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justfangirlthingies · 4 years ago

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Love Story (Dad! Draco Malfoy)

This is a songfic based on "Love Story" by Taylor Swift

Dad! Draco is something I absolutely adore, I just couldn't help myself

Word count: 2568 words

Warnings: a bit of angst maybe, but the rest is fluff

The reader is a pureblood, but that's only mentioned once, so I guess if you want to change that up in your head feel free to do so, it's not like I can control your thoughts or anything

Soft draco content!

Also, this is my first time writing anything for Draco, sorry if he's a little OOC, but I guess you'll just have to deal with that. I just found this idea cute. That's it. Carry on with your reading :)

By the way, the war and all that jazz did happen I just, I dunno left it out because that would've been too much

"Darling!? Are you alright?" Your husband barged into the hospital room. His platinum hair disheveled and tie loosened. He was panting heavily, presumably from running all the way here from his workplace. "I came as fast as I could, but the minister wouldn't let me leave early, since I'd be at home for the next weeks anyways." A soft smile graced your lips as you spoke up "Draco it's fine don't worry. I'm - I mean we are fine"

His eyes flooded with guilt as a look of sorrow took over his face "I-I missed it? I'm so sorry I wasn't there..." Draco stammered quietly as he slowly started to approach you. You gave a small nod as you reached your arms out for him. The blonde didn't hesitate to engulf your smaller form into his arms as soon as he had reached the hospital bed you were sprawled out on. "It's not your fault love" You whispered soothingly while you allowed your fingers to run through his already messy hair. Soft lips brushed your temple as you basked in Draco's warmth. The male moved away from you a bit to catch a glimpse of your face. "Is it a girl or a-" but before he could finish, the door opened once again and in came a doctor with a small bundle wrapped in a lime green blanket in his arms. "Ah you must be Mr. Malfoy then."

Draco just stared at the blankets and gave a small nod, trying to make out the baby underneath. He watched as the doc handed you the small human. A smile etched onto your lips as you took the baby from the man. Your husband finally caught sight of your child. Well of the blond fuzz on the baby's head to be exact. You noticed his stare and giggled "You want to hold him Draco?" You questioned and without even giving him time to think, handed him your newborn. "He?" he smiled tenderly when he finally saw the baby-boy's full face. His icy blue eyes found a pair of identically coloured irises staring back up at him.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" The doctor asked after a few minutes. This resulted in Draco looking up from his son and throwing a questioning gaze at you. "Go ahead." You reassured him.

It's not like he had to make up a name on the spot. After all the two of you talked a lot about baby names and had decided to stay with the Black family tradition for the naming, seeing as upholding this tradition was of utter importance to him. It was a relieve to see you hadn't changed your mind about the name you had decided on beforehand.

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy" spoke the love of your life. Huge grins on both of your faces as Draco pulled you closer towards him and Scorpius so he could hold the whole extent of his new family in his arms.

With that the doctor left the three of you to have some privacy and to get to know your son.

A content sigh left your lips and you decided to speak up "Look how far we've come Dray. We survived my father and a war, moved in together, got married and now we're starting a new chapter. A family"

"Ah yes of course." he replied before a smirk appeared on his face "Though I have to say, your father was the greatest challenge we've had to overcome." A chuckle escaped his lips as he started reminiscing about the past "Do you remember how we met?"

You hummed in response "We were both young when I first saw you"

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

Your eyelids fluttered close as you swayed in the memory of the first time you laid your eyes on him.

▪︎

I'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air. See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

It was a peaceful evening. A little boring for a nine-year-old maybe, but still nice. Your family had hosted a ball and invited all the other well known and mostly wealthy pureblood families. Nothing unusual.

One thing however, was a little extraordinary. Notoriously you were the only child at such gatherings, but on this fateful night you had seen another child. A pale boy around your age, you guessed. His gelled back hair was a white-blond colour, it framed his face along with his sharp, pointed features. That's when your (e/c) orbs met his piercing grey ones.

See you make your way through the crowd

And say, "Hello"

This encounter made your evening much more eventful and enjoyable and it also gained you a friend for life.

Little did I know that you were Romeo

Had you known who he was back then, maybe you would've kept your distance. But the thing is, you didn't know.

▪︎

From then on your friendship only continued to blossom as years passed by

Sometimes Draco would sneak out of his house just to wake you up and spend time with you in the middle of the night. Many times you woke to a tapping sound coming from your window

you were throwin' pebbles

In the beginning you were surprised to see him, standing outside underneath your window when you opened it. Occasionally you'd sneak out and go for walks.

His nightly visits became more frequent, often leading to you sneaking him into your home, up the stairs and into your room.

On some instances you spent hours on end just talking. Other times, you spent those same hours engulfed in one another's embrace, lips meeting each other halfway, limbs entangled and bodies pressed together.

Unfortunately your father had seen the light from underneath your door and heard voices talk when he woke that night. He barged into your room and as he saw the Malfoy boy sitting criss cross on your carpeted floor, the two of you deeply engulfed in conversation, he yanked the blonde up and dragged him out of your room and down the stairs

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet (Y/n)"

You had followed after them as tears cascaded down your cheeks. And I was cryin' on the staircase Beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said, "Romeo Draco, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run. You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"" His heart broke then and there as he watched your devastated form call out to him in vain. Before Draco had a chance to answer your request he was shoved out the front door by your father.

"(Y/n) (M/n) (L/n)! Just what do you think you're doing sneaking around with the Malfoy boy?!" Your father hollered, his voice laced with anger. The man you called your father could be very intimidating at times, especially when he was fuming and glared at someone, just like he was doing with you now. The adult's words dripping from his voice like venom "You won't see him again." "Bu-" You were about to cut him off and protest, but he just continued and talked over your failed attempt to interrupt him "I don't want you talking to the son of a death eater! He's probably already one himself."

Your face contorted into a scowl as you seethed at him through your teeth, tears still dropping from your shimmering (e/c) irises "You can't tell me what to do!" It slipped past your lips and your face nearly went to a look of surprise at your own words. Your eyes widened slightly, but now that you had already made the mistake of talking back to him with that attitude, what did you have to lose? You tried to keep your demeanor the way it was when you talked back to the man you called your father.

"What was that young lady?!" He scolded "That's no way to talk to your father (Y/n)!" You snarled at him before you got up from your place on the staircase and turned to retrieve to your room, making sure to slam the door on your way. Waking your mother and siblings in the process. You only knew that because you heard voices and different footsteps.

As soon as the door was properly shut you threw yourself onto the bed and hugged one of your pillows close to you as you sobbed and screamed in frustration, pain, anger, sadness, agony or however you would like to describe it. The fact that the pillow you were currently clutching to your body as you shook with tears, still smelled of the boy who had captured your heart and was with you not even 10 minutes ago just had you break down even more. That is how you went to sleep that dreadful night. Crying yourself to sleep while you held onto the pillow for dear life.

▪︎

It took you some time, but you found a way to meet up again. In secret.

Just you and him.

Merlin knows what would happen if someone found out that the two of you were sneaking around again.

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

▪︎

So close your eyes

"We should run away together Draco. Just imagine all the things we could do then." you suggested quietly, your head resting on his chest.

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter

▪︎

Of course it was only a matter of time until your father found out about your little ordeal again.

And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet(Y/n)"

And once again you found yourself in an oddly familiar occurrence as you were crying after the man you loved. It pained both of you to see each other hurt. "But you were everything to me" Draco called out to you and he made sure your father had heard him too, for the young Mr. Malfoy was indeed completely and utterly in love with you and he wasn't afraid to show it. As soon as your pleas reached his ears again he felt his heart sink in his chest. I was beggin' you, "Please don't go, " and I said, "Romeo Draco, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run. You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess. It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes""

▪︎

Maybe your father was right, maybe you did deserve someone better, Draco thought. At least that's what the silver-eyed boy told himself. It was his only way of staying sane and grounded. His way to cope was to hope you'll meet someone better than him, someone more deserving of your love, even though that thought hurt him, it was a comfort to think that, maybe you'd move on, but his heart still held onto the last bits of hope he had left in him. And that's when it happened. An owl landed on his windowsill. Not just any owl. Your owl and the letter it carried had your family's seal on it.

He felt his heartbeat increase rapidly, his hands clammy as he opened the window. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to smile, to cry, scream or throw up then and there because that letter could contain anything. A wedding invite maybe? He hoped not. After contemplating for a bit he decided on opening your letter. As he did so, he became more nervous with each passing second, still clinging tightly onto the last bit of hope he had left.

The letter read: "Romeo Draco, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel. This love is difficult, but it's real. Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess. It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes""

Oh but this time he would say "Yes"

Oh, oh

For this time, he had a plan and he was determined to execute his plan

▪︎

I got tired of waiting. Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around. My faith in you was fading

You were on the breach of losing all your hope, but you decided you'd try one last time. So you went to the place you'd told him you'd wait for him. If he didn't show up today then that's it, you would give up. However, what you didn't expect was to actually meet him face to face. When I met you on the outskirts of town,

When your eyes met his again for the first time in so long you didn't know how to react. Was it appropriate to hug him? You weren't sure so you just stood there frozen on the spot when you asked him once again. Desperately clutching to your last bit of hope that you didn't even know you had left.

and I said

"Romeo Draco, save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come. Is this in my head? I don't know what to think"

Tears streamed down your face as you poured your heart out to him and when you felt his warmth surround you, you didn't hesitate to lap onto him with all your might. After a few minutes he tore himself away from you and when his grey eyes met pools of (e/c), he saw the terror in your eyes. Did you think he didn't want to be with you? "I'm sorry this took so long love" he spoke, leaving you with a confused expression on your face "but your father is a tough man" he chuckled. This only earned him another puzzled look from you as you arched an eyebrow in utter bewilderment. You were not sure what he was about to do and you certainly didn't expect him to do the thing he was about to do.

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, "Marry me, Juliet (Y/n). You'll never have to be alone. I love you and that's all I really know. I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress. It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes""

There you stood before him. Eyes wide. Eyes that you couldn't believe. All you could do was just stand and stare.

"Umm...(Y/n)?" Draco looked up at you, his eyes holding only love and adoration and maybe a hint of fear because you were not answering. He gently reached upwards and caressed one of your soft hands. The touch bringing you back to reality and out of your trance. "An answer would be nice" he chuckled nervously. You quickly pulled him up by his hand and kissed him "Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!" you grinned and beamed up at him. You leaned in again and brushed your lips lightly against his as you spoke against the soft skin "Yes Draco. Yes"

Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh

▪︎

All of a sudden you were ripped from your little bubble by soft cries.

Just like that, in the spur of a moment, you were back to reality. Slowly your eyelids fluttered open, only to see your husband cradling your son in his arms to cease his crying "Shh, shhh, shh. It's alright Scorpius, your daddy is here" he cooed softly "we need to be quiet buddy because mommy is sleeping and mommy deserves her sleep after such an exhausting day." Draco smiled triumphantly when little Scorpius stopped crying "And you need all your sleep as well, your day was just as exhausting" he whispered softly.

'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

#songfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp #draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #pureblood reader #Love Story #taylor swift #dad draco #dad!draco #dad! draco #hp imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader

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lightsovermonaco · 4 years ago

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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discocactusblogs · 4 years ago

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Heather- Jason Todd Pt.2 Finale

Pt.1

Weddings, they were supposed to be a joyous occasion for everyone involved. From the bride to the flower girl, everyone was happy. Or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to be, right?

I watched as my sister got ready for her wedding. She was decked in white from head to toe, a spectacular sight, but oh, how I wish I was her right now. I should be happy for her, but instead, I feel jealous. But not because of whom she’s marrying, but because I always thought Jason and I would end up married one day.

As I watched my sister twirl in her gown and smile brightly, a part of me died. “That was supposed to be me.” I thought to myself, tears pricking the corner of my eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” My mother smiled warmly and turned to me.

“As always.” I smiled in response, pushing back my own feelings. I should be happy for my sister.

“Are you alright?” My sister asked, noticing my red eyes.

I spent the whole previous night crying, I know. I’m petty, but I can’t help but feel heartbroken still.

��I’m just feeling sick today. I think I’ll stay home. Don’t worry about me, have fun! Enjoy your wedding.” I assure her with a weak smile.

“But I want you to be there!” She replied in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I’m sick, I don’t feel well enough to go, and I don’t want to get anyone sick.” I spoke firmly. I didn’t want to go and end up embarrassing myself halfway through the ceremony.

My mother rubbed my shoulders, knowing I was still devastated about Jason. She knew it was going to be rough.

“It’s alright. I’ll bring you back some cake. Please don’t do anything reckless.” My mother kissed the top of my head.

I smiled softly, thankful for her being so understanding. “I won’t mom.”

I hugged my sister and mother and went up to my room, locking the door.

I grabbed the leather jacket that was hanging behind the door and clutched it tightly in my hands. I sat against the door, holding the jacket close and inhaling the ever-fading scent of Jason’s cologne.

I waited to hear the door downstairs close before breaking down and sobbing into the jacket, my body shaking violently as I poured my heart out.

After a while, I changed my shirt, which had been drenched in my tears. At this point, I was dry crying, my eyes failing to produce any more tears. My _____ eyes couldn’t produce enough tears to keep up with the pain I was feeling inside my chest. I went into the bathroom and washed my face before heading downstairs to get some water.

I trudged into the kitchen and grabbed a few water bottles from the refrigerator, this was going to be a long night. Since I was in the kitchen, I grabbed some snacks and went back to my room.

The plan was to watch a movie to keep my mind off of things, but it was proving to be quite difficult since the only movies on TV were romance or romcoms.

I eventually gave up on that idea and sat on my floor to read a book, I must have fallen asleep.

When I awoke, a shadowy figure was standing by my closet, and I was laying on my bed with my book beside me, placed neatly on my nightstand. I thought it odd, but assumed that I got up and got in bed at some point before blacking out.

I stared at the figure, thinking it was just Jason’s jacket that I hung up, but when I rolled over, Jason’s jacket was beside me.

My senses kicked in, and I began to panic before chalking it up to my own imagination as I went back to sleep.

Shortly after I fell asleep, I groggily woke up to the feeling of leather against my face, thinking it was the jacket. I was about to move until I heard something. No, not something, someone.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m here. I’m sorry that I couldn’t come back sooner.” A masculine voice whispered.

I recognized it but at the same time, it sounded so foreign to me. I didn’t respond, my pulse quickening. After all, this was Gotham City, which had its own share of freaks.

I stirred, trying to face whoever this was, much to my surprise, he was wearing a red mask. I could hear him and see him remove the helmet in the dim moonlight that peered in from my window, which was now opened.

I then began panicking internally.

“I know you’re awake.” He chuckled, ruffling his hair.

That laugh.

My eyes watered, this must be a nightmare. Right?

I sat up in silence.

“I know you better than you think. Mind if I sit down?” He gestured to a spot on my bed.

Caught up in the delusion of this being a dream, I shook my head, encouraging him to sit.

I moved my legs so that he could sit down, the realness kicking in when the bed moved due to the weight of him sitting down.

“Did you miss me?” He smirked, the moonlight hitting his face just right. He was wearing a domino mask, but unlike all the other times I dreamt of him, this was different. He was older. His voice was different. His body was different as well, he was more toned and muscular with broad shoulders.

I stared at him, nodding slowly.

“J-Jay?” My voice cracked.

His expression changed in an instant. He seemed lost and broken, scared even. No, that wasn’t fear. It was worry.

“Yeah. I’m back.” he replied.

I immediately got up and hugged him tightly, sobbing into his neck. I knew this was a dream and clung to him as tightly as I possibly could, fully aware of my devastation once I awoke again.

“Don’t leave.” I pleaded. My dreams were always like this. I would dream of Jason and every time, he would say he had to go. I would beg him not to, and he would walk out with a wave of his hand while I died inside.

“I won’t. Not this time.” He whispered in a soft tone, almost as if he was afraid to speak. He would never admit it, but his heart broke seeing you like this.

He let you sob into his neck, holding you gently, like a porcelain doll he was afraid to break.

You cried your eyes out, sniffling and clinging onto him still like a koala.

He held you and laid you back on the bed once you started nodding off.

“Please, don’t leave me, Jason.” I pleaded in a broken tone.

He covered you with your blanket and pulled the chair from your desk closer to your bed. “I won’t, doll. I’ll stay right here for tonight.” He sat on the chair, holding onto your hand firmly.

“Promise?” I sniffled.

“I promise.” He replied, the corner of his mouth turned up in a barely visible smile, but you knew it was there.

“Jason?”

“Yeah, gorgeous?”

“I love you.”

“A terrible decision for you to make, but I love you too.” He chuckled.

I smiled and fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning, sitting in bed and tears falling from the dream I had. That was, until I noticed my desk chair was right where Jason sat. I put the chair back, thinking the whole thing was just a dream. That was, until I saw a single rose and a note on my desk.

“I’ll be back tonight. Pick a movie and I’ll bring the snacks. You still like (snack name), right? I’ll explain everything when I get there. In the meantime, hang in there. Love ya.

-Jason”

I was utterly confused until my phone rang. I picked it up from the floor and read the contact's name, it was Bruce.

I answered immediately. “Hello?”

“____, it’s Bruce. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s Jason, he’s back.” Bruce spoke in a worried tone.

“What??” I was confused.

“You’ve heard of the Red Hood lately, right? It’s him. Let me know if you’ve seen him. He’s incredibly dangerous.”

“I will.” I spoke softly.

It wasn’t a dream.

(Masterlist)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #jason todd x chubby reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood

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favefandomimagines · 5 years ago

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Knight in Shining Armor (g.w.)

Summary: the three times george saved you and the one time you saved him

AN: mentions of death and injury obvs if you know where this is going

It was no secret to anyone that you and George had shared feelings for each other. Except it was a secret to the two of you. The stolen glances, the touches that lasted longer than they should have, the very obvious flirting.

Though the two of you were completely oblivious.

It was your fifth year at Hogwarts, Quidditch season being in full swing. You were a Chaser for the Gryffindor team and a damn good one at that.

You were currently sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, sitting between Alicia and Angelina. “Are you ready for the game today?” Alicia asked you. “She’s always ready. She’s our prized possession.” George interjected, him and Fred sitting across from the three of you.

“Aside from our Seeker, Georgie.” Fred added. “I guess Harry too.” George said. The younger twin sent you a wink as you tried to cover the redness on your face.

Angelina and Alicia nudged you, knocking you out of your bashful state. “Are you two ready for the game?” You asked. “Of course! We’re going to crush them.” George answered. “Cocky isn’t a good look on you.” You teased. “It’s not cocky, love. It’s confidence.” George replied.

The game against Slytherin wasn’t going according to plan. You knew Slytherin played dirty but during this game, it was worse than usual. Every time you got the Quaffle in your hand, another Chaser came out of nowhere to try to knock it out of your hands.

Usually you could get away from them quick enough but you were currently sandwiched between two Slytherin Chasers and they were trying to force the Quaffle from your hands.

One of them seemed to give up his pursuit until he slammed into the side of you, causing you to lose your balance and fall off your broom. You fell to the grass below and the world around you went dark.

You woke up seemingly a few hours later since it was dark outside and you seemed to be in the infirmary. Trying to sit up, a pounding headache stopping you from doing so.

“Whoa, easy there, Y/N.” A voice stopped you. You looked to your right and saw George, Fred and the rest of your friends standing around you. “What happened?” You asked them.

“Slytherin Chaser knocked you off your broom. Thankfully you only have a concussion. It would have been much worse if George hadn’t stopped him.” Hermione explained.

You looked at George for some sort of a confirmation of his actions. “Definitely worth the five points we lost.” He said. “George sent him into one of the towers. He’s in way worse shape than you.” Fred added.

“Thanks, Georgie. For defending my honor.” You joked lightly. “For you, darling, always.” He replied.

The Quidditch World Cup was something you looked forward to every year. Your parents were wealthy pure bloods and you got to go the World Cup every time.

This year, you got invited to go with the Weasley’s and you couldn’t pass up that opportunity. Your parents were okay with the idea because they trusted Arthur Weasley to no end.

You had arrived at your tent with the Weasley’s, plus Harry and Hermione, and were blown away with the set up. “Girls, pick a bunk and unpack.” Arthur instructed you, Ginny and Hermione.

“This is incredible.” You commented with a large smile on your face. “A change of pace from the fanciness you’re used to, aye Y/N?” Fred said. “It’s so much better.” You replied.

“Why? Because you’re away from the parents?” George asked. “No, because I’m with you.” You corrected. A red tint crept its way up George’s neck and painted his cheeks at your comment. Causing Fred to laugh at how flustered you made his brother.

“Besides, I need someone to cheer on Ireland with me. My parents love Bulgaria.” You added, sending him a wink.

Before game time, you all were walking up the stairs to your designated section, George helping you up the steep stairs because you were so incredibly clumsy.

Even when you got to your section, he wouldn’t let go of your hand. Once the game was finished, you were all back at the tent. The boys were all hyped up about the game and you were just laughing at the craziness of the four.

You were standing by watching when George grabbed your hand and spun you around. He then wrapped an arm around your waist and dipped you back, causing you to laugh. “How does it feel losing to Krum?” He joked.

“It was all luck.” You answered. George laughed at you as the two of stared intently at each other. When Arthur stopped the celebration, he mentally cursed him in his head.

It all happened so quick, it was hard to comprehend what was going on. You were ushered out of the tent by Arthur and your jaw dropped seeing the chaos ensue.

“Oh my,” You started before George grabbed your hand. “Y/N, we gotta go.” He told you. “Wait, where’s Harry?” You questioned. “I don’t know, but we have to get out of here.” He said.

He had a tight grip on your hand but the amount of people pushing past you made it hard for you to keep holding on. You felt his hand slip out of yours as you got pushed to the ground by some bystander.

You tried to get up but the people running and fleeing the scene made it difficult too.

“I lost Y/N.” George told his twin and Ginny. “What?!” Ginny exclaimed. “I have to go find her.” He said. “George wait!” Arthur called as his son ran back in the direction of the tents.

You finally were able to stand as you looked around you, hoping to spot a familiar head of red hair. You were looking around when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

A scream left your mouth as you turned around quickly to see George standing there. “Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, hands cupping your face as he looked at you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” You answered before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“We have to get out of here, okay?” George said to you. You nodded your head and he took your and and pulled you away from the scene.

If the Death Eaters were truly still there, they knew who your parents were. They were members of the Order and worked at the Ministry, besides Harry, you’d be a prime target.

Once you were far away enough, George wrapped his arms tightly around you, afraid to let go.

“Thank Merlin you’re okay.” He whispered. “I’m okay thanks to you, Georgie.” You whispered back.

—

Your final year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the best year yet. You were made Quidditch captain of the Gryffindor team, you had a good feeling you were going to pass all of your exams and you had the best group of friends.

But what was supposed to be the best year turned into the worst year. Umbridge had basically taken over Hogwarts. Your parents never had a nice word to say about that woman.

You were starting to see why. She banned Quidditch and all other student activities and you were devastated. Which caused you to act out more than normal.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was usually your favorite class when she wasn’t teaching it. She was going on and on about different scenarios where we’d use certain spells. Never once actually letting your class practice said spells.

As she explained yet another spell with no demonstration, you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Is there a problem Ms. Y/L/N?” She asked you. George turned around to look at you, shaking his head to tell you it wasn’t worth it. But that never stopped you.

“Would it be possible to actually practice the spell?” You asked. “There’s no need for that, dear.” She said in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I respectfully disagree with you, professor. You are aware my parents work at the Ministry. I believe they are of higher rank than yourself and they have reason to believe that Voldemort is back and I think we should be able to defend ourselves. So yes, professor, there is a need for that.” You said, your voice surprisingly confident and calm.

The class fell into various hushed whispers as students talked quietly amongst themselves. George looked at you with a mixture of utterly proud and terrified for your well being.

“Detention after class, Ms. Y/L/N. And your parents will be hearing about this.” Umbridge told you.

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair as she continued on with her lesson.

After class, you arrived at the woman’s office and stepped inside. The amount of pink on the walls was enough to make anyone cringe. That and the various cat plates.

“Please sit, Ms. Y/L/N.” She instructed you. You sat in the desk across from hers and noticed the piece of parchment and the quill next to it.

“You will be doing lines for me today. You will right ‘I will not be disrespectful.” She said. “How many times?” You asked. “Until you feel the message sinks in.” She answered. “I’m going to need some ink for this.” You said. “That’s a very special quill, dear. You won’t need ink.” Umbridge told you.

You picked the quill up and began writing the sentence and soon a dull stinging presented itself on your other hand.

As you kept writing it only got worse. You looked at the top of your hand and noticed the words you were writing were being written into your skin.

You dropped the quill and clutched your hand, seeing the words already starting to scar.

“I think the message was well received. You may go.” Umbridge told you. You quickly picked up your bag and exited the office.

You didn’t think you could run so fast as you sprinted towards the common room. Your trek was cut short when you ran into someone.

“Whoa there, Y/N, are you in a hurry?” Fred joked. “Uh, yeah, you can say that.” You said quietly, not making eye contact with the twins. “What’s wrong?” George asked. “Nothing. I was just on my way to the common room.” You lied.

“Then why are you holding your hand?” Fred questioned. The twins have known you since first year. They could easily see through your lies no matter how convincing they seemed to others.

You pulled up the sleeve of your robe and showed them the top of your hand. “Umbridge did this, didn’t she?” George asked. You nodded your head though you knew they didn’t need any confirmation.

The matching scars on their hands was proof enough.

“I’m going to kill her.” George sneered marching towards Umbridge’s office. “George, don’t. She’s not worth it.” You rebutted. “She hurt you, Y/N. That’s more than worth it.” He said.

“I think what she’s trying to say, mate, is that you’ll get more than just a detention.” Fred interjected. “Please don’t do anything. We will handle her later.” You said to him.

George looked down at you for a moment before groaning. “I hate it when you’re right. Especially when Fred’s right.” He said.

You smiled at him before looping your arm through his.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked as the three of you walked back to the common room. “Just you being here is enough.” You answered.

Fred inwardly groaned at the obliviousness the two of you had. He then made it his life’s mission to get the two of you together.

—

Nothing really made sense anymore. Not after the war. Of course you came out victorious but not without paying a price. A price you’d rather pay with your life than anyone else’s.

Everything happened so quickly. You had lost sight of Fred and George halfway through and the next thing you knew, Ginny was pulling you through the Great Hall.

You made eye contact with George and you knew the second you looked at him something was wrong.

“No,” You muttered as he walked towards you. “No, no, no. Tell me that’s not him.” You cried. “He’s fine, Fred’s fine.” You added. George shook his head as he pulled you into him. He tried to shield you from seeing your best friend’s body but it was no use.

Fred was gone. He was gone and you never got to say goodbye to him.

It had been eight months since the war and everyone was slowly starting to get back to normal. Or whatever the new normal was.

You and Ron got the twins’ joke shop back up and running. George still wasn’t able to step foot in the building, staying at your flat since that day.

“Mum keeps asking how George is. I have to tell her he’s fine and just getting back on his feet.” Ron told you. “You can’t lie to your mother like that, Ron.” You replied.

“Maybe you can convince him to come visit the Burrow. He listens to you more than anyone.” He said. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me this time.” You said. “He loves you, Y/N. He might’ve been too daft to say it in school but he really loves you.” Ron admitted.

You were quiet for a moment before nodding your head and apparating back to your apartment.

The living room was dark but there was a blanket on the couch, signaling that George left his room.

“Georgie?” You called. “In here.” You heard, which was a good sign. Usually he never replied when you called his name.

You opened the bedroom door and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed with a picture frame in his hands. It was a picture of the three of you the day the shop opened.

George had his arms wrapped tightly around you as Fred hugged the both of you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, sitting next to him. “My brother died, how do you think I’m feeling?” He snapped at you. He saw you noticeably tense at his harsh tone and he instantly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He added. “It’s okay.” You said quietly. “It’s not okay because you’ve been nothing short of incredible taking care of me, making sure I’m eating, reopening the shop for me. I really don’t deserve you.” George said.

You took his hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I do it because,” You started, thinking about Ron’s words. “I do it because I love you, George. And I hate seeing the person I love so broken and I know I can never fill the void that’s left, there’s a pretty big one for me too but I’m hoping I can help.” You finished.

Your gaze remained fixated on your hand in his, afraid of what his response would be.

“You love me?” He questioned quietly. “Yeah, yeah I do.” You replied. “I’ve loved you since third year. Fred kept trying to get me to tell you but I was too scared you’d reject me.” George explained.

“I would never reject you, George.” You said. “You saved me too many times to count. Now it’s time for me to save you.” You added. George nodded his head as he looked at you and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You pulled him into you, his head near your chest, as you just let him cry. The only sound that calmed him was the sound of your heartbeat and the knowing that you were his.

#imagine #imagines #harry potter imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley #draco malfoy #george weasley x reader #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

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Pretty Girl - Blurb

A/N- Surprise! This idea came to me last night and I decided to run with it. Companion blurb to Chapter 3 of my Pretty Girl Series.

Summary: An insight into Pretty Girl’s mind on a bad day.

Warnings: Swearing, sexual harassment description, self blame, sexism, burns, reader is a thirsty bitch. WC-2,175

You were chewing your lip again. You had been working hard to break the habit, but you gave yourself a pass for today, considering the circumstances. While Ron had promised you that he wouldn’t mention any details to Flip whenever the tall detective returned to the station, but you knew him too well. Flip was going to know something was wrong, he was too damn perceptive.

Especially when it came to you.

And actually, you adored how he always seemed to read you like a book. But when it came to how you felt about your best friend? Yeah, he hadn’t seemed to figure that out. A fact that allowed you to breathe more easily. The older, gruff man gave you more attention and kindness than you deserved, you knew that. You had no intention of ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship by admitting that...well, you loved him. You could just imagine how he’d turn inward, his mouth dropping into a frown before he said, ‘Darling, you’re too young for me.’ Or something equally as mortifying.

It was selfish of you, in many ways, not to tell him. You enjoyed time alone with him more than you could even admit to yourself and you loved how protective he was of you. Something about the different ways he showed this-like when he slammed that rude man onto the counter, right in front of you, with a wild look in his eyes that disappeared the moment he had met yours. That moment had shot straight to your core, delighted you entirely, but you worried he might have caught the brief-expression on your face that gave away how turned on you had been.

His protectiveness was the reason you were so stressed at the moment; he was, inevitably, going to find out you had burnt your fucking arm with coffee. And when he did, you knew you needed to try to avoid telling him how it happened. But whenever he fixed you with that damn stare, eyes dark-fuck, you couldn’t help it. You always seemed to cave.

You contented yourself as you waited for the nurse now by imagining the conversation in different ways, practicing what you’d say, how you would explain. Flip had been especially moody lately, which didn’t bother you as you were as laid back as he was passionate, but it did worry you. The last thing he needed right now was a reason to get angry, and if you told him what David Cole had whispered into your ear before his cold hand slid over your bottom and pinched? Well, let’s say you would probably be giving testimony at the murder trial.

The curtains around you swung open as the nurse returned with her tray of supplies. You swung your legs, starting to feel antsy to leave, and smiled at her. You wanted to try and get back to the station before Flip, maybe meet him outside and explain-

Movement caught your eye, and your head spun around as the fucking all too familiar Detective stormed towards you. How, how had he already found out you were here? You knew he was good, but this was insane. You had been here twenty minutes.

And oh, the look on his face. He hadn’t even seen the burn yet and you could already tell he was devastated to see you sitting in a hospital. Your heart tugged at the sight, despite the panic bursting through your veins-you hadn’t thought of how to explain-oh, fuck, he’s seen the burn.

You tried to smile up at him, but you knew he could see the tears on your face from the way his entire body stiffened when he was right next to you. You wondered if he was going to knock the nurse away and start treating you himself. You wouldn’t have been surprised.

What did take you off guard, however, was what he said.

“Pretty girl,” Oh. Okay, where did that new nickname come from? It shot straight to your core, almost numbing the pain in your arm. He’d never called you that before, but you never wanted him to stop. “What the hell happened?” His large hand was on your shoulder, warm and welcome.

“I’m okay, Flip, I just spilled some coffee-it’s mostly on the back of my hand and arm.” You tried to keep your voice calm but flinched when pain shot up your arm as the nurse placed your bandages. You could tell your words had no soothing effect whatsoever, his expression entirely too distressed.

Whoever told him you were here was going to have raisins in their cookies for the next year.

“You were lucky the coffee wasn’t fresher, dear. These would be much worse. As it is, you’ve scalded yourself fairly well so you’ll need to repeat this treatment for a few days, I’ll send you home with the supplies and instructions.” You stared at your nurse, silently trying to convey that she had just utterly betrayed you by announcing that. Could she not see the man standing next to you was coming undone?

The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter and his thumb began to rub gentle circles, something that should not have distracted you as much as it was. Hell, Flip’s hands were big. You lost track of their conversation, focusing solely on the feelings his touch was inspiring within you. You only pulled from your thoughts when his hand was gone and he was taking a seat next to you on the bed, heaving one of his great sighs. You always wanted to hug him whenever he made that noise. Like he had the whole damn world on his shoulders.

“How did you get here?”

That surprised you-he hadn’t spoken to Ron? Who else would have been brave enough to tell Flip Zimmerman that you were at the hospital?

“Ron was kind enough to drop me off-I insisted I was fine on my own,” You frowned and met his eyes, “How did you know I was here if you didn’t speak to Ron?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “I brought in a gunshot victim, few beds over. Saw you when the nurse opened the curtain.”

Okay, so apparently the universe was just as against you as ever.

Now it was your turn to sigh. You glanced away, not wanting him to read your expressions, “I’m really okay, Flip. You don’t need to stick arou-“

“I’ll take you home.”

It was an order, as much as it was a plea; he couldn’t leave you. But the tone he used, that one that left no room for you to argue? You could only smile because you were afraid if you opened your mouth to respond, you’d say something that gave away that it turned you on whenever he used it. Or you’d moan. So you stayed silent.

You could sense him beginning to calm down; now that he knew you were okay, had seen that you received exceptional care, and was now leading you to his work car. He was especially content that he could drive you home, you could see the slightly smug smile on his lips. You were still considering what to say to him when he inevitably inquired again on how you’d managed to burn yourself, and so far your mind was blank.

He didn’t speak until you were both settled in the car. He had pulled out of the lot, the silence heavy. As if he wanted to give you a false sense of security, catch you off guard. But with his eyes on the road, he didn’t seem to notice how tense you were, already waiting for the question.

“You gonna tell me how you managed that?” He nodded at the burn, eyes scanning your face curiously when you made no reply. Damn, you had to say something or he was going to read it in your face and guess the worst.

“Just pouring coffees and spilled, that’s all.” No big deal, Flip, just leave it, for the love of-oh, now his hands were gripping the steering wheel and you could see the disbelief on his face, the surprise that you actually thought you could lie to him. Fuck.

“Okay,” He drew out the word, conveying his downright distrust. And then that damn tone of authority followed, the one he seemed to have reserved just for you. “What really happened?”

This. This was why you needed time to come up with a good excuse-you simply could not think on your feet around this man, and now he was glancing at you from the driver's seat like he just knew you were about to piss him off. Why did you get out of bed this morning?

Your voice came out in a breathy mumble, “Someone walked by me when I was pouring coffees and pinched...well.” You gestured vaguely at your lower body. He got the point.

The fact that he didn’t crash the car didn’t surprise you, you’d seen the way he had control over himself despite the anger many times. It always impressed you. And it made sense, as he was such a skilled detective.

He pumped the brakes as he looked around at you, meeting your eyes with the most searing expression you’d ever seen-okay, you knew he’d be mad, but he looked completely wreaked. You quickly grabbed his arm as he barked out, “What?”

“Flip, do not get so upset, happens more than-“

“Please don’t tell me that more than one person at work has put their hands on you-”

Yeah, you probably didn’t help yourself by saying it like that. But he was so upset it was flustering you. Alright, you’d have to stick with this, “It happens. I shouldn’t have to explain what it’s like being a woman working in a place full of men. Sometimes they forget themselves and-“

Flip threw the car into park, and you groaned internally. He was going to get out of the car, you just knew it. “And they grab your ass? And in this case, make you burn yourself?” He said the word burn as if it caused him physical pain to say aloud.

Before you could respond, he was out of the car, the door of which creaked with displeasure at how forcefully he’d opened it. You waited patiently, knowing he just needed to calm himself a little bit. But now you could feel your emotions bubbling up in the silence of the car, the days' events replaying in your head.

The smarter part of you understood that Flip wasn’t angry with you; though that section of your brain seemed to be down for maintenance. Being friendly, baking, you knew sent the message to some types of men that it was okay to cop a feel. To physically express their gratitude, your personal space be damned. You hated it, but it had been so much worse when you worked at that awful law firm. And really, it had only happened a couple of times since you began working at the CSPD. David Cole was just on another level, but you could handle him.

Flip came around the car and, more gently now, opened your door. You turned in the seat to face him as he crouched on the ground, and blurted out, “Flip, please don’t be mad at me.”

Flip took your uninjured hand into his own and rubbed his thumb across the back, his expression softening entirely. He met your eyes and seemed to steel himself to speak, “Pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” Fuck, there was that nickname again. So it wasn’t an accident earlier, this was sticking around. You had no complaints, though you were sure he could see that in the way you gazed back at him like a dumb ass. “I’m mad for you-what happened ain’t right. Tell me who did it, each time.”

Absolutely not, you thought immediately. Shaking your head, you quickly replied, “Thanks, but I’d rather not get arrested for aiding a murder,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly and held his gaze, trying to convey just how okay you were, “It means a lot, how protective you are. But I’m alright, okay? I promise.” Relief swept through you when your words seemed to make a difference. First fucking time today, you thought. He visibly relaxed, though his eyes did scan your face for a few more moments.

You wanted to kiss him right there, for being so perfect. How lucky were you to have a man like him in your corner? Of all the dirtbags and assholes you’d encountered, he made up for them by simply existing in your life. For being so protective and caring for you in ways you didn’t even realize you needed. You also secretly loved how you seemed to always be able to calm him down, even if it took some time.

“Let me take you home.” He said after a pause, and you gave him your best smile, hoping he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

#flip zimmerman x reader #flip x you #flip zimmerman #blurb #bonus chapter #multichapter #reader insert #adam driver x reader #adam Driver x you #adam driver #fluff #friends to lovers

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lilxberry · 4 years ago

Text

Comfort and Moving Forward - Jeff Atkins

Synopsis;

Jeff has to watch his dear friend suffer from Justins’ actions, all whilst hoping that she would notice her worth. And him.

Warnings: Angsty af. Fluffff. Mentions of cheating (past relationship). Language. Cute ass Jeff. Super cheesy, cliché plot line *eye roll*

Words: 2,711

Pairing: Jeff Atkins x reader, Justin Foley x reader (past relationship)

_______________

"So wait, you really said that?"

"Like I said. I. GOOGLED. EVERYTHING. How do you expect me to ignore Google?"

Y/N threw her head back with laughter as Tony and she walked down the hallways of Liberty High, drawing the attention of their peers. Taking deep breaths of air to help calm her down, she shook her head and patted her friend on the shoulder, slowing to look at him. "You're possibly the dumbest person I've ever met!"

"But I'm your favourite!" Jeff exclaimed proudly, a smug look plastered across his face.

"Hmm, I dunno about that..." Y/N trailed off, a feigned look of contemplation crosses her features as she rubs her chin, in false deep thought. "I think I like Jensen better."

Jeff stops dead in his tracks as he grasps at his chest, imitating hurt and heartbreak. "How dare you? I'm extremely offended Y/N/N. I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

A smile soon breaks across his face as he slings his arm across her shoulder and chuckles, pulling her close into his side. "You're lucky I love you." He makes kissy faces down towards her, making her face scrunch up in insincere disgust.

Y/N scoffs and playfully rolls her eyes as she jabs her finger gently into his ribs. "Sure am, dumbass."

They proceed to make their way their way out of the school and towards Jeff's car in the parking lot continuing to softly chuckle at the exchange when Y/N perks up, hearing the familiar roaring, boisterous laugh and an airy, girlish giggle carry through the air, making her fall behind Jeff and look around to find the owner.

Jeff noticed the sudden absence of his friend next to him and turns back towards her noticing she's staring of to the side, a mixture of sadness, longing and anger across her features. He takes note of the direction she's looking in and turns his attention to find the source of Y/N's rapid change in mood and behaviour. Once he laid his eyes upon the couple several parking spaces away, laughing loudly together with numerous jocks on either side of them, showing an excessive amount of PDA, Jeff understood immediately and swiftly moved to collect Y/N.

Once reaching his sullen friend, he wrapped his arm around her securely, pulling her along to his car to get in and flee from the scene that was playing out in front of them. Y/N hadn't even realised she was crying until Jeff reached a hand up to her face to wipe away fallen tears soaking the skin of her cheek in salty streams. He smoothed her hair down at the back of her head as he whispered words of comfort to her, in hopes of calming her down.

Finally buckled up within the confined of the vehicle, Y/N releases a long, shaky sign as her eyes screw shut tightly, trying to control her breathing and not break down into sobs.

"Fuck Justin, okay? He's not worth it." Jeff tries to improve his friends glum spirit. "Hey, wanna sleepover? We haven't had one in forever and I really do need to catch up with The Punisher. Plus, I think we both could do with not giving a shit what we eat right now." He throws her a mischievous grin.

She gives him a small smile and nods her head softly, not trusting her voice at that current moment.

Giving her a one last glance from the edge of his peripheral vision, he turned on the engine and left the schools premises. _______________

With Y/N's parents away for the weekend, the house is empty and quiet, perfect for using the living room for their marathon. After unlocking her front door, Jeff hastily speeds past her and places the bags full of junk food on to the coffee table before sprinting upstairs, readying his arms for the mountain of pillows and blankets he will soon wrestle with to get downstairs.

Y/N watches in slight amusement at her best friend preparing anything and everything needed to comfort her and make her happy. She smiles softly as she kicks her shoes off before lazily making her way up to her bedroom to get changed into her warm and inviting sleepwear, which includes one of the many sweatshirts she's stolen from her frantic friend who's still setting everything up.

She's always adored Jeff, quite frankly was in love with him for the longest time, but as he got his first load of girlfriends in high school, she became disheartened and locked away all hope she could possibly have. She could never believe someone as amazing as Jeff could reciprocate her feelings. plus, she never wanted to endanger her friendship with Jeff, she would break if he was no longer in her life, discouraging her further from admitting her feeling to the baseball player.

When Justin came along one day and asked her out on a date to the movies, she was quite shocked but extremely thankful in a way as she could use the distraction to take her mind away from Jeff. The date went well and soon, multiple others occurred, leading to the two to finally become a couple.

Y/N genuinely fell for the boy and she thought he fell just as hard for her but those thoughts soon diminished once she had witnessed her now ex-boyfriend make out with Jessica Davis, one of the cheerleaders at Liberty, 3 weeks ago. Y/N and Jess weren't best friends of anything but they were civil enough to be considered acquaintances who occasionally hung around the same people.

She had voiced concerns to Justin himself about his friendliness towards the girl but he always dismissed it and said that he loved her and only her. Oh, how right she was to have her doubts.

Justin Foley had well and truly broken the poor girl.

'Was I not good enough?'.....'Am I not pretty enough?'.....'Did I bore him?'.....'What does Jessica have that I don't?'.....'Didn't I show him how much I love him enough?'.....

'Did he ever love me?'.....

She luckily had Jeff who was always there for her. He had shut down every doubt and nasty, self-deprecating thought that damaged her confidence and self-esteem. He would go to the ends of the Earth just to see her happy, even if he was miserable for the rest of his life.

When Y/N and Justin started dating, Jeff was absolutely devastated. He felt heartbroken but it all felt bittersweet when he realised how happy Justin was making his precious Y/N. He wanted time and time again for it to be him to be making her so happy and full of joy, but he never had the gall to state how her felt as he too was scared of ruining what they had.

And with that, he would suffer the consequences of his lack of courage and be subjected to watch his one true soulmate be with him.

"Will you bloody calm down Jeff! I'm getting exhausted just from fucking watching you!"

He exhales a chuckle as he makes his last trip consisting of covers down the stairs. "I just wanna get to eating and cuddling with my favourite." He grinned at her whilst sending her a cheeky wink.

She looked down as she felt her face flush with colour, tinging the tips of her ears and full cheeks pink. "Shut up." She mumbled quietly in reply, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards, forming a small smile to grace her features.

He smiles at her, eyes filled with adoration, absorbing the breath taking sight of his best friend that he was completely and utterly in love with. "I'm gonna go change. I'm pretty sure you left some sweatpants here from last time. I could find them and bring them down for you after I'm done, if you like."

"Yeah, sure." He gave her another small smile and a chaste kiss on the forehead before heading downstairs.

Her blush intensified as he left from the small display of affection. She walked leisurely into her room, quickly finding her sleepwear and stripping of her day clothes. As she changes, she looks over towards her once fully made bed to now see nothing but a mattress, noting the lack of pillows and covers. She releases a breathy giggle, imagining what she ever did right to deserve someone as amazing, kind, caring and special as Jeff.

Y/N's smile started to widen once her thoughts drifted back to Jeff, with his stupid, perfect face. She quickly shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts and finished slipping into her more comfortable clothing.

She dug through her draws, soon finding a pair of darkish grey sweatpants and a navy t-shirt. Collecting them into her arms, she flounces down the stairs to be met with a lounging Jeff surrounded by food, blankets and enough pillows to fill a warehouse. She lets out a snort causing Jeff's attention to be instantly directed towards the girl and a wide yet playful grin to cross his face. "Took you long enough."

"Ha ha." Y/N replies in a sarcastic tone then proceeds to throw the clothing towards the sluggish lounger taking up the couch.

A quiet ‘oof‘ escaped his lips as the clothing hit the intended target that is his face. He removes the clothing from upon his head and his smile falters for a millisecond before turning into a prideful smirk, taking his bottom lip in-between his pearly whites, raking his eyes over her form. "Nice sweatshirt you got there."

"Shut up. It looks better on me anyways." She playfully retorts back at him to distract him from the item of clothing in question and the painfully obvious blush creeping back on to her cheeks.

"That I can agree on." He stands and smugly struts towards the bathroom to go change. As he walks away, he playfully pinches her hip before speaking again. "Why don't you set up the T.V. ready."

Once he's disappeared around the corner and the door to the bathroom can heard closing, Y/N releases a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Walking towards the couch, fumbling with the ends of the shirt she wears, she sits down and reaches for the remote, readying Netflix and bringing up The Punisher for the marathon to begin.

A mere 2 minutes pass before Jeff returns, clad in his sweats and shirt. He plops himself on top of the couch and impossibly close to Y/N, bringing an arm to rest behind her as he pulls a blanket over with the other. Once fully settled into their mountain of comfort, Jeff finally grabs the T.V. remote and presses play.

"Buckle up baby, it's gonna be a long night."

_______________

Through out each and every episode, Y/N couldn't help but let her mind wander and swim with thoughts, not truly paying attention to whatever Frank Castle is doing on screen.

'Was I really a terrible girlfriend?'...….'Should I be happy it's over?'...….'What's with all of Jeff's playful flirting?'...….'It's totally not flirting, right?'...….'He definitely does not like me like that'...….'Is it too soon to be thinking about Jeff like this?'...….

Y/N was so busy drowning in her own thoughts, she hadn't realised that Jeff has been trying to get her attention for the past few minutes nor that her eyes had glazed over and let slip a few salty tears. What truly broke her out of her revere was the gentle cupping of her cheek in a large, calloused hand wiping said tears with gentle strokes of the thumb.

She looked up through her long, delicate eyelashes and glassy irises to be met with the concerned gaze of Jeff. He had a sad smile on his face as he began to speak. "What's wrong Y/N/N?"

That's all it took for the dam to break and her body was wracked with sobs. Jeff brought her head towards his chest, burying her face into his shirt as he held her tightly, kissing the crown of her hair and cooing softly, telling her it's okay, that he's there and that he isn't leaving.

She bawled up his shirt tightly into her shaky hands, knuckles turning white, as her body trembled next to his. "wh-why wasn't....I-I-I g-good enough...?" Her voice broken, stuttering and hiccupping through her sentence, choking on her gut wrenching sobs and dry lump in her throat.

His heart broke watching the girl he loved look so fragile and in a state of distraught. He feels a knot in his chest tightening, the guilt that feels taking over. 'If only I had told her, she wouldn't have ended up hurt by him'. He takes fault in not having the courage to tell her his feelings before Justin got to her. If he had, she wouldn't have had her heart broken by some asshole who barely treated her right in the first place.

As he beats and berates his self on the inside, he exudes a strong and calming façade, trying to project any form of happiness on to her in the hopes she finds comfort.

"It's him who wasn't good enough. NEVER say you aren't good enough." She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, shaking her head and sniffling. "Th-then why'd he d-do it...?"

"Because he's a fucking asshole who never deserved you. He could never, in a million years, ever treat you how you rightly deserved to be treated. You're absolutely perfect and it kills me when you belittle yourself like that Y/N.

You're so beautiful. I could travel to any and every place on Earth and I could never find anything more beautiful than you. You're smart, kind, caring, compassionate, kinda a dork but there isn't a single thing I would change about you because I have and always will love you for who you are when you're yourself."

By this point, she's looking up at him with wide eyed, cheeks stained with dry tears, lips parted in shock.

He brings his hand up to reattach to her cheek, cupping it gently as he leans forward, resting his forehead against her, noses lightly touching. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N and I wish you could see just how much."

In a surge of confidence and possibly fear, she closes the gap between them and crashes her lips on to his. She tugs at his shirt to bring him impossibly closer as their lips mould together perfectly. They relish on the feeling of their lips against the other.

All too soon, they reluctantly pull away, the need for oxygen too much. Leaning their foreheads back on to one another's, they heavily pant for breath, staring into each others eyes with what only could be described and love, lust, adoration and awe.

"I love you, Jeff." She whispers breathlessly, afraid that if she spoke any louder, all the air will rush out of her lungs, scared the moment would be over and a harsh reality would crash over her.

"I love you, Y/N." Although, as Jeff whispers just as quietly and just as breathless as her, she smiled at the realisation that this could possibly the beginning of something wonderful.

"I think I may be over him." A chuckle rumbles in Jeff's chest.

"I sure hope so, otherwise this is gonna be really fucking awkward and I didn't even need to Google that to know so." She giggles and projects a beaming smile. "I get that you might still need time but, I'd love if you would be my girlfriend and let me take you out on an actual date?" He smiled sheepishly as he asked.

His sheepish smile soon turned into an over ecstatic grin as she nodded her head furiously at him instantly. She stretched her neck up and kissed his cheek gently then settled back into the couch, snuggling into his side. He smiled down towards her and places a sweet, chaste kiss on her hairline before turning his attention back to the television screen, bringing her closer into his embrace.

Words couldn't truly describe their feelings in the moment but as Y/N and Jeff continued to cuddle, watching The Punisher with cheek splitting grins etched on to their faces, there was a sense of serenity and safety surrounding them. They felt at peace in each others arms.

Happy, content and at peace.

_______________ . . . . . I really hope you like this I mean, it's my third fic so don't expect my ideas or plot to be exceeding your expectations, yanno lmao Any and all constructive criticism is welcomed as always and I really do look forward to hopefully receiving some requests (I may actually know what I'm doing then) If you enjoyed this, please don't forget to press that lil like button as it could really help me out :D

#jeff atkins #jeff atkins x #jeff atkins x reader #justin foley #justin foley x #justin foley x reader #x reader #13rw #13rw fic #13rw fanfiction #13 reasons why #fluff #angst #friends to lovers

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thinkingimmensely · 4 years ago

Text

Like An Open Book XI

Part 1 | Part 10

A/N: Hi! How’s everyone been doing? I think this chapter’s kind of long, not sure if it’s longer than the last one though. Also, I’ve been working on a James Potter x Reader oneshot that’s already over 4k words HAHAHA, I’m nearly done with it (I think), so that’s one thing to look forward to~! uwu

IDK if it’s just me or is tumblr messing up the tags thingy? Because I can’t seem to tag some people. But anyway, if I’m missing anyone or if you want to be added to the taglist, please dm me or comment down below or even send me an ask so I can include you! <3

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

He couldn’t meet your eyes. James Potter had been avoiding you and you were devastated. You were proud of yourself at how well you hid your inner turmoil since no one said anything, until Remus and you were sitting alone outside in the lawn that is.

You sat beneath a tree, shielding yourself from the afternoon sun. The others were busy in a competition on who could throw the gnomes the farthest. Though however tempting it was to join in, you settled for relaxing since you didn’t want to soil James’ good mood. Remus, wanting to get some reading done, opted to join you.

“I’m going home tomorrow.” You told him.

Remus looked at you in surprise, as if you just dropped a bomb. “What?” He closed his book and set it aside, “Why? We’re supposed to spend two weeks here. We have a week left.”

You pulled your legs up to your chest and hugged yourself, “I just... I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” You shrugged; you tried to act nonchalant about it but you knew he could very well see your anxiety behind your orbs.

Remus furrowed his brows, “Why would you ever think that? Y/N, everyone wants you to be here.”

You shook your head, “I don’t think James does.” You mumbled, you didn’t want to but tears still prickled at the edges of your orbs. Remus heard you all the same. “He knows, Rem. He knows and now he can’t even look at me.” Going home to the family who all but ignored you was better than being rejected by the person who used to welcome you with open arms. “It’s been two days and he all but flees whenever I enter the same room as him. He can’t stand it, and I won’t force him to.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Remus was about to stand up but you grabbed his arm and held him down.

“It’s okay.” You told him, giving off a sad smile. Remus looked conflicted but settled down nonetheless. He held your hand fondly and gave it a squeeze in reassurance, which you were grateful for. He let out a deep sigh and opened his book again.

You set down your quill as you folded the piece of parchment and packed it inside an envelope. You sealed it with melted wax and a stamp and handed it to the white barn-owl that perched itself on your windowsill. It was a reply to the Dumbledore’s letter to you; you had written to him immediately after returning to the Potter’s residence two days ago, your hands clammy with nerves, and your ears ringing from everything. You opened his reply once again.

Dear Miss Y/L/N,

It is a surprise to hear of your connection to the recent incident, and I must commend how you and the others fought off the Death Eaters and helped the Aurors, though extremely reckless it was. I believe Voldemort already knows of your identity and would be ever pursuant of his current interest in you. He will try to get you to join him again, and you must stay vigilant. He will not do anything as long as you remain a student of Hogwarts, but I believe it best to relocate your family soon, in case he catches winds about your residence. If you decide to do so, I will, of course, send help.

Take care,

Albus Dumbledore

You rubbed your forehead as you read the letter again, chastising yourself for being so stupid. Dumbledore was right, Voldemort had enough connections to easily know who you were, and you not only put yourself in danger, but now so is your family. They had to move, and you had to leave them to keep them safe. He won’t be able to do anything as long as you still went to Hogwarts, the notion was comforting yet ominous, because what would happen the moment you graduated?

The ministry was abuzz since ten muggles were murdered that night, and more people severely injured. The Muggle Prime Minister struggled to make believable alibis and he couldn’t give out an adequate one was it not for the help of the Minister of Magic. You tapped your fingers on the mahogany desk. You wondered if Severus was able to escape unscathed, but you shook your head at the thought; of course, he would go unscathed, he knew about the attack beforehand after all. You bit your lower lip; he had tried to protect you- you know that now. You may still be able to sway him away from the dark path he seemed all too eager to walk on.

You packed what little you had and zipped your bag close. Now all that was left was to tell the others during dinner. You decided that saying that your mum wanted you home immediately because she heard what had happened at the concert and was concerned for your safety was a good enough excuse.

A knock came from your door and before you could even walk towards it, it creaked open and James came in. He glanced at your packed bag on the bed and turned to look at you, his eyes wide in shock. He took two long strides towards you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” His voice shook as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. His breath tickled but you were utterly confused to be focused on that right now.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I’ve been so stupid, and you didn’t deserve the way I avoided you. I don’t want you to leave, if I had my way, I’d want you to never leave.” He pulled away but still held you by the shoulders. His hazel eyes searched yours for something you didn’t know. “You see- what I’m trying to say is... is that I don’t care if you’re a Legilimens. I don’t care if you know every little thing about me, if you can read my mind this very instant, I don’t care. I will never turn my back on you again, never. I hold you too dearly.” You just noticed how his hands were shaking, you took them from your shoulders and held them.

“James, I-” You were about to say but someone cleared their throat by the doorway which made you all but drop his hands and your gaze immediately.

“Uh- s-sorry to bother, b-but your mum wants to know what you want to have for di-dinner, Prongs.” Peter stammered. Sirius snickered from behind him while Remus tried to hold in his laughter as well.

You flushed a deep shade of red as you turned away from them, hands on your warming cheeks. “Out! All of you!” James had snapped, and the boys went running away in snickers. You turned back to him and found him pretty much in the same state as you were in, flushed cheeks and all that.

He cleared his throat, “So um, please don’t go home... yet...” He added the last word like an afterthought, as if realizing that, yes, you still have a family who might be wondering where you were if you wouldn’t return. You nodded and he grinned at you. “I’ll, um... see you at dinner then?”

“Uh-huh.” You sheepishly replied and he bit his lower lip then turned to go out, leaving the door open.

“So Y/N, will you tell me what every girl at Hogwarts thinks about me next time?” Sirius grinned as all of you laid on top of the roof, watching the stars. It was a clear night, perfect for star gazing, and you took the opportunity to do so.

You let out a dry laugh, “Of course not, Siri. What fun would that be for your conquests?” Sirius and Peter had learned of your ‘gift’ when they were busy eavesdropping earlier, and like Remus had done so long ago, the rest of the Marauders had sworn themselves to secrecy regarding your ability.

Sirius chuckled, twirling his wand between his fingers, “Point taken.”

You stared at the twinkling stars that shone millions of miles away and listened to the voices of your friends. You wished time would stop in this moment. You wished all of you would stay like this forever... young and free; unbothered by the looming war that plagued your lives.

You sat up as reality started sinking in. The screams of people dying too haunting to be forgotten, and the pale face of the Auror who only tried to protect you. You never even knew his name. You felt a warm jacket wrap around you, and you turned to see James beside you, a soft smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You murmured. The others continued on their conversation while James adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“I remember it too.” He told you as he ruffled his hair. You cast him a questioning gaze, prompting him to elaborate; “The concert, I mean. Sometimes I still hear the screams and see the flashes of green when I close my eyes.”

You held his hand and gave it a small squeeze which made him smile. “I reckon the five of us will carry this memory for the rest of our lives.” You pointed out sadly.

He nodded, “True. But I feel a little better knowing that you guys will be with me through it.” He told you and you could feel your heart move by the sincerity of his words that tears prickled at the corner of your eyes.

You wouldn’t be dealing with all these emotions alone, not anymore, and that very notion comforted you greatly. You scooted closer to James and leaned your head on his shoulder, and he instantly wrapped an arm around you. You sighed in content, because at this very moment, all was well. “That reminds me,” You started, “You never told me why you were avoiding me so adamantly.” You turned to look up at him, backtracking when he was already looking at you, your faces inches away from each other. You recoiled and he dropped his hand from your shoulder, a deep red penetrating his features.

He cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you someday. Promise you won’t search for the answer yourself?” Tapping his head with his index finger.

You laughed, “I’ll try.”

The rest of the summer had passed by rather uneventfully as you returned home a couple days later. You had set up some enchantments on your home the moment you arrived with the help of Professor Flitwick, who arrived a few moments after you. He thought you the charms and reinforced them for better durability.

Your mother had invited him for tea, but he politely refused, saying that he must visit other households and left in a hurry. Your family, except your youngest sister, looked at him rather curiously and you were glad they didn’t voice out their apparent discomfort. They had also watched you and your professor in awe from the living room window as you casted the spells.

Now you sat on a chair by the dinner table as your mother rubbed her temples and your step-father tried to take in everything you just said; you had explained to them why there was a need to enchant your home.

“So... you’re saying that... that a lunatic is out there causing havoc?” You step-father asked hesitantly.

“Well he’s not just any lunatic, he’s public enemy number one in our world.” You pointed out. “And he’s not just causing any havoc, he’s killing people. Muggles, non-wizard people.” You elaborated once more, “You guys are the very kind of people he’ll be after, and I’m only telling you all these because I want you guys to be safe.” The tea had long gone cold and a tense silence hung in the air. Your two siblings were sent to bed early for you guys to have this conversation, but you weren’t surprised to hear your stepsister eavesdropping at the top of the stairs.

"Y/N, are you sure we’re safe here?” Your mother questioned, gathering her thoughts together. She, at least, understood the gravity of the situation. You knew she liked to read the Daily Prophet when you were done with it, and you were aware she didn’t skip the latest news about the Dark Wizard.

You frowned, letting out a deep sigh, “He wants me to join his cause.” You admitted, and the color of your mother’s face drained. You took her outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze, a gesture that brought tears to her eyes, it had been years since you initiated any sort of physical contact with her. “I won’t join him; I assure you that.” You swore. “Dumbledore is certain he won’t come looking for me until I graduate. By then I’ll be out of this house and the lot of you will be moving somewhere far from here.”

Realization dawned on their faces, “You’re leaving? Why? Wouldn’t it be safer if you went with us?”

You shook your head, choosing not to answer.

I have gathered a group of people who are willing to oppose the Dark Lord himself and thwart his plans, Miss Y/L/N, and I am formally extending an invitation for you to be part of that said group. It will be dangerous and it will require courage, you will not only be part of the heart of the war, your life will be on the line and your skills will no doubt be put to the test time and time again. But this will all be for the greater good, so I prompt you to at least consider it.

“Y/N?”

Your thoughts broken, you looked at the both of them who shared a look of concern at your lack of reply. “It’ll be better this way. This will all be for the greater good.”

You left the dinner table at that, and sought solace in your bedroom, glad that your step-sister had retreated to her own room just as you finished your conversation. You locked your door and got your potions textbook and cauldron out of your trunk. You searched the table of contents and smirked bitterly as you found the page you were looking for:

Chapter 16: Memory Potion . . . . . . . . . . . . 394

“Y/N!” Lily yelled as she run to you and wrapped her arms around you, “I missed you!” The two of you reunited at King’s Cross Station, the Hogwarts Express right in front of you, smoke bellowing, getting ready for the journey to Hogwarts. Chatter rang out the entire station as friends reunited after without seeing each other for the entire summer.

You chortled and returned the hug, “It’s so good to see you again Lily.”

“What, no hug for me?”

The two of you broke the hug to look at the messy-haired boy smirk at the both of you. Lily rolled her emerald orbs heavenward, “Sod off, Potter.”

James chuckled at her, “Feisty as ever I see.” He then turned to you and smiled, “Y/N.”

You nodded at him, “James.” It has been three weeks since you last saw him and it feels like it’s been forever.

Lily eyed the both of you, her eyes wide as if formulating something. She instantly grabbed you and pulled you away as Sirius called out to the three of you, much to the confusion of the boys. “Did something happen between the both of you?” She interrogated.

You furrowed your brows, “What?”

She giggled excitedly, “You and James I mean!” She whispered-yelled. “Is there something going on that I should know about?!”

“Um, I don’t think so?” You denied, because really, there wasn’t, wasn’t there?

She pulled you further away, “I saw the way you two looked at each other! If there’s something going on between the both of you, I’m all in for it!”

“Lily didn’t you call him an arrogant toerag before?” You raised a brow at her.

“Oh please, that was before we all got to become friends!” She turned to look at the boys, Remus and Peter had already arrived and the four of them were talking animatedly with each other as if they haven’t seen each other for years. “I’m just saying, I think the both of you make a fine pair now that I see you guys again. It’s like a spell had been cast during summer break that changed everyone’s demeanor.”

Ah that was right, Lily didn’t know what happened yet. You had avoided writing to her about what happened since you didn’t want to worry her, and also you didn’t want to relive the memories. Your expression may have changed since Lily went from excited to concerned in an instant, “What is it? What’s wrong?” She questioned.

“I need to tell you something...” You trailed off but before you could go into your story-telling, the train chimed out. It was time to go.

The boys headed your way, “Ladies,” James uttered and grabbed your trunk from your hands. You tried to get it back from him but it was futile, which only made Lily cast you another knowing smirk. You frowned at her in reply.

“We have to go to the Prefects compartment.” Lily informed you as she and Remus stopped midway.

“Oh, right. Sure.” You nodded, “I’ll talk to you later then?”

The redhead smiled at you, “Of course.” They then walked off towards the other end of the train while you, Peter, Sirius, and James easily found an empty compartment and went inside. You stood by the doorway while the boys placed the trunks up, and entered when they were done.

James took his seat beside you while Sirius and Peter sat on the opposite side. The train took off a few minutes later, and you leaned your head on the window glass, looking at the vast terrain. The boys chatted on, paying no heed to your lack of input to their conversation.

The cart lady soon did her rounds around the train, and James and Peter got up to buy some sweets. Sirius nudged you with his foot and you shot him a look, “What?”

He chuckled, “Nothing. It’s just- you're real quiet today. Is everything all right?”

“Of course. I... I just have a lot on my mind right now.” You confessed.

Sirius gave you a sad smile. “Well, don’t get consumed by those thoughts. We’re here for you aright?” He pulled the sleeves of his sweater.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

You folded your hands together in your laps, glancing outside where the others were still busy picking the sweets they want. “We both know you’re more troubled than I am. Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius stopped pulling his sleeves instantly, “I almost forgot you’re a Legilimens.” He chortled lowly, but it held no actual mirth. “I was disowned, kicked out of the house- with all that burning of my picture in the family tree.” He shook his head as if he found it absolutely ridiculous, “I think Bella told them about our little encounter during the concert incident and that flipped them how I could stand against the Dark Lord himself and their cause. So now I live with James apparently. It’s fine though, if anything, I’m glad to be rid of all that pureblood supremacy nonsense.”

You frowned deeply; his pureblood fanatic family was not foreign to you. You knew, since before, that Sirius suffered immensely in his household, and it made your family life all the much better. “You’re worried about your brother?” You surmised.

He nodded slowly, “They’re poisoning his mind, they are. He’s my little brother and I couldn’t even protect him. I can’t stop him from walking down that path...”

Your heart ached from the familiarity, you leaned back on your seat, “Well... all we can do is not give up now.” You told him, and he understood. He understood that the both of you were in a similar boat, and that made him smile genuinely and nod. You were thankful about the fact that he didn’t even comment about how he knew you were talking about Severus. You knew they weren’t on the best terms but you were worried he might convince you to forget about that snake. That he wasn’t worth it.

James and Peter came back with their hands full with sweet treats and they set it down on the cushions. “Take anything you want.” James told you and you looked through the candies and chocolates. You took a cauldron cake, thanking him.

Halfway before arriving to Hogwarts, you all started to change into your robes. You had to leave the compartment to change at the comfort room all the way down the train hallway while the boys had no trouble pulling their sweaters over their heads.

“Wouldn’t mind if you changed here, Y/N.” Sirius wiggled his brows at you but yelped when James threw his robes at him.

“Hi, Y/N.” A girl with ginger hair and warm brown eyes greeted you as you waited in line for your turn to change in the bathroom. “I’m Marlene McKinnon; we share the same dorm?” She introduced herself when you just stared at her.

You shook your head, “Oh sorry, I know who you are, I’m just a little surprised is all. We’ve never really talked before.” She was nervous, she didn’t think she would ever get to talk to you as well.

She chuckled lightly, “We haven’t, haven’t we? I’m sorry about that; but I hope to rectify that, Lily’s friend is our friend of course.” She gestured to the person inside the room who just came out.

“Oh, hi Y/N.” Mary Macdonald greeted, already in her robes, a kind smile on her face.

“You can change first Y/N.” Marlene told you; you thanked her, not wanting to make it awkward.

You closed the door behind you and discarded your sweater. You could faintly hear Marlene and Mary chatting in the other side of the door, it was a good thing they weren’t talking about you. Was it going to be like this from now on? You wondered. Were your housemates going to make pleasant conversation with you just because you were friends with Lily and the Marauders? Somehow the thought of not being ostracized by your own house anymore wasn’t so bad.

You came out after changing and Marlene went in afterwards. You smiled at Mary, in which she returned the gesture and you made your way back to your compartment. You passed by a group of snickering students, and when you turned to glance, you frowned deeply as you took note of their green robes. It was Mulciber and his little gang; their compartment door was slightly open and they passed around the daily prophet. You squinted in disgust and continued on, missing the way Severus looked as you walked away from inside the compartment.

You dragged the door open and found your three friends tossing Fizzing Whizbees at each other and catching it with their mouths. “Does anyone have a copy of today’s Daily Prophet?” You questioned, interrupting their game as you took your seat beside James.

“I might have one.” Peter replied, swallowing the candy, and got up the seats to reach for his trunk.

“Did something happen?” James looked at you in question.

“I don’t know yet.” You answered. Peter fished out the newspaper from his trunk and threw it to you, which you expertly caught. You immediately skimmed through the headlines while the blonde boy closed his trunk and flopped down on his seat.

Sirius and James huddled closer towards you to check the newspaper, and you arrived at the latest news about the Dark Lord. It said that there were three more attacks, all in different locations throughout the country. Your face paled at the list of casualties, the war wasn’t just starting, it was at its height already, you realized.

The atmosphere in the compartment turned grim. Sirius took the newspaper from your hands and crumpled it up and threw it outside the window. “It’s nothing new. People die every day.” He shrugged then took a packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and ripped it open. “Here, Peter, I dare you to eat this.” He handed the boy an earth-colored bean.

You sighed, all of you coped in a different way, you concluded. Though not particularly healthy, denial was one way to go about it. But you weren’t one to talk since the way you stressed about it all the time couldn’t be considered healthy as well.

You felt eyes on you and you turned to see James looking at you. You cocked your head to your side in question and there was a waver in his gaze. He felt hurt; he wanted to know what you were thinking about and it pained him to see you build walls around yourself once more. You turned away from him, guilt creeping onto your conscience.

___________________

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#james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #severus snape x reader #marauders x reader #harry potter fanfiction #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #peter pettigrew #Lily Evans #severus snape #x reader #hogwarts #hp fanfic

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beewolfwrites · 4 years ago

Text

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twelve: And We All Fall Down

I know I say it every time, but thanks for all the support for this fic so far. It means a lot :)

As usual, you can find this fanfic in full on AO3 here.

And if you’re reading this for the first time, hello! This is a Chishiya x OC/female reader fic, and I hope you enjoy!

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That evening, I didn’t leave my room. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Niragi’s face, the glint in his eyes as he turned on me. The image flashed in my brain over and over until I felt sick. He would try to kill me out of revenge. That was a fact. And that night, I drifted in and out of sleep, trying to stay awake just in case he burst through the door to finish what he started.

But he never did.

And then there was the marks he’d left. When I looked in the bathroom mirror, I flinched back, seeing another girl’s face. The skin of my neck was purple and red, like splotched lily pads of bites, marks and bruises. My cheek was blue and cut from the way he’d backhanded me, and my ankle wasn’t much better.

If I left my room, people would stare. They would know. Some of them had seen me being dragged into Niragi’s room.

As the alcohol wore off, it became easier to realise how stupid I had been to get drunk enough that I could barely form proper sentences. The way he’d been pretending to listen… how he’d kept refilling my glass… even how he’d licked my cheek right before he had pulled me away from the bar. The scared faces in the hallways, they knew what was going to happen.

They pitied me.

And now, if I left my room, they would know.

The morning after the incident, I stayed holed up in my little cave, drinking water from the bathroom tap in a poor attempt at curing the intense hangover that was turning my mind into slush.

I didn’t have any knives or items I could use as a weapon, but I did manage to find a screwdriver that somebody had left in a drawer. It wasn’t exactly much protection against a rifle, but it was all I had.

But this wouldn’t last. I would have to face them eventually; my visa was due to expire. For now though, I passed the time by translating what I could of The Metamorphosis. The kanji seemed simple enough, but some of the clunky phrasing threw me off.

‘“気がかりな夢. That must mean anxious dreams.’ I followed the kanji closely with my fingertip. ‘But where’s the bit about the cockroach?’

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

I held my breath, clutching my screwdriver until my knuckles turned white.

There was another knock.

Oh god, this is it. I’m going to die.

And then the person called out. ‘It’s Kuina!’

The relief I felt was a cool breeze, washing over me. ‘Come in.’

The door opened and Kuina entered. She took a seat on the end of the bed, but she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she was looking at me in the same way my mother used to at times.

There must’ve been a full minute where neither of us spoke, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject.

Then at last, she said quietly. ‘Apparently Niragi’s been throwing a fit. Someone scratched his face… and I’ve heard some rumours.’

I tried to swallow against the lump in my throat. ‘What did you hear?’

‘People say they saw you drunk, that Niragi took you into his room.’ She paused, tentative. ‘Did he—’

‘No,’ I interrupted. I could feel my upper lip beginning to tremble. ‘I got away before he could. He was going to though. He said it was because of Chishiya. He wanted to… you know, get back at Chishiya. Not that he would care, anyway. We had an argument.’

It was that part that upset me more than I thought it would. The fact that no matter how many times he had helped me or saved my life, he wouldn’t give a damn about what Niragi did to me. If Niragi wanted to get back at him, he’d chosen the wrong method entirely.

‘Ah…’ Kuina tilted her head back. I could feel the questions just threatening to spill from her lips. She wanted to know, but she also didn’t want to ask.

I didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. ‘Can you see anything that mentions a cockroach in here?’ I pointed at the line of text I had been studying.

She seemed visibly confused by the sudden switch in subject, but she still walked across the room to peer at the book. ‘I can’t see anything that mentions a cockroach.’

I raised a brow. ‘That’s hard to believe. The cockroach is the main character.’

Kuina squinted, then nodded. ‘It says “匹の巨大な毒虫” instead’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

‘Giant poisonous insect.’

Snapping the book shoot, I tossed it onto the table. ‘I want words with whoever translated this,’ I said, laughing harder than necessary.

Kuina smiled awkwardly, unsure. I didn’t know what was so funny. There was nothing especially funny about the words. In fact, they were utterly devastating. I was devastated. Then I realised I wasn’t actually laughing at all. Kuina’s arm made its way around my shoulders, as her fingers brushed through my hair comfortingly. She didn’t speak, but just having her there was enough.

‘I’m sorry.’ I wiped at my face with my sleeve. ‘I just, I don’t know what to do. Or even how to react.’

She shrugged. ‘How you’re reacting is fine as it is. There’s no one way of going about it.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, sniffing. I probably looked a sight for sore eyes, and my hangover was still raging. ‘I’m scared of running into him, Niragi, I mean. And Chishiya too, I don’t want to see him.’

How I’d behaved back then was shameful, the way I’d snapped and screamed at him, even though he was stating things I already knew deep down were true. He had been right, but I hadn’t wanted to hear it. Yet despite that, I was still hurt. Right off the bat, he’d dismissed everything I felt, smiling as my anger only grew stronger. He had been in control of the entire conversation, and I’d walked right into his web.

Kuina played with her quit-smoking aide sheepishly. ‘Well, actually, I admit, I didn’t just come down here to see if the rumours were true. I also kind of need to speak to you about something… we both do.’

This was the last thing I wanted. Facing Chishiya again was bad enough after our argument, but now that I was covered in Niragi’s pawprints, it was much, much worse. ‘Kuina, I really don’t want to see him.’

She held up her hands, and bargained, ‘you don’t have to speak to him, or say anything at all. I’ll even talk to him for you. Just hear us out.’

The thought of seeing his smug face again sent dread through me. He’d probably take one look at these bruises and call me pathetic. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thinks, but I really did, even if I didn’t know why. But since it was Kuina who was asking, it was hard to refuse.

‘Fine.’ I nodded stiffly. ‘But I’m not speaking to him.’

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

The rooftop burned under the glare of the sun, the heat radiating through the soles of my shoes. I had to squint, as the brightness clashed with my awful hangover. Standing at the edge, looking down on the patio, Chishiya had his back to us. However, there was something off about his appearance that I couldn’t place at first. Everything about him seemed as normal, except it didn’t. He was wearing the white-grey hoodie that I had painstakingly washed and dried.

Is he trying to taunt me? I wondered.

But the thought flew out of my head as he turned around. When his gaze fell on me, his expression changed. It was one that I had never seen before, as his eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly. It was completely unreadable, and it lasted no more than a few seconds, before he looked away.

He doesn’t look too smug… unless the hoodie’s an apology? I dismissed the idea immediately. I can’t see him doing that.

He kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke. ‘Before you storm off again, there’s something you probably want in on.’

I glanced at Kuina, and she nodded reassuringly.

‘We’re leaving the Beach,’ Chishiya said.

My stomach fell. Was I was hearing this right? He couldn’t leave, neither of them could. It would only end in disaster. And Kuina… she was my only friend here. What would I do without her?

‘Things are getting tense between Hatter and the militant faction.’ He continued. ‘It’s only a matter of time before Hatter dies and this place turns to chaos. That’s why we plan on stealing the cards and leaving before that happens.’

What?

My head spun and Kuina’s hand came to rest on my shoulder, steadying me. ‘It’s a lot to take in,’ she said, ‘but we’re telling you this for a reason. We want your help… and we also want you to come with us.’

‘We’?

I swallowed, my eyes darting to Chishiya. He was finally looking at me. But it was strange. His expression was unusually guarded, suddenly more serious than I had ever seen it before. I couldn’t see any of his usual slyness, nothing to suggest he was telling something other than the truth.

‘We’d be killed immediately,’ I whispered to Kuina. ‘If something goes wrong, they’ll shoot us on the spot.’

She smiled bitterly. ‘With Hatter gone, we’ll be killed anyway.’

‘Niragi approached you before the Two of Spades game, didn’t he?’ Chishiya said. ‘I’m sure it was about me. As was this.’ His catlike gaze brushed over my skin.

He wasn’t wrong. Niragi had his eye on Chishiya, and given the slightest opportunity, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him captured, tortured and eventually shot. And after yesterday, I had a target on my back too.

I have nothing to lose.

‘Okay,’ I said, at last. ‘I’ll go with you. But first you need to let me know what the plan is.’ Stubborn as ever, I directed my words at Kuina. I still wasn’t prepared to deal with Chishiya just yet.

He seemed to notice this as he stepped away from the roof edge and walked to the door. He kept his head down as he passed, avoiding all contact with me. ‘You’ll have to talk her through the details. I’ve got something I need to do.’

And with that, he left us alone on the rooftop.

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

Kuina and I must’ve spent at least an hour up there, sitting and watching the other residents flirt, drink and splash around in the pool below. She walked me through the basis of their plan. It wasn’t complex or particularly detailed. Once Hatter had been murdered, the militants would likely force the other executives to put Aguni in charge, at which point there would be a speech with all the Beach members to announce Hatter’s death. The speech would keep the militant faction distracted, and we’d use the opportunity to break into Hatter’s room and steal the cards from the safe. Chishiya had assured Kuina that he knew what the code was. How he knew was still a mystery.

It would be dangerous, but I wasn’t worried for myself. I was worried for Kuina, and dare I say it, Chishiya too. Even though he made me so mad and so hurt, I didn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him. It was hard to admit, but I actually cared. Perhaps more than I wanted to.

What a shame he doesn’t return the favour, I thought glumly, as I made my way back to my room after parting with Kuina.

The Hunting Season game had only given me a two-day visa, meaning mine was due to expire tonight, and knowing how nervous I was, Kuina had promised me she’d meet me down in the lobby.

Let’s hope I’m not put in a group with Niragi.

When I opened the door to my room, it took me a moment to realise that something was off. The air felt different, like someone had been in here.

And then I saw it. On a chair by the window was a stack of books, and as I approached them, a heaviness inside my heart lifted. The first book was an intermediate Japanese language textbook, seconded by an English-Japanese dictionary. The third was the battered, well-read copy of Wuthering Heights. But that wasn’t all. Tucked beside them on the chair was the Walkman-turned-taser that I had last seen in the Tag game. It had a small post-it note stuck to the top.

“For Niragi, next time.”

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I clutched the taser. With the edge of my sleeve, I wiped away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was crying, whether it was the shock of Niragi’s attack finally catching up to me, or the knowledge that Chishiya actually did care, even if just a little bit. It was a small gesture, his coming into my room and leaving these items, but it meant the world.

Part of me wanted to go and find him, ask him about it, and even thank him. But I didn’t get a chance, as the announcement for the games sounded throughout the hotel.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #aib #chishiya alice in borderland

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pl-panda · 5 years ago

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The vines that bind us - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 || Previous || NEXT

“Yes.” Riddler seethed. “And I really don’t like it when someone uses mine in their ridiculous stories. Now, which of you can tell me where I can find Lila Rossi?”

Some cruel part of Mari wanted to laugh. Leave it to Lila’s lies to get the attention of one of the Rogues of Gotham. And Riddler of all people. That guy had an ego the size of Amusement Mile. He would definitely not take kindly to anyone telling tales about outsmarting him.

The kinder part, which was domineering, worried about her classmates. Edward Nygma was an unpredictable sociopath. Her mother always warned her against him. Gotham underworld could’ve been separated into three categories: Criminals, Goal-oriented, and Madmen. The first ones were usually greedy mobsters and thieves, such as Catwoman, uncle Floyd or Penguin. They were in it for profit or thrill and could easily be reasoned with. Poison Ivy often dealt with criminals when she needed something. The second category were those who had a goal and would stop at nothing to achieve it. Marigold’s mother was one of them, as were uncles Slade and Doctor Fries. The last category contained the worst part of Gotham’s underworld like Joker, Scarecrow, or Riddler, who cared only about carnage and chaos. She was always warned to stay away from them because they had no respect for anyone or anything and she would run at the risk of great harm.

Riddler ordered his people to spread through the room. Mari counted at least two dozen. It was bad. The employees were gathered into smaller groups guarded by three mooks. The guns were ready to fire. She really wished there was at least some flower in a glass. She could feel Tikki shifting under her suit. One look at Adrien told her Plagg was similar. The kwamis were worried for their holders. Chloe was the only one calm. She sat there with crossed legs and did her nails. Her steel nerves were incredible. Or would be if it did not attract Riddler.

“You!” He pointed his cane at the blonde. “Riddle me this. What happens to a small stone when it works ups some courage?”

“Wait. You’re speaking to me?” The girl asked. Riddler was a little baffled, but the cane was still pointing right at her. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!” Chloe stared at the criminal. “If you think I have time to play some stupid trivia game… I mean seriously? Stones are dead. They can’t have courage.”

Mari facepalmed loudly. Leave it to Chloe to try and antagonize a madman with a gun pointed at her.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Wrong answer.” Riddler tried to press some button on the grip, but there was only dull sound. “What in the world?”

“Wait! I… I know where to find Lila Rossi!” Mari shouted, hoping to get Riddler’s attention away from Chloe before he managed to repair the gun. The class started to give her murderous glares. Adrien looked at her curiously.

“Oh! Do tell!” The criminal turned to her. When he hit the cane into the ground there was a loud sound of a gunshot that made everyone jump. The ground was now smoking. “Useless junk!”

“She is still in her office! I can lead you to her if you let my friends go.”

“Ha! Do you think me a fool? As if…”

“A little boulder.” Mari interrupted him.

“Oh. So you are smart. What about this: The person who makes it has no need of it; the person who buys it has no use for it. The person who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?”

“A coffin,” Mari said with a bit of hesitation sneaking into her voice. Why in the world was she trying to save Lila again?

“Good.” Riddler looked at her for a moment. “Fine. I will go with you. But if you try to deceive me…”

“Coffin?” Mari asked with a smile. Riddler frowned so she quickly returned to the scared expression.

The villain motioned for eight of his men to follow him and led Mari to the elevator. She was constantly at the gunpoint. Mari had to think quickly. She could try to lose them at the one fo the office levels or… she knew for certain where to find two living plants in the building. With a shaking hand, she pressed the top button. When Nygma gave her a raised eyebrow she shrugged.

“You must’ve heard about her dating youngest Mr. Wayne.” Mari lied swiftly.

“There was something about it on that cursed blog.” He mumbled.

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

Slowly, the machine went up. The tensions were high and Mari for a moment wondered if revealing her heritage would be enough to scare them. Ultimately, she decided to keep it as an additional shock when they got to the office. She really hoped Mr. Drake would be kind enough to hide under his bulletproof desk and not fire her when he learned who her mother was. Oh well, it’s not like she needed that job too much.

The elevator paused one level below their destination, but the doors did not open and it refused to go higher. Her tablet started to beep. With all the stress, she forgot she had it on her the whole time.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Slowly, she opened the tablet. An icon was blinking at her. When she pressed it, a video of them in the elevator popped up.

A large number of people without authorization in the elevator. Do you approve? Yes No

She pressed yes and the elevator started moving. She should really get some manuals for this thing. When the doors opened, she looked around. It was time for the show. She strode to the doors leading to Mr. Drake’s office. The Riddler and his mooks followed her. She pushed the doors open and immediately screamed.

“Get down!”

Rolling to the side, she pushed her powers to the limit, allowing the plants to seep her energy and grow. Vines shot from the pots and quickly grabbed the guns. Riddler, seething with anger, aimed his cane, but another vine grabbed it and ripped it out of his hand. The three strongest henchmen managed to hold onto their guns and started firing, but Mari was already safe behind the bulletproof desk. Good thing it was mentioned in the notes she inherited from Sarah.

She heard a loud cracking sound and felt that one of the plants just lost their pot. She silently promised it a more comfortable one and thanked for the sacrifice. Her green skin was now in full view. Accidentally, she pressed something on the tablet and now it showed the image from the lobby. She could see that the remaining henchmen were firing at something outside. The muzzles of their guns were flashing. Angry, Mari grabbed one of the drawers and ripped it from the desk. She leaned out from behind her cover and tossed it with full force. The projectile sailed through the air spinning before hitting the middle henchman in the center of his face. He fell down firing the gun all around the place. She could definitely hear something fragile breaking. Oh well. As long as she’s not the one paying…

The vines knocked out all but one henchman who was slowly backing away toward the elevator while firing at whatever plant got close. Riddler was now hanging by his ankles and wildly flailing his hands. The video of the elevator showed he was now there and resting. He thought her friends wouldn’t reach him. How cute!

Mari walked away from her cover and slowly approached the elevator. She heard the fashion disaster grasp when he saw her in her true form, but paid him no mind for now. She only had the vines gag him. The girl pulled the ninjato from its hiding place and smiled. When she pressed the elevator button, the criminal aimed his gun at her. She quickly leaned to the side while hitting the rifle with the palm of her hand. At the same time, she stabbed him in the leg with the sword. While he was screaming in pain she could easily rip the gun from him and then hit him with it, knocking him out.

The bluenette looked at the gun with disgust. Clenching her hand, she crushed the barrel before dropping it on the floor and approaching Riddler. The plants turned him around and restrained his arms.

“You! You tricked me!” He shouted as soon as his mouth was uncovered.

“Yes.” Marigold smiled sweetly. “Is that a problem?”

“You… Oh no no no! That won’t do! I can stand being outsmarted by Batman. I will not be defeated by some schoolgirl with feeble meta-powers playing Poison-Iy look-alike. For a moment I thought you were her.”

“Look-alike?” the girl asked. “I don’t look that… Just because I have green skin I’m suddenly Poison Ivy look-alike?” She shouted at riddler.

“The hair is wrong, but otherwise your face is very similar.”

“What?” Not believing him, Mari walked over to where she left her tablet and looked. True, her face changed a bit. She still had some of her qualities that easily marked her as Marinette, but her face was no longer that round, instead taking a more oval shape. Her nose was now smaller and lips fuller. She really looked more similar to her mother. And yeah, the green skin made it obvious.

“You’re done preening yourself?”

“Sure. Now let’s go back to the fact you attacked my friends and made my first day at work even worse!” Her steel gaze rested on Riddler, who felt very uneasy. The vines squeezed his wrists and ankles a bit.

Gulp! “On second thought, I have nothing against preening. The look is important after all…”

“Said the guy with Hawaiian shirt under a suit.” Mari deadpanned. “I don’t have time for this.” She asked one of the vines to smack him in his head, swiftly knocking the supervillain out. With that out of the way, she walked over to the plants and thanked each of them individually. She gently picked the one with a smashed pot and placed it with the other one.

“Now can you behave for one night? I promise I will get both of you better pots tomorrow.” Mari giggled when both of them hugged her with their leaves. Tikki floated out of her pocket.

“Marigold! I was so worried! They were armed and you were not Ladybug! There would be no cure if something happened!”

“Don’t worry Tikki. I had a plan. Mostly…” She looked around the devastated office and her equally devastated workplace.

“But now your boss will know your secret!”

“You know what?” Mari smiled. “I don’t care. I’m Marigold Isley and this is Gotham, not Paris.”

“But the word will get out!”

“It will anyway since I’m going to search for my mother Tikki.” The girl tried to calm the frantic mini-goddess.

“Fine.” Bug-like spirit huffed before zipping around the room, passing through the head of each and every henchman, ending her trip with Riddler. “There! They will remember how you took them all down with some martial arts.”

“You’re the best Tikki!” Mari hugged her Kwami to her cheek. The mini-god nuzzled affectionately.

Marigold willed the green to disappear from her skin and have the hair return to normal. Eyes were always the hardest, but she got the green under some control. Quickly checking the video feed from the lobby, she saw that there was no more firing, but Police did not yet enter. They must’ve been waiting for the bat.

Looking around, she finally realized that her boss was nowhere to be seen. Strange. She could’ve sworn he was still in his office when she left. While possible that he left shortly after, he would’ve been in the lobby and he wasn’t. The other option was that he went straight to the garage, which was possible. After all, the CEO ought to have some luxurious car. Yeah, that’s probably right.

She pulled her phone and typed 911. Time to get some professional help.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises with a knocked out Riddler and some of his men. If you could please connect me to whoever is leading the negotiations?”

“Madame, this is not a joking matter.” The voice in her phone scolded her.

“Do you believe I’m joking? I’m standing here with a bloodied ninjato and eight men unconscious men plus Edward Nygma who decided to become a fashion disaster since I’ve last seen him.” Marigold answered in a harsher tone. “Today I had one of the most stressful days of my life. First, instead of being an intern I suddenly got hired as a Personal Assistant, then I had to explain to Lex freaking Luthor that I’m not a doormat. If that was not enough, I’m stuck in this job for six! Months! Add to that, because of some mistake in communication Damian Wayne decided to attack me with ninjato. After that Security was really unhelpful. I finish my first day of work only to have Riddler parade into the building just as we were to leave. And I had to improvise because he was about to shoot my friend who, while I love her, needs to learn to shut her mouth sometimes!” Mari shouted, putting all of her frustration and withheld anger into it.

“I’m sorry madame. I will check what I can…”

“You can connect me to whoever leads the police downstairs or I can toss them Riddler from the top of Wayne Tower.” Mari was honestly done. She would do it. Chloe said it herself that it was a tall building.

“Listen here you little…” Whoever she was speaking to was suddenly cut off and she heard a different voice.

“Gordon here. Who’s that.”

“Are you the police officer in charge down there?”

“What you mean down there? I thought we managed to evacuate everyone from the upper floors!”

“Oh. Good. I was worried about how many people he actually held hostage. I’m on the top floor with a knocked out riddler and some of his men. I don’t exactly have anything to tie them up with…”

“How exactly did you end up up there!” The man asked. “Is batman with you?”

“He was about to shoot one of my friends so I lied to him and got him to follow me to the elevator. I used a moment when he was distracted to take him out.”

“Madame. I really hope it’s not some joke.”

“I…” She wanted to speak, but there was some static on the other side of the line

“Miss Dupain-Cheng. This is Batman.” For a moment she was unsure how to answer. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“I need you to try and tie the men you got up there. They will probably regain consciousness soon. Do you have zip-ties or at duct tape in your office?”

“Not that I’m aware. It’s my first day. Oh! I can use their jackets!”

“Do that. Riddler’s men downstairs are unaware of what happened with you. If they get wind of their boss being defeated, we don’t know what will happen.”

“Rodger that.” She proceeded to tie them up until Riddler was the one now having his hands bound by the suit he wore. His were tied with really strong vines. She would not risk anything. “Batman? are you there?” Mari asked to her phone.

“Yes.” Came after a moment. “Are all of them tied?”

“Yes. I used the destroyed plant for Riddler. I thought we could benefit from him still wearing his suit somehow.”

“I sent Robin your way, Miss. He will be coming through the vents. Please try not to attack him on sight.” Batman said in a tired voice. She suspected there was a story behind it, but she was too tired to care. Awkwardly, she took a seat in her chair, which now had several bullet holes but was still mostly comfortable. The waiting was killing her. She was all alone in a room full of downed henchmen.

“Um… So how is your day Batman?” She asked, wanting to break the silence.

“...” There was no answer at first. “It was mostly fine until Nygma showed up.” More silence. “I heard from Nightwing that he would have a hilarious story to tell once he got home. I’m not sure if I should already be worried or not.”

A smile forced its way onto Marigold’s face. She suddenly thought about Batman sitting in the middle of a room with the other members of Batfam running around playing tag. She did it once with Allegra and Claude when their parents had their get-togethers.

A sound in the vent broke her out of reminiscing. She added two more names to the list of people she would have to track now that she was in Gotham. She picked the sword and slowly walked toward the vent. Batman warned her that Robin was coming, but one couldn’t be too cautious.

A boy close to her age appeared. He was wearing a horrendous traffic light suit. At least his cloak was black on the outside and had a hood. The outfit first Robin wore was an even bigger disaster, so there was some progress. Maybe in ten Robins, she would actually be able to not be embarrassed to be seen in their presence.

“Miss. Please don’t point the ninjato at me.” He asked when he stood up.

“Sure. I didn’t want to get any surprises. What now?”

“Police is monitoring the situation downstairs. They wanted to enter with full force, but with so many hostages we’re afraid about casualties.” Robin spoke in a very formal tone. Too formal for her liking.

“I have the monitoring on my tablet.” She walked to the desk and showed him the feed. “I count fourteen hostiles. They are in six groups with two to three guns each.”

“I don’t need a lesson in tactics.” The vigilante got angry.

“And about motive? One of the interns posted a video about another intern helping you guys take Riddler down. He really didn’t like it. I’m plenty certain he came to kill her in a very dramatic way.”

“That… complicates things.” Came Batman’s voice. She forgot he was still on the line.

“Miss. Do you know who is the intern he is after?” The police officer asked.

“Lila Rossi. She is one of my classmates. She is the one that is now surrounded by a crowd of young people comforting her while she is crying crocodile tears.” Mari showed her at the screen to robin. “I got Riddler to come up here under the pretense of leading him to her. The floor would be mostly empty and my boss has a bulletproof desk.”

“Tt. And what exactly was that supposed to achieve?” Robin stared at her.

“Gee! I don’t know. Maybe he would no longer be pointing his gun at my best friend!?” She looked at him. “Not everyone carries Kevlar to work.”

“Robin!” Batman reprimanded him.

“Fine.”

“We can’t give him what he wants, especially after you took him down, Miss,” Gordon spoke. “To be frank, I don’t see it ending any other way than a full-frontal assault. We have snipers in position and SWAT ready. They are only waiting for a green light.” A deep sigh made its way through the line. “I only regret how many lives it will put on the line.”

“What if we got some of them out?” An idea formed in Mari’s head.

“I don’t see it happening unless Riddler gives the command directly,” Gordon said in a solemn voice.

“Leave it to me.” Marigold was determined to save as many people as she could. She was so decking Lila for this situation.

The small girl stormed toward Riddler. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“What… You! You tricked me!”

“Yeah. Get used to it.” She picked her tablet and started recording. “You will give the command to your people to let half of the hostages go.”

“Riddle me…” Before he could finish, Marigold grabbed him by the laps of his jacket and dragged him toward the large window in Mr. Drake’s office. She dropped the criminal, picked the drawer, and smashed it into the window several times. There wasn’t even a scratch on the glass, but the drawer was now chipped in several places. She looked at it and shrugged.

“I’m out of patience today. You can either give the command or I will open the window with your face.”

“Miss! I can’t let…” Robin tried to intervene, but she pointed the drawer at him.

“Shut up. I want this day to end.”

Since Riddler was still silent, she picked him by the scruff and was about to smash him. “Fine! Fine! Fine!” He shouted. “Bring me the walkie-talkie.” He pointed at one lying close.

“Do I look like an idiot to you? Record the message here.”

“As you want.” He leaned closer to the tablet (or as close as she was willing to let him). “Let go of half the hostages.”

Mari stared at him unamused. She dropped him on the ground and walked to where the sword was dropped. After picking it she returned to where the villain was desperately trying to crawl away.

“Miss! Please cease it at once. We do not torture criminals!”

“No. You just pat them on their back and let them go.” She deadpanned and turned to Riddler.

“Really? Oh wow. That’s just cold.” She heard from the phone. A new voice joined Batman and Gordon.

“Wait!” Riddler squeaked. “Let go the number of hostages that would be half of seventy-five if half of five was three!” He shouted very loudly.

Mari nodded and handed the tablet to Robin. He already held a walkie-talkie. After he played the message, there was some ruffle on the other side, but Mari was too tired to care. The girl grabbed her tablet from Robin and opened the feed from the lobby. She saw some confused henchmen before one of them shrugged and started pushing people outside. When Marigold noted that Adrien and Chloe were among those who left the building she let the air out. Only then she realized that she was holding her breath.

“It worked! We got thirty-three out. That’s over half of them.” Gordon shouted ecstatic. “You are a hero miss! Branden! You’ve got your green light!”

The girl had enough. She hanged up and pocketed her phone. Still holding the sword, she walked into the elevator. Mari didn’t press any buttons, but she leaned over the wall and started whistling a lullaby her mother used to sing her when she had a nightmare.

The memory of a soothing voice that carried her to sleep many times allowed her nerves to settle. She could feel adrenaline slowly leaving her body. The tension left her muscles one by one and she slowly slid to the ground.

“Tt. It’s safe to go down.” Robin startled her. She immediately jumped and pointed the sword at him. The boy was clearly unamused by being threatened with a ninjato… again. Mari lowered her weapon and pressed the button that would take them to the lobby.

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

When the doors opened, Mari was quickly tackled by a missile that was a worried Chloe Bourgeoise. “Mari! What were you thinking!?”

“I don’t know… Maybe that you were about to get shot?”

“Oh… right…” That shut Chloe up easily enough.

“Excuse me, Miss Marinette?” An older man in a brown trench coat asked. He had a neatly cut beard and graying hair. “Commissioner Gordon. We spoke on the phone.” He extended a hand

“Ah. Yes. Thank you for trusting me.” Mari nodded and took the offered handshake.

“If not for you, casualties would definitely be higher.”

“Higher…” Mari repeated weakly.

“Oh! Um… Yes. I’m sorry, Miss. Some of our men got shot in the gunfight.”

“Will…”

“There are also… Damn.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“How many?” She could feel her eyes tearing.

“Three civilians and four security guards...”

“Seven…” She gave a barely audible whisper.

“I know this must be hard, but…”

Marigold was no longer listening. She left the building and walked to where the class was gathered.

“I’m telling you! She must be working with that madman. You’ve seen how quickly he trusted her!” Lila was talking loudly.

“Rossi.” The girl said in an emotionless voice. Kim and Ivan wanted to stand in her way like usual, but she pushed through them without breaking a sweat.

“Didn’t you cause enough drama…” Lila never got a chance to end that sentence, because Mari delivered a straight one strong enough to send her flying several feet back before she came crashing down. Blood pouring from her nose.

-----

#maribat #maribat au #Batman #Mother!Ivy #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #miraculous #dc #MLB #mlb x dc

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sara-scribbles · 5 years ago

Text

Emotional

Fandom: Genshin Impact Childe/Lumine Word Count: 1,801 Note: I’ve been playing a lot of this game and I think I’m addicted. I love the characters so I’ll probably write for some. Warning: Not canon (but who cares). Some slight spoiler I guess from the 1.1 update trailer.

---------

The chair was uncomfortable no matter which way she sat. Eventually Lumine gave up trying to find a good position to sit. Standing up, she began to pace the small room. The sole occupant in the bed laid motionless even as her footsteps clicked on the wooden floor.

“Lumine, don’t worry,” Paimon said, trying to reassure her. “The healer said he should be fine with some rest. Chill-day is too tough to die.”

She paused her pacing to study the unconscious man. “He looks...peaceful.” Even though he always had a smile, there was something strained and tense in his face. His eyes didn’t quite light up with emotions whenever she talked with him.

“Paimon thinks it’s because you gave him a good butt kick.” She hovered over his head. “Hopefully he’ll have a nasty headache.”

“Paimon…”

“It’s what he deserves for causing us so much trouble!” she protested, her tiny fists balled up. “Kicking us around like that...hmpf!”

Sighing, Lumine sank back down in the chair. “He had his reasons… Even if we don’t agree with them, Childe had his reasons for what he did.”

“Even though he lied to us?” She floated over to the blond to sit on her shoulder. “You have a big heart, Lumine. Paimon can’t forgive him that easily. He’ll need to spend a mil-no a trillion mora on food for us before he can be forgiven.”

“You just want free meals for life.”

“Hmm...maybe.” Lumine laughed quietly as Paimon fell into deep thought.

---------

His entire body hurt. He could barely feel his fingers as they flexed. Even opening his eyes hurt. Looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, one thought ran through his head.

“Why am I alive?”

After the battle with Lumine, that he had lost, he remembered seeing her sword raised for the last blow. In that moment he couldn’t wait to embrace death. Not because he was sorry for his actions. Not because he nearly destroyed Liyue.

It was because of the look Lumine had given him in that moment. Eyes filled with tears and teeth clenched tightly, she looked utterly devastated. He knew his actions would ruin whatever bond they had formed, but he hadn’t prepared for how it would hurt him so much to see her hurting.

He hadn’t guarded his heart as well as he had thought. Somehow, someway she had slipped through his armor. She had slipped past his defenses and settled in his heart.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Childe slowly and painfully sat up. From the looks for the room, he had been brought to a healer. Perhaps one of the Fatui agents had found him.

However once he turned to his left, he knew it wasn’t one of the Fatui. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair was Lumine. Her elbow was propped up on the arm rest, and her chin rested on her palm. Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, she was fast asleep. Her disheveled appearance told him she had been there for a long time.

Again he was reminded of the look on her face just at the end of the battle. Yet, she hadn’t finished him like he had thought. Instead she had brought him to a healer.

“...Lumine.” He quietly stood up even as his body protested. Leaning down to eye level, he studied her sleeping face. Dark circles lined her eyes. A bit of drool was forming in the corner of her mouth.

Childe wanted to reach out and touch her, but held himself back. He didn’t have the right.

Moving away, he left the room. Thankfully it seemed no one was around as he snuck to the nearest open window.

Just as he was about to climb out, a familiar voice called him. “You’re just gonna sneak out like that, Chill-day,” Paimon demanded.

Floating right behind him, she had her arms crossed as she gave him her sternest look. Chuckling, Childe slipped into an easy smile. “You caught me. Thought I’d leave before causing a scene.”

She huffed. “Well that’s just rude! After Lumine dragged your body all the way here and begged for someone to heal you, you’re just going to leave. Na-uh! You owe us!”

Scratching the back of his head, he searched on his person. “I don’t have any mora on me. But if I go to the bank I c-“

“Paimon doesn’t want your mora!” She stomped her foot in mid-air. “Paimon thought long and hard about what you can do to make it up to us.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side. He was curious to know what the small creature would demand.

“First, apologize to Zhongli, Liyue and me. Second, apologize to Lumine for hurting her. Third, eternal servitude.” She ticked off each request on her fingers.

“Eternal servitude? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Um...fine! Ten years of servitude should be good.” She nodded to herself before glaring at him. “If you can’t do that at least don’t run away until you’ve faced Lumine.”

He sighed deeply as the smile dropped from his face. “I don’t think she wants to see me after everything I did. It’s best if I just leave quietly.”

Paimon was not amused. “Lumine cares a lot about you. She was willing to help you even when you tried to kill us. If you care for her like Paimon thinks you do, then you’ll talk to her.”

For once the small creature sounded mature. Childe shook his head and put one foot out the window. “Let me think about it…”

---------

Lumine woke with a snort. Blinking the sleep from her eyes and wiping the drool from her cheek, she looked around the room. She could hear the birds chirping. The empty bed made her stomach drop.

“He’s gone…” She had hoped that if he did wake, he would stay. At least long enough for her to say goodbye.

Leaving the room, she yawned and stretched. The chair had done a number on her back. “Paimon? What are you doing there?”

She was sitting on the ledge of an open window. “Paimon wanted to get some fresh air and thinks you should too.”

“Mhm…guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll walk around town.” Lumine was trying her best to sound normal. Still the fact Childe had left without a word hurt more than when he hit her with an electro attack.

“Paimon thinks you should go to the beach. The nice salt air is good for you.” She pointed to the beach out the window.

Brows drawing together, Lumine glanced out the window. “The beach? I guess I could go there…”

“Great! Paimon’ll be at Wangshu Inn! Their almond tofu is the best!” Floating up, she gave Lumine a wave before quickly flying out the window.

Taking Paimon’s advice, she went to the beach. The scent of the salt waves did calm her down. Just a day ago, the waters had been dark and foreboding. Everything was now calm as if nothing had happened.

Walking along the shore, she picked up a starconch. Inspecting the blue shell, she was about to toss it back in the water when she spotted a mess of orange hair just a bit further down.

Not believing her eyes, she slowly made her way toward the figure. She started picking up her pace as she got closer. She was all but running by the time she was a few feet away from him.

“Childe!” She collided with him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressing her face against his back, she felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t left just yet.

“You found me…” He sounded tired.

Pulling away, she took a few steps back so she could look at him. He smiled weakly as he met her golden gaze. “I thought you left.”

“I couldn’t leave just yet.” His eyes flickered away from hers.

She looked down at her feet. She was still clutching the starconch tightly in her hand. “Are you feeling better?”

“Why?” he whispered.

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. “Why what?”

“Why do you care? Why did you save me?” Desperation colored his eyes. He reached for her but stopped and let his arms fall to his side. “After everything that happened, you still saved me. Why?”

Licking her suddenly dry lips, Lumine inspected the starconch closely. “I…didn’t want to leave you. A part of me knew you were using me, but that didn’t stop me from caring about you.”

She held up the starconch. “When we first met, you were all smiles, laughter and jokes. But I quickly learned it was all a mask. Behind that mask, I saw someone who was alone. Someone who craved a connection but was afraid to let himself be vulnerable.”

A dry chuckle left his lips. “You really saw all that? I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding as I thought.”

The corner of her lips twitched. “I’m just good at observing people for a long time. It took me a while to figure you out. And even now I’m not completely sure.”

“You’re mostly correct, which is a feat in itself. You’re a smart girl,” he praised.

Her stomach did an odd flip at his compliment. “W-well what are you planning to do now?” She quickly changed the subject.

Childe tilted his head back to stare at the endless blue sky. “I’m not sure. I doubt I’ll be welcomed back to the Fatui after my failure. Punishment seems more like it…”

Inhaling deeply, she held the starconch out to him. “You could come with us. Paimon and I plan to visit the other countries.”

“Are you sure you want me to come with you? I’m kind of a bad guy.” Yet, he took the starconch from her, inspected it, and placed it in his pocket all the while holding eye contact.

Lumine peered up at him. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

He blinked owlishly at her. “...really?”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparked with determination. “I believe you’re not as bad of a person as you want me to think you are. You’ve done some bad things, but it doesn’t mean you can’t make up for them.”

A slow smile formed on his face. He moved with lightning fast reflexes even as his muscles protested. Leaning over her, he tilted her chin up with one hand and pressed his other against the small of her back.

“You’re very naïve, Lumine. If you’re not careful, I just might take advantage of you again,” he murmured, his lips inches from hers. His hold was loose enough that she could push him away.

His eyes that once held no emotions, were swirling with them. Sorrow, happiness, fear, hope all seemed to clash inside him. He was looking for something from her and she knew what it was.

Her hands grasped at the front of his shirt. “I forgive you.” Three simple words. His body relaxed and he closed space between them.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin childe #genshin lumine #chilumi #scenario

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theromanticrationalist · 4 years ago

Text

For All Mankind's season 2 finale was just incredible. In many ways, I have been really impressed by this show and how they have been able to incorporate space exploration into the intimate threads of human history. The Moon, space, leaving the confines of the Earth's atmosphere, exploring the great beyond - all become catalysts for each of the individual characters - representing each of their own struggles. Because, as I believe, reaching out towards the stars ultimately becomes about reaching within the human soul - looking outward, is looking inward, and vice versa. The two are inexplicably entwined, and this show does a pretty good job at showing this.

More fan girl thoughts below the cut. . .

- Gordo & Tracy Stevens

I feel like this is best exemplified in Gordo and Tracy's story. I don't have time to outline it all at the moment, but the Moon becomes the stage upon which their hearts are made bare. It is so rare to see a redemption story, and a redemption story of a marriage no less, showcased with such power. I will forever be blown away by this story. *lays down* - *cries* - *cries a lot*

- Margo & Sergei

UH ... YES PLEASE.

A forbidden Soviet Era romance??? Yes yes yes yes yes. I need this! THANK YOU FOR ALL MANKIND. The both of them are my absolute favorite! Just. Everything about them. How they are the same and how they are able to communicate almost as if they are reading each other's minds, and the way Sergei looks at her, and the way Margo blushes and can't even look at him in the eyes, and just . . . *incoherent fangirl screeching*

I really feel like Margo knows the door that she opened. I hope the writers don't make her dumb in the next season - just some love struck nerd girl. Margo is naïve and lost in her own world sometimes, but she isn't stupid. I feel like after Sergei's call, she was realizing the full ramifications of what she had done and what this could mean for her and Sergei's complicated relationship. (Not to mention her standing with her own government and country!)

So, you know what I want to see?? I want to see Margo and Sergei play the most expertly played game of espionage ever orchestrated! I want to see them give false information to one another, and they'll personally always get offended by it even though they both know this isn't personal at all - they'll twist and turn words, double - triple! - meanings - are they enemies? Are they friends? Are they lovers? Do they even know? Maybe! Maybe not! How can they hope to be anything more when they are serving countries that are always on the brink of World War III? And yet!!!

And always Sergei will have stars in his eyes when he looks at her, whenever she does something impossibly clever, and Margo will always wear his favorite color and be speechless around him whenever he is trying to be charming.

I LOVE THEM. FOR ALL MANKIND YOU GAVE THIS TO ME NOW DON'T RUIN IT FOR ME

And let me just say that once again Margot is basically just me. OF COURSE she would fall for the enemy! Totally on brand. I get you, girl! I get you so hard!

<holding up my fingers like the Ben Wyatt meme> It's about the "it's complicated..."

- Danielle Poole

QUEEN. MY QUEEN. I knew she would come through and pull off the Soyuz mission with flying colors! And Danielle & Stepan have my heart! I knew Stepan wouldn't be able to resist her in the end, and that he would have his little Soviet heart melted in no time! 🥰🥰🥰 That whole moment of them defying their governments and choosing peace and brotherhood was just so beautiful. (I was pretty much an emotional mess the entire finale...) Then the gut punching realization that many American's didn't even get to see the historical moment live on TV because they were in the Fall Out shelters. Uuuuuugh. This show is SO good at building the emotional drama of this unfolding history. It feels so real! But it also feels very much like it could part of the Star Trek universe. They are exploring similar utopian and humanistic themes, and so I think I am going to make it my headcanon that our alternate history is part of the Prime timeline. It's official. I have declared it.

Speaking of Star Trek, though, I was tearing up when Danielle was quoting Star Trek. OF COURSE she is a Trekkie - OF COURSE. She is perfect without flaw. The most precious angel! I just wish she had more screen time this season, but I loved her story this season regardless!

- Thomas Paine

I never got to properly mourn the passing of Paine! I was pretty upset that he died, and just when he was becoming such an awesome character! (HE LOVED SPACE THE ENTIRE TIME OMG MY HEART.) However, I realized he was like the Agent Coulson of this show. That awesome side character with an unusual and unexpected quirky personality whose death becomes a catalyst for the bigger picture! Ellen is doing an incredible job within his place, though, and I love what it is building for her character (even if her story is SO SAD). At any rate, Thomas Paine shall be missed!

- Molly Cobb

Molly Cobb is BOSS. Her heroic moment on the Moon was such an amazing highlight for this season for me. But I am loving how they have taken her character in an unexpected direction, down a harder and more humbling road. It is heartbreaking, but such a deeply human story. Her taking her plane and trying to escape from the Earth's atmosphere was like the most DRAMATIC AF moment (omg this show), but also, I felt that too. I also loved her and Wayne's struggle through what Molly is having to face. They're marriage is so strong - perfectly challenging one another and carrying one another through life. I love them! This is going to be painful watching what Molly will have to go through, though.

- Karen

I do want to say a few more words about this whole debacle. The fact that the writers completely obliterated the Baldwin family is something I will not forgive them for, and it was very poor choice on their part, most especially how it came about. To me, the Baldwins have always been the anchor point of the show, but now they are all just kind of pathetic, as the trust in their marriage is broken (for no reason) and all so that Karen can go "find herself".

Now, it has always been a part of Karen's character arc that she needs to find her own identity. She gave herself to her family, putting herself last, and that isn't a good thing. Although we should be reminded that a woman serving her family as a wife and mother is NOT shameful, and so there was literally no reason for the writers to deconstruct this when it was actually a beautiful thing. Things aren't black and white. Karen can be both proud as a dutiful wife and mother AND have existential dread over her own identity as person. BOTH realities can be true and exist together! You don't need to destroy the one to have the other! It's called N U A N C E. Something American tv writers utterly lack in their writing now a days.

Regardless of all this, though, and the disturbing, messed up nature of Karen's affair with Danny - I am sick and tired of how often shows and movies depict a woman's exploration of identity through her sexuality. I find it to be really offensive. As if liberating a woman's spirit means turning her into a horny sex fiend. Sexuality is but one dimension of a woman's identity, one dimension amongst a thousand. To reduce her down to this basic and crude physical dimension, as if somehow sleeping around, having affairs, masturbating, etc, unlocks her deeper self, is really insulting to women as human beings. Being an independent, confident woman comes from a deeper place of the mind, heart, and spirit that embodies her entire person as a holistic being. We are more than the sum of our parts! Please, writers, for the love of God, stop making us into rutting animals!

Suggestion: American writers, creators, directors, just go read Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. She'll wipe the floor with your pitiful displays of female independence. I have never seen any modern writer even come close to what Bronte was able to to achieve with her masterpiece. She was able to truly showcase the power, dignity, and grace of a woman's spirit flawlessly - showing how freedom and independence does not mean free to do whatever you want with whomever you want defying all traditions, religion, expectations, and principles - but is a state and quality of mind, that even in the most dire and unbearable of circumstances, your spirit remains immutable. A woman's strength is compassion in the face of adversity, serenity in the face of devastation, and strength in the face of oppression. THAT is true womanhood.

#lots of thoughts #my thoughts #for all mankind #this show has taken me to transcendent heights #but also has plummeted me into the deepest lows of disgust #it's going to be like this the whole time isn't it #margo madison #danielle poole #molly cobb

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yuusa · 4 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏𝟎

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟎𝟕𝟏

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟎:

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you adjusted to your surroundings. Your heart leaped out of your chest in panic as you quickly felt around for your journal, luckily it had been placed right by your side and you breathed a sigh of relief. You had been sleeping on a futon in a traditional home, you certainly didn’t remember anything after the race. You clutched onto your head to see a bandage wrapped around it and your knees have also been taken care of. You thought you didn’t sustain any head injuries though, perhaps you just overlooked it when you tripped.

The sliding door opened to reveal Akito and a maid behind him, she was holding a clean batch of clothes and avoiding eye contact with you. Akito came by your side and brushed away some of the strands of hair from your face. He was wearing a much plainer set of clothes, but it was still the same theme, all black.

“Are you feeling alright? You fainted earlier.” He asked, caressing your hair slowly as you looked up at him.

“O-Oh, yes. I’m feeling much better, thank you.” You noticed the lack of windows within this room, it was odd interior design.

“Sorry that you had to stay here, we didn’t know where you lived so the best thing to do was take you to my house. We called in your absence for you at school, it’s already noon.”

You have been sleeping for that long?

“A-Ah, sorry. I think I overstayed my welcome then, I’m sorry for troubling you Akito-san.” As you were going to slip out of the futon, he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind you being here.” He smiled at you.

“O-Oh. . . Thank you, Akito-san. . . B-But you really didn’t have to take care of me. I-is there anything I can do for you?” You asked.

There seemed to be a hidden glint in his eyes as his smile grew, “yeah, let’s go on a date.”

A date?!

Your cheeks burst into a bright shade as you turned away from him, feeling the heat rush towards your face. He was really blunt, it was a bit embarrassing. Unknown to you, "she” was staring at the way your (e/c) eyes flickered across the room when you were shy. Akito was noting every single one of your movements until you nodded in response to his request.

“That’s good, I brought a pair of clothes for you to wear. You can keep them after the date.” He stood up and slid the door closed, “I’ll be waiting for you outside when you finish.”

You turned to the maid who was tasked with changing you as she guided your movements. You wondered if Akito came from a wealthy family, you should ask him for his last name when the date is over.

“Look Haa-san! Chocolates from me!” Shigure held up a blue polka dot bag, filled with the chocolates Tohru bought.

Hatori’s hands were tucked in his pockets, but he still slammed the door shut in front of his face. Shigure cried comedic tears at his rejection but slid the door open slightly, “I’m sorry, they’re from Tohru-kun.”

“Idiot.”

Shigure invited himself into Hatori’s office and sat down on one of the empty chairs near him. His place was a bit messy, with books scattered across the desk with various stacks of paper surrounding him.

“She’s a conscientious girl.”

“That’s an understatement. There’s more for Momicchi and Haa-kun too.” Shigure replied, referring to the bag of chocolates.

“She evidently planned on bringing them here yourself, but I offered to do it! Because guess what? She, Yuki-kun, Kyo-kun, and Kagura are all on a double date today!"

Shigure wrapped his arms around his chest, “I thought Yuki-kun would bring over (Y/n)-kun, but he said she was absent today at school.”

“Shigure.” Hatori pressed his lips together before he spun in his chair to face Shigure, his eyes becoming deathly serious at the mention of your name. “I have some news for you, regarding that girl, (L/n).”

“What is it Haa-san?”

“Akito called me over today to treat her at the Sohma Estate, they are going on a date today.” Shigure’s eyes widened in shock, the tension in the air growing as he stared at him speechless.

You and Akito? Together? Did she call in Hatori to take care of you?

“You can’t be serious, she’s with Akito right now?!”

“When it comes to Akito, I am afraid it’s true.”

Hatori turned to the side, trying to make the news not as heavy to Shigure, “Akito has taken in interest in her.”

Crap, Shigure thought. He gripped onto his hair as he looked down at the floor. This was an unexpected part of Akito. Not once has she taken an interest in anyone outside of the Sohma family, aside from Tohru where the bet has been set in place. When exactly did you two meet? What happened? Did Akito call in sick for you?

What was she planning?

“I. . . Yuki-kun is going to be devastated,” Shigure mumbled, unable to form any other words to convey his shock.

“I’m sorry. . . Akito wants to keep this a secret though.”

“Let’s watch this movie.” Akito pointed at the Mogeta advertisement.

You sweatdropped at the sight of the poster. You never really watched television or any sort of movie as a kid, so you didn’t really know what exactly you were looking at. But based on how Akito’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the sight of the movie being shown, you didn’t really have many options to choose from to make him happy.

“Do you like the main character, Akito-san?” You asked.

“I do, I was going to buy one of the stuffed animals during their first showing, but I had gotten sick that day.” He responded before grasping onto your hand, “let’s go, we might lose each other in this crowd.”

He guided you towards the inside of the theatre, the darkness swallowing you both up as he chose the seats for you.

From the outside, Yuki and the others were standing, watching Kagura interact with Kyo on their “double date”. He brushed part of his hair back, his mind still concerned about your well being.

Tohru told him that you went home early by yourself, but last time he checked they were at the other side of town, there would be no way you had gotten home so quickly with your knee. It was made even worse when you hadn’t arrived to school the next day, when he asked the teacher about it, she said your mother called in sick for you.

That’s odd.

He knew you lived alone.

None of this was adding up. He was going to try to visit your house tomorrow to see if you would be home. From the corner of his eye, he could see your figure in a black sweater and pants, your hand intertwined with someone else he found to be very familiar. His eyes widened at the sight of the short-haired friend of your’s and he immediately began running past Kyo and Kagura to the theater, but the time he got there it was already too dark for him to see you. Tohru ran by his side, concern washed over her face.

“Sohma-kun, is something wrong?” She asked.

He pulled on part of his hair as he looked down, feeling disappointed and utterly lost. “No. I’m fine.” He sighed before making his way inside to find their seats. Tohru frowned in response but chose not to speak about it.

You would have never thought that Yuki would be sitting only a few seats ahead of you. You were in the far back of the theater where you had an overhead view of the crowd. As you were going to comment about your seating arrangement, Akito had already turned to you.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head, “n-no, I just thought I saw a friend here.”

“Oh? I see.” He bluntly replied, sounding a bit uninterested in your friends.

You pressed your lips together in a straight line as you stared down at the grey hair in the theater. What was he doing here? You never really took Yuki as someone who would watch a movie like Mogeta but considering the fact that you were here watching it as well meant that perhaps there was more to it. On closer inspection, he was sitting next to Tohru with Kyo and another girl.

Were they on a double date?

You wondered if he and Tohru were really that close.

But. . . It seems as if he is having a nice time opening up to others because of Tohru now. It was a bit obvious the sudden change in the aura when the first time you saw him in middle school and now. It must be nice to feel less lonely. Your eyes narrowed in disappointment and sadness, your stomach-churning at your own thoughts.

You felt a bit jealous.

Jealous that he was able to open up so easily because he has people like Tohru in his life.

You said that maybe the eagle could save the rat from his burdens, but perhaps you were proven wrong. Perhaps he never needed the eagle. Maybe the eagle was a scapegoat to his own duties of being by God’s side.

You couldn’t tell if this was your doubt speaking for you, but no matter what happens between you and Yuki, there would always be a drift between the two of you. It was one that was being pulled together and ripped apart constantly.

Did you really belong in his life? You chewed on the bottom of your lip as you felt your eyes tear up. Was the friendship you had simply your imagination?

He had a lot of people who could give him the same sense of comfort that you tried to give. He could easily replace you with anyone else in his life, he only needed Tohru to make him happy.

Akito reached out to your cheek, bringing it closer to him as you stared into his eyes in the darkened room, only illuminated by the movie playing in the back. Your mind paused as you melted in his touch, the feeling of fuzziness coming back to you.

“You’re crying.” You pulled yourself away from him in shock, trying to cover your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized, sniffling underneath your hand as you turned away from him.

“Don’t apologize, what’s wrong?”

“I. . .” You choked on a sob, trying to keep quiet in the theater while the movie drowned out the noises of your tears. You didn’t know if you could trust Akito fully, but there was something about the look he gave you which made you feel wanted.

“I don’t belong here.” You muttered.

“I don’t feel like I belong with the people I call friends.” You bit the bottom of your lip, feeling your body tremble as you continued to cry next to Akito. “. . . It’s hard when all of them look so happy without me.”

Akito’s slender fingers reached out to pull your hands away from your face, exposing your teary eyes which gave him shivers down his spine. He caressed your cheek softly, giving you a look of empathy and understanding.

Such beautiful eyes.

“It’s okay. You’re worth a lot to me (L/n)-san, I can be your friend.”

Your eyes widened at his proposal, your heart feeling as if it had been touched by him. He brought you closer to a tight hug, the armrest between the two of you being pushed back as he toyed with your strands of hair. You inhaled the soft scent of his clean clothes as you gripped onto his shirt, your tears slipping down your cheeks and soaking his collarbone.

I could be your only one, Akito thought.

After all. You were a Messenger of God.

You were meant to be by God’s side.

VOLUME ONE COMPLETED.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

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shotsbyshae · 6 years ago

Text

Angel on Fire

Warnings: Language, Murder, Little Fluff, Smidge of Smut

Words: 4.2k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You literally fell for Bucky Barnes in 1944, Steve was there when it happened. How is it possible that you’re sitting across from him now in 2012 looking exactly the same?

Song: Angel on Fire by Halsey

A/N: Please do not hold me accountable for any of this lore.

I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be.

1944

It was a celebration.

A small gathering to acknowledge everything The Howling Commando’s had accomplished thus far in sabotaging Hydra’s operations. There was only one reason you were here – him. Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy. You had to admit the newspaper clippings did not do him justice. He looked so young and innocent in his service uniform that night.

Guilt. It echoed through the very depths of your soul.

You had traveled this far though, so you finished your glass of wine, a little liquid courage, and ran your hands along the front of the emerald green chiffon material of your dress to smooth it out. You inhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves before you left the bar and waltzed across the room towards him with sheer confidence. The moment he saw you, his blue eyes widened, and he shifted on his feet. Chest out. Shoulders back. You kept your eyes on him, the corner of your lips turning up in a smirk at how utterly distracted he was by you – it was adorable.

An unseen force slammed into your shoulder, knocked you off balance, and strange hands grabbed at your waist and arm as you fell. The man had managed to catch you in time and pulled you back to your feet. His hand slipped from your waist to lower back as he steadied you against his strong frame.

“Dammit Dugan,” the man who was pushed into you hissed as you instinctively clutched his arm for support.

“Oh shit,” a large, burly man in a bowler hat and red moustache gave you a look of embarrassment as he tipped his hat. “Sorry ma’am.”

“Sorry about that,” the stranger’s hand was still on your lower back and heat radiated from his palm. Your skin prickled where his fingers gripped you ever so slightly through the dress, his hand felt as if it encompassed you wholly. For a moment you were terrified the fire that pulsed through your veins might consume you both. Dark hair and eyes that were blue as the ocean only emphasized the boyish grin on his face. “They’re idiots.”

This feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Lust? Love? One thing was certain, for the first time in a long time you felt safe. You smiled at him because his charm was infectious, “It’s okay.”

“I’m James,” he offered his hand as an introduction and you took it carefully. “My friend’s call me Bucky.”

You had given him your name and as he brushed his lips across your knuckles you knew things would never be the same. Sergeant James Barnes stole your heart that night and saved you from yourself without knowing. He wasn’t who you had come for, but sometimes fate has other plans.

The two of you fell in love hard and fast. The kind of love that absorbs two people so fully that nothing else exists in the entire world except each other. He was your first real love – first real mistake – being in love with Bucky had meant bringing his best friend into your life.

The photo Bucky had carried with him of he and Steve showed the person Rogers was before the war, the shield, the serum – a rail-thin kid from Brooklyn. Bucky had told you stories about having to save him from fights he’d get into and how awkward he was with girls. He’d also tell you how proud he was that Steve had volunteered for that experiment. Bucky wanted you like Steve, because that was important to him – Steve was important to him.

You tried not to like Steve Rogers, you really had. After all, you knew where that road would lead. There was no escaping it though, because Bucky was a brother to him. They were a packaged deal. You didn’t get one without the other. So, Steve had befriended you, against your better judgement.

“Watch out for each other,” you told them.

“Always,” Bucky placed a chaste kiss against your lips before he turned to join Dugan and Morita.

“Will do,” Steve gave a small smile, warm and assuring.

They were just young men – boys – fighting the monsters of the world. Not exactly the same types of monsters you were accustomed to, but monsters nonetheless.

One year felt like forever.

In the middle of a war, you had snuck around to places to you shouldn’t have been, just to spend a few moments with the guy you loved and the one you shouldn’t have met.

It was amazing.

Until it wasn’t.

People die. It’s the curse of being human. That’s one reason you’d never let your guard down before. Bucky Barnes had been worth the momentary lapse in judgement though, Steve too, even though you hated to admit it – he was a good friend.

When you lost them both, you had been devastated, but in your life, you knew you would outlive people.

Lose those you love.

That didn’t make it any easier.

However, with Steve Rogers gone you had nothing left to lose – literally.

2012

You had seen the news – The Avengers had saved New York.

At first you thought it was someone imitating him, just a cheap knock off behind the mask. So, you had come to see for yourself, after all, it’s been over sixty years.

They said he was frozen in the ice.

What is your excuse going to be?

You watch as he sits across the patio from you, a half dozen empty tables between you, sketching away in his notebook. Steve used to do the same thing, all those years ago, always drawing in his spare time. Against your better judgement, you pull your sunglasses lower on your nose, peering over the rim of them to get a better look.

It’s him – it’s really him.

The same golden boy you remember, he’s not aged at all. Your mind is racing and for a moment you just stare at him as a flood of memories wash over you. Your heart stops as his eyes flick up from his drawing and immediately focus on you.

He recognizes you instantly. You’re still as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but that was over sixty years ago. Steve blinks, afraid his eyes are deceiving him. His mind is telling him there’s no way it’s you, but his heart is reminding him that in a world full of aliens and gods – maybe – just maybe the universe could give him this.

A piece of home.

He’s been stumbling through a world that’s not his own. Everything has changed. At least when he puts on the suit, he has a job to do, responsibilities as Captain America.

He’s a hero.

A damn national treasure.

Take away the red, white, and blue, and he’s just Steve Rogers, a man who doesn’t belong here.

This isn’t his time – it isn’t either of your time.

Why are you both here?

The recognition is evident on his features and you quickly push your sunglasses back up on your face as you carefully stand, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It’s too late though, because he’s on his feet, notepad forgotten on the table.

He’s halfway across the patio as you head for the sidewalk, calling out behind you, “Hey.” You don’t stop, but he’s persistent as he chases after you. “Excuse me, miss?”

You pick up the pace, but he doesn’t relent. Images of your smiling face flash through his mind. Bucky’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, the wide smile on his face crinkled the corners of his eyes. He had been happy for his friend, even if there was a tinge of jealousy there. Steve had saw you first that night, but after everything Hydra had done to Bucky – he was the one who needed you.

Rogers has to jog to catch up with you and gently places his hand on your shoulder to stop your escape. For a moment you forget to breath, his touch familiar – yet foreign. You close your eyes as he circles around to get a better look at you. An almost silent whisper falling from his lips, “It is you.” You look up at him slowly, staring into his curious blue eyes as he continues, “How – how are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you remark.

“Long story.”

“Mine’s longer.”

***

Steve tells you about everything, the fight with Schmidt, the tesseract, and crashing the Valkyrie, then about Loki and the battle of New York. You can see a happiness in his eyes when he looks at you, as if no time has passed.

It has though and so much has changed.

“How?” his brows furrow. “How are you here?”

You don’t want him to know the whole truth – not yet. You’ve lost a lot since he’s been away and having him here brings back feelings you’d long since forgotten.

You didn’t think it was possible anymore.

“It’s complicated,” you say before taking a sip of your coffee.

Steve knows you’re holding something back and his hand finds yours on the small patio table between you and he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Tell me.”

He had developed this uncanny ability to ready you like a book during that time together in the war.

Maybe it was from being a third wheel in your relationship with Bucky.

Maybe it was something else.

It had been wrong, and you knew it, but fate be damned. There had been something very pure about Steve Rogers – innocent. In a world full of monsters and demons, he was good and kind, and oblivious to it all.

“I can’t die,” you say simply as if that sums up everything he needs to know, “technically.” He stares at you for a moment, waiting for you to elaborate, but you take another sip of your coffee instead.

Steve raises his eyebrows after a few moments of silence, “I’m going to need more than that.”

“I’m not human,” you finally say, your fingernail anxiously scraping at the chipped paint on the table. “I’m what they call a Phoenix.”

His blue eyes are inquisitive, and you can see the flurry of questions waiting there, “Like the mythical bird?” You nod and he continues with boy like curiosity, “Do you breathe fire?”

“No,” you shake your head with a smirk and hold your hand up, wiggling your fingers. “That comes from these.”

He gives a slow nod as he contemplates another question, “Can you fly?” You give him another shake of your head and he takes a deep breath as he leans back in his chair. “Okay.”

“Okay?” it’s your turn to look surprised. “I just told you I’m not human and you’re just going to roll with it?”

“I fought aliens two months ago,” he gives you a half-smile, “alongside an Asgardian. Weird isn’t so weird anymore.”

Truth be told, as long as you aren’t Loki, he could care less what you are. You’re here. That’s all that matters. Seeing your face brings back the good memories of the war, those small moments in time, which he’d forgotten about.

“You know what we should do,” Steve says suddenly, as a thought crosses his mind. “Let’s go see a movie.” Your brows furrow together in confusion at him, the large smile on his face making him look like a teenager. “Remember? Me, you, and Buck, we used to talk about when the war was over and we got back home, we were going to spend all day at the theater just watching whatever was playing. Eating popcorn.”

“With butter,” you do remember those discussions.

“Loads of butter,” his eyes widen with excitement. “What do you say?”

You just got him back, you’re not ready to let him go just yet, even though you know you should. It’s selfish, and you know that, but you agree, “Deal.”

The two of you spend the rest of the day watching movies and binging on theater popcorn and snacks while reminiscing about the past and how much things have changed. When Steve talks about how everything is different now, you can see a glimpse of that rail-thin kid Bucky had always protected.

You know what it feels like to be lost, and even though you had told yourself you wouldn’t stay – you can’t leave him like this.

He was Bucky’s best friend – your friend.

2013

Just a few months, until he’s more adjusted.

That was the phrase you had started telling yourself in the beginning. Steve had no one and you couldn’t leave him. He needed you and the fact your friendship was able to pick up right where the two of you had left it in 1945 made it easy to stay.

But you shouldn’t be here.

You know it.

Yet, here you are, assisting Captain America and the Avengers in taking down another Hydra facility, this time in D.C. of all places. The fighting, the violence, it’s too much. Fueling the flame inside of you, making you irrational sometimes, but you can’t tell him that. Then you would have to explain everything, and you can’t do that either.

The mission is going according to plan until two Hydra agents get the drop on Barton and you’re the only one to see it. You react without thinking and your right arm juts out towards the two agents, hand igniting in a beautiful combination of red and orange flares. The action immediately causing the two men to burst into flames. Their screams of agony are short-lived as your manipulate the blaze with your hand. It only takes a few moments until nothing is left of the men but a pile of ashes.

Clint raises an eyebrow in concern because you’ve never used your powers like that, then gives you small nod of appreciation for saving his life.

“What the hell was that?” Steve says from behind you, ignoring Tony’s ‘Language Cap’ over the comms.

“Sorry,” your tone almost flippant.

“We’ve talked about that,” he reprimands you, making you feel like a child, which only pisses you off. “Incapacitate only. Killing is a last resort. We don’t do that.”

“You don’t kill people,” the cold look in your eyes is one he’s seen before.

“Neither do you,” Steve voice is still firm, calmer.

Shaking your head, you glare at him, “You don’t fucking know me. There’s a whole world of bad out there Steve. It can’t all be contained. Some of it has to be killed.”

You know you’ve said too much and you storm off. You’re going to have to tell him, but you’re too angry at him right now. You died too many times during the sixty years Steve was frozen in the ice. It’s taken a toll and you know he’s seen it, his blue eyes filling with concern and uncertainty at some of your actions. You aren’t the same carefree soul you were when he and Bucky met you, in fact, you know there’s not much of your soul left at this point.

That was part of being a Phoenix.

You and Steve have talked some on the subject of Phoenixes. He knows you’re a rare species who can control fire with your hands, although he’s not a fan of that. You haven’t mentioned the issue with your soul though, or how he plays a part in your story. There’s no easy way to tell him and you know it will be easier to leave – disappear.

Steve approaches the quinjet seeing everyone on the team except you and glances to Tony his eyes questioning your whereabouts without him saying anything.

“Hey Firestarter,” Tony says over the comms, even though you hate that nickname. “You still inside?”

“Yea,” you respond.

No one expects the explosion that originates from somewhere inside the warehouse and rocks the quinjet, but Steve’s eyes go wide in horror. Tony has to grab him to stop him from running into the flames. Metal arms cling to him tightly, as his world goes up in bright orange and red waves.

You told Steve you couldn’t die – technically. He never asked what technically meant because he was afraid to.

He searches the warehouse himself after the firetrucks leave. Tony and Natasha help, but there’s nothing left.

This is technically.

Later that night, you wake up in the rubble of the warehouse – naked and cold.

You know you’ve stayed too long. You can barely feel any of yourself left inside and it scares you. Feeling completely empty, void of any emotion or empathy. That is a fate worse than death.

It’s time to let him go. He’ll be okay without you. He has Tony and Romanoff now. You should leave while you can, but Steve Rogers is the only friend you’ve ever really had – which in itself is a cruel fucking joke.

***

You rap your knuckles against the wooden door in a rhythmic beat. The hem of the oversized bright yellow t-shirt you’d stolen from the construction worker’s truck brushes against the middle of your thighs, and it reminds you just how numb your body feels from the cold. It had been a long walk from the warehouse to here.

Steve opens the door to the apartment, red-rimmed eyes staring at you in shock. Your face has smudges of ash, sprinkles of it are in your hair, and you smell like the thick smoke of a campfire.

“Have you been crying?” Your tone edging on derisive as you enter the apartment.

“I thought you died,” he replies slowly, before closing the door hard behind you.

“And?” You can’t help the cockiness in your voice, chalk it up to being almost soulless, and you turn to him. “I told you, I couldn’t –”

His mouth is on yours, shutting you up as he pushes you back against the wall. One hand grips your waist firmly while the other tangles in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your mind races because this isn’t supposed to happen – it can’t. You shouldn’t be here.

The muscles in his shoulders flex under your fingers as he tightens his hold on you, pinning you to the wall with his body. Steve’s kiss is punishing and as his tongue slides past your lips, your body arches into him instinctively, overriding your thoughts. His assertiveness makes you forget the reason behind your visit, the warm, wet sensation between your thighs quickly becoming your new motivation.

He presses his forehead against yours as he breaks the kiss for a moment, whispering against your lips, “I thought I lost you.” He has never looked at you like this before, with such longing and desire, and you feel it.

Really feel it.

The small part of you that is left is suddenly overcome with a surge of emotions and feelings.

Joy. Fear. Sympathy. Confusion. Love. All colliding together, twisting and spiraling inside of you like a whirlwind. Making you question yourself, ‘When did I fall in love with him?’

This need you’re feeling.

This ache.

You’ve forgotten what tears feel like as they prick the corners of your eyes and you cup his face gently with your hands, staring up at him. Your golden boy, “I’m here – I’m right here, Steve.”

It would be easier if he fucked you. Cold and hard against the wall of his apartment or with reckless desperation in the shower as water streams around the two of you, but he doesn’t. Steve Rogers makes love to you that night. Forcing you to melt as rough hands trace every curve and line of your body with feather like strokes and tender touches. His mouth both insatiable and intimate with kisses, expressing his feelings for you without words.

It’s raw, intense, and passionate.

You shouldn’t have come back, it’s not fair to him.

But you’re thankful you did.

Because you’ve never felt more alive – the irony of that is not lost on you.

***

The next morning you’re sitting at the kitchen table when Steve comes out of the bedroom and he can immediately see the look on your face. He notices the duffel bag by the door, and it makes his heart stop.

“We need to talk,” you say ominously, and the man slowly moves to sit across from you at the table.

“I don’t like how this looks,” there’s a noticeable tick in his jaw as he keeps his eyes focused on you.

“I didn’t tell you everything – about what I am,” you begin to explain, wrapping your hands around the coffee mug in front of you nervously. “Everytime a Phoenix dies and is reborn, or rises, a part of our soul burns off. It’s an incentive really, to keep you from dying. The more you die, the sooner you become a soulless monster, not caring about anything or anyone. Killing others becomes a second nature to us then, at least while we have a soul, we can keep that part of us in check.” You watch him closely as you speak, making sure he’s understanding everything as you say it.

“So, the two men at the warehouse?”

“Yea,” you nod shamefully. “Phoenixes are immortal, but we are destined to be killed eventually. A final death, one which we don’t rise from. When a Phoenix rises for the first time, there’s a name you’re given. The name of the person who will ultimately be the one to kill you – bring about your final death. Usually a hunter, or someone along those lines. Sometimes, that person may not enter your life for hundreds or thousands of years.” You glance out the window thoughtfully, “You have no idea what it’s like to know the name of the person who will kill you. Live with that for years, but you can’t run from fate.”

Steve sits across from you solemnly as he processes the information you’re sharing, “Can you change it?”

You shake your head. “I wanted to though. I wanted to change my destiny, kill the person whose name I was given before he had a chance to kill me. I found him too, but fate had other plans,” you glance away from him. “She’s cruel that way – fate – destiny or whatever it is that’s written in the stars. None of it would have ever happened if I’d not been trying to change it.”

“Whose name were you given?” he asks quietly.

“Yours,” you say, looking back over to him. “Steve Rogers.”

It looks as if you’ve punched him in the gut. That night, all those years ago, when he saw the prettiest girl at the party walking his way, it was because you had planned on killing him. Because eventually he was supposed to kill you.

“I never wanted to be your friend Steve,” you let the words slip out quietly. “Then Bucky happened, and I let my guard down. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry.”

His mouth goes dry as he shakes his head, “But I wouldn’t –”

“You won’t have a choice Steve,” you reply. “When my soul is gone, that’s it.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as he shakes his head in frustration. “How much is left?” he questions you, his brows furrowing together. “Of your soul?”

“Not enough.”

“There has to be a way we can fix this,” he tries to reason with you.

“No, we can’t,” you look at him hopelessly. “This is it. We both know what’s coming and I need you to promise me, when it happens, you’ll take care it.”

“I can’t do that,” the pain on his face is enough to break your heart.

“You have too. When there’s nothing left of me, I’ll just be a shell. The person you love won’t be here anymore, I’ll be a monster,” you can see the wretched expression on his face as you stand up from the table. “Promise me.” Steve looks out the window as he starts to chew on his bottom lip. You reach down, placing your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently, “Please.”

He glances up at you with glossy blue eyes. He’s broken because of you and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. You shouldn’t have come back.

“I promise,” his words are barely audible.

“I should go,” you say before leaning down to kiss his cheek gently. “I do love you.” The words come out as a whisper against his skin before you stand back up. You make it halfway to the door when you hear the chair scraping across the hardwood floor roughly. Steve is on you by the time you turn around, his hand flying to the side of you neck roughly, pulling you back to him. His lips crash into yours hard and desperate as tears slowly stream down your face.

Sometimes your soulmate isn’t the person you fall madly in love with, sometimes it’s the person you least expect.

A beautiful disaster.

Steve Rogers is your soulmate.

He’s also the man who will have to kill you one day when your soul no longer exists.

The thought of it shatters your heart and you’d give anything if you could take that burden away from him, but fate is cruel.

“I’ll see you around Steve,” you state quietly as you move to grab your duffel bag.

He watches as you open the door to his apartment, his face full of sadness as he says the words firmly, “I hope not.”

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