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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

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Truce

Requested by @minaslittleone : Wilhemina + “I know you've got a little life in you left, I know you've got a lot of strength left” from This Woman’s Work.

E., I love this exchange of dark headcanons we don’t want to write 😆😭 I decided to write this one from reader’s pov for protection xx

Word count: 4 000

In retrospect, surely you should have realized right from the start that something was very wrong. But that’s not how you processed bad things. You denied them, refused to acknowledge their existence, until they had no other choice but to slap you right across your face. Sometimes it would take days. Sometimes it was much quicker.

But deep down, you had known something was off the moment you had closed the front door behind you. It was a Friday, 6pm or so, and you had just come back from a week-long work trip across the country. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, and yet the sweet prospect of seeing Wilhemina again made your heart sing and feel like you could very well hike a mountain. But there had been no Wilhemina coming to meet you as she always, always would, fighting a smile, trying to look indifferent but melting into your arms and peppering your face with kisses. No Wilhemina to take off your coat and ask you how your trip had been and to slip a mug of your favorite tea in your hands.

Instead, the house had been awfully quiet. Wilhemina’s shoes lay on the floor in their usual place. You called out her name, trying not to sound too worried. You crossed the living room in a hurry, so you didn’t notice the unwashed dishes in the sink, or the disarranged pillows on the couch. Or maybe you did, but refused to acknowledge them. It was only later, when the sun was setting and you scrubbed the dishes yourself, and fluffed the pillows before rearranging them the way Wilhemina liked them to be, that the implication of them, the reality they told of, hit you in the face. You shoved it where it couldn’t speak.

Wilhemina was lying in bed with her eyes closed, and when you asked her if she was feeling alright, she only answered with a curt “I’m tired.” You sat worriedly by her side, gently stroking her arm. You couldn’t remember the last time she had said those words. You couldn’t remember the last time she had looked so defeated. Dread had tightened your chest. But you had denied it all, as you always did, and let it pass. You had pressed a gentle kiss on Wilhemina’s temple, and asked her if she wanted to eat something – a shake of her head -, then told her you would make something for yourself and take a shower very quickly before you joined her in bed.

And you had been so very tired yourself that it hadn’t taken long at all to fall asleep. You had put your arms around Wilhemina and held her close and decided that in the morning everything would be alright.

Except now, here you were, sitting on your own at the kitchen table, unable to swallow your breakfast as you kept worriedly glancing at the clock whose hands neared 10am. And still Wilhemina wasn’t up.

Even on the weekends, she would rarely linger in bed past 9am, as she hated feeling like she was wasting a day. It would take much coaxing to have her back in your arms when you felt like being lazy on a Sunday morning.

You sat still, staring at your toasts that were cold now. You didn’t feel like eating. Worry was lodged deep in your stomach and made you feel nauseous. But still you told yourself, that maybe Wilhemina hadn’t slept much during the past week, had stayed up late to work with no one to call her to bed, and was in great need of rest. Surely she would join you soon, grumpy because you had let her sleep in, and you would smile at her and kiss her lips and she would hold you as you told her all about your trip.

The clock ticked so loud in the silence, mocking you. It sounded like it was laughing.

At 10:30am the worry got the best of you. You stood up and hurried to the bedroom. You knocked on the door and waited for two seconds before you opened it.

The room was still dark, shutters still closed against the light. You kept the door open to let some light from the corridor in. It showed Wilhemina’s shape, still in bed, her back to you, the comforter pulled up to her waist.

For a second you considered calling her name to determine whether she was still asleep. But the dread in your stomach tugged you onward before you had time to take a decision.

Carefully you settled on the narrow space between the edge of the bed and Wilhemina’s body. You brushed her hair back from her cheek so you could take a look at her face.

“Hey baby,” you whispered. You forced yourself to smile, knowing she would hear it in your voice.

Wilhemina’s eyes had been half-opened, staring vacantly at the darkness. Upon hearing your voice, they briefly moved in your direction, as if to acknowledge your presence.

You rested your hand on her shoulder, thumb gently stroking her skin.

“Are you feeling sick?” you tried.

Wilhemina remained silent.

“Do you want me to bring you something?” you tried again. “A cup of tea? Are you hungry?”

More silence. Worriedly you bent over her, hand now stroking her hair. It was uncharacteristically greasy, you noticed, and your fingers when you slipped them through it caught in several tight knots.

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow prevent the dread from spreading through you. Part of you was still cowardly trying to turn a blind eye on the situation, trying to pretend you had not already connected all the dots.

You pressed another kiss on Wilhemina’s temple. “I’m bringing you tea,” you announced.

You pretended not to hurry out of the room. You needed out for a moment, away from the darkness that seemed to be clinging to your skin, from the stale air of the bedroom, from Wilhemina’s vacant eyes and hunched frame. Your brain went numb. It was either that, or yielding to panic.

On auto-pilot you made the tea, Wilhemina’s favorite, a whole kettle of it. You put the kettle down on a tray with a cup and some biscuits, knowing perfectly well she wouldn’t touch them. Just to pretend.

When you came back to yourself, you found you were staring down at the kettle, hands on either side of the tray. You closed your eyes for a second and forced yourself to take a few deep breaths.

But Wilhemina was always so strong, you thought. Always pushing on, always fighting her on-going battle against her body and the norms and never showing even the tiniest sign of defeat to the outside world. In all the months of dating her, you had gained the sense that somehow she was holding the world together as a commander holds an army together. If she failed, if she as much as slackened her grip, the whole world would collapse, and you with it. You couldn’t imagine living in a world where Wilhemina wasn’t this strong, indestructible force protecting you and strengthening you.

And yet, you thought, as you made your way back to the bedroom, carefully holding the tray, she was bound to fail one day or the other. She was bound to grow weary. And it would be your job to help her back up onto her feet.

You weren’t sure you knew how. And yet you must, you scolded yourself, as you entered the bedroom. You couldn’t run away when Wilhemina needed you.

You set the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the bed again. “Sweetheart,” you tried, “will you sit up for me?”

Wilhemina had closed her eyes upon hearing the new determination in your voice, to try and block you. She didn’t acknowledge your presence, didn’t answer you.

You stared down at her shadowed frame, mind racing as you tried to think of what to do. Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of her like this, looking so weak and defeated, looking so wrong – you shook your head to chase the thought.

You thought of what would usually help her when she wasn’t feeling good. Remembered all the hesitant touches, all the scooting closer, fingertips brushing your arm, eyes silently pleading to be held.

You stood up and stripped to your underwear so Wilhemina would feel your skin, then nestled in the narrow space available between her body and the edge of the bed.

You didn’t speak. Merely wrapped your arms around her waist and pressed yourself against her, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. She didn’t stiffen, or push you away – in fact, she didn’t react in the slightest, and you wondered if she was aware of your presence at all.

The familiarity of her quieted some of the racing thoughts in your mind. Heat quickly built up between your bodies, wrapping you up in a cocoon, and you found yourself wishing that you could build your own world in it, only exist in it, with Wilhemina pressed against you and you pressed against her and nothing else allowed in. To be the architect of your own world and have a say on even the tiniest speck of dust that wafted through it. You wished it could be that easy.

Gently you planted kisses on Wilhemina’s shoulder and neck, your thumb stroking her wrist to ground her in case she needed it. You closed your eyes and focused on her breathing, slow and deep. One breath in, one breath out.

In, out.

You must have dozed off, for when you opened your eyes again, the light filtering through the gaps in the shutters had the brightness of noon. You were still in the exact same position, spooning Wilhemina, but your arm that was trapped between her waist and the mattress had gone completely numb.

With a groan at the unpleasant sensation you pulled away and withdrew your arm. Wilhemina immediately stiffened. You pressed a kiss on her temple to let her know you weren’t going anywhere, and sat up, rolling your shoulder and arm to improve your blood circulation. Your other hand gently stroked Wilhemina’s hair as a reminder that you were still here, still with her. Not running away.

Slowly you slid your fingers through her hair, working through the knots and grazing your nails over her scalp. You had done this before, hundreds of time, had whispered into her ear how beautiful her hair was and how you would never get enough of stroking it and brushing it and twirling strands of it around your fingers. Wilhemina had rolled her eyes, but a chuckle had escaped her, warm and affectionate. She had buried her face in your neck, as she did every time you were cuddling and she didn’t quite know how to handle your compliments. And certainly you had hummed and smiled knowingly, holding her head to you, fingers still threading through the red.

You looked down at her and gently scratched above her ear.

“Will you drink some tea for me?” you whispered. “It’s probably cold now, but you like it cold too.”

Silence. Your chest tightening.

“When was the last time you had water?” you heard yourself say. “Did you drink yesterday before you went to bed?”

Silence. More silence.

Fear rose in you again, hot and wrapping around your heart to squeeze, making your ears buzz, your vision swim. You shifted on the bed just so you could do something, skimmed your palm down Wilhemina’s cheek.

“Sweetheart please – please say something. Wilhemina you’re scaring me. Please, just –”

You didn’t finish, because your voice was quivering and tears were threatening to spill, and you had promised yourself you would be strong for her. Not this pathetic, helpless little girl. So you closed your eyes, pushed your palm against your forehead as you tried to regain control over the fear that threatened to overthrow you. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Call for help? Pace the room like a madwoman? Shake Wilhemina until she finally came back and snapped at you?

You didn’t know. Panicking seemed like the best option right now.

Instead, you ran your fingers through Wilhemina’s hair and forced your voice back under control. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, as tenderly as you could. “Please talk to me. I love you.”

For a while she kept on being silent, and your heart broke and sunk, and panic roared and jumped, but then - blessedly, blissfully - her voice rose, raspy and shaky from disuse.

“I’m so tired,” was what she said.

You bent over her, sweet relief rushing over you now that she was finally willing to communicate. Your hand moved to her forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”

She shook her head. She opened her eyes and again stared at the darkness in front of her.

“Sweetheart,” you pushed on, “maybe if you tried to eat or drink something –”

“What’s the point?” Wilhemina cut you off – her voice wasn’t angry, but instead completely devoid of emotion, as if she were too exhausted to feel. “If I drink your tea now and go to sleep tonight and get up tomorrow morning there’ll only be more pain. And pain again the day after. I’m so tired.”

You allowed yourself a minute to process her words. To embrace their full implication. It felt like a kick in your stomach, and yet it also made you feel calmer. For now that you had received confirmation of what was wrong, now that you knew the face of the enemy you had to defeat, you could think of an efficient plan and pick the appropriate weapons.

You pressed a tender kiss on Wilhemina’s cheek, but it only seemed to revive her anger.

“People like you have it so easy,” she said, her voice bitter now, and quivering. “All you do is wake up and begin your day and cry over your stupid little problems while being too dumb to realize how insignificant they really are. If you had to face a challenge more arduous than a lunch break that’s too short your whole fucking world would collapse.”

She paused to take a shaky breath. You waited for her to go on, blinking back tears but knowing you had to let her speak, to let her let it out no matter if it hurt.

But Wilhemina didn’t go on. The fight flowed out of her as quickly as it had flowed in. Her body sank back into the mattress, limp and drained, eyes closing as if keeping them open was too much of an effort.

And again, your heart sank. Automatically you wrapped one arm around her shoulders to press her close against you, as if somehow that would rescue her, as if she was drowning and all you had to do to save her was pull her back to the surface.

Images flashed in your mind. Wilhemina, carefully sitting up in bed every morning, ritually assessing the day’s degree of pain. You, trying not to make it too obvious that you would shorten your walks every time you noticed a change in Wilhemina’s gait. Strangers and friends, their eyes falling on her cane, then quickly shifting to the floor.

There were days you weren’t very successful in hiding the worry and sadness in your eyes or voice when Wilhemina’s breathing became labored. There were days she wasn’t very successful in hiding the fact that the most common of things – a stranger’s dress, a stranger swiftly standing up from their chair, sometimes nothing at all – would turn her attention back to the curve of her spine. And how she would hate herself.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how draining her constant fighting must be, how lonely she must feel, carrying a burden most people never even had to think about. There had been times before when the fight had gone out of her, when her eyes had veiled over and her body had slumped and she had refused to speak or move, but those times had always been short. In the morning she had gotten up as usual and made ready to face a new day. And you had found that the best way you could help her in those moments was simply to accept them, to quietly support her and hold her as you waited for her to find her strength again.

But today – today was different. Today you feared she didn’t think it was worth finding it at all.

“Sweetheart,” you whispered, “there are so many things worth you keep fighting for.”

Wilhemina let out a low growl of annoyance. “If you say the sunset I’ll hit you.”

You shook your head, gently rubbing your thumb around a freckle on her arm. “I won’t. But it’s true. My darling, it’s true.”

“I don’t care,” Wilhemina said.

You kept on stroking her arm, encouraged and enlivened when she leaned into your touch rather than pulled away.

“And besides”, you went on, “I want to love you. And I need you,” you added, with a sad laugh. “Is that very selfish of me?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhemina sobbed.

You cooed and pressed another kiss on her temple. Wilhemina curled in on herself, hiding her face in her hands as she cried. You closed your eyes, pushing your forehead against hers, heart breaking for her but also so very relieved that she was finally showing emotion instead of her earlier numbness.

“I don’t want to keep fighting,” Wilhemina choked. “I don’t see the point anymore.”

“Ok,” you breathed, voice a little strangled by fear. You lay down so you could hold her closer, pretending not to notice how your hands were shaking and your heart beating so fast now.

And as you slowly rocked her and shushed her, you stopped trying to find the right words that would lift her up, for you were no longer convinced those existed. Instead, you let her sink.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you whispered. “You can take a break. I won’t leave you.”

When Wilhemina had calmed down, you got up and opened the shutters and the window to let the sunlight, fresh air and birdsongs in. Then you hurried back to bed and held Wilhemina in your arms.

She slept through most of the day. In the evening you managed to convince her to take a shower with you. You washed her hair, lathered her skin.

The next day was spent in bed, too. Wilhemina slept. You read a book and read to her when she woke up. You highlighted the passages you found beautiful and asked Wilhemina which were her favorites. You highlighted those, too. She agreed to eat something, for you, and you held her to you when she suddenly broke down halfway through finishing her plate.

On Monday you called your respective bosses to let them know Wilhemina and you were taking the whole week off. Wilhemina still wouldn’t get out of bed, so you read some more to her, one hand holding the book and the other holding her. When you were both bored of reading, you played some of Wilhemina’s favorite records. She lay listening to the music with her eyes closed and her arm draped over your waist. In the evening you ordered food and Wilhemina and you ate it in bed while watching a movie.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, she barely spoke. She lay with a vacant look in her eyes that would only fracture when she sobbed and wailed in your arms. She refused to take her painkillers. At one point you hid in the bathroom and bit your fist to hold back your screams.

On Thursday, Wilhemina got out of bed and together you walked to the nearest park to sit on a bench in the sun and people-watch. On Friday night you woke up panting and with your mind haunted by images of Wilhemina lying lifeless on a tile floor. She gathered you in her arms and rocked you as you clang to her and sobbed and begged her never to leave you.

The week after that was spent mostly in bed, too, but on Wednesday Wilhemina changed and washed the sheets. You hung them outside to dry in the sun.

Your bosses complained. You decided you didn’t care and hung up on them.

One afternoon, for no reasons it seemed, Wilhemina suddenly turned cold and mean to you, and it took you a few hours to realize she was terrified and angry that she had let you see her in such a vulnerable state. You said it was okay. She said she wasn’t sure you were worth it. Her words hurt you more than you would have liked to admit.

You grew silent after that. You did the laundry and vacuumed the house to keep yourself busy and drown out your thoughts. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and slam the door behind you. To leave, to run away if Wilhemina thought so little of you. Just as you were thinking that surely it was the right thing to do, Wilhemina called your name. She made you sit down on the bed next to her, held your hand, and apologized. She explained she was terrified. You nodded, blinking back tears, and gave her hand a squeeze.

The day after that was spent in bed, too, but a new, timid feeling of happiness settled on the sheet. You planted kisses on each other’s skin, exchanged renewed confessions of love and devotion and made love for the first time since you had come back from your trip. You held her tight as she shook against you, and she cooed as you choked on her tongue, clenching around her fingers and forgetting for a moment everything that wasn’t sweet and warm and love. You dozed off, and when you opened your eyes again, Wilhemina’s were smiling.

On Thursday she announced she was going back to work. You grinned at her, kissed her senseless, and managed to convince her to take it slow and wait till the next Monday. She protested at first, said she couldn’t even imagine how Kineros hadn’t yet collapsed without her, but you raised a cheeky eyebrow and said you rather loved having her all to yourself. She rolled her eyes at that, but was betrayed by the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

That night you found her sitting in the garden gazing at the stars with a sad, overwhelmed look in her eyes. You draped a blanket over her shoulders, snuggled up to her and nudged her shoulder with your nose.

“Are you okay?” you breathed, looking up at her profile.

Still, she gazed at the stars. “I don’t know,” she breathed back.

You hummed and nestled your head in the crook of her neck.

“I never said thank you,” Wilhemina whispered after a few moments.

You hummed again.

“So, thank you,” she said.

“Anytime,” you whispered, reaching for her hand.

“Take it slow on Monday, okay?” you said after a moment.

Wilhemina made a disapproving noise, but nodded.

“And call me,” you went on. “If you feel overwhelmed.”

Another nod. She laced her fingers with yours and lifted your hand to press lingering kisses on your knuckles in an attempt to distract you, as well as herself, from the tears pooling in her eyes.

“One day at a time,” you breathed. “It’s really all we can do.”

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#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round!

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air.

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her.

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable.

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.”

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner.

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it?

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home.

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family.

And god. Levi.

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things.

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child.

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought.

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating.

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom.

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her.

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything.

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out.

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open.

“Hange?”

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip.

“How was it?”

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse.

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face.

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows.

“Oi, what’d they say?”

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received.

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully.

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.”

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside.

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something.

After a moment, he spoke.

“That’s all?”

Huh? “Huh?!”

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets.

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.”

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?”

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation.

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.”

“That doesn’t terrify you?”

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?”

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?”

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?”

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting.

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.”

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly.

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?”

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer.

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?”

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.”

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?”

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown.

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap.

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?”

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw.

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again.

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.”

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.”

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm.

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs.

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.”

Levi quirked a brow at her.

“I’ve told you that before.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have. At your sisters wedding.”

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own.

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly.

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say.

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?”

“The hell else could I have meant?”

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him.

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!”

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly.

This time, he didn’t fight his smile.

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her.

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another.

“What are you doing?”

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.”

“Checking what?”

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching.

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.”

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.”

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make.

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.”

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp.

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough.

#levihan #ask #my writing #this was fun!! thank you :D #hoping I can get around to the other prompts soon too!!

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Silence Speaks

Summary: Virgil can't get out of bed. Days like this are nothing new, he just doesn't know how his new family will react to him being so pathetic.

TWs: Depression, depressive episode, brief death mention, self-hatred, temporary nonverbal episode

Notes: Found this fic in my drafts from a few months ago, so I cleaned it up to post since LB and Permafrost are taking a bit. Enjoy <3

Virgil knew it was going to be one of those days when the third hour passed with no change.

Everything was too much. His chest hurt, every breath was just too much work, all he wanted was to sink into the blankets and sleep the rest of his life away. He’d been staring blankly at the wall since he’d woken up, curled up on his side with tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn't get up, couldn’t get back to sleep, couldn’t even call out to ask for help.

It had been a while since he’d had a day like this, when just the thought of getting out of bed made him sick,

They’d used to be more frequent, back when Virgil was alone and shut out, hated and scorned by the people he just wanted to protect. The resentment took its toll, and sometimes he couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed.

It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to be better.

He had everything he’d ever wanted. He had his family, Thomas listened to him, and he wasn’t just needed- he was wanted.

He was wanted. He knew he was. Sometimes it was just...hard to convince himself of that, despite the overwhelming amount of kindness he’d been given for months now, the reassurances and patient understanding that felt too good to be true.

But now here he was again, unmoving in the dark of his own room, closed off like the brooding villain he was trying so hard not to be anymore.

God, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he didn’t want to get up and go downstairs.

He just...didn’t want to do this anymore.

Why couldn’t he just disappear?

Virgil thought he could hear voices downstairs, but nothing was really registering through the fog settling around his head. His room was pitch dark, the curtains pulled tightly shut, leaving it impossible to tell how much time had passed.

He thought it might have been a few hours by now, and he hoped everyone would just continue on with their day and leave him here forever, trapped in his own body with a brain stuck trying to sabotage his happiness. He’d fade away on his own, and they’d forget about him, never bothering to even question his absence.

Virgil knew better than to really believe that. A year ago he could have gotten away with it, he could lock himself up in the dark for days and nobody would care. They’d probably celebrate.

Now...now they would notice he wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He had a job to do, he had people who actually cared. Virgil couldn’t just lay here, pathetic and useless. He was letting himself waste away and fail everyone who had taken a chance on him. They’d given him so much. He couldn’t undo all that progress because he was feeling a little sad.

But he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t. It would be so much easier if he could just die.

Virgil still wasn’t sure how much time had passed, laying there wide awake without the energy to move a single inch, but suddenly a knock on the door sliced through the haze around his brain.

More tears gathered in his eyes, frustration and dread making his chest unbearably heavy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and yelled at right now. He wasn’t ready to be forced out of bed, selfish as it was to want to stay here.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hall, the faint smell of coffee wafting into the room.

“Virgil?”

That was Logan, even though Virgil couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look. The logical side’s voice was comforting and familiar, but he wasn’t sure he could handle his blunt judgment right now.

He’d think Virgil was ridiculous, his refusal to leave his room illogical and stupidly selfish. He’d made everyone worry for nothing. Anxiety was just being lazy again.

“Virgil, it’s almost eleven,” Logan said, and Virgil kind of wished he could just die right here and now. Death would get him out of being lectured. “You need to wake up and eat something. You missed breakfast.”

Virgil still couldn’t move, but his breath caught in his throat at the reminder. He knew he was being stupid, and he knew he was behind schedule, but the thought of food just made him feel nauseous.

He heard footsteps, carefully tracking Logan’s movements as he came closer and listened as he carefully set down what was probably a mug of coffee on the dresser.

“Virgil?” he called, and it was getting harder and harder to see as more tears built up. “Are you awake?”

Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to answer, even as Logan moved around to the side of the bed. Virgil didn’t glance up to his face, but there was no way Logan couldn’t tell that the anxious side’s eyes were open and aware.

He tensed, waiting for anger and judgment, or even just an annoyed huff. He waited to be told that it was easy to get out of bed and Virgil was just being difficult, that he needed to stop being so pathetic or they had no reason to keep showing him so much kindness.

He needed to be useful, or they wouldn’t want him around anymore.

But Logan was suddenly kneeling down to his level, eyes kind and worried behind his glasses.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning when Virgil just clenched his jaw in response. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t force words to form no matter how badly he wanted to, and to his dismay a few tears slipped free, trailing down his jaw and seeping into the pillow.

Logan’s expression softened, but the concern in his eyes only grew. He reached forward, slow and careful, and somehow Virgil managed to move just enough to latch desperately onto his hand.

He didn’t have the energy to choke out any apologies, although he was almost certain Logan was about to demand one.

“That is alright,” the logical side said instead. “You do not have to talk. Do you think you can manage a nod or headshake?”

Virgil forced himself to respond with the tiniest of movements, even though just reaching up to take Logan’s hand had felt like running a marathon.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Are you feeling ill?”

Virgil wished he was just sick. That would be so much easier to explain. Being sick was fixable, and it wouldn’t look like he was just making excuses to be lazy.

But he didn’t see the point in lying, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with even more anger if he was found out. He managed a small shake of his head, even as Logan reached up with his free hand to carefully feel his forehead. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

“Are you in pain?”

Yes. Everything hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, his head felt like something was pounding at the back of his skull, and every bone in his body felt heavy and useless.

But he couldn’t say that, because he knew it was all in his head. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head again, choking on a small sob, and something like realization dawned in the other side’s eyes.

“I see,” Logan said. “Is this...just a bad day, then?”

Logan had finally figured it out, because of course he had. Virgil being stupid and useless probably wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to, anyway.

He nodded, tense and staring at nothing as he waited for Logan to rip his hand away and demand Virgil grow up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Or maybe he’d just roll his eyes and leave, closing the door and locking Anxiety back in the dark where he belonged.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, and to Virgil’s surprise his hold only tightened. “Are you able to get out of bed?”

More tears welled up at the question, dread rising in his chest. Because he couldn’t imagine even standing up right now, but of course he couldn’t expect to be able to get away with that. Logan was being polite about it, but they had a schedule to stick to.

“It’s alright if the answer is no,” Logan continued. “I have no intention of forcing you. I only thought it might be easier to take care of you today if you’re set up on the couch.”

Wait...what? Take care of him?

Logan seemed to sense his confusion, and the hand that wasn’t currently being held hostage moved to run gently through his hair, smiling sadly at Virgil’s barely audible whimper.

“If you’re more comfortable here you can stay. But I know being left alone with your thoughts is not always...ideal. We can keep you company in the living room if you like. If you’re overstimulated, the lights will be kept dim, and the noise to a minimum.”

Virgil hesitated, trying to figure out if Logan was joking- or if this was some kind of cruel trick to teach him a lesson. They didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t deserve it. And he wasn’t sick, he was just being a baby.

Logan was suddenly cupping Virgil’s cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil. Would you like help sitting up?”

And Virgil felt ridiculous, because he had no real reason to feel so weighed down, but he gave another timid nod.

Logan didn’t even hesitate before moving to help, a steadying hand against Virgil’s back as he guided him up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t complain, didn’t lecture Virgil about how inconsiderate he was being, just silently assisted and pulled away when he was done.

Again Virgil wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, buried deep beneath the fatigue.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered when he’d become so predictable. “If you aren’t able to walk, I’m sure Roman would be more than happy to carry you to the couch. I only need your permission to inform him and Patton of what is happening.”

Virgil wasn’t sick or injured, he was competent enough to get himself out of bed and down the stairs. People were busy, and he was already being awful by forcing Logan to stay.

But just the thought of getting out of bed and walking out of his room was enough to make him want to bury himself under the covers and dissolve into sobs. He curled in on himself and eyed Logan warily, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“Alright,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “I’ll go get him, just wait here a moment.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, and he’d known the logical side long enough to know the smile he sent was nothing but genuine.

Virgil felt cold when Logan pulled his hand away and moved off the bed, but being unable to talk meant he couldn’t call him back as he disappeared through the door.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed teary eyes shut as he rested his chin on his knees.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Virgil heard footsteps in the hallway, his bedroom door creaking open as the creative side cautiously stepped inside the doorway with a small frown.

Virgil tensed, because if anyone was going to make fun of him for this it would be Roman- well meaning but so brash and over the top at times- and he could already picture Roman’s mocking laughter, his exasperation as he tried to just drag Virgil out of bed, his—

“Hey there,” Roman called, softer than Virgil could ever remember him sounding. “Feeling under the weather today, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shrugged, hunching his shoulders and staring at his own hands. From the look in the Prince’s eyes, it was clear he understood.

“That’s ok,” he said, ducking his head to meet Virgil’s eyes as he smiled and made his way to the bed. “Bad days happen, Doom and Gloom. You just have to ask for help.”

Virgil let out a pitiful whine, the closest he could get to telling Roman that he couldn’t. Even if he could, he didn’t know how. He’d never been able to ask for help before. The Prince’s smile turned sad, and he slowly lowered himself on the bed beside Virgil.

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil watched as he opened his arms in a quiet invitation, looking so ridiculously hopeful. “But we’re here now.”

Virgil broke. What little walls he’d still been holding up crumbling at the Prince’s simple words, and he choked on a sob, vision blurring with the tears he finally allowed to fall. He collapsed forward into Roman’s chest, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around and pulled him close.

Roman didn’t speak, and he didn't force Virgil to even try, just held him tight and rocked them both on the edge of the bed, the Prince’s chin hooked over Virgil’s head, almost cocooning him in safety.

Roman held him, strong but gentle all the same, letting Virgil cry into the Prince’s shirt as long as he needed, hushing him through violent sobs. He didn’t rush him, didn’t tease or berate him, just kept him close and safe.

“I’m here,” he said when Virgil had quieted down a bit. “Is it ok if I take you downstairs now? Logan and Pat are worried about you.”

Virgil nodded with his face still buried in Roman’s chest, breath catching in his throat when the Prince carefully maneuvered them both towards the end of the bed. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Virgil’s back, the other hooking under his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when Virgil clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut as Roman stood from the bed, Virgil secure in his hold. “We’ve all got you, Virge.”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, breaths coming out as nothing more than pitiful, hiccuping sobs. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or be seen by anyone. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to exist today.

But Roman’s embrace made him forget that for just a moment. The memory of Logan’s comfort and the promise of Patton’s care made it just a little more bearable.

It was all a blur, Virgil barely able to focus on the world around him, overwhelmed and so so exhausted. The curtains in the living room were drawn, keeping the room comfortably dim, and Patton and Logan moved quietly, keeping everything blissfully peaceful.

Roman set him down on the couch, letting Virgil curl up on his side and pull the nearest blanket over him, taking a moment to run his fingers through the anxious side’s hair.

Patton kneeled beside him, searching his watery eyes for silent permission before leaning in to kiss Virgil’s forehead with a soft smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, just as loving as Logan and Roman had been. “You want your old dad to make you some hot chocolate?”

Virgil blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It sounded nice, but...but he was already convincing them enough. They were all busy, and probably annoyed and—

“It’s not an issue, honey,” Patton assured, like he could sense Virgil’s internal panic. “We didn’t have much planned for today. You can relax.”

He had his suspicions that Logan had actually just changed their schedule in favor of keeping an eye on Virgil while he rested, but he wasn’t exactly in the place to ask questions, as panicked as the thought made him. He’d make it up to them tomorrow.

Virgil couldn’t quite look Patton in the eyes, but the parental side seemed so eager to help, and...hot chocolate didn’t sound terrible. He gave a hesitant nod, chest loosening a bit at the way Patton positively beamed.

Patton hurried into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later with the biggest mug Virgil had ever seen, overflowing with marshmallows and whipped cream. Roman perched on the arm of the couch, close enough to keep running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Just rest, Virgil,” Logan said, smiling when Virgil took his hot chocolate with unsteady hands. “We can put on a movie if you like. Or we can leave you alone if you’re overwhelmed.”

Virgil bit his lip, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks and dripping onto the couch. It was a bad day, not his first and definitely not his last but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was already getting a little better.

He took a steady breath, raising his head to meet Logan’s eyes, mustering what little energy he had to force his voice to work again, the words small, breathy and ragged, but clear all the same.

“Stay? Please?”

Logan smiled, Roman scooted closer, and Patton gave Virgil’s forehead another kiss. They gathered around him on the couch, similar to how they usually ended up after a bad panic attack.

Roman and Logan ended up on either side of him, while Patton let Virgil put down his mug for a second to wrap his arms around the moral side’s waist, relishing in the warmth of one of Patton’s hugs.

There had been more days like this than Virgil could count, everything weighing down on him until he just wanted to disappear. He’d never...had this before. He’d always been alone, locking himself away until he could face his own existence again.

This time his family was on all sides, Patton holding him tightly, Logan taking his hand, Roman still playing with his hair, reminding him that it would be ok soon. He had a reason to fight through it.

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to thank them, not out loud again, but he knew they understood.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #depression tw #nonverbal tw #crying tw #fanficiton #writing

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

Gimme Love

masterlist | requests

spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.2k | warnings: none, all fluff!!

song inspo: gimme love by joji

an: this is short and dumb and made me cry ok fuck i love spencer fucking reid anon this was based off your request i hope u like it

Spencer regularly had cases that made him more nauseous than others- and this was one of them. The deaths weren’t exceptionally bad, no worse than the stuff he usually sees. The fact was, this case was bothering him so bad because the victims looked like her. They had her shape, her hair color, ethnicity, even down to the eye color. Every new body they found made him sick to his stomach, worried one of them was going to be her.

He dreaded hearing the words “They found another body.” He would immediately call her, crossing his fingers that she’d pick up. There were times when she didn’t, when she was working, or taking a shower, cooking dinner. The funniest thing was, Spencer was six hundred miles away from DC, where his roommate was living happily and unbothered by the unsub here.

Even the team could tell he was off, his inability to focus at the crime scene, the frequent bathroom breaks, constant phone calls. Emily was the first to say something, quietly asking if everything was alright as Spencer poured himself another cup of coffee in the back of the police station.

“Yeah… this case is just really bothering me, for some reason. I’m sorry, I’ll pull it together,” he responded, his eyes staring blankly at the floor, another sign that he was in another universe.

s“These girls… they look a lot like (Y/N), don’t you think?” Emily watched the way his face changed as she brought up his roommate, someone that he vehemently denied he had any feelings for, although Emily knew that was bullshit. She first knew something was up with him when he brought (Y/N) along to the Christmas party. Spencer would not leave her side, barking at any guy who tried to get near her. Emily and Penelope were laughing about it all night, even turning it into a drinking game between the two of them. So Emily completely understood why Spencer was having such a hard time with this case. They all looked like her- the girl he was massively and secretly in love with.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Em,” he replied, laughing slightly as if her comment was so ridiculous and comical. Emily just rolled her eyes and moved on, realizing that it is never worth arguing with Spencer Reid.

When they finally caught the guy, Spencer should have felt better. It should have made him sleep a little easier knowing there was no way this man could find (Y/N) and hurt her. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the unsub hurting you over and over. The worst part was, Spencer would try everything in his power to help you, to save you from this man, but he couldn’t. He’d eventually wake up gasping, covered in sweat, his mouth dry and his stomach queasy.

“You alright, man?” Derek asked, sitting down next to him on the jet. All Spencer could manage was a silent nod, his mouth unable to produce any words.

The drive home was quiet, his head pounding too loudly for any music. He was desperately craving a cigarette, something he promised (Y/N) he’d quit. Everytime he lit one, she’d float towards him, her beautiful radiance filling him with warmth.

“You’re killing yourself, you know?” She’d say, her soft voice flowing through his ears like a siren, luring him to her, to his inevitable death.

“I’m gonna die anyways, might as well be happy while I’m alive,” he’d say, taking another drag and allowing the nicotine to calm his nerves.

(Y/N) would just roll her eyes and walk away, disappointed in him. That was what hurt the most, in Spencer’s eyes. She was never angry at him, just disappointed. She was one of the few people that actually believed Spencer could be human, could live outside his job. He hated the look on her face when he continued to smoke, drink endless coffee, not eat breakfast…

Spencer pulled into the driveway of their townhome, a calming presence floating down on him. He could feel (Y/N)’s light from all the way out here, her aura drawing him in. Being around her intoxicated him, and he stumbled out of his car and up to the front door, clumsily unlocking it and walking inside.

He heard the mumbling of the TV, not able to make out what she was watching. He walked down the hall and into the living room, noticing her immediately. She was cuddled into the couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs and glass of wine in her hands. She was wearing one of her old college shirts, covered in paint stains and a few rips from years of use. He smiled when he saw her, a sigh of relief as his own two eyes confirmed her safety. He was home now, and he could protect her. As long as he was with her, she would be safe.

“Hey you!” She exclaimed, throwing her blanket off and standing up. “I didn’t know you were coming home!”

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to text you. I’m exhausted.”

She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his face. She always lectured him about his sleeping habits, and how important it was to get at least six hours a night. ‘I know saying eight is asking for too much, but can we at least agree on six,’ he heard her saying, making him grin slightly.

“I was about to watch a movie, wanna join?”

“For sure. Let me get changed.”

“You want a glass of wine?” She asked, walking towards the kitchen and wiggling her glass in the air, that was now near empty itself.

“I’d love one, thank you.” Spencer smiled at her, his heart seemingly growing in his chest as he watched her focus on pouring his wine. He ran to his room to change quickly, not wanting to miss a second of time with her. He never knew when he’d get called away again.

When he got back to the living room, (Y/N) was back on the couch and under the blanket. Spencer walked to the couch, grabbing his glass of wine and taking a sip. He sat on the other side of the couch, quite far from her, nervous to get too close. He wanted to hear her song, but if he got any closer, there might be no going back. Falling for her… it was a guaranteed death. She was his best friend, and love only ended in heartbreak. He couldn’t lose her. As amazing as it would be to love her, he couldn’t take the risk.

“Come snuggle with me, I’m cold!” She whined, throwing back the blanket and inviting him in. He couldn’t say no to her, no matter how hard his mind tried to hold him back. He crawled up next to her, putting his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“I missed you,” she whispered, hugging him tighter.

“I missed you, too.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff

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daydreamsofh · 4 years

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Terrible Love- Part Two

A/N: Ahhhhh hello! Welcome to Terrible Love, part two! I have had so much fun writing this story, and I am so so proud of it, and so happy to share it with you!

A massive thank you to my girl @harryinsweatersandbandanas for just being herself and always encouraging me, and to my sweet friend @dallas-suit-harry for being the best beta reader ever! I’m so lucky to know you, Em! <3

Here we go, again! Feedback and reblogs are always welcome, my ask box is always always open!

Summary: Love, or should I say falling for your best friend has a way of being terrible, and wonderful all at the same time.

Inspired by the song: Terrible Love- Birdy

Word Count: 6k, almost 7k

Part One: Terrible Love

You weren’t proud of what you did. Leading guys on wasn’t one of your hobbies, and you genuinely felt bad for inviting Connor to go to the party with you, knowing there were no hopes of an actual chance of a relationship between the two of you at the end of the night. It wasn’t like you were a villain in a romantic comedy, wheelding your imaginary sword to hurt people on purpose. If anything, you did feel like you were in the middle of a romantic comedy, torn between wanting Harry so badly it made you sick, and all the while being so weary of him and the mountain of feelings you held for him. Although, It was clearly looking like you didn’t really have a choice in being with him, his hands and mind busy with someone else. But still that didn’t stop the aching feeling you had in your chest, and the shaking feeling you had in your hands.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, however you were convinced that absence from the guy you were embarrassingly in love with, made the heart grow bitter and on the verge of an emotional breakdown at any given second. Harry was normally always on your mind, but ever since he got home it was tenfold. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, you felt like you would never catch your breath. You would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about who gave him those marks on his neck, who got to feel his lips against theirs, to feel the stubble of his jaw lightly grazing their skin. The feeling of his hands, no doubt a little bit rough in texture from the nights on end of him strumming his guitar on stage, gripping on to their hips in the most possessive, yet gentle way. The knowledge that the smile on his face and the extra swing in his step was from the new flame budding between the two of them.

You were more uneasy now that he was home again, there was no way to ignore your feelings when he was literally right in front of you. You found yourself unable to sleep, yet again, and without having the comforts to lull you to sleep like when he was gone. There was no duvet to bury under that smelled of him, no bedside book’s that have the lines he fell in love with littering the pages to make your eyes heavy, and no air to breathe that he once had. You were awake at all hours of the night wondering who was on his mind and in his heart, the way he was in yours.

Meanwhile, Harry was absolutely positive he was losing it. He was unable to focus on anything for longer than five minutes before his mind filtered back to you. More specifically, your smell on his sheets and throughout the air of his home, he wondered where you had sat and where you had laid your head to rest, where had you eaten your breakfast and where had you taken his calls? He was romanticizing every little detail about you that was now etched into his home. Even the strands of hair that were stuck to his pillow, and the smell of your perfume practically stamped into every one of his jumpers, every little thing. He was even dreaming about you, and he doesn’t need an expert to tell him that that is a clear sign that that was a sign. He loved you, he was sure of it. But among other things, he was also painfully sure that it seemed you had met someone else. When you were so nonchalant about going on a date and then coming back to his house afterwards like it was no big deal, he had never been so cross with you, but mainly with himself.

How is it that he never said anything? How is it that he’s a man who writes love songs for a living and always urges people to tell people how they feel, no matter how embarrassing and terrifying that may be? How is he someone who says “Give Love, Choose Love” so naturally, so afraid to just bloody tell you how he feels?! How is he someone who fearlessly spews romantic advice to those who ask for it, and he can’t tell you how he feels? How is he a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, (literally and figuratively) and he can’t tell you how he really feels about you? He’s known he’s loved you for forever, but now he’s more than sure that he’s in love with you, and that notion, the one that he’s in love with his best friend is the most mind blowing/overwhelming revelation that he thinks he’s ever had. Hang performing in front of thousands of people, this is the biggest rush he’s ever felt. What is he supposed to do now?! You have a new guy in your life and he’s not the type of guy to run in the middle of that and cause a scene, and plus, who knows if you even feel the same way? He’s gone for months at a time, and while his personal life is more private now than ever before, being in his life in that way does require being a bit in the spotlight, and he’s not going to ask you to sign up for that.

But Christ, what if you are? What if you did want to sign up for that? Being his girlfriend, being in his life in a way you never have been before? BUT, you have a bloody boyf-friend-thing. Christ. How the hell did you even have time to meet someone? He had spoken to you nearly every day he had been gone, and he never even got the slightest inkling that there was anyone remotely new in your life. Let alone a dodgy sounding guy like him?! Christ how long had he really been gone? You had been so cheerful with him on the phone, but you always are. Telling him everything was good and that he doesn’t even need to come back because you had made yourself right at home. He had laughed at that one, the kind of breathy laugh that turns into the most dreamy sigh because the thought of you calling his house, home, is something straight out of one of his dreams. And yours too, but that's besides the point.

He felt so stuck in the weeds and he just wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you and kiss you until you were breathless. But on the other hand, you had only just started dating this new guy, so maybe he could still say something. He had to, or he at least had to try.

Every time Harry finished a tour, or the leg of a tour, Jeff was insistent on throwing him a welcome home party. As if he hadn’t just been showered with love from stadiums of people for months on end. You had attended every single one, because if there’s anyone who is best in the category of showering Harry with love, you take the cake. You stood alongside Anne and Gemma for a majority of the last one, in between gazing at him with so much love in your eyes you couldn’t believe you weren't actively crying the entire time. When he cozied up beside you after all of the toasts in his honor, you could feel the heat radiating from him, and then he slipped his hand to rest over your leg under the table. You couldn’t feel your hands when he reached over to give yours a squeeze, and when Gemma and Anne weren’t looking you leaned over and planted a kiss on his shoulder before pausing to rest your head there and gaze up at him. He gave you a lopsided smile, (one of your favorite ones of his) and he dipped down to kiss your forehead.

You had chalked up his touchy behavior to him being slightly buzzed, but for the next week every time you looked down at your hands you stopped breathing for a few seconds.

You were dreading this one though, positively absolutely dreading it. You were mad at Harry, and sad and jealous of whoever he was now mysteriously dating while on the road, but you couldn't not go. You couldn’t not go and tell him how proud of him you were, and it didn’t matter how frustrated you were at the situation, or really at the universe for misaligning the timing of you two, again. You hated to throw the i’m in love with my best friend and he has no idea and has some secret new girlfriend and you just wanted to cry the entire time card, but it was very tempting. You knew that if you didn’t go, that would raise more suspicion and would require further explanation, so you were forcing yourself to go.

There was only a two day stretch from the time Harry got home to the night of the party. You had been nauseous most of the day, incredibly anxious about the fact that you were about to be in the same space as him for an unimaginable amount of time, with a guy who you barely knew and definitely shouldn't have invited to come with you. While you were positive that Harry didn’t feel the same way, you were also positive that you didn’t want to be with anyone else, either. Who knows, maybe you would wind up being an 80 year old woman, single and alone with an australian shepherd mysteriously named Harry. Anything was possible at this point.

You had been more than useless at work all week, and the closer the time came for the party, the more you were thinking of reasons to get you out of going. You could say you caught a cold from the office? Or that you ate some bad chinese food and had a stomach ache? Or… you could just run. Run and never look back, hide out somewhere in Italy and start making hand spun soaps out of your living room? Yeah, you liked that option best.

When you had originally texted Connor and asked him if he wanted to tag along, you weren’t really thinking straight. You had tears running down your face and your heart was rolled into a ball in the pit of your stomach. Nothing felt right and you just wanted to turn the car around and fall into Harry. You had just seen the marks on his skin in real time with your own eyes and everytime you shut yours they were lit up with big bold letters beside them. He’s met someone else, get over it. You weren’t looking for an eye for an eye with Harry, but you also didn’t want to show up by yourself and seem anymore sad and alone, however stupid and counterproductive that sounds.

Connor had texted you back almost immediately, clearly looking to hear from you. He said he would love to join you, babe! Which could not have sounded more unnatural coming out of his mouth, or across the screen. Same difference. You guessed you really had no choice than to go, now.

When the day of the party rolled around, you had done everything in your power to stay at work for as long as you possibly could. Save from actually rearranging your desk furniture for the upteenth time, you dredged home to change before Connor picked you up. He had insisted on driving you, (clearly trying to establish his good guy facade) and you would have rather had him hit you with his car than go to the party. A bit dramatic on your end but you really, desperately, whole heartedly, DID NOT want to go. He could just knick you a little and then you would really have a reason not to go. Wait, were you actually thinking of asking a guy you barely knew to hit you…. With his….. Moving car?! Get a grip! You can do this. It’s not like you actually had to have a conversation with Harry, you just had to show up and make your presence somewhat known. You didn’t have to give a toast in his honor or read a poem about your deepest strongest feelings for him. You could do this. It was just one night. One night of acting like you weren’t in love with him, one night of acting like your heart hadn;t been ripped out of your chest, once night of hiding the love that you felt so deeply for him. One more night of you trying to convince yourself that you never needed to know what it was like to feel him brush your hair back as he kissed you, that you never needed to know what it was like for him to glance at you from across the room and wrap you up in his arms, just because he could, that you never needed to know what it sounded like to hear him moan your name out in the middle of the night.

One more night of you trying to convince yourself that he was so much a part of your heart that it was practically in the shape of an H. You could do this. You could learn how to love him from a distance. You at least had to try.

Connor had volunteered to come by your house and pick you up, which you had wanted to say no to, but you thought it was the least you could do if you were dragging him along to this party with you. You could tell that as soon as you asked him to come with you, and who the party was for, he was more than game to go. Name dropping was absolutely not something you ever did, especially Harry’s name, but when he asked you didn’t see any reason to lie.

The drive to the party had been a quiet one, only glancing at him when you felt like it was absolutely necessary when he asked you a question. You gave him short answers, instead focusing on the car getting closer and closer to Harry’s house. When the car came to a gradual stop and Harry's house was in view, you felt your stomach drop and your hands start to shake. You very sullenly opened the door and got out, wanting nothing more than to bolt down the street on foot.

Connor walked from the other side of the car to yours, and you kept your hands to yourself, crossing your arms before falling in line beside him and walking up Harry’s driveway. You could hear loud laughter booming as you got closer to the front door, and you could only guess that Harry was attributing to some of the sound. You let out a small whimper before almost bolting back to the car. The front door to his house was wide open, adding to the relaxed, and easy going mood of the night. You strolled in with Connor in tow, him closely following behind you. When you glanced back at him he was wide eyed, taking in his surroundings while simultaneously taking a count of every one that was there, clearly not used to being around famous people. The house had a few people grazing in and out, with the majority of the people outside in Harry’s backyard. Lights were strung in the trees and you could hear the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing somewhere in the distance.

You felt like a zombie walking into the party, your heart was in your throat and you were afraid to dart your eyes around to see who else was in the room. Too afraid that Harry would be in your immediate direction and you would be forced to look at him and talk to him and hear his voice. Just the image of him in your head made your heart physically ache in your chest and speed ip all at the same time. You didn’t want to see him, but at the same time you wanted to see him as painful as it would be. You just wanted to lay your eyes on him, maybe from a distance, hiding underneath a table where no one could see you weeping, or you know, something like that.

You were busy talking to a mutual friend of yours and Harry’s when you swore you felt the wind in the air change. As dramatic as it sounds, you suddenly felt warmer, safer, and you could feel a pair of very familiar eyes on you. You shifted your gaze from your friend, and when you turned around you made direct eye contact with Harry. Your pulse was rising and you swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your eyes beginning to brim with tears before you looked away to (as discreetly as you could) wipe your eyes. You felt stuck in your stance but you couldn't ignore the other feeling pulling at you, almost pushing you over to him.

You were trying to listen to what your friend was saying, something about a new cat of hers, but you couldn't hear a word over your whirling thoughts and your head was starting to become dizzy from your eyes darting around the room trying to find Harry again. You were hot and bothered (and not in a good way) at the fact that he was in the same crowded room as you were now, and you felt like a sitting duck, just waiting.

The selfish part of you wanted so badly to feel his arms wrap around your waist and his voice in your ear as opposed to only in your wildest daydreams. He was everywhere but physically with you, and when you really thought about it, that’s how it always seemed. Always on your mind and in your heart but never in your reach. Always a fleeting, overwhelming feeling that only seemed to grow over time. It grew in every touch you shared with him, in every timid and sometimes annoyed glance, every time you made him laugh and every time you made him grin and shake his head in disbelief at you. They grew each time you innocently fell asleep on the couch together after a night of movies, it grew each time he called you while he was away and you could hear the smile in his voice as he told you about each crowd, and each show and which joke he had come up with on stage that was way less funny than it actually sounded. It grew everyday just because he was Harry, just because he was him, and because you were you. You had no say in the matter anymore.

A hand on the small of your back broke your train of thoughts, you jumped and nervously clutched the pendant hanging from your neck before you whipped your head around to see who it was. Much to your disappointment you were met with Connor’s eyes instead of bright green ones and you were unable to hide the pout that your face immediately fell into, and then the nervous uncomfortable smile that you shot at Connor.

“There you are, lost you in the crowd for a bit! Good to see you again,” he said to you with an awkward smile as he threw an even more awkward arm around your shoulder.

His arm felt like a dead weight draped around you and you felt nauseous at the mere sight of the two of you. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and it certainly wasn’t at the feelings you had toward Connor, rather at the sight of your friend's eyes on you two, together. If this was the look they were sporting, you could only imagine what Harry’s would look like.

You smiled while Connor introduced himself to your friend while at the same time gently but firmly removing his arm from your shoulder. You let it fall to his side before running your hand up and down your arm, suddenly cold from the strange contact and the cool air rustling through you from outside. At the same time as the chill went through you, you heard a familiar voice directly behind you and your knees buckled. You could feel the heat radiating off of Harry behind you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and fall into his familiar warmth and smell. Oh god you could feel your throat thickening and eyes tearing, this was not the time to cry with he who shall not be named literally directly behind you, close enough to reach out and touch. Get it together!

You heard the conversation behind you die down and before you knew it you felt the familiar brush of a shoulder against yours and your eyes clamped shut before opening again. You felt the air being stolen from your lungs while his presence practically enveloped yours and you felt yourself starting to sway towards him. You felt your breath hitch before your eyes even met his and when they finally did you practically melted into a puddle at his feet.

“Uh oh-- look who it is! Hi love,” Harry warmly spoke to you before his eyes took in your appearance, looking you up and down.

You opened your mouth to speak and when just a squeak came out you cleared your throat before muttering a very profound, dramatically quiet, “Hi, H” Brilliant. Just brilliant!

“Hi love,” he said through a chuckle.

It was like it was just the two of you in the room, his gaze was warm on yours and his eyes were glossy as he watched you and it wasn’t until Connor broke up the moment with a nudge of his elbow annoyingly against yours that you looked away.

You let out a nervous, annoying high pitched laugh before you coughed and turned towards Connor.

“Um, Harry this is, this is Connor, Connor this is Harry,” you gestured in between the both of them and nervously tucked your hair behind your ear before you started fiddling with your pendant again.

Harry’s gazed dropped to the floor before he solemnly picked his head up and reached his hand out to shake Connor’s hand, and you had never wanted to go back in time so badly, back in time to when Connor picked you up, instead of just asking him to hit you with his stupid car just to get you out of this horribly awkward and uncomfortable moment.

Harry cleared his throat before firmly shaking Connor’s hand (almost a little too firmly if the buckle in Connor’s knees told you anything) and introducing himself.

“Nice to meet you, thanks for,” Harry glanced in between the both of you before continuing, “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

Connor cleared his throat before you could see him trying to make himself taller by puffing his chest out and muttering a less than confident, “So good to meet you, mate! I’m a huge fan of all of your….. Stuff!”

You dropped your gaze back to the floor and your cheeks were positively on fire and when you looked back at Harry he had a dazed, confused and solemn look on his face that you couldn’t quite read.

Harry spoke up before you could think to say literally anything and he stratched his hand up and down the back of his neck, (a nervous habit you picked up on years ago) before he sighed and looked back, only at you this time.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both- you’re both here. Drinks are around back and I’ll be around if you need anything,” he gave you a weak smile and you just shook your head before looking down at your feet again.

It was the most awkward, lukewarm conversation (if you can even call it that) and you felt sick to your stomach- had you two reached that point in your friendship? In your whatever-you-call-this-ship? If you took being with Harry in a romantic sort of way off the table completely, if you learned to love him from a distance, is this what it would be like and feel like?

The awkward silence and not knowing what to say, the knowing glances and not-knowing glances, and the glances where you know what one of you wants to say but you just... can’t? The rubbish timing and people in between you, the aching, empty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your heart. Not being in his life remotely as much as you were, now? You weren’t sure you could do that. No, you were positive you couldn’t do that.

The majority of the night consisted of stolen, painful glances and half lipped smiles and half full glasses. You had listened to the toasts in Harry’s honor and the speeches recounting details of tour life and rounds of applause. After things had died down a bit and you had lost Connor in the crowd of people (thankfully and more than willingly), you found yourself inside the house, wandering the halls and eventually landing in his closet.

It was a strange thing, but his wardrobe always brought a sense of comfort to you. It was big enough to live in and packed to the brim with clothes enough to make you feel oddly safe. Surrounded by the pieces that made Harry who he was and that had memories of the two of you intertwined through the fabric. And out of the corner of your eye you spotted those atrocious white loafers of his, on the bottom shelf of his shoe shelf and you couldn’t help but let out a loud, slightly inebriated, genuine giggle.

“Thought I heard someone pilfering through my things like a thief in the night, should have known it was you,”

You whipped your head around and your eyes raised and settled in surprise, that warm, almost burning feeling in your chest back again, like it was every time you caught him looking at you.

“I actually just came in here to confiscate these god awful loafers from your closet, never got around to doing that when I was here,” you smiled through your nerves and Harry was gazing at you so warmly you could feel the effects of it all throughout your body.

“You know they're actually not that bad, paired with the right pair of trousers they don’t look so grandpa-y,” he chuckled through his sentence and you mirrored a similar, giddy one.

“Ah of course of course, all depends on how you style it, Lambert teach you that trick, huh, H?”

You noticed a blush creeping down his neck and you could feel the butterflies beginning to erupt in the pit of your stomach.

“He did actually, practically his prodigy at this point, y’know?”

“Oh yeah I bet you are- I’m sure you’re a great student,”

He let out a loud laugh and his eyes were crinkling at your joke and he shook his head before he looked at you again.

He moved closer to you and you felt yourself drift closer to him in response.He was close enough to you now for you to feel the heat radiating off of him, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him.

He raised his hand up to brush your hair out of your face and behind your ear, and your breath hitched before he brought his gaze up to yours.

Your hand instinctively reached to squeeze his forearm before you moved it across his body to rest on his chest. His hand moved from your hair to grab your hand and he held it firmly, proudly against his chest. You were surprised to feel his heart beating rapidly against the back of your hand, and it took everything in you not to lean forward and brush your lips against his.

His voice was raspy and warm when he opened his mouth, “I realy, really missed you. I’m s’happy you’re here tonight. Always feel so much better when I can see you from across the room,”

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes and you had to divert your gaze to the row of shoes behind him in order for the tears not to pool down your cheeks. You were leaning into his chest and he was holding a firm, but tentative grip on the side of your face with his other hand.

You could feel his calloused fingers resting against your cheek and it grounded you in the moment and at the same time made your heart race faster.

How could he say things, incredible incredible things like this to you, and have marks from someone else on his neck, at the same time?

That thought was enough to bring you back to earth and you cleared your throat before briefly shifting your stance in his arms.

You retreated the tiniest bit and his hands and eyes were following you, and with whatever strength you had left you squeaked out, “I’m really happy I’m here too, H. I can’t even tell you how good it feels to be in the same room as you again,” your eyes fluttered and shut as you managed to get that out and you felt him rest his forehead against yours.

A knock on the door broke you two out of the moment, you could hear the faint voice of Connor (otherwise known as the ultimate moment ruiner) and an ask if you were ready to leave.

You and Harry were still standing there, resting against each other and his eyes were boring into yours and you just wanted the floor to swallow you both whole. Take the both of you somewhere far, far away where no one else can be found.

You sighed before taking another step backwards out of his grip and muttered a very shaky, nervous, “well I, I guess I should go, he’s kind of my ride,”

Harry cleared his throat before he released his grip on you and you saw his smile turn into a frown before he said, “oh yeah- of course love. I’ll, I guess I’ll see you soon? Thank you f’comin,”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you let out the tiniest, hopefully inaudible whimper and you took his hands in yours and gave them a good squeeze before turning away from him.

Heart in your throat and partially in the pit of your stomach you made your way out of his closet and down the hall, where Connor was waiting for you with a giddy grin. He was chit chatting with one of the sound engineers that works on tour with Harry, assuming that was where his good mood was coming from. You watched them say goodbye and when you turned to open the door to leave you couldn’t help but let out a confused, albeit relieved laugh.

You had brought Connor here feeling terrible of giving him the impression you were leading him on, and here he was meeting someone totally new. You were halfway down the driveway when you saw him turn around and wave goodbye to her yet again before you stopped yourself completely.

Wait a minute- wait a minute- wait a minute-wait a minute! If an absolute emobossil of a guy like Connor could meet someone at a house party where he knew literally no one, who's to say you were wrong about how you thought that Harry felt about you? There weren't exactly any rules to love, not any that made sense anyway. Who’s to say that Harry doesn’t feel the exact same way about you, as you do him?

Who’s to say that he’s not as ridiculously, overwhelmingly, annoyingly, dramatically as in love with you, as you are him? You weren’t sure, but you had to find out.

Connor stopped once he realized you weren’t following him anymore, and he turned his head to look at you before walking backwards to catch up to you.

“Did you forget something inside?” he asked you with a quirk to his brow.

You laughed before answering him, “you know what? I actually did. I’ll go back in and get it and just get a car from here, don’t worry about me!”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.” he said to you before looking behind you to peer at his new friend again.

“I’m positive, plus it looks like someone else is waiting for you, go on,” you smiled before glancing behind you and waving.

“Are you sure?” he asked without even looking at you and you just shook your head.

“I’m more than sure, go on,” you smiled at him again and gave his shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze.

And with that you sprinted back into the house and left Connor on the sidewalk to catch up with his new friend.

When you got back into the house there was no one inside, just the aftermath of a usual houseparty- empty bottles of alcohol everywhere and balloons and streamers littering the floor of Harry’s foyer.

You didn’t see him in the kitchen or the living room, so you ran back down the hallway to the wardrobe you left him in. You burst through the door without knocking and sure enough, there he was sat on the ground picking at the carpet on the floor of his closet.

His eyes shot up at you and he jumped to his feet.

“What are y-”

He was cut off by you lunging at him and you gripped the collar of his shirt before tugging him down to where he was eye level with you.

“Love, what are y’doing,” he asked you while rested his forehead against yours, panting at your close proximity.

“Shh, please I need to say this,” you shakily started.

“Harry, I-- oh god I can’t believe i’m saying this, I-,”

“Wait wait, no I need t’say somethin’ first,” he countered when you failed to get the words out.

You took a shaky breath in and you could feel the warmth of his body pulling you in further towards him.

“I love you, I love you, I- m’so in love with you. Please tell m’you don’t love him, please tell me i’m not too late, that we’re not too late,”

You felt your face drop in shock and as dramatic as it was you thought you were going to pass out face first on the very plush carpet of his closet.

“You-you what?!” you practically shouted at him. Your fingertips were burning as you gripped his shirt tighter and you felt like your heart was going to physically beat out of your chest with how loud it was pounding in your ears and against your ribcage.

“I love you, I mean it, I truly, truly do. M’going out of my mind. Please y’can’t leave with him, I can’t be without you any longer,”

“Harry , I-” you started, only to be cut off again by his stammering.

“M’sorry it took me so long t’say but god I mean it, I love you. I’ve been going out of my mind since I got home, I see you everywhere here. You’re in every room I go into, and every corner that I look. I’m better when you’re here, I’m more-- I’m just better. Please, I just, I love you, you have t’believe me,”

When you didn’t say anything back in response Harry took that as his cue to back away but instead you gripped on to him even tighter.

It was suddenly a lot hotter in his room and you were full on shoulders raised and fingers shaking panting, and there were streams of tears rolling down your face.

“You what?!” you shouted at him in disbelief, again.

He laughed before shaking his head at you, “Do you need me to repeat all of that to you again?”

Your only response was to pull him towards you the rest of the way and to slot his lips against yours. The kiss started languilly and Harry was cradling your face in his hands to keep the both of you steady. His lips were so soft and gentle against yours, and you could feel the faint tugging of the remnants of facial hair against your skin and you melted into him.

Your lungs were starting to burn and when you physically couldn’t keep kissing him you broke away from his lips and rested your head against his chest.

You were both panting and when he muttered your name to get you to look at him, you couldn’t help but look up at him with watery eyes.

While this was a mind blowing revelation and you were 50% sure you were dreaming, you got sight of the stupid marks against his neck and you had to finally ask where the hell those came from.

You pulled him to you again, and snaked your arms around the wide expanse of his shoulders. You ran your (albeit shaky) fingers down his neck until you brought your eyes to meet his again.

“Who, who gave you these?” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry looked down at your hands, “Gave me what?”

“What do you mean, ‘gave you what’?! Who gave you these marks?”

“What marks? Love these are from my stupid guitar strap,”

His guitar strap?! His stupid stupid fucking guitar strap?! That was why you had been breaking into sobbing fits for the past two weeks?!

“Are you- are you serious?! That’s why i’ve been crying at the drop of the hat every second since our call a few weeks ago?!” you shook your head and laughed, “I thought someone, I thought you had met someone, and you know…..”

“Absolutely not love. Don’t really have the time for that when i’m on the road, not like i’ve really been interested in that lately to begin with,” he gestured to you and you sputtered out a laugh.

“Okay, well if we’re admitting stuff I guess I should tell you, I’m not with him, Connor. We’ve never been together. I barely know him. I just drugged him here tonight so I wouldn’t be here alone…”

Harry dropped his head in relief before pushing his hair back from his forehead, “Oh thank god,” he muttered from behind his hands.

“Does that mean that you…..” he started.

“I love you, I love you, I absolutely love you, H. You’re my favorite person in the world, I love you, I always have. I’ve always been here,”

Harry lunged forward and slotted his lips against yours again, that was an answer all in itself.

When you broke apart finally Harry spoke up before resting his forehead against yours.

“From here on out, let’s just be honest with each other, yeah? Would have saved a lot of trouble if we’d just said how we felt from the start,”

You simply nodded before pulling him into you and nuzzling your face in his neck.

You stood there for a few moments, just basking in this new feeling of love and sureness that you had between the two of you. Your lips started to quirk and you raised your head from his neck.

“If we’re being completely honest here H, you have got to get rid of those terrible, terrible shoes,” you said it with a serious face before you burst into laughter.

He laughed a bug, genuine laugh before resting his hands on your hips.

“I guess that can be arranged, love,” he rolled his eyes playfully and you batted at his chest.

What a terribly fun love this was going to be.

#waaaah i hope you all enjoy!!!!!#terrible love #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #oh the yearning #brb going to cry forever now

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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That Thing That Isn’t Biphobia

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. America and Japan brotp. Mentions of Belmano and past Prumano. Very brief mentions of Giripan, Gerita, and Lietpol. Human AU.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of biphobia and violence (though no actual biphobia or violence). Mentions of ace/arophobia from Alfred’s parents, who don’t appear in the story.

Word Count: 3317

Summary: Alfred thinks he’s biphobic because he gets unreasonably angry and upset whenever he sees his roommate having relationships with men or women. He hates himself for being prejudiced against Savino, but an honest conversation with another friend helps him realize his “biphobia” wasn’t biphobia at all.

Note: Prequel to That Thing Where You Fall In Love With Your Best Friend. Inspired by the reddit story of the “straight” guy who fell in love with his gay roommate and mistook his jealousy for homophobia.

Alfred was supposed to be eating lunch with Kiku today, but after fifteen minutes he had only moved the sushi around the plate with his chopsticks several times. Guilt was gnawing away at his mind, and he couldn’t focus on anything else, even sushi that he knew would be tasty since Kiku had chosen the restaurant this time.

At least he wasn’t nauseous, like he would be when Savino was around his girlfriend.

Emma was perfectly sweet, and Alfred had no reason to dislike her. She was genuinely friendly to him and Tolys, even if her main reason for stopping by the apartment was to spend time with her boyfriend. She and Vinny were affectionate, but they didn’t engage in enough PDA to bother any reasonable person. Yet every time Savino would casually drop his arm around her shoulders and she’d snuggle up to his side, Alfred had to look away to keep his stomach from roiling. Every time he called her some sappy Italian endearment and she giggled and replied to him with something in Flemish, Alfred wanted to drive spikes into his ears just so he’d never have to hear them again. When they kissed in front of him, Alfred felt like screaming or crying, and he didn’t understand why.

The same thing had happened a few months ago when he was hooking up with Gilbert, that albino German dude he’d met because Vinny’s little brother was dating Gilbert’s little brother. Gilbert and Savino didn’t call each other sappy nicknames, because it was just a friends with benefits arrangement, but they did spend a few nights together. One morning, Alfred was in the middle of eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch when Gilbert emerged from Savino’s room wearing only a pair of boxers. After nearly choking on his cereal, Alfred finished his breakfast as quickly as he could and left the apartment to circle the block five times, which calmed him down enough to refrain from punching some poor guy just for having sex with his roommate. By the time Alfred had returned, Gilbert had left, thank fucking God. But whenever he thought of the things they must have done together or the things Savino had done with Emma, a painful tightness seized Alfred’s chest, and it became extraordinarily difficult to breathe. Even after they had gone back to being just friends, Gilbert liked to visit occasionally, and he liked to tease Savino with comments made him splutter and blush. Every time he saw Savino’s reaction to some comment Gilbert had made, Alfred felt unreasonably angry, and he wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off Gilbert’s face with his fist.

Alfred knew it was wrong. Savino had never judged him for being ace/aro, and Alfred had absolutely no right to judge him for being bi. Savino was an amazing friend and a wonderful roommate, and he deserved all the happiness in the world. He certainly deserved better than living with a biphobic piece of shit like Alfred. What kind of fucked up asshole couldn’t stand to see one of their best friends happy just because the way they were happy was different from what they wanted for themselves?

Alfred hadn’t mentioned a word of how he felt to anyone. He didn’t want to hurt Vinny with this stupid prejudice that came out of nowhere, and he didn’t want everyone in his life to hate him the way he deserved. Savino, of course, wouldn’t want anything to do with Alfred if he knew, and neither would Tolys, who was bi too. All of his friends would be disgusted by the ugly and vicious sentiments Alfred harbored, and he would have to move back in with the shitty parents who thought his asexuality was a silly, immature phase he would grow out of eventually once he really came out of the closet. Even his own twin would want nothing to do with him. Mattie was straight, but unlike Alfred, he was a decent person who would never hate someone for being themselves.

But the sad truth was that he didn’t hate Savino. Vinny didn’t smile that much compared to Alfred, but when he did, it resembled the sun coming through the clouds. When he laughed at Alfred for doing something dumb, Alfred felt giddy, and he wanted to do something even stupider just to hear that beautiful sound again. He was a talented artist and an amazing cook, and Alfred had grown addicted both to Savino’s cappuccinos and to sitting at the counter and chatting with him while he worked. Vinny was like a human space heater, and he always smelled like fancy cologne Alfred wasn’t sophisticated enough to use himself. When they hugged, Alfred never really wanted to let go. The idea of not having Savino in his life was the worst thing Alfred could imagine, so he had to pretend everything was just fine and that nothing had changed.

He was frowning down at his sushi, too heartsick to eat any of it, when Kiku hesitantly spoke up. “Alfred-kun, are you all right? You’ve been unusually quiet, and you haven’t touched your food today.”

Alfred sighed and made eye contact with him. “I’m fine. Just not hungry, I guess.”

Kiku looked worried. “If you aren’t in the mood for sushi, we could go somewhere else. I don’t want you to skip lunch because you were trying to accommodate me.”

Alfred set down his chopsticks, which he hadn’t been using for their intended purpose. “It’s not the sushi, dude. I’ve just been feeling kind of off lately.”

“Off how?”

Alfred hesitated. Kiku was his close friend. In some ways, he understood Alfred better than anyone else because he was asexual too. The only difference was that he was gray-romantic, because he had gotten very close to someone once, and he wasn’t sure if what he’d felt for Herakles years ago was romantic or not.

That meant Kiku might be attracted to guys at least a little. So he would see the way Alfred had reacted to the mere idea of Savino being with a guy as a personal attack, and rightly so. He wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that, and Alfred couldn’t blame him.

Alfred hunched in on himself and fixed his gaze determinedly on the table top. “You shouldn’t worry about it. It’s a dumb problem, and I need to get over it.”

“But you’re my friend,” Kiku stated plainly. “Of course I’ll worry when you aren’t acting like yourself. I care about you.”

Alfred took a deep breath and blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying in the middle of a Japanese restaurant, which would unnecessarily embarrass everyone around him. Kiku’s concern only made him feel worse. He didn’t deserve it at all.

“I think I’m a bad person,” Alfred muttered. “I might’ve picked up on some prejudices from my parents, but it’s not like I want to feel this way. And I can’t blame it all on other people. It’s my responsibility to quit being a dick to people for no reason.”

“You’re prejudiced? Against who?” Kiku already sounded annoyed at him, and he hadn’t even heard everything. He’d barely heard anything.

“Bi people, I think. Either that or I just really don’t like Europeans, which isn’t okay either.” Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, dreading Kiku’s reaction.

For a long moment, all Alfred heard was the sound of people at others eating and talking to each other. Finally, Kiku spoke. “Alfred, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s biphobia, dude! Of course it doesn’t make sense.”

“But both your roommates are bi. And European, for that matter.”

Alfred groaned in despair and fisted his hands in his hair. “I know. And if they found out, they’d hate me forever and want nothing more to do with me.” Fuck, if he couldn’t make this go away, he was going to lose two of his best friends. In addition to Kiku, who he’d probably lost already.

“You’ve always seemed so fond of Tolys and Savino.” Weirdly, Kiku didn’t sound pissed off. He sounded like he was trying to reason through a complex math problem. “If you were prejudiced against them, wouldn’t this have come up sooner? You’ve been living with them for years, and you never mentioned having a problem with their orientation before.”

“Because I didn’t have a problem before! I didn’t know I was like this until Vinny started hooking up with that German dude a few months ago. I saw him coming out of Vinny’s bedroom one time, and ever since then I’ve hated Gilbert for no fucking reason.”

“Knowing they’d been together in that way made you uncomfortable?”

Alfred grimaced. “It was more than uncomfortable. More like angry. Really angry. I had to leave the apartment to calm myself down. I still feel like punching something whenever Gil teases him and makes him turn red. And when I think about them doing stuff with each other, my chest feels weird and it’s hard to breathe.”

Alfred dared to glance up at Kiku, who had a carefully neutral expression on his face. “I see. And what about his girlfriend, Emma? She seemed nice when I met her.”

Alfred sighed. “Emma is nice. But it’s a similar deal, only more sappy because they’re an actual couple. I feel queasy when they cuddle on the couch, and I feel so upset when they kiss in front of me, even if it’s not like they’re Frenching for five minutes or whatever. I can’t stand it when I hear them getting all sappy in Italian or Flemish. And I’m just as mad if I think about them having sex, which is why it’s probably biphobia and not homophobia.” Alfred chuckled weakly, disgusted with himself. “Apparently, I’m such a crappy friend I can’t let Savino be happy, even with a girl.” God, Alfred loathed himself.

Kiku’s next question surprised him completely. “How do you feel about Feliks? They’re still with Tolys, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. Feliks is cool. I like hanging out with them. I think I might have accidentally gotten them a little too addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, though.” Alfred smiled fondly at the thought of Tolys’s partner. Feliks was a fun person. Alfred had never had a problem with them.

“Were you ever uncomfortable when they showed affection in front of you?”

Alfred furrowed his brow. “Not that I can think of? But maybe it’s because Feliks and Tolys have been together for a while, so I’m used to it.” They’d been together since before Alfred developed this sudden, unexpected biphobia problem. God, he hoped that he didn’t start hating Feliks too. That would really suck.

Kiku nodded to himself. “I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. And contrary to what you told me, I don’t think you’re biphobic.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I think you’re jealous.”

“But why would I be jealous? Because Vinny goes on dates and hooks up with people, and I’ve never been with anybody? That doesn’t make any sense. I never wanted to be more than friends with somebody.”

Kiku gave him a pitying look. “But I think you do now. I think something must have changed, and now you have feelings for Savino. You were jealous of his most recent partners because you wish you were them.”

For a moment, Alfred was too stunned to say anything. He glanced down at his uneaten sushi. “But I don’t like people that way. I can’t. I never have.” He felt scared because so much of his identity was shifting away underneath him. It hadn’t been easy for Alfred to tell people who he was, especially when he had to explain it to people who wouldn’t inherently understand him the way Kiku did. Not everyone had accepted him. His own parents had made him feel like crap for it. He didn’t want to prove them right, because asexuality and aromanticism weren’t phases.

Every time he told people he was ace/aro, he’d been sure of himself. He’d been more certain of that than anything. But now he didn’t know who he was anymore.

“Alfred, how do you feel about Savino when he isn’t with another person?”

“Just being around him makes me happy. But that could totally be a friendship thing, right? It’s normal to feel happy around your friends. I’m happy around you and Tolys too!” But maybe it wasn’t normal to compare your friend’s smile to the sun or to think that the sound of their laugh was beautiful. Maybe you could enjoy hugging your friends, but something other than friendship was going on if you felt so warm and safe in their arms that you never wanted to let go.

Alfred glanced up into Kiku’s eyes, which were a warm, dark brown, filled with compassion and understanding. He felt calmer looking at his friend’s face, but he didn’t feel enraptured. He didn’t feel mesmerized when he stared into Kiku’s eyes, like he could do nothing but sit across from him and stare at him for hours. He had felt like that with Vinny.

Alfred coughed awkwardly and looked off to the side as he felt heat starting to creep up his neck and over his cheeks. His thoughts were weird, embarrassing, and really confusing.

“How do you feel about the idea of being in a relationship with him?” Kiku asked.

“I hadn’t really thought of it before,” Alfred admitted. “But it doesn’t sound bad.” Not much would change, really. They’d still be close, just in a different way. He’d be the one snuggling up to Vinny instead of Emma, and that would probably feel nice, considering how much Alfred liked hugging him. He’d be the person getting called something like “tesoro,” and the idea of a special nickname made him feel fluttery, just like he felt when Vinny had started calling him “Fredo,” only more intense. And the idea of kissing Savino on the lips instead of just that cheek kissing thing he did with his friends…

Okay, that made Alfred nervous. But not bad nervous, more like “I’m about to go on the biggest rollercoaster at the theme park” nervous. Alfred had always enjoyed the thrill of rollercoasters, the experience of screaming his head off as his heart raced a mile a minute. If kissing could feel like that, then he definitely wanted to kiss Savino. At some point, he might even want to do more than kiss Savino, which wasn’t something he’d ever considered before. The mere fact that he was even thinking about having sex without immediately recoiling said a lot.

Alfred grabbed his drink and quickly slurped up a lot of soda through his straw. He felt like he was about to explode from all the feelings inside him, and the soda helped cool him down a little. He kept a tight grip on the glass afterwards.

“I like him,” he confessed, near tears. “I like Savi so, so much, and I have no idea what this means for me. I don’t understand who I am anymore.”

“You’re the same person you always were, even if you’re discovering something new about yourself. And you’re still my friend. That will never change.”

Alfred released the glass slowly. “Thanks, dude. That means a lot.”

“If you like, I could help you look on the AVEN website sometime. You might not be completely asexual and aromantic, but I’m sure there’s a term out there for what you’re experiencing. It might help you make sense of things.”

“I appreciate that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad I’m not a secretly horrible biphobic asshole, but my head’s kind of a mess right now.”

Kiku chuckled softly. “That’s understandable.”

Alfred finally felt good enough to eat something, so he picked up a piece of sushi with his fingers, since chopsticks were still awkward for him to use, even if he’d eaten with Kiku many times. Fortunately, it wasn’t considered rude to eat sushi with your hands. Alfred chewed his food, and he thought things over. “Vinny has a girlfriend, and he seems really happy with her. Having a crush on him and knowing I have a crush on him is gonna be awkward as hell. Maybe not as awkward as thinking I’m an evil prejudiced monster, but still.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell him that part. But I do want to tell him and Tolys something once I figure all this stuff out. And my brother too. But telling my parents is… God, that’s gonna be a fucking nightmare. They were so shitty to me before, and they’re gonna be really smug and annoying if turns out they were right. I don’t wanna play into stereotypes like that.” Most people who said they were ace/aro didn’t change their minds later, but in his parent’s view, asexuality and aromanticism weren’t real, valid experiences, and any person who said they were asexual or aromantic was lying to themselves and using those labels as a mask for something else. Or maybe they just hadn’t found “the right person.”

Alfred had never intentionally lied about his sexuality, but his parents wouldn’t see it that way. This stupid crush on his roommate was reinforcing stereotypes that hurt people like the really awesome friend who had taken him out to lunch today and helped him realize his feelings, and Alfred felt guilty about that.

Kiku had an uncomfortable look on his face. “It’s not your responsibility to represent all people on the ace and aro spectrums. You have just as much of a right to explore how you feel as anyone else does. I think you should give yourself time to do that and only tell other people about this when you feel ready.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Right now, I don’t even know what to tell people.” Alfred picked up another piece of sushi and started to eat it.

“You told me today. That’s a good start.”

Alfred waited to swallow his bite, and then he gave Kiku a toothy, grateful smile. Kiku smiled back at him, and they finished their lunch together in a much more relaxed mood. Alfred didn’t have the dark cloud of guilt hanging over his head anymore, even if realizing he might be in love with one of his roommates gave him a lot of new things to worry about.

After they finished their food, they split the bill based on what they had ordered. Kiku had to take the bus back to work, so they would part ways outside the restaurant.

Alfred was a little surprised when Kiku inched closer with a shy look on his face and threw his arms around him. He wasn’t normally big on the whole physical affection thing.

Alfred returned the hug and laughed a little. “What’s all this about?”

“After our conversation today, I thought you might need it. Take care, Alfred.”

“Yeah, you too. Talk to you soon, bro.”

Kiku pulled away, nodded, and turned around to start walking to the bus stop. Alfred headed in the opposite direction, and he reflected on what had just happened.

Hugging Kiku was nice, but it didn’t make him feel tingly and floaty like hugging Savino did. Alfred appreciated the hug as a friendly gesture, especially since Kiku wasn’t the world’s huggiest person, but it had been easy to let go of Kiku when he wanted to leave. His arms didn’t feel empty, the way they did when Vinny stepped out an embrace, muttering under his breath about Alfred’s clinginess with a scarlet blush on his face.

Alfred didn’t feel the same way towards Savino he did to his other friends, but that was okay. Alfred was confused and a little scared by everything he’d realized today, but he wasn’t a terrible person, and he would figure things out eventually. He would be okay too.

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

BTBY Chapter 13

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter Summary: Where the fuck is Ben?

Previous Chapter here

Namjoon wakes up with a start as he feels something kicking his foot. He looks up to see Xavier holding a tray of coffee. He rubs his face with his palm and shakes his head. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I tried just saying your name but it wasn’t working. Coffee?” He asks and holds out one of the cups.

“Yes, thanks.” He takes the cup and looks over to see you’re still sleeping.

“Any updates?” Xavier asks as he sits two coffee cups on the side table.

“No. They brought a doctor in to show her the skull xrays and then she passed out. Anything on your end?”

Xavier takes a deep breathe in, sitting on the window ledge. “Yeah, I went to their apartment. I have a key because you know, best friend,” he gestures to himself. He pauses and looks over at your sleeping form to make sure that you are really out of it before he proceeds. He lowers his volume slightly and looks over ta Namjoon. “And Ben is nowhere to be found. The shower was wet though so he definitely went home and showered. Their car is gone and he’s ghosting me, Gina, and Joe.”

“Wow. What a dick.”

“Yeah, well Ben and I aren’t on the best of terms anyway so yes, I agree with you a million percent. I just don’t know what I’m going to say to [y/n] when she wakes up asking about it.” He sips his coffee and then gets his phone out.

Namjoon takes out his phone to check any messages he may have gotten in his sleep. He has several from the other members and their manager.

[Tae]: ok. I’ll fly out tonight. Are you feeling better now that she’s awake?

[Manager Sejin]: That’s fine. We understand. Just lay low and we’ll sort it. I booked the hotel for the rest of the week. Lmk if you need longer.

[Jin]: Im gOiNg To GeT My SOulMarK rEmOvEd -_-

[JHOOOOOOPE]: Are you feeling better now? Tae says you are staying there for a while. BE NICE.

[JIMINISSI]: We miss you. Take care.

Namjoon sends replies to everyone except Jin. And then scrolls through social media.

“I’m ordering non-hospital food. Do you want anything?” Xavier asks, breaking the silence.

“No. I’m fine. Thanks. I think I’ll head over to the hotel and nap if you’re going to stay here?” He says getting up out of the chair.

“Yeah. I’ll be here until around 2 and then Rafael is going to stop by. Just wait a minute, I’m going to ask the nurse if [y/n] can eat food from out or not.” Xavier says not waiting for an answer as he exits the room.

Namjoon walks over to your bed and covers your foot that you’ve kicked out from under the sheet. The pressure cuffs are still on your legs, preventing blood clots. He feels guilty once again that he had been so selfish when you were lying here with so many tubes and devices stuck to you. He decided last night he will make it up to you. Somehow. As much as he can in the next few days.

He walks over to the hospital table and takes out the small memo pad and writes down his phone number with a note. “I’ll be back this afternoon. If you need something before then: xxxxxxxxxx” He puts it on your bedside table underneath the coffee cup.

Xavier walks back in. “Two breakfast burritos on their way. Yesss.” He says, satisfied with his breakfast order. “Did anyone say how long she might have to stay here?”

“No. I think she’s getting her legs evaluated today.” Namjoon responds as he packs up hs phone charger and puts his trash into the small bin.

“Thanks for coming RM. And more importantly for staying. I know you didn’t really want any of this,” Xavier gestures to the whole area.

“Call me Namjoon. And how long have you known about…” he pauses not sure how to word it. “Me and [y/n] being soulmates?”

Xavier laughs, “Uh since day one. Best friend, remember?” he says dryly. He looks towards the door, making sure the three of you are the only ones in the room. “I also know about your extracurricular activities.”

Namjoon feels his face grow a little red.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Xavier pauses for a moment. “So. When are you flying out?”

“I think I’ll stay for the rest of the week. I’m still not really up to performing yet, and also I want to stay and make sure she gets better.”

Xavier raises his eyebrows at this but doesn’t say anything. “Ok. Well then I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, see you,” Namjoon responds as he leaves the room to go see Tae before the younger man flies out.

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

You wake up to sunlight streaming into your room. Fuck your head still hurt. But your arms feel much less stiff today, you noticed as you slowly started to wake up more. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and smelled coffee. YEsssss you thought. It had been forever. Well maybe a week. And you were unconscious for a lot of it, but you were still excited. You wiggle your body into a more seated position and use the bed remote to raise you. You saw the coffee cup next to your bed and reached for it, and also saw a note with a coffee ring. You pick it up and read it. Namjoon’s number? Wow, you think as you took out your phone and added the contact.

“Hey babe,” you hear Xavier’s voice and look over towards the doorway. He’s holding a bag of food and is once again your favorite person in the world.

“Hey. Sorry for yelling at you yesterday.” You say. You felt super embarrassed as you remember all the yelling and crying you did yesterday.

“No worries. You got hit by a car. I freak out when they get my coffee order wrong,” Xavier commiserates as he walks closer. “The nurse said you can have real food. Do you want some?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” you respond immediately, your stomach growling and aching. You had eaten a few crackers yesterday but didn’t want to push your luck. Today though, you were ravenous. Xavier walks closer and tosses a burrito onto your lap. HE is dreading the question he knows you are going to ask him so he stalls.

“I talked to Namjoon a bit this morning. He seems a lot nicer.”

You are chewing your burrito as you nod your head, “Yeah. I guess so. He was nicer to me yesterday too. Weird. And, he gave me his number.” You hold up the piece of paper.

“Honey that’s nothing, I’ve been texting him for days.” Xavier teases you as he bites his burrito.

You laugh, covering your mouth full of food. “Such a brat. Thanks for the food.”

“Of course,” he responds.

You check your phone to see if you have any messages from Ben. Nothing.

[Y/N]: Are you ok? I’m worried about you.

You send the message off. “Have you heard from Ben?” You ask Xavier. You can tell by his shift in body posture that he hasn’t.

“No.”

There’s more to it….”Did you go to the apartment?”

“I did. He had been there and showered, but he was gone by the time got there.”

You feel knots in your stomach. “What if he’s been in an accident or something?”

Xavier can’t help but feel annoyed. If Ben would just answer his fucking phone you two wouldn’t be here worrying about his stupid ass.

“He probably just needed to clear his head or something. If we haven’t heard from him in a while we can call jails and hospitals.” Xavier says nonchalantly.

You felt nauseous at the thought of your fiance being in either one of those places. You put your burrito down, suddenly unable to finish it.

“You gotta eat [y/n] even when your boyfriend sucks.” Xavier says flippantly.

You pout. “Fiance. And he could be in trouble Even if he’s busy sorting shit out in his head, it’s a lot to take in that your partner has a soulmate and didn't tell you.”

Xavier rolls his eyes, “ Yeah. Except he should be here with you, talking it through. And supporting you, you just got out of a fucking coma.”

You sigh. You and Ben’s relationship had become a point of contention between you and Xavier over the past few months. Ben had been distant while you were on your summer tour, rarely responding to your texts and almost never facetime-ing you. When you complained about it, he had called you clingy. Xavier sent you a million memes on gaslighting and toxic behavior until you got annoyed with him and told him to stop. You lowered your expectations of Ben. After all, you were the one who had decided to spend your summer traveling around the country. You were lucky to be with someone so understanding of your schedule. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

And then he didn’t pick you guys up at the airport. He forgot. Even though you reminded him several times and forwarded him the flight confirmation. The two of you waited at the airport for two hours just in case he remembered before Xavier angrily called Joe who arrived after 20 minutes.

“See [y/n]? This is what a good boyfriend looks like.” He snidely commented to you as he walked around and hugged and kissed Joe.

“You can’t control what anyone else does babe. You can only control your reaction to it. You eating that burrito or not isn’t going to make Ben appear, but it will help you feel better.”

“Yeah,” you say and pick it back up, taking small bites to make Xavier happy.

The rest of the morning passes quickly after that, with various doctors and nurses coming in and out, checking the screens, reading off blood counts, cognitive checks, and examining your legs. You tell Xavier to get his butt back to work, promising him that you will take care of yourself.

A cheerful woman pops in with a walker. “Hello! I’m Mandy and I’m one of the physical therapists here. We’re going to see how your legs are doing. Is that alright?”

You nod your head. “Yeah. I’ll be glad to get these things off,” you gesture to the cuffs.

“Yes, hopefully you’ll be able to bear weight and we can work on lessening the cuff time.” She walks over and gently removes the pressure cuffs off your legs. “Now it’s been a week since you’ve usd your legs so we’re going to take it nice and slow. We don’t want you falling.”

“Ok,” you say and swing your legs over the side of the bed and gently slide down, allowing your feet to touch the hospital floor. You can tell they don’t quite feel normal, like they belong to someone else.

“Let’s just start with this. You’re going to use this and stand. Ok?” She places the aluminum walker in front of you. You nod your head and grip both sides of the frame. Holy shit she wasn’t kidding. Just standing there your body feels so heavy and foreign to you.

“Good. Good. Just stand there for a few more seconds and then we’ll have you sit down and do that a few more times.” She makes a few notes on her tablet.

You stand there for a few more seconds and then you see Namjoon in the doorway. “Hey,” you greet him as you take a seat on the bed.

Mandy turns and casually looks over at the doorway. And then looks again, clearly missing how hot he was the first time. You notice her eyes widen a bit as she makes eye contact with her tablet. You get second hand embarrassment and blush as well.

“Can I come in or is this a bad time?” he asks.

Mandy clears her throat, “It’s fine with me, it’s up to you.” She says to you. “Stand up again please.”

“Sure, come in. But no making fun of me.” You say as you stand up again. You feel your joints starting to loosen up a bit this time.

“I don’t know if I can comply with those terms.” He says from the doorway. You admire how his solid frame takes up so much of the space there.

“Yeah, well just remember if I fall it hurts you, so encouragement is encouraged.”

He laughs, “Encouragement is encouraged? Wow. And English is your first language.”

You smirk. “Go sit down and read a book or something.”

You continue with your standing exercises for a few more minutes.

“Ok that’s all for right now, we don’t want to wear you out. Keep doing that a few times every hour and we can keep the cuffs off during the day.” She smiles at you reassuringly. “I’ll be back at 4 and we are going to do work with therabands. I’ll see you then.”

“Great, thank you.” you respond as she leaves the walker and exits the room. “Ughhh that was so tiring.” You complain as you swing your legs back into bed and place them under the covers.

“Hey, it’s way better than yesterday.” Namjoon says from his chair by the window.

“True. How are you feeling today?”

“A lot better. I grabbed a nap and shower at the hotel and talked to the team.”

“When do you fly out?”

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” He asks, feigning insult.

You roll your eyes, “I feel like you have a very important day job that you should get back to.”

Namjoon smiles, “I’ll leave in a week. I guess less if you kick me out.”

“No, I like having you here. You know other than the constant insults, your eye candy factor helps balance it out” You tease him and he laughs You hear a noise from the doorway. You recognize it instantly. It’s Ben clearing his throat.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ghostkat23 @cuteipat @marianeamine @thisisval @almonte12 @themisunderstoodblackswan

#bts fanfic #bts rm fanfic #bts rm x you #bts au fanfic #bts fanfction #bts rm x reader #bts rm scenario #rm x y/n #rm x reader #namjoon x you #bts namjoon x reader

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.2}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The thing about making promises as someone who's inherently loyal is, unfortunately, that you leave yourself no choice but to keep them.

Seeing as Robin had assured Professor Snape that she wouldn't study in the hallways anymore, she found herself highly uncomfortable in the common room once again on Monday night. Her divination homework was spread out in front of her on the table, while simultaneously some other students used the same piece of furniture to store their disgustingly sticky sweets and some kind of soda. Of course it had to go wrong. How else would she be reminded of why she dreaded this place in the evenings. The disaster unfolded, the soda was knocked over and emptied its entire contents all over the table, and all over Robin's homework essay. At least she had been graced with fast reflexes, which allowed her to save her textbook and quill at least and jump out of the way before the inevitable wave of sparkling pink fluid with a swirling dash of black ink swept over the edge of the table. Her essay, however, was lost in the floods.

A small apology was all she got in return, along with a few confused whispers once Robin tried to undo the damage by using the spell she'd learned from Snape's book during the last winter break. It indeed turned the water into a fine mist at first, then dissolved it completely, but unfortunately it also dissolved the ink on Robin's parchment, and instead left behind all the sticky sweetness that hadn't dissolved with the water. Right… this just worked with natural substances.

"How did you do that?!" An astonished first year asked Robin with wide eyes directed at where the water had been sloshing around mere seconds ago. "Will I be learning that too?"

"Unlikely." Robin mumbled in annoyance, not at the kid, but the overall situation. Now that the three pages of her essay were basically blank parchment again, and she currently held everything else she'd brought neatly in her hands, she saw no reason in cleaning the rest of the mess up herself. With the intention to at least not make enemies in the grades below her as well, she turned to the kid once more. "Just be nice to your professors and they might show you something handy like that." Then, without another word, she made her way out of the common room and into her dorm. If she'd have to rewrite the entire goddamn essay tomorrow after classes in addition to her usual work, she seriously needed to get some sleep.

Tuesday turned out to be just the way Monday had ended. Robin overslept (which literally never happened), upon which she had to skip breakfast to make it to class, and then ran from one subject to the next for the entire day, only to spend all remaining time until the evening by trying to get as much minor homework done as she possibly could. By the time she walked into the great hall for dinner, she felt so on edge that her stomach protested even at the prospect of eating a single pea. But she'd already missed breakfast and then skipped lunch to finish up a chapter in her book before afternoon classes… She at least had to try to eat something, or she might just collapse like her carefully constructed composure had done hours ago.

"Hey jay, what's all that talk about that you used some bloody weird spell last night?" A boy in her grade, who was sitting a few spaces over at the Slytherin table, asked immediately once Robin took a seat in one of the only empty spots. Being fashionably late, even if by fortune rather than favor, came at the price of having no say about bench neighbors. "Did you make up something new to impress the teachers?" A few people chuckled at the boy's comment and turned to Robin expectantly for an answer.

"Shut up David." She snapped at him with a glare, while her stomach reminded her that it strictly refused to take any more stress tonight. Really, Robin already felt very much like just imploding and ceasing to exist at a moment's notice today. And out of all the times her classmates could have chosen to pick on her this week, of course it had to be today, the one day she really couldn't be bothered with any more annoyances.

Within the next fifteen minutes Robin got exactly one piece of bread down, before she simply gave up on dinner and its inherent company altogether. As subtly as she could, she rose to her feet and made for a quick exit to head back to her dorm way before dinner ended. That at least gave her a good twenty minutes all to herself, before at last the other girls returned to the shared bedroom and thus inevitably made it impossible for Robin to do her work in the same space. With a sigh that bordered between resignation and desperation, she stuffed her trusty leather backpack with all things needed for today's assignments, as well as a bar of Twirls for the unlikely case that her appetite should return at any point in the next couple hours.

Then she made her way back into the common room with the utmost determination to make it work tonight. And at first it seriously looked like it actually could. It was rather empty in comparison to other nights, more or less quiet as well, almost possible to focus… Then however dinner time was officially over, and people entered the room like a flash flood. Or rather… a flesh flood.

The book in Robin's lap shook with the nervous jittering of her right leg, and her mind went in and out of focus as her eyes lifted on their own account to scan each new person entering the room. She tried directly facing the wall to make herself stop after half an hour of her eyes skipping from the page to the door. That however led Robin to a rawly-anxious state of mind where every loud or sudden noise made her jump, and her fingers dig into the spine of her book until her knuckles turned white. The tension that coiled her muscles into knots every time she startled never quite left her body, and after a while she started to shift in her seat in restless discomfort. The frown that had long ago set on her face almost made her eyes water in its attempt to help her to focus by merely squeezing her eyebrows together, but it only served to give her a headache. Indeed, the more she had to focus on staying calm, the more she realized that her mission to make this work was failing. And just like that, slowly, the thudding of her heart and the adrenaline in her blood drove her painfully insane. Just breathe, bloody idiot! This is a complete overreaction… more than likely just some stupid puberty thing. Ridiculous…

She wanted to yell at everything and everyone to just shut up and stop overwhelming her senses like that. Wasn't that something people supposedly did when they were (almost) 14? Not that Robin would know… her parents used to joke how she'd just jumped from childhood straight to adulthood without the awkward teenage phase. Well, maybe this entire lack-of-basic-functioning was just teenage-hood finally catching up with her.

She managed another forty minutes of restless reading, until she reached the end of the chapter only to realize that she could not remember a single word her eyes had traveled over. What book was she even reading?! Oh god… she would never finish this essay! A sharp tug in her chest and a new wave of nauseous heat accompanied the thought. She would fail this essay, and then the entire class, and then she'd be expelled. Bloody hell, she will end up cast out of both the muggle and the wizarding world! No, she had to do something, anything, she needed to get out of here… now.

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room as Robin threw her book into her backpack and her backpack over her shoulders. She didn't care that she felt dizzy. She didn't care that people were watching her abrupt exit like she had gone mad. All she felt was the painful thudding in her chest, the shame, and the tears stinging in her eyes. Before she could fathom to stop or even just slow down for a moment, she was hurrying through the pitch black hallways as if she could simply get rid of the dreadful feeling by going into a blind run. Outrunning her emotions. Just a minute in the courtyard, a minute under the stars or in the darkness of the night and she would be fine, she could just-...

A surging whiplash of electricity hit her body as she blindly ran into a solid surface that made her trip over her own feet and land on her butt, startling her enough to lose control over her unshed tears at last. For a second she blinked up at the blurry figure she'd run into, before being forced back onto her feet by a new wave of adrenaline released into her veins and the still persisting urge to run.

"Not. So. Fast…" The all-too familiar voice of her favorite professor sent a shiver down Robin's spine, but she also couldn't help the impulsive decision to simply walk on. Her body currently held her rational mind hostage, just as she was held in place by a firm grip on both her shoulders before she could bolt.

No no no… he had to let her move on or she would explode into a wailing heap of tears and misery. Or worse, she might yell at him. He would hate her. Even more than he already did anyway. Everyone hated her. She didn't want him to hate her… But she couldn't tell him that, she couldn't even voice any of her thoughts as they remained in their painful ambivalence of tumbling over one another and yet staying completely absent. She just wanted to be left alone… to die already and be rid of this torture.

"Breathe, Robin…" The sound of calmness, of darkness. "Count to six while you breathe in and count to six while you breathe out. You will be alright."

As if her body was trained to obey his solemn command, to ultimately trust his every word, she complied and closed her eyes. One… two… three… four… five… six… She was drowning, literally drowning. Six… five… four… three… two… one… Breathing hurt. It was painful, but getting better. One… two… three… four… five… six… Why wasn't he mad at her?! He was Snape… he was always mad when she did something ridiculous. Six… five… four… three… two… one… He still had his hands placed on her shoulders. She found that she didn't mind. Not the least bit, actually. One… two… three… four… five… six… She felt like her body actually started obeying her mind once again. The painful tension was fading away, the ringing in her ears died down and only her heart was still beating too fast. She could deal with that. Six… five… four… three… two… one… Robin opened her eyes, and despite the thick darkness, she was met with almost black ones in return. Another shiver ran over her skin.

"I'm sorry…" She finally managed to speak in merely a whisper, and a second later an overwhelming wave of guilt closed up her throat altogether. This really was a whole new level of being a bother. He had to hate her now… Wait, had he really used her first name a minute ago? It was all a bit of a blur in her mind…

"Don't." Snape merely said, and let go of one of her shoulders at last to pull her along through the corridors and into the empty potions classroom. As the door closed behind them, he finally turned towards her once more with a mixed expression. "Care to explain?"

"I will, just… give me a moment, please." She brought out, then carefully dropped her backpack on the floor and slowly walked from one end of the classroom to the other, pacing back and forth while Snape sat down on the edge of his desk and watched her in silence. Finally she felt enough like herself once more to talk to him, even if she wasn't entirely sure what he expected to hear. So that's where she started. "I don't know what to say…"

"Is this a usual occurrence? You running through the hallways in blind panic?"

"No…" Robin finally stopped in her avoidant movements, but still looked everywhere other than at the potions professor. "I mean… yes. But no. Ever since the start of term, I… it's…" Robin sighed, then sat down in her usual seat in the second row and put her head in her hands for a moment to collect her thoughts, while Snape waited patiently for her to go on. Finally she took a breath and lifted her eyes to look up at him. "I really shouldn't have told you that I wouldn't study in the hallways anymore… it's the only place I can bear to be at certain times. Ever since the start of term I've had trouble being around people. Not generally, I mean, just… working there, in the common room. I can't focus on my work, no matter what I do, and it always ends with me feeling like I'm going to die. Then I run and hide in the hallway. It's just… what I do to-... to cope without bothering anyone." She shrugged, more so to herself than to him. "I know it's probably just some pathetic teenager thing. It's nothing, really, and I already feel embarrassed enough by how stupid that all sounds… And I should probably stop talking."

"You should have told me."

"What?" Robin blinked at him in irritation. This is not the response she had expected. Mocking, yes. Scolding, even more likely. But not… something that sounded an unlikely lot like understanding. Remorse even! Surely she was misinterpreting that.

"You should have told me on Sunday what you told me now, and matters would not have come this far." He replied reproachfully, which was already way more likely on the scale of his normal subtones, and moved away from his desk towards the door.

"Well, it's not something you simply tell people! At least not without a darn good reason…" Robin defended herself quietly while avoiding his eye once more. He already knew quite enough, he didn't need to see her blushing over it like a damn idiot as well. "And no offense, professor, but I doubt that there is much you can do about it anyway. It's probably just… nature, or… something." She cringed as the words left her lips, but she would only embarrass herself even more if she spoke on in an attempt to make it any better.

"You may have failed to notice that you are sitting at a desk in a decently lit classroom right now instead of cowering on the ground in a dark hallway."

"Actually I was quite aware of that." A small smile accompanied the frown on Robin's face now as she turned around to face him standing by the door. "But… you seem to be making a different point with that statement and I… don't get it."

"Would you like me to spell it out for you?!" He rolled his eyes, looking equally annoyed and uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable he always wore when he got caught doing something nice.

"I'd actually appreciate that a lot, sir." She replied with an insecure half smile, even though she knew that his comment had been mere sarcasm. "This… thing, in the common room, has left me a bit… slow, for the moment. Sorry… I guess I'm back to being a dunderhead for the moment."

"Do you remember the advanced spell to lock and unlock doors which I taught you in your first year?"

"Yes, of course."

"It is commonly used to lock the classrooms. All classrooms, to be exact, in the entire school. However I would prefer if you made use of that knowledge solely on the doors to my own classrooms, should you find yourself in need of a… suitable study space again." He gave her a pointed look, then disappeared out into the hallway without another word.

Robin stared at the now closed door for another moment, and listened to her own heartbeat and the silence it was filling. He trusted her enough to allow her to study here, and even come and go at will. That… wow. Robin felt honored, in a way, and definitely privileged. She'd felt proud to be allowed to break curfew, but this was a step further into what honestly started to look like trust. Severus Snape trusted her, even if only ever so slightly. Hadn't she been so emotionally exhausted from the events of today overall and tonight in particular, she would have smiled brighter than the sun. She felt like smiling brighter than the sun, actually… but all her body allowed for now was a small but grateful smile. Yeah, she'd happily write a thousand labels for him as a thank you for this… and a couple more as an apology for making him do something nice. For now however she still had an essay to write for divination, and she would make sure that it turned out even better than the first.

… … …

About an hour later, Professor Snape returned to the classroom in the same silence he had left with. Robin looked up from her work as her ears picked up on the movement, and she followed him with her eyes as he sat down behind his desk with a stack of paperwork. For a moment, he returned the gaze with the same calm expression he had worn in the lab two days ago, and Robin wondered what he might possibly be thinking. Then he focused on his own work, and Robin did the same.

For two more hours they sat in silence like this, each working on their respective tasks in the dim light of the few lit candles in the room. Robin hadn't been able to work this well for this long ever since the start of term, maybe even longer than that, and she couldn't quite believe just how lucky she was to have ended up here now. Lucky, and grateful. Just sitting in Snape's classroom with him, way past curfew and in comfortable silence, she felt like she was able to relax for the first time in over twenty four hours. In addition to that, her essay was turning out to be amazing. This might not beat last Sunday night, with all the amazing wonders the lab had to offer, but it was a pretty close second.

Once the essay was done and packed up to be handed in tomorrow, Robin made the pleasant discovery that the Twirl she had packed was still unharmed and not entirely smashed after how she'd thrown her book into the backpack earlier. Pleased with herself for packing the candy in the first place, she grabbed it out of her backpack along with the book she intended to read next.

"You brought chocolate to Hogwarts?" Snape raised an eyebrow at her in what almost looked like amusement, and Robin had to smile at the fact that this was what finally had led him to disrupt the silence. "Isn't the insufferable amount of sweets served here quite enough?"

"It's not nearly the same, actually." Robin replied neutrally, then took one of the chocolate bars out of the package to place it on her desk before looking back at Snape. "Do you… uh, would you like one? I mean… I'd be happy to share. Still haven't gotten used to having two chocolates in one package…"

"And what exactly would be the use of that for you?"

"Eating chocolate or sharing? Actually-... Well, I guess it doesn't matter, actually… both tend to be quite delightful." Robin shrugged as she rose to her feet and walked over to his desk to place the second piece of chocolate in front of him. Seeing as he still looked doubtful, Robin rolled her eyes even though she knew she shouldn't. "I'm not going to poison you! I'm… just trying to be nice. And hoping you won't yell at me."

While Snape continued to frown at her, then at the chocolate on his desk, Robin sat back down at her own desk with a sigh and went to enjoy her treat. Why couldn't he simply accept a kind gesture without being all weird about it? It made Robin feel weird in return… but she also refused to let that stop her from being nice to him. He probably didn't believe that anyone would be kind to him for the same reason he found it so hard to believe that Robin didn't mind, and even appreciated his company. Well, in case she or anyone on this planet hadn't noticed before now… her potions professor was different. Not different from anything in particular, just different. Yet she couldn't help wondering… had he ever tried muggle candy before? Chances were ridiculously high that he didn't even-...

"There indeed is nothing like Twirls in Hogwarts… I had no idea they sold them as twin bars these days though." He mused after a moment, then snatched the piece of chocolate off his desk to eat while resuming his work as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place.

Robin felt baffled for a moment… he actually knew that they hadn't always come packaged like this?! Most of the kids in her house didn't even know what a TV was… leave alone a random brand of sweets. How come he knew? But Robin knew that it wasn't her place to ask... She'd already stretched her luck quite enough by offering him chocolate in the first place. But in terms of being kind, it really was an improvement to having the house elves bringing him cake, just like her using his classrooms as a study space was an improvement in terms of trust. Somehow, Robin felt like they were making progress. But she didn't yet know which goal they were trying to reach.

… … …

After Tuesday night, Robin declared the potions classroom to be her personal sanctuary. Thus it was no surprise that on Wednesday night she was back in front of the door, only to find it locked. However seeing as Snape had been rather direct about her being allowed and expected to let herself in, she didn't hesitate to make good use of the spell she'd learned in her first year. From some time after dinner until way after midnight, Robin was alone in the classroom, working and reading and simply enjoying the fact that she was entirely on her own. Solitude was hard to come by around here… so she treasured every second she had to herself, before at last she made her way back to her dorm. She didn't run into a single person that night, and it was absolutely blissful.

On Thursday night Robin had to let herself into the room yet again, but after an hour of being alone, Professor Snape burst into the room like a black whirlwind or a thundercloud, which in return caused Robin to jump with a yelp. He stared at her in surprise for a second, frozen in his spot in the middle of the room now after the dramatic entrance, but then his entire demeanour slowly changed from threatening tension to calm neutrality and he moved on into his office, only to come back with a stack of notebooks a moment later. Still without saying a single word, he sat down at his desk in the front of the classroom and started to work. Whatever he had been upset about a moment ago, to Robin it seemed to have faded for now. Or he'd just gotten better at hiding it. However Robin had also gotten better at reading his barely-existent expressions and tiny tells, and thus it was more than likely that he felt calmer now for real. The thought made Robin smile as she turned back to her work. Perhaps this sanctuary wasn't only hers to escape to after all.

On Friday night, Robin found herself with a surprising lack of assignments for the next week, which left only her private studies to delve into. However due to exactly that reason, she decided to take a walk down to the lake after dinner, before curfew would limit her to the castle grounds alone. It was still surprisingly warm for the beginning of October, and thus she strolled along the shore until the time of night forced her to return to the castle. Once back inside, she made her direct way to the potions classroom without even bothering to return to her dorm first, seeing as she carried her backpack with her anyway, and thus all of the books she could possibly read. To her surprise, the door was unlocked already, but she stepped into the room to find it empty and in darkness. Well, the back of the room where Robin was currently situated was dark. The door leading to Snape's office however stood wide open, and the faint light radiating out of the office dimly illuminated the very front of the classroom.

Without wasting any more time standing in the dark like an idiot, Robin closed the door behind herself, lit the candles with a single word and then sat down in her usual spot. Somehow it only now appeared to her that up until this week, Snape had always been working in his office whenever she had seen him working in the evenings, and not once in the classroom. Had he started working here to keep an eye on her? No, she'd been alone here all of Wednesday, and multiple hours over the other two days. Huh… how curious. Robin then settled for the explanation that he also didn't mind some company at times. And the desk here in the classroom seemed a whole lot larger than the one in his office.

"Miss Mitchell…" His voice stopped her before she even had the chance to unpack any of her books from her backpack.

"Good evening, professor." She replied in a hint of surprise at actually being talked to after the enduring silence of the previous night, and meanwhile followed him with her eyes as he made his way out of the office with a book in his hands that might as well be older than the castle. "Is… is everything alright?"

"Indeed. However I… would like to ask for your assistance." His voice didn't let on anything at all once more, and Robin didn't know if she should feel nervous or excited. Her heartbeat sped up anyway.

"My-... My assistance?" She frowned a little, but snapped out of her insecurity in a second. This was her chance to help him another time, and she would take it no matter what. "I mean… of course, I'd be glad to. What is it you need my help with?"

He placed the book on his desk and motioned for Robin to come over as well, which she did while he explained. "I was in the fortunate position to acquire this unique piece of literature over the summer, but it appears to be missing one single page, which however I suspect to be of crucial importance to fully understanding everything else. Since the page was not simply torn out of the book, it also cannot simply be restored either."

Robin stood next to Snape at his desk and carefully inspected the heavy tome for a moment. It was bound in shabby but decently restored leather, with the barest hint of a gold inscription on the spine that however had long before rubbed off. Not much to go by… what kind of literature was this even? After a moment she looked up from the book to meet her professor's eyes. "How could I be of any help with that? I mean, I absolutely would help you if I could, but I very much doubt that there's anything I can do if even you didn't know a suitable spell. Maybe you could ask Professor Flitwick, or Professor McGonagall, or…"

"I asked for your assistance, did I not?"

Robin nodded, but the frown stayed on her face nonetheless. "Yes, sir… but I'm afraid I'll only disappoint you even if I tried. I have no idea how to restore the page as it is."

"I would not be so certain about that. You are in the possession of something that could very well be of vital assistance right now." He gave her a moment to think, and the gears in Robin's mind jumped into full action. Did she, really? But what-...

"The book about literature spells!" Her eyes widened at her own conclusion, and her lips remained agape with the realization. So that's why he had asked her! But how had he remembered that? It's been ages since she'd mentioned it…

"Is it still in your possession?"

"Of course!" The smile was on her face before she could help herself. In an instant she was back at her own desk and digging through her backpack with her right arm almost disappearing in the small bag up to her shoulder. Snape watched her with a risen eyebrow, and Robin felt the need to explain herself rising up with the heat on her cheeks. "Uh, I… carry a lot of books usually, so I used an extension charm I had previously researched for-… You know what, nevermind."

Snape looked so extremely unimpressed by her words that Robin had enough reason to assume that he actually was actually –at least partially– impressed by her spellwork. Really, it was another odd thing about him that she'd discovered recently, the nearly indistinguishable difference between unimpressed, and 'unimpressed but actually quite impressed'. She hid her smile in her bag for a moment, until she came to the conclusion that the book in question wasn't in there. Thus she dropped the bag on her desk as she rose to her feet, and then turned back to Snape.

"The book is in my dorm room, since I hardly ever use it these days… But I'll go get it right now, so, uh, I'll be right back." With that she made for the door and left without waiting for a reply. Ten minutes later she walked back into the classroom at the same pace she had left with, eyes already fixed on the book as she flipped through the pages. "I'm afraid I only ever really studied half of it, seeing as the second half was pretty much useless for me at the time, but-..."

"Jay?! What the hell are you doing here? Must've gotten yourself into detention as well, huh?" The snarling voice of David –who certainly had been a more than qualified replacement for Alexander in terms of bullying, ever since the duelling incident– made Robin look up from her book so fast and in so much surprise that she almost ran into the corner of a desk. In equal shock and incredulity she stared at David for a second, then at Professor Snape who had taken a seat behind his desk.

"You've got to be joking…"

______________________________

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@ayamenimthiriel @chibi-lioness @t-sunnyside @alex4555

General Tags:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @dreary-skies-stuff @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @kthemarsian @lady-of-lies @strawberrysandcream @noplacelikehome77 @theoneanna @mishaandthebrits @i-am-a-mes @nonsensicalobsessions @exygon @hiddles-lobotomy @rjohnson1280 @annwhojumps @spookycatqueen @salempoe @headoverhiddleston @fanfiction-and-stress @createdfromblue @halszka-potter @thecreatiivecorner @themusingsofmany @kinghiddlestonanddixon @scorpionchild81 @crystal-28 @adefectivedetective @lokis-girl-in-mischief @booklover2929 @iamverity @lovesmesomehiddles @akk4rin @whitewolfandthefox @stuckupstucky

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 20

A/N: so honestly. this story was SUPPOSED to come to an end. like, this was supposed to be the last/second to last chapter and then boom, done! but after writing this chapter and pleading from @irwinkitten & @loveroflrh, and swimming in my own thoughts & falling in love with Aspen, Calum & Luna all over again, i realized this will not be the last chapter. and, if anything, i probably have a few more chaps left in me than previously assumed. so yeah. this story is gonna go on for a little while longer. after reading this chap, you’ll understand why hehe

Chapter 20

ASPEN BOWED HER head, her labored breathing echoing a bit too loudly in the restroom, shaking arms apparently too weak allow her to steadily brace herself against the sink. Her throat was still burning, the taste rancid in her mouth, eyes screwed shut as the shock from throwing up her lunch, and maybe breakfast, subsided. Her stomach lurched and she knew she was in that uncomfortable stage of wanting to throw up more but not actually needing to, and Aspen let out a shaky breath as she rinsed out her mouth, hoping the gum she kept would rid of the smell.

Looking at herself in the mirror, taking in her own dull green eyes and dry lips, Aspen tried to think of why she was suddenly throwing up in one of the bathrooms at the clinic. It had been right in the middle of her eating her lunch, but she knew the leftover spaghetti from last night wasn’t what had her stomach lurching. She wasn’t sick—not that she knew of, anyway. She’d been feeling fine.

Her eyebrows drew together as she peered at her reflection, the porcelain of the sink bitterly cold under her touch. She wasn’t sick. She didn’t have her period. She never got this nauseous during it, either. The only time she could remember throwing up this much was when she was pr—

Aspen’s breath got caught in her throat, eyes widening almost comically as she gaped at her reflection. Holy shit. She wasn’t stupid. She worked at a medical clinic. And she had already gone through this once before to be familiar with the creeping feeling of the world being turned upside down. How the hell had she not realized earlier?

Still, Aspen pulled out her phone, trembling fingers clicking on the tracker app she needed, heart dropping to the pit of her turning stomach when the words 23 days late were shown back to her. She was never late—never this late, at least. Aspen damn near dropped her phone into the sink, a gasp choking her throat as she pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh, my God.” Her whispered voice sounded as though she was screaming in the quiet of the bathroom, snapping Aspen out of the overwhelmed, incredulous daze she had found herself in.

She had to think fast.

Pocketing her phone in her scrubs, she quickly exited the bathroom and made her way across the hall towards the supply closet. It was dark inside, but she was familiar with the room to head to the second shelf on the right, third row from the bottom to dig into the box and pull out the pregnancy tests they kept in there. Chewing on her lower lip, Aspen quickly went back to the vacant bathroom, locking the door behind her, ripping open the small package with shaking fingers, pulling down her pants.

And then, after the fact, she waited a few minutes.

She desperately tried not to think of anything. Wanted to keep her mind blank because she was sure she would throw up again if she focused on the situation at hand for too long. Truthfully, Aspen didn’t know what to think—what to feel. If her suspicions were either confirmed or disproven, maybe then she’d know how to appropriately react. For now, there was a ringing in her ears, a flatline of thoughts she denied any attention. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together. Nothing to think of until there was something to think of.

Her alarm went off. Time was up.

She swallowed the thick, heavy lump that had formed in her throat, inhaling shakily as she took the few steps towards the sink. Her heart was thundering in her chest, echoing in her ears. Was it fear? Dread? Excitement? Aspen wasn’t sure.

But when she looked at the stick resting on the sink, she knew her answer.

*****

Calum hadn’t really thought that a kindergarten graduation was a thing—he didn’t remember having one in his school back when he was five years old. But as silly and goofy as a kindergarten graduation sounded, Calum didn’t care. Because he was utterly content sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, the springtime sun mellow above them, watching his adorable little girl in a red cap and gown as she and her class sang a parody version of Can’t Stop This Feeling to fit in with a kindergarten graduating class.

The crowd of parents and families sat laughing, clapping along, taking pictures, with Calum unable to tear his eyes away from where Luna stood singing along with a grin on her face. He hadn’t really understood the concept of kindergarten graduation until he realized Luna would be going into elementary school, which of course led him to think of when she’d eventually get to middle school, then high school, then college. . .

Calum inhaled sharply, shaking those thoughts out of his head. He needed to relax. Luna hadn’t even started first grade yet. There was lots of time.

For a moment, Calum had assumed he was the only overly emotional one, getting teary eyed amidst a bunch of five and six year olds making a Justin Timberlake song their own. But he glanced to his right, took in the sight of Aspen who, while she clapped along with a smile, had glassy green eyes that she couldn’t hide from him.

“Hey,” Calum whispered through a fond, amused chuckle, wrapping his right arm around her to pull her close. Aspen sniffled as Calum rubbed her arm, ducking his head slightly to try and meet her gaze. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aspen assured, swiping a finger under her eye before letting out a gentle laugh. “Just, y’know, proud of Luna.”

Calum laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Aspen’s head, inhaling her familiar shampoo and perfume. Looking back onto the stage, he mused, “Don’t wanna imagine what you’ll be like at her high school graduation.”

Aspen scoffed, letting out a slow breath before sniffling once more and raising her head. Shooting Calum a look, she said, “A mess. I’ll need five glasses of wine beforehand.”

He kept his arm around him, still chuckling as he rubbed at her arm and hummed, “Noted.”

Calum wasn’t oblivious to Aspen’s occasional sniffles, a tissue in her fist as she used it to dab away tears, and he couldn’t help but glance at her curiously. Truthfully, he hadn’t really expected Aspen to get so emotional over this; of course, Calum understood the pride and happiness he felt over his five year old finally moving on from kindergarten to enter elementary school, but he wasn’t anywhere near shedding tears.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Aspen?” he couldn’t help but ask once again.

“Yeah, yeah,” she brushed him off, offering a smile he wasn’t sure he believed. “Just, y’know, probably about to get my period,” she added with a gentle chuckle before looking ahead once more. He shot her a disbelieving look, and Aspen responded by merely keeping her gaze ahead and reaching her hand up to grasp Calum’s chin to turn his head forward as well.

The ceremony ended with cheers and smiles and lots of pictures taken, Calum’s heart threatening to burst out of his chest as Luna ran up to him and Aspen with a colorful kindergarten diploma in her hand, showing it off proudly. Because she knew it was a big deal and they rightfully treated it as such. They took tons of photographs, FaceTimed Aspen’s mother right away so Luna could show her the certificate and Jodie, who had joined them, took many photos of Calum and Aspen with their little girl, and of Luna with her friends.

Calum hadn’t failed to notice the distance Aspen kept with Bailey Clarkson, not so much as glancing at the other mom’s way as all of her focus remained on Luna. Which he was glad for; the last thing anyone needed was Aspen throwing a well deserved punch to Mrs. Clarkson’s jaw. Though, Calum knew he’d only hold back his girlfriend after the fact—and reluctantly so, at that.

“So no school for two months, bug!” Calum grinned at his daughter, glancing at her from the rearview mirror after they dropped Jodie off once the ceremony was finished. “What’s your plan for the summer?”

Luna grinned, hands in her lap and endearingly bringing her shoulders up as she drawled, “I don’t know.” Then she sat up, green eyes bright as she gasped in that childish, dramatic way and said, “Natalia’s parents are taking her to Disney World! Can we go there?”

Calum chuckled as he made a right turn, not entirely surprised by Luna’s request. Going to Disney World was practically every little kid’s wish, wasn’t it? “I think we can look into that,” Calum hummed, grinning at Luna’s excited cheer, glancing at Aspen as he asked, “What do you think, Mama?”

He had to return his gaze to the road ahead, but Calum still glanced at Aspen quickly, a couple of times in a span of a few seconds, eyebrows raising at her silence. She was chewing on her nail, staring out the window as they drove by buildings, lost in thoughts Calum wanted to be in on. Especially if they were worrying her—he could see it in the subtle furrow of her eyebrows, bringing forth a tense crease on her forehead. Something was occupying her thoughts, enough to throw her into a distracted silence, and it only increased Calum’s curiosity.

“Aspen?” he tried, left hand on the wheel and right reaching over to comfortingly rest on her thigh. “Come back, love.”

“Hmm?” She finally looked at him, eyebrows high up on her forehead before letting out a breath and giving a shake of her head. “Sorry, sorry.” Turning in her seat and grinning at Luna, Aspen mused, “Disney World, huh?”

Luna nodded as Calum stopped the car at a red light, turning to look at Aspen. She was fully engaging into a conversation with Luna, chatting about all the princesses and Disney characters Luna wanted to meet, completely disregarding her spaced out moment earlier. Maybe Calum was reading too into it, and she looked fine now, happily indulging Luna, so he bit the inside of his cheek and let it go. If something was wrong, Calum knew Aspen would tell him. That’s how they worked. That’s why they worked. If there was a pressing matter, Calum trusted Aspen to let him know.

They got back to the building and as they got off the elevator and Luna skipped ahead, Calum draped his arm around Aspen’s shoulders and, despite his decision in the car to let it go, couldn’t help but ask, “You good?”

Her own arm loosely wrapped around his waist as they walked, humming reassuringly as she looked up at him to meet his gaze. Her green eyes were light, absent of any heaviness that Calum had expected to see, the smile on her face genuine. “Yeah, great,” Aspen responded with a breezy laugh, hand rubbing at his back.

Calum watched her for a moment, trying to detect a lie she somehow would’ve become an expert at hiding, feeling guilty when he didn’t find any and for doubting her. So Calum pressed a kiss to her temple as they reached Luna, bouncing in front of the door as she waited for them and Calum used the key to the apartment that was permanently his to unlock to door. They entered and were greeted by Duke, his paws familiarly clattering, as Aspen sat down on the arm rest of the couch to bend down at unclasp her sandals.

She stood once doing so, taking a breath and saying to their daughter, “Hey, Lunes, let’s get that dress off before dinner.”

Luna nodded and followed Aspen into her bedroom as Calum placed his own shoes next to Aspen’s by the door, socks sliding on the floorboards as he approached the couch and collapsed on top. Kicking his feet up on the coffee table, Calum checked the messages on his phone, reading over the texts he’d received from friends and family congratulating Luna. He responded to them all, chuckled at the texts from the boys in the group chat losing it over the short clips Calum had sent of the kids singing on stage, zoomed in on Luna.

He spent a couple of minutes responding to texts, until the sound of Luna’s running footsteps reached his ears, as did her voice as she called excitedly, “Daddy! Look at the new shirt Mama got me! Look!”

“Show me, bug,” Calum laughed, sitting up as he lifted his gaze when he sensed Luna in front of him, almost immediately choking on his laugh when his expectant gaze took in the words written on Luna’s shirt.

Promoted to Big Sister!

There was moment that Calum was completely sure that his heart had stopped, reading over the four mundane words strung together to create a phrase that meant fucking everything a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t somehow imagining them. Was it possible to feel every bone in your body to tremble from shock, excitement? Calum’s eyes were quickly drying out, too wide as he read Luna’s shirt over and over again, deeply feeling the quiver of his lower lip as he took in a sharp, audibly shaky breath to get a hold of himself. He couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

Big sister.

Heart pounding, Calum looked from Luna’s grinning face as she held the bottom of the shirt in her hands, straightening the words out proudly, to where Aspen stood a few feet behind the five year old. Calum’s throat had gone dry, blinking quickly to rid of the cold dryness in his eyes, aware that his breathing was labored as he took in his girlfriend’s expression.

Aspen chewed on her lower lip, though unable to keep a smile, albeit nervous, away as she wrung her fingers together and awaited his reaction. Because right now, all Calum was doing was gaping at her, bewildered and incredulous and absolutely fucking floored, all too aware of every cell in his body vibrating in unadulterated excitement. His mind was running a mile a minute, unable to grasp a single thought and focus on it, before he took another glance at Luna’s shirt and felt the gasp rip through his throat.

Finally, Calum stumbled to his feet on weak knees, wide brown eyes on expectant and nervous green, and all Calum was capable of whispering was a dumbfounded, “What?”

He stammered a bit, hilariously feeling completely out of his element as one hand cupped Luna’s cheek as he stood over her, aware of her brilliant grin beaming up at him as his throat worked, looking at Aspen for a verbal confirmation. Maybe then the feeling in his muscles would return.

Calum was acutely aware of the wild drumming of his heart, the buzz within his veins erratic as Aspen parted her lips. And just as she breathed out, “I’m pregnant,” Luna had taken the opportunity to yell, “I’m gonna be a big sister!”

Yeah. Yeah, that was all it took. Because once both of his favorite girls delivered some of the best news Calum could possibly hear, he was scooping Luna up with one arm and striding over to Aspen, pulling them in for a hug that couldn’t possibly convey the full capacity of happiness Calum felt in that moment.

He was sure Aspen could hear the pounding of his heart, but Calum didn’t care as he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face to Aspen’s hair. The floral scent of her shampoo was brilliant as Calum breathed out a dazed, “Oh, my God,” before finally the dryness of his eyes let up and the thrilled tears that had almost immediately gathered upon confirmation freely fell from his eyes. “Oh, my God.”

It was a cliche, expectant response but for now, that was all Calum could utter as he clung to both Aspen and Luna, the five year old giggling excitedly as Aspen laughed against Calum’s chest. He could hear her own tears as her arms wrapped around him, her hug just as tight, and Calum had to remember to breathe as the excitement and disbelief threatened to deprive his lungs of air. Calum could count his purest, happiest moments in one hand—most of which, when he truly thought about it, consisted of his two girls—and this just made the top of the list. Until the anticipated moment arrived. Until the baby arrived.

“Oh—oh, man,” Calum pulled back slightly with a teary eyed, breathless chuckle as he cupped Aspen’s own wet cheek with one hand, adoring the way Luna’s smaller hand pushed back some of Aspen’s dark hair away from her face. “We’re—we’re gonna have a baby.”

Aspen’s green eyes were filled with elated tears, an image Calum probably mirrored, her cheeks flushed and smile looking its happiest. She looked beautiful. “Yeah,” she replied with a sniffle, her own voice a whisper as her gaze flickered between him and Luna. “Gonna be a family of five.”

Duke included, of course. Calum laughed; a bright, hearty, genuine laugh that carried his excitement, happiness, and disbelief together. He was still in shock, he knew, but he mostly focused on the giddiness that fluttered in his stomach and had his heart racing. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. No wonder he thought she was acting differently today. She’d been waiting to tell him about this. And what a fucking thing to tell.

Calum let out a slow breath, laughter softening as he wiped at his face, licking his lips as he grinned at his favorite girls. They would eventually be joined by another. “We’re gonna need a bigger place.”

*****

“Do you have a preference?”

“Hmm?” Calum hummed, all too focused on drawing nonsensical patterns on Aspen’s still flat stomach. They were laying in bed, hours later after a celebratory dinner—times two—and putting Luna to bed. Aspen had giggled and teased Calum as he lifted her shirt once she’d laid down, wanting nothing more than to use her breasts as pillows as he did so often while tracing his finger on the bare skin of her stomach. Her own fingers were weaving through his hair, playing with the dark strands in the way that relaxed him.

Aspen chuckled lightly at his obliviousness. “If it’s a boy or a girl,” she clarified.

The smile that tugged at Calum’s lips was instant at the mere mention of the baby, probably the size of his pinky nail—maybe smaller. But he didn’t care. That was his kid in there. “So long as it’s healthy, no,” Calum answered, ears picking up on the quiet and disbelieving scoff that Aspen released. Grin widening, he turned his head to look up at her just enough to say, “But a boy—you and Luna have too much fun outmatching me.”

Aspen tilted her head back against the pillow propped behind her as she laughed, knowing his words to be all too true. Calum turned his attention back to her stomach, grin widening as he thought of the appointment Aspen told him she had scheduled for tomorrow. The excitement in his chest, Calum knew, wouldn’t be dying down anytime soon, and the thought of being with Aspen in that room, watching as the doctor showed them the first image of their baby developing—it took his breath away. He would be both embarrassed and not at all surprised if he actually passed out as soon as he saw the black and white image of the screen.

And as he continued to absentmindedly trace patterns, Calum couldn’t help but think that although this was his second child, this would be his first time being an expectant dad-to-be. This time around, he would be there from the very start of the kid’s life and although Calum would always be upset that he missed these moments with Luna, he would be sure to cherish every bit of the next nine months, and every single year after that as much as he was capable of. This was his second chance, and Calum was ready to embrace it with open arms. Thinking about all of which was to come had him chewing on his lower lip, eyes closing as he took in a deep breath that immediately caught Aspen’s attention.

“You okay?” she asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Calum cleared his throat. He was alright. He was just. . . Emotional. So he sat up, causing Aspen to drop her hand from his hair as he sat cross legged by her outstretched legs, licking his lips as his brown eyes gaze met her pretty green. Aspen sat up as well, a slight furrow in her eyebrows, ready to listen as Calum shot her a warm smile to reassure her. “It’s just—this is your second time doing this and I’m—I’ve never been here before, y’know? And it’s dumb that I know how to be a dad but I don’t. . .” He paused, feeling foolish with his words, but Aspen watched him with those encouraging eyes and Calum didn’t feel like an idiot as he finished with a breathless and short chuckle, “I don’t know how to be a dad-t0-be.”

“Cal, no, it doesn’t,” Aspen was quick to assure, smiling that pretty smile of hers that somehow always made him feel like everything was okay. She also crossed her legs, hand reaching out to grasp his. “It’s a learning experience which you obviously didn’t get the first time around. Being nervous is normal.”

Calum let out a breath, reveling in the feeling of her hand holding his, eyebrows scrunching up as he told her, “I don’t want you to feel guilty or anyth—”

“Oh, come on, stop with that,” Aspen cut him off with a wave of her free hand. “We promised to stop being sorry and guilty about everything a long time ago, right?” Calum nodded, feeling that bit of weight he hadn’t known was resting on his chest life away. With a smile, she continued, “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t still be upset about everything in moments like these. You’re right: you did miss out on this with Luna because of me and your mom. And even though nothing will replace that, at least you know there won’t ever be moments that you’re gonna miss out in the future. Not if I can help it.”

It was crazy, in a familiar way, how effortlessly Aspen could ease any bit of troubles he was having. And it only made Calum think of how far they came to get to the point of where they were today. To be so happy, so close. He never knew a happiness like the one he did with Aspen.

So he cupped her cheek with his free hand, pulling her smiling face close to his as he caught her lips in a kiss they both constantly craved for. It was sweet, long, savoring the taste of each other and their minty toothpaste as their lips moved in practiced, perfected sync. “I love you,” she murmured against him.

His heart jumped every time she said it. He didn’t mind one bit. “I love you, too,” Calum returned, bringing his hands to grasp the back of her thighs to pull her close, prompting Aspen to uncross her legs to wrap them around Calum’s hips as she settled in the seat of his crossed legs.

“You better,” she grinned as he kissed her, her arms wounding around his neck. “Because if this pregnancy is anything like the last, my cravings are gonna be wild.” Aspen pulled back just enough for their gazes to meet, and Calum was quick to pick up on the teasingly wicked look in the green of her irises to match the mischievous grin she wore. “And this time I’ve got my baby daddy at my beck and call.”

Calum snorted, not at all finding fear in her words like she wanted him to. With a smirk, he gave her thighs a squeeze and mused, “I put a baby in you; the least I could do is get you food so you don’t kill me for it.”

Aspen pressed her lips together in a close mouthed smile, chuckling as she nodded and gave him another kiss. “Smart man.”

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @softforcal @meetashthere @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @wildflowergrae

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

Text

With All My Love

Rating: M

Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else)

Also on AO3

Previous Chapters

Note: just want to say thank you thank you thank you to all you lovely readers! appreciate all the love and comments and tags and love you all greatly 💕

{Chapter 12}

Days go by, and then a week.

A routine has been made between them, one that came easily. He awakens before her, something he teases her on relentlessly with a smirk, and makes breakfast for them both.

Anna will tend to the chickens while Kristoff gets hay for Sven. They tend to the garden together, pulling weeds, watering and observing the plants to make sure they grow good and strong. They make a new row just for her future flowers, ready for new seeds whenever they come.

She’ll watch as he tends to his sled, help where she can as he makes a fence for the chickens. They both tidy the cabin when it needs it, sweeping and dusting, washing what needs washing.

Most days they’ll finish early, leaving them to their own devices.

Kristoff took it upon himself to teach her how to make bread one afternoon. She’d failed the first time, resulting in a hard, flat brick that even the chickens struggled to eat. He’d tried a piece, and though she could tell it was an absolute disaster he still told her with his lopsided smile that it was a good first try. Her second and third were much more successful, merely four pieces left now to show for it.

Other days they sit by the river, feet soaking in the cool mountain water. Sometimes they sit in silence, other times they chat about anything and everything. More often than not, they find themselves tangled together, kissing each other senseless as they lay on the river bank.

Some days they’ll walk, hand in hand, down paths that Kristoff knows well. Just yesterday he had led her to a small valley nearby where wild flowers were blooming. They’d laid in the flowers, holding each other, talking, kissing, watching the clouds, kissing some more. Anna continued to find stray pieces of grass and weed tangled within her hair.

Evenings become her favorite time. It’s quiet, still within the cabin, nothing but the sound of the crackling fire. They always find themselves sitting in front of the fireplace, a blanket shared between them, Anna leaning into Kristoff’s lap as he holds her in his arms. It’s comforting, soothing to rest in his arms, to feel his chest move as he breathes, to feel his lips against her brow as she dozes.

Before, it used to bother Anna to go to bed early. Especially if she’d had a day where she’d done nothing, it felt as though she was extremely lazy for finding sleep so early. Now though, finding sleep early is rewarding. Something she deserves after doing and achieving so much during the day.

It’s an added bonus when she finds herself nearly asleep in his arms, the feel of him lifting and carrying her to the bed, a soft murmur of ‘I love you’ the last thing she hears before sleep overcomes her.

~.~

Something is different today, Anna can sense it. There is an odd air of tension it seems between them now, one that wishes to snap.

He’d been quiet all morning, making Anna uneasy.

They’ve been so comfortable with each other, a surprising alternative to the awkwardness she was so sure they’d have to get through. Now, it seems, they’ve taken a step back.

As the morning wares on, she realizes it is not an awkward tension that lies, it’s pure tension and she isn’t sure why.

Kristoff avoids her gaze, not wanting to meet her eyes. She’d watched, as she fed the kitchens as he murmured something to Sven, something she couldn’t hear and the look on his face created a solid form of dread sitting in her stomach.

Something was wrong, and whatever it was he was keeping it from her.

He continues to stay silent during their come over of the garden, only murmuring a yes at her offering to go to the river.

It’s then, on their way down, that she finally snaps, completely done with it all.

“Enough of this.” She demands, pulling her hand from his, coming to a stand still on the path. He stops then, a step in front of her. He looks at her confused and it only makes Anna more angry. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.” She says, arms crossed now as she glares. “You’ve acted distant all day, you won’t even look at me.” At that, Kristoff’s shoulders slump, his confusion falling from his face. “What is it Kristoff?”

The silence annoys Anna but she fights the urge to say anything. She can tell that he is thinking, working through what it is he has to say.

Though the words seemed to come easy when writing, speaking them was a whole other thing for Kristoff. He needed time, a moment sometimes to really get his words in order to be sure he said the right thing.

This was most definitely one of those times.

“I have to go back to Arendelle.”

He looks at her as he speaks, regret in his eyes, worry on his face and the dread that was sitting in Anna’s stomach grows in size, enough to make her nauseous now.

She knew it was coming, feared when the moment would come but it was too soon. They needed more time, just a little more time.

“Why?” Anna manages to say, a lump forming in her throat.

“I have a business to run.” He says, “I have deliveries to make that I have to tend to. Plus, we are running low on supplies I...I don’t have a choice Anna.”

Anna nods, looking down at her shoes, “Ok.” She says, clearing her throat as she looks back up to him with a small smile, “So a day's trip, then?”

“Anna…”

She knew it wasn’t a one day trip. He tended to deliveries on the daily, having multiple shipments to make throughout the week. The fact he’d been able to put them off this long was a miracle in of itself. She wondered how much it hurt him, how much it cost to take so much time away to be with her as it was. To be away from potential income, from money he very much needed.

Anna doesn’t realize she’s begun to cry until he comes to her, wiping his thumb gently along her cheeks to wipe her tears away.

“I won’t be long.” He whispers, “I’ll try to be as quick as I can.”

Anna shakes her head, closing her eyes, “That’s not what I’m worried about.” She opens her eyes to find him confused once more, and her lip wobbles as she speaks, “The princess...I’m missing, Kristoff.”

It’s then realization hits him, his eyes widening in understanding.

The princess of Arendelle was gone, missing in the night. There was no doubt a search would be made, an effort to find her. Especially with a prince on his way to retrieve his bride in weeks to come.

They could be questioning every villager, every merchant, every sailor and ice harvester alike. Including Kristoff, especially Kristoff. No doubt word would get around that they were friends, that they may have been close. They’d want to ask him, talk to him, see what he knew.

Would he be able to lie? To keep the secret that waited for him at his cabin from them?

Anna had faith he would but the risk was still there and so was the guilt that he would have to risk this all for her.

What if they wanted him to come to the castle, to be questioned by the Queen, her sister?

What if they’d questioned Gerda, able to manipulate the truth from her?

What if they were just waiting for him to arrive, already knowing he was a part of it somehow, to take him away, to lock him up never to see daylight again?

What if…

It’s then she feels his thumb brush of her lip, realizing that she had spoken all her thoughts aloud through her tears.

She looks up at him, his eyes so soft, always so soft for her and it makes her heart hurt at the idea of never seeing those eyes again.

“No more ‘what if’s’ ok?” She nods, tears still falling freely. He smiles softly down at her, “If we want to keep suspicions off of me, I have to go back to what I did before. I have to go back or they’ll know something is up.”

“But what about..”

“I asked for this week a while ago.” He says, knowing what she was going to question. “They won’t suspect anything from it.”

“Are you sure?”

Kristoff sighs, his smile falling and he leans down to her. He kisses her, soft and gently, his tongue running along her lower lip. Not for the first or last time, a spark shoots up Anna’s spine at the feeling.

She grabs hold of his wrist, trying to force herself to focus on his lips, on his kiss, on the feel of him and nothing else.

He pulls back, just enough but still leaning his head against hers.

“I knew what I was getting into the moment I said yes.” Kristoff says, “I knew the risk, and I still took them, I’m still willing to take them. For you Anna, I’ll do it for you.”

The tears come again, forming in her eyes at his words. Anna goes to apologize, opening her mouth to speak but he shakes his head.

“No, don’t you dare apologize.”

She can’t help but smile, trying to fight back the laugh that wants to escape at the notion he could already read her so well.

Instead, she bites her lip, and says, “Just come back to me, please.”

This he didn’t expect, as Kristoff pauses. He looks at her, Anna nearly losing herself in his eyes before he finally speaks.

“Anna,” Another promise, another one he will make that Anna knows he will keep. It’s comforting but also worrisome at how many promises he has made her. More promises to keep, more promises to potentially be broken. “I promise, swear, that I will always come back to you.”

The rest of the day goes as any other. They sit by the river, finishing the loaf of bread and eating apples they’d found the day before.

The tension is gone, though the dread sits firmly within Anna. She hides it well, laughing and smiling that she nearly fools herself that everything was ok.

It’s when the evening comes, as they sit by the fire that the fear returns at full force. Anna can’t help but wonder if Kristoff can hear how her heart hammers in her chest, how she has watched him all day. How she has tried to engrain the image of him into her mind just in case.

She doesn’t doze off by the fire tonight, instead she is awake as he carries her to the bed. Instinctively, she curls up to his side, wrapping her arm around him as much as she can. She nuzzles her head into his chest, willing herself to remember how he feels, how he smells.

Kristoff falls asleep first, the hand that was stroking her back stilling and his soft snores following soon after.

Anna stays awake, moving her head gently to look up at him.

She takes in the view, the image of him so at peace, and wills herself to remember.

As she falls asleep, she hopes, prays to whatever gods there are that they will allow him to keep his promise.

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #with all my love #jessica writes

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lunar-jimin · 4 years

Text

i am my mother’s child, i’ll love you til my breathing stops i’ll love you til you call the cops on me

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: smut, tiny little glimpse of fluff, a lot of angst, stalker!reader, ex!namjoon

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, softdom!namjoon (kinda), sub!reader (also kinda), quickie in a bathroom, lots of feelings, generally sad ones, this is fairly depressing, reader is stalker, so there’s that, also she has drunk sex with a stranger, but she propositions him so

Summary: It was your obsession with your job that drove him away. It’s your obsession with him that drives you.

↳ moodboard ↳ playlist ↳ series m.list ↳ m.list

The world outside your window was dyed in the murky blue of four in the morning. You didn’t notice. Your eyes were glued to the glaring screen in front of you, begging for your undivided attention. Instead of working like you should be, you’re creeping through your ex’s Instagram page, desperate to know every minute detail of his life after you. The couple staring back at you from the screen made your stomach twist itself into knots. You had known he would move on, find someone to love him better than you could, but you never thought this would happen in a million years.

Engaged? Really? They had only been dating for a year, only a year and a half since he had left you, but sure enough, the giant diamond on her ring finger spoke for itself. Jealousy tore through you. You knew you didn’t deserve his affection, but that hadn't stopped you from holding on to the small glimmer of hope that one day you would find a way to be together again.

Despite it all, you had long ago admitted to yourself that she was a much better match for him. Your mutual friends would often regale you with their complaints of how clingy they were, how much they loved each other. The pictures of them that filled your feed testified to this. She made sure the world knew how much she loved him. A twinge of regret sparked in you when you thought of your own Instagram page, bare of any images of the two of you. You were never one for shoving your relationship into other people’s faces.

Your eyes flicked from the post to the clock in the corner of your screen and you groaned inside at the prospect of getting only two hours of sleep. Turning back to your computer, you noticed the tired burn in your eyes and the lethargy that spread throughout your limbs. With the last bit of energy you could muster, you drug yourself out of your way-too-comfy computer chair and into your welcoming bed. You fell asleep before you made it under the covers, still in your jeans.

The next thing you knew, your alarm was blaring out some loud pop song you had picked a long time ago and never bothered to change, uncouthly interrupting your precious slumber. Sitting you, you already began to feel the consequences of too little sleep: today was going to be a long one. You silently swore to yourself that you were going to fix your sleep schedule, before managing to drag yourself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. The warm water from your shower did little to wake you up, but it did sooth your tense muscles. A half an hour later, you were at the bus stop, apple in hand, trying valiantly to keep your eyes open.

Your morning passed quietly. Somehow words appeared on your screen, despite the fact that you didn’t recall typing them. You had never been more grateful for your lunch break in all your life. You wearily made the slow trek to the cafe three blocks down from your office. All you could think of was the toasty panini and cup of coffee calling your name. The apple you had gulped down for breakfast wasn’t doing much for you anymore.

The cafe cheerily greeted you with the smell of espresso and a warmth that comforted your bones. You had been coming here since you began your career as a journalist for the newspaper. You swore they made the best sandwiches in this hemisphere, and the shy barista, Jungkook, never failed to make you smile with one of his cheeky stories from college.

You quickly ordered before taking your usual spot by the window. You had only been sitting for three minutes when your day went from bad to terrible. You blinked twice when you saw him. You were sure it was an illusion, your lack of sleep finally taking its toll on your mental health. You close your eyes and count to ten, praying that he would be gone when you opened them again.

There was now way it was coincidence that he was here. There was no way that he could possibly have come to the same cafe you had been a patron at for five years by accident. There was no way.

You froze in place. You internally debated if you should get his attention. A large part of you wanted to leave before he saw you, have Jungkook sneak you out the back, but a small part of you wanted to run to him, take him in your arms, and promise to love him right. Instead, you sat there like a deer in headlights, letting fate take its course.

You hated that he looked better than the last days of your relationship. He had found his style again and he had cut his hair. He looked healthier, and you knew from your midnight ventures on his Instagram account that he had started to workout. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew deep down that the toxicity of your relationship had been detrimental to his well-being.

The guilt was eating you up, when he turned to look at you. If you were frozen before, you were solid ice now: muscles locked up, eyes open wide. You gulped slowly, praying to whatever god was out there to make you invisible. Unfortunately, the gods weren’t having it today, and he gave you a quick wave and a smile before turning back to the menu.

You prayed that would be the entirety of your interaction, but five minutes you looked up from the phone you were taking refuge in, to find him walking towards your table.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

His voice was deeper than you recalled

"Uh, yeah, sure."

You looked out the window in a desperate attempt to avoid conversation and eye-contact.

"How are you?"

You managed to look up at him.

"I'm fine."

You hoped that he wouldn’t see through the lie. You hoped he wouldn’t see the dark circles under your eyes and realize you still weren’t getting enough. You hoped he wouldn’t see the stain on your shirt and realize that you still couldn’t find the time to do basic chores. You hoped that somehow, he wouldn’t realize that you were just as addicted to work as when he left you. That you were still failing at being a person.

"That's good."

You gave a small smile.

"How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good."

He grinned. You guessed he was thinking about his engagement but was hesitant to bring it up in your presence.

"Good."

You took a sip of your coffee and looked out the window again, uncomfortable down to the soles of your feet.

"I, uh, have some big news that, uh, I wanted to share with you."

Maybe not so hesitant, and not here by accident. You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm, uh, engaged."

The sheepishness that poured over his face was almost adorable.

"Oh."

You were silent for a moment.

"Congrats then."

Behind his eyes, there was a glimmer of disappointment, as if some suppressed sadistic part of him wanted you to be hurt. You were glad that you came off as unbothered, even though your heart ached every time you thought of that stupid engagement post.

"I love her."

He was desperate. You were surprised. Namjoon was never petty, yet here he was trying to make you jealous. Had you really hurt him so badly?

"I would hope so."

You looked back out the window.

"She's really amazing. She cooks for me and goes on trips and she’s even going to quit her job to take care of our kids."

It would have hurt, if the chauvinistic ideals behind it hadn’t made you roll your eyes. But the point was still there: she was actively loving him, taking care of him, showing him that she wanted a future with him. That stung.

"Okay."

He looked at the window, resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to get a rise out of you. He should've known. You had never been very expressive of your emotions.

"I would have married you."

That made you flinch. A spark of delight ignited in his eye. Asshole.

"Okay."

"I loved you."

"I know."

"Did you love me?"

"I don't know."

A lie. You had loved him to the moon and back. Hell, you still loved him. But you wanted to hurt him just a little bit for making you sit through this torture.

"Oh."

A blow to his ego. If he wanted to parry, he best have come prepared.

"Have a good day then."

"Okay."

With that he left, without even bothering to pick up his order.

Before you knew what you were doing, you followed him out the door. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you knew you were no longer in control of your being. You followed him one block after another, making sure you were far enough behind him that he wouldn’t notice you. You weren’t sure what you were seeking. Closure perhaps.

Soon, you found yourself standing outside a familiar, red, brick building. During your relationship, Namjoon had moved in with you, but still rented his apartment. In the beginning, you had stayed the night a few times. The apartment was small, but the view was to die for. You missed it.

He was already inside, but you knew which window was his. You stared up at it for a couple minutes, before something snapped inside you and you realized what you were doing. You felt nauseous, but that was quickly forgotten when you noticed the time. Panic shot through you, as you began to run back to the office. You could only hope that your boss wouldn’t notice your extended lunch break.

At first, it was a rare occurrence. Ever so often you would find yourself standing in front of those red bricks staring up at that window. Nothing would ever happen. You would just stare, part of you hoping to catch a glimpse of him and another part of you dreading the idea of ever seeing him again.

As your addiction to your job continued to consume you, it became a more frequent occurrence. Once a month turned to twice and then to once a week. Your mental health slowly deteriorated, until you were at risk of losing it completely. Somewhere in that time, you managed to pull yourself enough to end up at a shitty dive bar in the heart of the city with the few friends you had managed to keep. You weren’t that close to them. You doubt they knew your middle name or your birthday, but they were company you didn’t get much of that these days.

The beginning of your evening was spent slowly downing alcohol and catching up about the dullness of each of your existences. You spat out lies, hiding the fact that all your life was anymore was work and stalking your ex. You put on a front. You had other friends. You had been on dates but nothing had worked out yet. You had started dieting and working out. Lies, lies, lies.

Somewhere around your third beer, the fragile illusion you had created for yourself, came crashing down. You were well aware that these girls were friends with Namjoon and that they had undoubtedly received an invitation to his wedding, but while they were relatively sober they had been kind enough not to remind you. Now, however, their blood-alcohol levels were through the roof and as a consequence, they began to discuss the details of the wedding.

At some point, someone asked you what you were going to wear to the event. You stared at her dumbly before she realized what a stupid question it was and turned back to whoever she was talking to. You hadn't received an invitation to the wedding but a small part of you was glad. You didn’t really want the reminder, and you wouldn’t go anyway, you weren't that masochistic.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. There was a part of you that did want to go. A part of you that daydreamed of standing up in front of the entire church and begging him not to marry her. Begging him to come home with you. Begging him to love you again. But it was a stupid fantasy, and not one you should indulge in.

Lisa, the only person there who you really gave two shits about, turned to you and began to talk about your job again. When you let it slip that you had ran into Namjoon at lunch awhile ago, she looked like a little kid on Christmas. With her filter gone, she began to pester you with questions. Then she lit up.

“I have an idea.”

You internally groaned. Lisa was famous for her drunk ideas and none of them were ever good.

“You should come with me to the wedding as my plus one.”

Your eyes went wide.

“Lisa, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. You can get all dressed up and make him see what he’s missin’.”

It did sound tempting.

“Okay.”

You didn’t sound very sure, but Lisa was too drunk to care. She squealed before giving you a quick side hug and turning to talk to someone else. As the gravity of the situation hit you, you found yourself longing to forget everything. You threw back two shots of tequila before marching out onto the dance floor.

It didn't take long for some random stranger to come grind up on you, but you were too drunk and upset to care. In fact, feeling someone touch your body again was somewhat soothing. It didn't take long for your lips to find his and it didn't take much for you to convince him to come home with you.

You barely noticed saying goodbye to you friends as he dragged you out the door and into the back of an uber. You barely remembered anything else until you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a strange man in your bed.

It was the first time you had really seen him, too inebriated the night before to really notice his features. You didn't want to admit how similar they were. It was the dimples that gave it away. Even drunk, you still seemed to have a type.

He was adorable, lying there, so unaware of the rest of the world. It reminded you of your first date with Namjoon. While he began the night full of energy, he ended it passed out with his head in your lap.

5 Years Ago

You met him through mutual friends. He asked you out at a party and you still remember the red tinge on his cheeks to this day. You had developed a crush and you were delighted to oblige him.

Namjoon was a very simple man, and you didn't expect much more out of your date. Just dinner and a movie. However, he obviously wanted to impress you when he drove out of the city and to a beautiful flower field overlooking it. Halfway into your picnic dinner, he sheepishly confessed to having no cooking skills and that his best friend Jin had prepared your dinner. But that didn't matter, because for what Namjoon lacked in the culinary arts, he made up for with his mind. Namjoon blew you away with the shear capacity of his brain. He was obviously a nervous talker, and so you sat in awe as he spilt facts about whatever subject you were talking about.

"How do you know so much?"

"I don't know that much."

You gave him a look.

He sighed.

"I don't know, I just do. I consume information and I never really forget it. Most people find it annoying. At least that's what Jin tells me."

"It's adorable."

You both blushed.

"Thanks."

He looked sheepishly at his lap.

"So are you."

"What?"

You looked up at him confused.

"You're adorable too."

You're cheeks blazed scarlet.

When you mustered the courage to look at him, he was staring at your lips. His eyes quickly flitted back to yours when he noticed you looking at him. He coughed uncomfortably.

You weren't sure what came over you, but you found yourself tentatively placing your hand on his thigh. You looked at him nervously, while trying to muster the confidence to close the gap between you.

Luckily, you didn't need to. One second you were staring at his lips, the next they were on yours. You were happy to find that they were just as soft and plush as they looked. He moved rhythmically, and you prayed to god that you were as good of a kisser as he was.

Then the rain started. It was just a drizzle at first, but by the time you had packed up the picnic, it had begun to pour. You dashed to the car, soaked to the bone. When Namjoon pulled up to your apartment building, you invited him in to dry off. While his clothes were in the dryer, you started a movie, some cheesy rom-com. You weren't even thirty minutes in, when Namjoon fell asleep in your lap while you played with his hair.

The memory faded and instead of Namjoon, you found the mystery man whose name you didn't know. You woke him gently, offered him some coffee- which he declined- before sending him on his way. You weren't trying to be rude, but the longer you looked at him, the longer you were reminded of Joon, and you only had a limited capacity for heartache.

This time you didn't even bother to change out of sweats and a t-shirt. You must have looked like a mess as you rode the bus to the red-brick building. You were smart enough to bring a coffee and a book so that you had something to occupy yourself, as you sat on the bench across the street. You didn’t even look at the window anymore, just being this close to him was enough to satisfy your weird urge.

You had been sitting for an hour before he appeared. He didn't even glance your way. Your nerves twittered, praying that he wouldn’t see you. You quickly stored your book and coffee in your tote, before following him down the streets.

He led you downtown. You were always jealous of how close his apartment was to the hub of the city. The cars whizzed by you as you followed him down a boulevard of shops. Your heart stopped as you watched him walk into the jewelers. It made sense: he was getting married, rings were involved, but somehow this made it more real. He was investing thousands of dollars in this woman. He was investing his life.

The fact that it was the jewelers that you had visited back when you thought you were going to get married only made it worse. Your heart began to beat faster. Was he going to give her your ring?

3 Years Ago

"Which one do you like?"

You looked over the case carefully inspecting each ring for flaws. After five minutes, you pointed at a sapphire and diamond ring near the back. It was relatively simple, but that’s what drew you to it.

He smiled.

"Well, someday, when you're Mrs. Kim, that ring will be around your finger."

You grinned and lifted up to meet his lips.

"I love you."

"I love you more, Joonie."

"I seriously doubt that."

You giggled and followed him out the door for lunch.

As soon as he came out of the shop, you rushed in. You went straight for the case that you knew had held your precious band. It took you a minute to spot it, but when you did, you felt relief flood your body. It was still there, he wasn't forsaking you for her.

As the relief washed over you, you began to connect to reality again. You realized what you were doing. With it came the nausea. Coming back to reality was always painful. You hadn't deemed yourself a stalker yet, even know though you knew you should. The self-hatred followed you home, up the stairs and through your apartment door.

You didn't mean to follow him. Somehow, the part of you that still loved him (which was a larger part of you than you cared to admit), had gained the ability to control your actions, while the logical part of you sat in the backseat screaming. The shame continued to throb inside you as you curled up on your couch. You knew you needed to stop but you didn't know how.

You didn't and as the months passed you found yourself following him whenever you had spare time. You were careful, staying a good distance behind him. If he had noticed you, he didn't let you know. He seemed blissfully unaware. The worst part was that as you followed him, you began to realize he was truly happy: something you hadn't witnessed since the early days of your relationship.

At some point, you started bringing your camera along. You weren't sure how the pictures of him ended up on your camera roll, and then pinned to your bedroom wall. You would lay in bed at night, touching yourself with one hand, while another tightly grasped a photo of him.

In the morning, you would be so sick with yourself, you would vomit in the toilet. Three months passed like this before his dreaded wedding day arrived. The sane part of you didn't want to go, but the creepy, deviant part of you had more control, and thus you found yourself in front of the mirror in a simple sundress.

Lisa had attempted to convince you to wear a skimpy number in order to make Namjoon jealous, but you knew that Namjoon always found you sexier when you looked innocent. You had often teased him about it. So you settled for a simple floral piece and some kitten pumps.

When you walked into the venue you felt another twinge of jealousy at the grandeur. The church was old and gorgeous and you felt like a sinner just by existing in it. You sat in the back. Your nerves kept you calm enough to decide you didn't need Namjoon knowing about your presence just yet.

You blacked out for most of the ceremony. It was only when Lisa waved her hand in front of you that you realized that instead of witnessing the union of 'man and wife', you were busy daydreaming about said 'man' taking you in front of the whole church.

You stared out the window of Lisa's care wistfully as she drove to the reception. When you started to tear up, she pulled over in a park parking lot.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

You almost pulled it over, but the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.

"Sis, if you don't wanna go, we don't have too. We can just head to my apartment, order Chinese food, binge Netflix, and do facemasks."

It sounded so, so tempting, but you know you needed to make it through it. You needed to prove to the part of yourself that was going insane, that you didn't need him anymore.

You thought back to the day you came home from work to find his bags packed in the living room. You thought about the tears that streamed down your face as you tried, and failed, to convince him to stay, that you loved him more than your job.

He cried too, pulling you into a hug, the last one you would ever have. You remember how his chest, which was usually so strong and comforting, trembled against yours. How you weren't sure if the wet warmth on your cheek was from him or from you.

You must have stood like that for thirty minutes, before he pulled away, gave you a last kiss, grabbed his bags and left. It wasn't until later that evening that you discovered his letter.

My Love,

I don't want to do this, but I am no longer happy. We are no longer happy. There isn't much left to us in all reality. I love you to the moon and back, but I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come home from work. I know it's important to you and I would never ask you to leave it, but I have a life to live too.

You made me so happy for such a long time, but you are a writer in the dark. You stay up all night on your computer and leave me with a cold empty bed. When I wake in the morning, you're gone. I can't stay in a relationship that barely exists.

Someday, when you feel like you can put your job aside for a family, call me. I'll be here because I love you. I love you so much, it makes it hard to breathe. Be happy for me.

Love,

Namjoon

And so here you were, in a passenger seat on the way to his wedding reception. Just a girl with a broken heart and a broken promise. You needed to go. You needed to see him. Confront him.

"Drive."

You sat through dinner, barely touching the food on your plate. You listened to your friends chatter away and make snarky comments through all the speeches. When the dancing started, you were hesitant to move, but Lisa dragged you to the edge of the dance floor and forced you to witness the first dance.

You spent most of it staring at the floor nursing a martini that was almost straight gin. You finally looked up at the end of the song, some cheesy pop shit you knew Namjoon loved, and locked eyes with him. His hand was delicately placed over her waste and you secretly wondered how many hours of practice it took for him to be able to dance to this song. The waltz was never his forte.

His stare never left you and as soon as the song was over, he whispered in her ear before walking straight at you. You drowned your drink quickly, praying the alcohol would be enough to get you through whatever was coming. He grabbed your arm without saying a word and dragged you out of the ballroom and into the nearest bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His voice was harsh, but there was a touch of tenderness to it.

"Lisa made me come. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me."

"Bullshit!"

You raised an eyebrow at his retort, signaling that you knew he knew you were lying, but you weren't going to tell him the truth.

"I just can't deal with seeing you right now. Do you know what you being here is doing to me?"

You felt a spark of anger go off inside you. He had an issue with being here? That's swell and all, but he was the one who broke up with you. He was getting married, you being here should be nothing more than a footnote.

"I don't care, Namjoon, I don't care if you're hurt or not. I don't care if it's ruining your big day. You leaving ruined my life. I have spent the last year and a half dying because you're not in my bed when I wake up in the morning. And I know that I fucked up and that I needed to be there for you, but you left me without giving me the chance to change! You. Left. Me."

Somewhere in the middle of ranting, hot tears had begun to fall down your cheek and you were once again thankful that you had splurged on waterproof makeup.

"Don't act like such a victim. At least I know that the woman I'm marrying actually loves me."

His words fanned your little spark into a full blown flame and you raised your hand to slap him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could. You looked to his face expecting to see anger, but instead, his eyes showed a mixture of sadness and disappointment.

"I'm sorry." He said.

Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, soft as you had remembered them. Shock ran through your body and you froze as he continued to kiss you slowly. When he realized you weren't responding, he pulled away, a faint blush apparent on his cheeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you found his lips again. You immediately felt his body relax against yours as his arm snaked around your waste to pull you closer. A bittersweet feeling floated through you as you relished in his taste again. You hadn't realized how much you missed kissing him, how comforting he was.

Somewhere deep inside you was yelling that this was an illusion. That at some point he would have to leave the bathroom and go back to his new wife who would love him and give him children and grow old with him.But you squashed the voice, desperate to live in the moment. Desperate to believe that just for this time, he was yours. That you were his new wife, that you were going to have beautiful children and that in sixty years, you would be two old people stupidly in love.

The kissing quickly became messy and desperate. You unabashedly moaned to his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in his tongue. Your arms were wrapped around his neck in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible, as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He pulled away from you and looked you in the eyes.

"You always look so beautiful."

The comment was quiet and under his breath, but you heard him nonetheless, and warmth crept onto your cheek. Before you could respond, he picked you up and set you on the sink counter.

You welcomed him, as he stepped between your legs, returning his lips to yours. As his lips moved down your neck, his hand traced its way up your thigh, slowly moving your dress up your leg. You moaned as he began to trace circled in your inner thigh, feeling your underwear soaking through.

"Dear god, Joonie," you whine,"don't tease me."

The nickname slipped out without your awareness, but you noticed him pause subtly at the sound of it before returning to his ministrations. His lips returned to yours as he shifted your panties to the side and used his pointer finger to tease your clit.

You whined out at the sudden pleasure, legs tightening on his waist, trying to bring him closer. Trying to bring him home. When he slips a finger inside you, you throw your head back against the mirror. Your eyes squeeze shut, attention completely focused on the digit inside you.

Despite the time that had passed, he hadn't forgotten how to make you see white. With the exception of the man you had dragged back from the bar, you hadn’t been laid in forever, and as a result, you were incredibly sensitive. Right when he was about to tip you over the edge with no more than a finger, he pulled back, lust clouding his eyes, finger soaked.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

You whined at the old nickname, clenching your thighs together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache between your thighs. Namjoon's hand drifted to the front of his slacks to massage the tent that had formed in them, while admiring your fucked out form slouched on the hotel bathroom sink.

"Answer my question baby."

A yes slips out of you and he grins like the devil.

"Look, at you, such a dirty girl, all fucked out in a public bathroom, desperate for me to fuck her."

Nothing had changed. He was still the tease who manipulated your body until you experienced cloud nine. And you were his good girl who obeyed every command, desperate to please.

You dipped your fingers into yourself in an attempt to stretch your pussy open for him, while he slowly dragged down his zipper, and pulled his cock out through the fly. Your memory served you well, but he still seemed bigger than you remembered. The tip was flushed red and dripping pre-cum. For a split second you were worried about him staining his slacks, before dashing your concern away to the depths of your consciousness.

You knew you should, but you felt no guilt for what you were about to do. As far as you were concerned, this was Namjoon’s mistake, not your’s. Sure, there was a beautiful bride dancing in the ballroom, and sure, she didn’t deserve this, but no matter what the certificate said, Namjoon would always be yours.

The realization hit you, as he kissed you again, moaning into your mouth as he rubbed the tip of his cock against you. There would always be a part of him that would belong to you. There would always be a part of his heart, no matter how small, that loved you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, now, about to fuck you in the small, but beautiful bathroom, at his own wedding reception.

The notion made you feel powerful. Your hand quickly replaced his, and you gave him a few quick strokes before lining him up. You both moaned as his tip pressed into you. When he was fully inside, you couldn’t help but feel complete. Months of emptiness completely forgotten as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in.

“Fuck, baby, I forgot how tight you were.”

Tears pricked in your eyes as he began to pick up pace, moving faster and faster. Despite trying hard to pretend like this moment could last forever, you knew that she would notice him missing soon, and that this moment was doomed to end. You squeezed your eye’s shut, tried to focus on the feeling of him drilling in and out of you.

It didn’t take long for his pace to become unsteady. You opened your eyes to find him staring at your face. You couldn’t read the look on his face, but it carried a strangely familiar emotion. It wasn’t until he reached down to rub quick circles on your clit that you realized what it was: love The realization had you coming around his cock. You screamed silently, tears finally falling down your face. He was close behind, burying his head in your neck as he filled you up one last time.

“I love you.”

The words were quiet. They were words that weren’t meant to be said out loud. They were words that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But they were the truth, and the truth deserved to be spoken.

“I love you too. I always will.”

You looked him in the eyes, while he softened inside you. There was a silent acknowledgement between you. An acknowledgement that neither of you wanted to admit. That you would never be together. That it would never work. That he was married.

So, while remaining completely silent, he slipped out of you, tucked himself into his slacks, fixed his hair and left. You sat there for minutes, tears rolling down your cheek. Finally, you gained enough energy to pull yourself off the sink, shift your panties back into place and walk back out into the world.

You quickly went to your table, grabbed your purse, and said goodbye to Lisa. If she smelled the sex, she didn’t say anything. When you were at the door, you looked back for half a second. He was dancing with her, laughing at something she said. He looked happy, and you prayed to God that he was.

That night you sat down at your computer and began to write your grand, tragic love story.

__________________

seven years later

You laughed as you walked out into the chill autumn air. Hoseok had that effect on you. Always had. He had just treated you to a wonderful celebration dinner in honor of your first best selling book, a novel about a woman unable to let go of her former love.

As you were about to leave your daughter tugged on his hand informing Hoseok of her need to go to the bathroom. Your husband gave you a quick kiss, before taking the four year old back inside. You stood on the sidewalk, breathing in the air and admiring the city lights, reflecting on how you got there.

A month after Namjoon’s wedding, you met Hoseok in a coffee shop you were writing at. You had hit it off pretty quickly, and two years later you were married. Your daughter, Marie, followed soon after. A month ago, your novel was finally published for the world. And so here you were, celebrating with the family that you loved so much.

“Hi.”

You looked up, startled.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, “what are you doing here?”

“I was, uh, going for a walk.”

Your gazed washed over him, and you noted that he didn’t look too good. His hair was long and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes, and his usual impeccable sense of style was thrown away for some sweats and a hoodie.

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help the concern that painted your face.

“I’ve been better.”

He gave you a sad smile.

“Oh?”

“We’re going through a rough patch. I think she wants to get a divorce.”

“Oh.”

At one point, those words would've made your year, but that part of you had died a long time ago.

“Maybe we could go out for a cup of coff-”

His words stopped when he saw the diamond and sapphire ring on your finger.

“Oh.”

His face fell. It was then that Hoseok decided to grace the two of you with his presence. Namjoon quickly looked from you, to Hoseok, to your daughter, as he slowly began to put the picture together. He looked pained. You knew the look, the look of loss.

“Who’s this?”

Hoseok’s voice was cheery and you were once again grateful for your husband’s consistant happiness.

“An old friend. You take Marie to the car, and I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”

He nodded, happy to oblige. When he was out of earshot, you turned back to Namjoon.

“You were supposed to call.”

You stared blankly at him.

“What?” you finally ask.

“You were supposed to call when you were ready to have a family.”

You looked at him in shock.

“Namjoon, you got married.”

“I know, but I would’ve left her for you.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not. I still love you. And you still love me. You promised me you would forever.”

“Well, it was a naive promise to make.”

He looked like he was about to cry.

“Look, Joon, go home. I know you loved your wife, and I’m willing to guess you still do. Relationships take work, you know that. You’ve alwayknown that. Show her that she means the world to you. Whatever’s going on, you can make it through it. Whatever part of you still loves me, kill it.”

He nods

“I have to go. But call me when you’re in a better spot, okay?”

You hand him a business card, before walking away into the night.

A month later, you get a text.

“We made it work. Coffee on Wednesday?”

You smiled.

series m.list m.list

#ficswithluv #btsbookclub #networkbangtan #namjoon #fanfic #smut #angst #joonie #rm #bangtant sonyeondan #bts #writer in the dark #melodrama

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a-n-conrad · 4 years

Text

Fighting and Flirting (Bakugo x Reader)

Chapter 2: The Race

[Summary: It’s time for you to take your entrance exam to get into UA. Will your nerves get the best of you or will you make it in?]

Masterlist

To say you were nervous about the entrance exam to UA would probably be an understatement. You were far more than nervous. You had no idea what you were headed into tomorrow, and you knew that if you didn’t make it in and make it to the top class, Endeavor would never let you talk to Shoto again. He had made that pretty clear at your last sparring session, and you had no doubt that he’d follow through with his threats, especially after he put his name on the line to recommend you.

That’s why you had spent the last couple of weeks staying up as late as you could, studying every subject that you could think of. Your parents hadn’t been home for about a week, so you didn’t have anyone there to tell you when to go to bed.

That also meant that you ended up on your own for your meals for the whole last week, and it also meant that you would be on your own for the entrance exam. As much as you were used to being on your own, with the number of trips your parents ended up going on for their work, it definitely didn’t help your nerves to think about how little support you’d be getting on the day of the exam that you’d been nervously awaiting for weeks.

As your brain started to fry itself, you glanced at the clock on the other side of the dining room, showing that it was eight at night. You had spent about four and a half hours studying, and that plus the anxiety had really started overwork your brain for the past couple days.

“I suppose I should eat something and then get ready for bed a little early,” You muttered to yourself, remembering the advice the Shoto had given you a few days ago when you told him how nervous you were getting about the exam. Just make sure you eat a decent breakfast and get a good amount of sleep. Two things you almost never did, and he knew that pretty well.

You sighed and stood up from your chair, closing your books and sliding them off to the other side of the dining table. You had accumulated a good stack of notes and books you had been studying from and you were really getting close to running out of room on your little dining table.

Heading over to the cabinet and opening the door, you were disappointed but not surprised to find just about nothing in the pantry aside from a few containers of instant ramen noodles, a few cans of soup, a box of mac and cheese, and a handful of other random food items.

You stood there for a couple of seconds, staring at your options, before grabbing an instant noodle cup and walking over to the kitchen counter. Dinner and then bed.

- - - - -

Your alarm just had to be the most annoying sound in the world. That had to be an objective fact, right? Either way, it meant that it was time for you to start getting ready for your entrance exam.

You slowly dragged yourself out of bed, after clicking the button to turn your alarm off, quickly setting your regular workout clothes on your bed and made your way over to your bathroom to take a shower. You couldn’t tell if you were completely dreading this test or if you just hadn’t woken up yet, but both was a pretty likely answer.

Eventually, you had managed to shower, secure all of your hair out of your face, and get dressed in your regular (f/c) long-sleeve workout shirt and black sweatpants. You made your way over to the kitchen and looked through all of the cabinets for something even remotely breakfast-like. After a good twenty minutes, you did manage to find some bread and a box of snack bars.

As you waited for your bread to toast, you paced back and forth in your kitchen, checking your phone to see if there are any new updates from Shoto and took a few bites out of the chocolate-coated snack bar.

Sho: Hey, are you going to meet me in front of my house on your way to the test?

(Y/N): Sure, it’s on the way, isn’t it?

(Y/N): Besides, it’ll be a good chance for us to hang out without having to beat each other up.

Sho: Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.

(Y/N): Yeah, see you in like 20.

You toast finally popped out of the toaster as you finished off your snack bar and put your phone away. You grabbed it, burning your fingers a little in the process, and quickly set it out a plate, before spreading a little bit of butter over the toast. You spent the next few minutes trying to calm yourself down while you munched on your toast, trying to fight the nervous feeling flooding your stomach as you thought about the exam you were about to face.

Before you knew it, it was time for you to start on your way over to the Todoroki household to meant Shoto. You had finished your toast, but the nauseous feeling still hadn’t left your stomach as you stood up, slipped your shoes on, and walked out the door.

It didn’t take you very long to make it to Shoto’s house, and you really didn’t have to think about your path while you walked, you had been there enough throughout the years that you could walk there entirely on muscle-memory. That meant that it was really easy for you to continue to wallow in your own anxiety during your walk.

And apparently that’s what you did because, by the time you made it to the Todoroki house, where Shoto was waiting for you, you had spaced out so much that you didn’t even realize you had made it there until your legs stopped in front of the gate.

“Are you ok?” Shoto asked, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah, Sho,” You reply, trying to shake the fog out of your head, “I’m fine. I’m just really nervous about this exam.”

“Yeah, I get it,” He replies, “But I’m pretty focused on doing good. And I’m going to get in without using any of my fire.”

“Yeah? I’m sure you can do that. Your ice is really strong on its own,” you respond as the two of start walking towards the UA campus, “I’m just worried that my quirk won’t be good enough. It’s not really any good unless I can count on some human error.”

“Even if you don’t do amazing in the practical portion, I’m sure your written section will make up for it. You’ve been studying nonstop, right?”

“Yeah, but I had no idea what exactly to study, so I’ve just been trying to study everything.”

The two of you continue to chat, having the most relaxing conversation you’ve had with him in quite a while. No sparring, no quirks, and no Endeavor. You hadn’t had a regular chat with Shoto since the two of you were children and Endeavor hadn’t started focusing purely on training Shoto yet.

You were surprised at how quickly you seemed to make it to the campus. You couldn’t tell if it was just a lot closer than you thought it was, or if you were just having so much fun talking with your dear friend that you hadn’t noticed how much time had passed on your walk. Either way, you were now one step closer to the exam that you had spent the entire morning worrying about.

Finally, the two of you walk through the door and find your way to where you’re supposed to wait for the exam to start. As you wait for the explanations to finish, you’re each assigned a number. You end up with 17, while Shoto gets 23.

You finish your interview and then blast through the written portion of your exam. Both of which you manage to go through without even really thinking. You even end up finishing the written portion pretty confidently, having studied as much as you possibly could.

The downside of managing to go through those sections quickly was that you had gotten to the part of the test you were most nervous about quicker than you had liked.

Before you knew it, you were all lined up in front of what you could only assume to be a very long obstacle course. An assumption that was quickly confirmed as the pro hero, Present Mic, announced that this would be your practical exam. And that you’d all go, six at a time.

You glanced at Shoto, who was way too focused to even notice how nervous you were. You knew that all he was thinking about through the entire exam was his hatred for his dad. And to be completely honest, you couldn’t blame him.

You waited for your number to be called. Shoto was called first, and you weren’t surprised to see him navigate the entire course on a road of ice. He finished second out of his run, and you were pretty sure out of the entire exam so far.

Eventually, your number was called. You took a few seconds before the race started to focus yourself. Focus on all of your ambitions and why you wanted to be a hero. You wanted to be better than Endeavor. You wanted to replace all of the heroes who were as cruel and prideful as him. You wanted to stop letting people who hurt your friend be considered heroes.

Finally, it was time to go. You ran quickly, you had done runs like this before. Three kilometers was nothing to you anymore. You had to be able to keep up with Shoto, so three kilometers had to be nothing.

The obstacles didn’t pose much of a challenge either. You were nimble and flexible. You had enough gymnastics skills that you could navigate all of this without needing a quirk. Your only issue was that you were falling a bit behind. Everyone else was using their quirks, and they were all just a little bit ahead of you.

However, you managed to keep up pretty well, even without using a quirk. You were in the middle of the pack, relying entirely on your physical prowess, and as you finally made it close to the end, you had already made it up to third out of your six. All you needed was a little boost.

You closed your eyes and held up your hand, your palm facing behind you, at a slight angle. With a quick thought and a jump, you let out a sonic boom, launching yourself a good bit forward, and as you landed, rolling in order to keep up your momentum, you had made it to the front of the pack, just a few steps away from the finish line.

With another couple of steps, you crossed the finish line, just a portion of a second ahead of your nearest competitor. You stopped near the finish line, attempting to catch your breath as your adrenaline faded.

“Alright!” Mic shouted, his voice a little more excited than it was just before the test, though for him, that was a pretty hard thing to measure, “That’ll be all of today. You’ll all be getting your results in the mall pretty soon.”

You nodded, before heading off to find Shoto, before starting to walk home together.

Tag list: @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo

#bnha katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #slowburn #shoto todoroki #present mic #bnha #mha

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