and James and I can help you with your paper tomorrow.”

“I need to do it now,” Spencer insisted.

“It’s the same one Penelope and JJ are working on, right, the Shakespeare paper?” Hotch said. “It’s not due till Monday. You have plenty of time.”

Spencer crossed his arms tighter. “I need to do it now,” he repeated, tight through his teeth, and he dropped his head forward, refusing to look at them.

“Spencer, this is childish,” Hotch said. “You need to calm down and think-”

Alex placed her hand on his arm. “Of course he’s being childish, he’s ten,” she said gently. “Hold on for a second.” He stopped and exhaled slowly.

Alex crawled under the table with Spencer, tucking her legs underneath her and smoothing out her skirt. After a moment she tapped his arm, and when he looked up, his eyes suspiciously wet, she started signing to him.

Hotch watched her, fascinated. Alex was a genius with languages; she and Rossi often had conversations in Italian, and she and Emily could speak to each other easily in French and Spanish too (sometimes Russian, but Emily’s Russian wasn’t as strong). Spencer had been enthralled by their secret conversations from the start and begged for them to teach him, so it was no surprise that he wanted Alex to start teaching him ASL when she started to learn.

There was a long pause before Spencer responded to Alex, his fingers hesitant. Hotch couldn’t understand what they were saying to each other but he could sense the need for privacy, so he stood up and started silently cleaning up the books, papers, and pens sprawled across the table.

Spencer hadn’t been himself lately. Not since the day a few weeks earlier when they found him chained to the goalpost. He hadn’t said much about it, which Hotch understood. Things like that didn’t heal overnight. But he didn’t know what to do to help, either.

Alex pulled herself out from under the table, her dark hair loose and staticky around her face. “Is he okay?” Hotch asked quietly.

“Just give him a second,” she said. She pulled the narrow navy ribbon out of her hair, smoothed back the sides, and retied it. “I’m going to close up the library. Don’t leave without me, okay?”

“Sure,” he said.

He piled the reference books into neat stacks and put Spencer’s things back into his messenger bag, the new one they’d chipped in to buy when his old backpack was ruined. The clip of the buckles seemed too loud in the silence.

Spencer crawled out from under the table and stood up. “Hey,” Hotch said, trying to keep his voice gentle. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. He tucked in his rumpled uniform shirt and straightened his cardigan. “I’m sorry for...for freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I know we’ve avoided talking about it, but...we all know you’re trying to work through a lot of shit. It’s okay.” Spencer’s mouth pressed together in a kind of half smile, his big hazel eyes a little too bright.

“All right, you ready to go?” Alex said as she tugged her blazer on and fastened the gold buttons. “I know that technically I’m not allowed in Lincoln House on a school night, but...if I’m escorted by an RA I should be able to get in.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll sneak you in,” he said. He slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

He cleared his throat as Alex took off her keys lanyard and locked the library doors. “So...Morgan says you’ve been watching a documentary on the Romanovs,” he said. “Want to tell me about it?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. Hotch bit back a grin as he started talking a mile a minute. Truthfully, he only had a vague idea of what the kid was talking about, but if he was cheered up, then he was happy.

It was starting to snow a little, dusting their hair and their shoulders as they walked outside to make the trek to the dorm. Hotch regretted not wearing his coat; it hadn’t been that cold earlier in the day, but the sun had long since gone down.

It was warmer in the dorm, Spencer’s energy seemed to flag as they climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, his rapid chatting slowing down. That wasn’t too much of a surprise- Morgan had told him that the kid was barely sleeping at night, and they’d all noticed he hadn’t been eating much lately.

Spencer unlocked his door; Hotch reached around him to flip on the lights. “Morgan’s probably at dinner with everybody else,” he said. “I’ll text him and the girls, let them know we found you.”

“I’ll text James and David and see if they’ll bring back dinner for us,” Alex said. She touched Spencer’s shoulder lightly. “Go put your pajamas on, okay?”

Hotch waited until Spencer was out of the room. “What did you two talk about?” he asked.

She sighed as she finished typing the text message and hit send. “He’s stressed,” she said. “A lot more stressed than any ten-year-old ought to be. And…”

“And what?”

“He’s scared,” she confessed quietly. “That part he didn’t say, but...it’s written all over him.”

Hotch took Spencer’s messenger bag off his shoulder and set it down on his desk chair. “He needs to open up more,” he said. “We can help him better if he would just talk to us.”

“It’s not that simple, Hotchner,” she said. “You can’t force him to behave the way you want, just because it makes things easier for you. You have to meet him where he is.”

Hotch fiddled with the strap of Spencer’s bag. He was suddenly reminded of his own memories, his own father, and he pushed the thought away. “You’re right,” he said, a little too firmly. “I’ll try...differently.”

Spencer walked back in and dropped his uniform in the laundry hamper. “I know I was talking about the Romanov miniseries, but I do you want to watch it with me?” he asked hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Alex said. She sat down on Spencer’s bed. “And James is going to drop off dinner. That sound good?”

He picked up the television remote and climbed up on the bed beside her. “You know, multiple women have claimed to be Anastasia Romanov, but no one’s claimed to be Alexei?” he said.

“Oh, but that makes sense,” Alex said. “All it would take was a blood test and they’d know.”

“Why’s that?” Hotch asked.

“Because of the hemophilia,” Spencer said, as if it was painfully obvious. He turned on the TV. “Just watch, you’ll see.” He paused. “Do you want to stay and watch it with us?”

“Sure,” he said. He pulled the chair away from Spencer’s desk and sat down. “Why not?” He wasn’t terribly interested in the subject, but if it made the kid happy, he’d watch it.

“Come on, lie down,” Alex said as the documentary started to play. Instead, Spencer crawled onto her lap, curling up against her. It was funny- Spencer hated to be touched by strangers, had even become notorious for spouting off germ statistics if someone tried to shake his hand, but he always seemed so happy and enthusiastic when someone from their group wanted to hug him.

Maybe, Hotch thought, he feels safest with us.

#AU: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #alex blake #prompt fill #caitlin writes things #Alex Blake is a Queen #Hotch is a Dad #spencer reid needs a hug

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