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vemaro · 10 months ago

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alone again

[PART 3]

This is a link to PART 1 and PART 2.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (female Tav)

Word count: ~2900

Notes: Sorry this took so long! I was just so unhappy with everything I wrote. I redid this part a handful of times. Honestly, I’m still not totally satisfied. Oh well! I finished this at almost 2 am and proofread really quickly before work so hopefully this thing is legible. Ngl, this song helped inspire me a little. I hadn’t heard it in a while and it fit the mood.

Here you go!

…

Tav is convinced she’s dreaming.

For years, she’s sent out letters inviting all of her friends to attend numerous affairs; grand openings, galas, holidays, even a simple meal. Most of the time, at least two of them would show up. Sometimes, if luck is on her side, three will appear at once. Never as many as today. Her and Terrick’s wedding ceremony was the last time she managed to persuade them all to come to the city, but even then Lae’zel was absent.

On occasion someone will pass through the Gate without having been directly invited, like when Astarion, Karlach, and Dammon showed up on her doorstep months prior. Although, that is an extremely rare occurrence. And again, never as many as today. She can’t help but wonder what prompted this mass visitation. Deep down, she knows (hopes) they care, but her intuition tells her this is no mere coincidence.

Despite Tav’s inner turmoil, the banter between her and Astarion comes as easily as it always has. His quips are semi-censored due to Callum’s presence, but other than that, it feels like old times. Well, that and the addition of the umbrella. She lets the nostalgia wrap around her like a warm blanket.

Not fifteen minutes into the journey home, Callum falls asleep. He’s nestled comfortably on her side with his cheek resting on her shoulder. Every few minutes Tav will turn her head away from the conversation to bury her nose in his hair or press a kiss to the crown of his head. Having her son so close helps stave off the negativity and paranoia, but it can only do so much.

Tav licks her lips. She might as well ask him now. Get it over with. “Astarion?”

He hums in reply. “Hm?”

She mentally braces herself. “How long will you be in Baldur’s Gate?”

Astarion keeps his voice nonchalant and his eyes trained on the path ahead. “Oh, you know, darling, just until the end of the month.”

Tav lets his words sink in for five long seconds. Then she gawks up at the vampire. “I’m sorry, did you say until the end of the month?”

He smirks, but still doesn’t look her way. “I did.”

“But—” She counts to herself, lightly tapping her fingers against Callum’s back. Then she counts again because that’s way too many days. Then once more for good measure. After checking, double and triple, she balks. “But that’s more than a tenday.”

He chuckles at her shock. “Yes. I’m aware. We rented our old suite at the Elfsong Tavern until—“

She halts in place. “We?” she parrots, voice bordering on shrill. “Who else is staying?”

Astarion internally smacks himself for the slip. Damn it all. He really needs to learn when to stop talking around the woman. “Don’t tell them I ruined the surprise, darling. The slash happy gith will take pleasure in gutting me if she found out.” She continues to stare up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. The vampire sighs. “All of us are staying for the remainder of the month. Even Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc are supposed to pop in at some point.”

“Everyone will be in the city?” she presses. “Everyone everyone?”

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Yes, everyone everyone.”

The question slips out by accident. “Why?”

Astarion is taken aback and the mood is immediately soured. “What the hells do you mean why?”

Why are they here? What could have possibly brought them all together? Is there a new threat looming over them only she isn’t yet aware of? Is that why Gale suggested they spend the day together, to strategize? Is that why Halsin, Jaheira and Minsc will be joining up? Why are they here? She says none of this out loud. She says nothing at all.

He pulls his arm from her grip and takes a step back, exposing Tav to the sunlight. She winces at the sudden brightness. “You literally invited us. We’re here because you asked us to come.”

But why she wants to ask again. Why is this the one time they all decided to show up? Why now? Why not before? Why today? “I-I know that,” she stutters.

“Do you not want us here?” he accuses.

Her panic from earlier returns tenfold. “What? Of course I want you here!”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

Yes, what is the problem? They’re here, aren’t they? That’s all Tav’s ever wanted. And yet she can’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something’s amiss. “There’s no problem, none at all,” says the druid, but even she can hear the lie as it passes her lips.

A frown forms between his brow. “Really? It feels as though there is.”

“No, I …” Her desperation for answers is being misconstrued for annoyance. What was she supposed to say? If she keeps talking, it’ll only make things worse. “I …”

“You what?” he snaps. “I can go if my presence is such a burden.”

“Don’t!” She instinctively reaches out to grab him, but aborts the movement at the last second. “I’m sorry, Astarion.” And she’s confused and she’s tired and she deeply regrets starting this conversation. “I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful. I am happy you’re here. I just …” She stops right as her voice is about to crack. Tav swallows the lump in her throat and tries again. “I miss you.” The back of her eyes sting. To hide the tears building in the corners, she lowers her gaze down and away.

When he sighs, his entire body softens. All the tension melts again and he’s left feeling guilty for losing his temper. “I miss you as well.”

A sinister voice hisses something wicked in her mind. Does he? If he misses Tav as much as he claims, why not visit more often? A much more cruel voice provides a bittersweet answer; because she did this to him. Because he doesn’t miss her at all. How could he after what she’d done? After condemning him to a life in the shadows. Who is she to shed tears when the fault is her own?

She tries to take a deep breath, to steady herself, but the weight of Callum, the tightness in her throat, and the corset of her dress are making such a task seem nigh impossible. It shudders and breaks, coming out more like a sob. She slaps a hand over her mouth, cursing herself for losing her composure. There are people all around them. If they aren’t already watching, they will if she starts openly sobbing.

A cool hand touches her shoulder. “Tav?” He says her name like it’s the most precious thing in the world. It makes her want to openly sob.

She shrugs off the appendage and turns away. “I’m fine.”

His blood red eyes bore into her back. He wants nothing more than to comfort her somehow, the way she used to comfort him and the rest of their friends, but he can’t bear her rejecting his aid a second time. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m a mess,” she says through choked laughter.

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on, Astarion.” But she can feel a tear trickle down her cheek. “Just go to the tavern. I’ll walk the rest of the way on my own.”

“Hold on—” Without thinking, his hand darts out to prevent a hasty retreat. However, he underestimates her speed, so his hand passes the outline of the darkness enchantment. “Fuck,” he growls when the sun burns his skin.

Tav spins back around, horrified. “Oh no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—I didn’t know you’d—I’m so sorry.” Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? Why couldn’t she just accept things at face value? If she had, he wouldn’t haven’t gotten hurt. It’s her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all—

“We need to leave now.”

Without warning, his hand is on her back, pushing her forward. Tav doesn’t fight it, drowning in remorse for what just transpired. He’s not leading her up the main road anymore. They twist and turn down alleys and side streets until she finds them outside an decrepit building. He makes quick work on the lock, throws open the door, and all but shoves her in first. She hears the door shut and the lock click.

A fresh set of apologies are ready to spew out of her like vomit. “Astarion. I am so—“

He’s quick to cut her off with the swipe of a hand. “Stop. It wasn’t your fault.”

She looks at him as though he’s grown a second head. “Yes, it was. If I hadn’t tried to walk away, you wouldn’t have tried to stop me.”

“I was the one foolish enough to lunge after you in broad daylight,” he argues.

“You only lunged after me because I’m on the verge of tears.” She is no longer on the verge, she is in tears, fucking hells. “So let me apologize properly.”

“Alright then. As an apology, I want a godsdamn explanation for whatever this is.”

She shakes her head. “This is nothing. For the last time, I’m fine.”

He throws the umbrella onto the floor. It clatters onto the dusty floor. “I’d be more likely to believe you if you didn’t have twin tear tracks running down your face.” He closes the distance, leaving a foot of space between them. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She finally lets it explode out of her. “What’s wrong is that you abandoned me like everyone else in my life! And no matter how long you stay, you’re inevitably going to leave again!” Callum stirs in her arms. The little boy’s eyes flutter open and he mumbles something incomprehensible. Astarion backs off, giving Tav room to soothe him until he’s lulled back to sleep. She whispers sweet words of affirmation in his ear and bounces him like she used to when he was a baby.

It takes a few minutes until Callum is sound asleep again. Even then, the silence stretches on a little longer. Tav stands on one side of the room and Astarion stands near the middle, leaning against a ruined cushioned loveseat. They’re eyes are locked, expressions unreadable.

She breaks the silence first. “I miss you. I miss all of my friends. I hate being alone again.”

He cards his finger through his fine, white curls. “No one forced you to stay in Baldur’s Gate or told you to get married.” Most of them tried to convince her not to wed Terrick.

She frowns. “I didn’t have many other options.”

The vampire scoffs at that. “You could’ve left the city and not get married.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere your heart desired.”

“The only place I want to be is with you—” Her cheeks burn with the confession, though it’s hard to distinguish with her face already flushed red from crying. “—or any of our friends.”

He pushes off the back of the chair to stand fully. “Then why didn’t you come with one of us?”

“No one wanted me to go with them.”

“What gave you that idea?”

She suddenly feels embarrassed and needs to look away again. “No one asked.”

One step forward. “I’m pretty sure any of our friends would’ve been thrilled to have you accompany them.”

“Any of our other friends, but not you.”

Another step. “And what gave you that idea?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You know why.”

Two more steps. “Spell it out as if I don’t.”

Robby shuffles in place and adjusts her hold on Callum as a stalling tactic. By now, Astarion is standing right in front of her again. She’s too nervous to meet his eyes. “I’m the reason you’re stuck in the Underdark. It’s my fault you’re responsible for thousands of vampire spawn.” She pauses, debating whether she should say her next words. No, she will. “Stopping the ritual was the right thing to do and I don’t regret it. I would do it again, but … I also recognize you suffered for my decision. Why would you want the person who stuck you in that position around?”

Because he’s madly in love with her and nothing would make him happier than to have her by his side. “My life isn’t precisely as I imagined it would be, and yet I am still content with where I ended up.” As content as he can be without her there. “And you’re right. You would’ve been a reminder for the position I’m in; free and out of Cazador’s control.”

She finally feels brave enough to look into his eyes again. Unfortunately for her, the tears are back with a vengeance. “You don’t hate me, not even a little?”

He gently cups the side of her face and uses his thumb to brush away the fresh tears. She leans into his touch and thank the gods his heart doesn’t function properly or else she would’ve heard it pounding. A small smile finds its way on his lips. “No, not at all.” It’s quite the opposite.

“Then why do I see everyone, at most, twice a year?”

The smile turns wry. “Because we’re shit friends apparently.”

She grabs the wrist on the hand cupping her face. “And why is everyone suddenly so keen on staying in the city for more than two days when that’s never happened before?”

“We were trying to surprise you,” he says.

She gets that cute crinkle in her brow whenever she’s in disbelief. “That’s it?”

He shrugs. “That’s it.”

Tav’s eyes flicker between his, trying to determine if he’s speaking the truth. She so, so badly hopes he is. “You swear?”

He raises his right hand and draws an X on his chest. “Cross my heart, darling.”

And just like that, she relaxes. She releases the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and her shoulders droop. A few more tears leak out as she laughs. “Well, this is humiliating.”

His signature smirk is back in place. “I wont tell if you don’t.” He holds a finger up to his lips and winks. “I’d appreciate it if you pretended to be clueless about our long visit.”

Tav laughs some more. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

She pulls him into a one armed hug to seal the deal. “I’m sorry for being dramatic.”

He should be glad she’s moving past everything that just happened, but it breaks his heart that she’s taking the blame. However, it’s for the best that he leaves it be. “Melodrama is my thing.” He hugs her back. “But I forgive you.”

Being in his embrace feels right, feels safe. Tav pulls him in a little closer. “You know, Callum would love if you came by more often. It doesn’t have to be monthly, but once a season sounds fair.”

“Just Callum, eh?” he teases.

And she’s blushing again. “I wept over how much I missed you. It should go without saying that I also want to see you more often.”

“I could stand to hear you explicitly say—ow!”

Tav leans away and smacks him on the back. “Don’t be an ass, Astarion.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just trying to lighten the mood, Tav dear.” Even with her leaning away, she’s still so close. She’s right there. All he would have to do is lean forward and … “Why, I believe it’s about time we get you home.”

“Yes. Right.” She reluctantly takes a couple steps back. “Don’t forget the, uh …”

The vampire holds back a grimace. “The magical prop that prevents me from burning alive, I know.” He goes and picks up the umbrella with a loud huff. “Let’s try this again.” He saunters over to the door, opens it, and bows lowly. “Lead on.”

Tav comes over and hooks her arm with his. “Okay.”

And they were off.

…

“Why aren’t we killing the bastard again?”

Gale pinches the ridge of his nose. “Because he’s a public figure,” he deadpans.

Astarion matches his expression and rolls his eyes. “So was Gortash and we still killed him.”

“Gortash wasn’t married to our friend.”

The vampire shrugs. “Semantics.”

“Astarion,” Gale hisses.

“What?”

He is well on his way to a migraine. Astarion is a (mostly) trusted friend, but he’s a lot to deal with at best and downright incorrigible at worst. Tav was always the one to steer him in the right direction. “I think we can all agree in our distaste for Tav’s choice in spouse, but it’s a delicate situation.”

“Distaste,” he repeats mockingly. “I fucking hate the man.”

Gale sighs. “I concur.” Astarion opens his mouth, probably to say something smartass, so the wizards beat him to it. “But you agreed to stick with the plan. A plan that I believe will leave Tav and Callum unscathed.”

His eyes snap to the woman he loves across the room. She’s smiling, glowing, as she watches Karlach and Wyll entertain her son. She doesn’t deserve what that monster is doing to her. Terrick doesn’t deserve to continue living. If it was his choice, Astarion would slit the man’s throat and be done with it, but apparently the public needs evidence of his wrong doings. “Fine …”

“Thank you.”

“If he steps one foot out of line though, screw the plan.”

Gale chuckles darkly and pats him on the back. “I know.”

#bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #tavstarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #vemaro

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hephaestiions · 7 months ago

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For the ask game: 3, 9 and 27

3. how do you feel about your current wip?

fondly exasperated. it's a fucking casefic with the most chewy lil premise that's been in the works since 2021 and finally! an attempt is being made to work on it seriously. it's simultaneously so frustrating (because it's still in the early stages where i have to work on set-up and outlines and character premises and all that jazz, while feeling like i've been at this for aeons) and so so exciting because i have been thinking about this for three whole years and boy, oh boy, do i have Thoughts and Feelings.

9. start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

the last fic i posted to ao3 was It's You, which is about 1.2k words. i posted it in 2021, and i have no memory of how long it took, but it was a gift fic on a deadline, and i remember i wrote & edited relatively fast, in a few hours.

the last fic i posted to tumblr was this one for the 'cranes in the sky' prompt which is also about 1.2k words. it took me about 1.5 hours to crank out, around an hour to edit. 2.5 hours total, which for a 1k+ fic isn't too bad according to my personal standards of how much time i have to give to fandom.

i'm a relatively fast writer when it comes to shorter works, there's a specific slice of action/conversation i want to present and all i have to do is put that vivid visuality in my head into some semblance of legibility. if you pick out 1kish of the total length of any of my longer fics, it'll have taken me like... a day or maybe more to churn out.

i've answered 27 here!

send me some more fic writer asks while i procrastinate on my assignments!

#all i want to do is talk about this damn casefic endlessly #i am SO stupidly excited about writing it #baby's first casefic #thank you for the ask!#ask games #geets.txt #lovely anon

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amaya-writes · 3 years ago

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Notes: I wanted some Aizawa comfort fluff so I wrote so Aizawa comfort fluff

Warnings: reader breaks down, Aizawa calls reader kitten (i couldn't think of any other gn nickname that fits him).

Gender-neutral reader, you/your, yours

Aizawa didn't know why he still bothered with the paperwork.

It had only been half an hour since you sat yourself down in his lap, arms and legs wrapped around his back as your head rested on his shoulder to easily stare at the phone cradled in your palms.

The gesture was familiar, one that silently communicated your fatigue and longing for affection but respect for his work space. It was an understanding of sorts the two of you had come to after a year of dating, one that allowed Shota to let you into his workspace, a place so sacred and dear to him for the importance it held, so long as you didn't disrupt it.

It had taken some getting used to and a lot of training to have you remain as complaint as you were now, but the warm touch of affection after a long a day of work and before the next tiring weekday was one Shouta had come to appreciate and dare say look forward to.

"How long?"

The question was muttered against his clothed shoulder, with your lips drawing dangerously close to his as the words were spoken.

By now Shouta had gotten used to the two words, prompting him to reply even as he continued to stare at the same page of homework he had for the past half an hour.

"Ten minutes."

Liar.

Both of you knew Aizawa wouldn't be getting through the pile of 1A homework anytime soon, but as you rolled the word over your tongue, testing out the consequences that would come with it, Aizawa couldn't help but silently dare you to object.

Surprisingly, you chose to relent for once and instead slumped further against his chest, prompting Aizawa to draw his arms closer to one another even as he never dared to return the embrace.

Because returning it would mean you won.

It would mean your determination to have him all to yourself was far greater than his to finish his work on time. It would mean that you could and most certainly would test his limits and trample all over his perfectly created plans for the day just to watch him cave again.

And most importantly, it would mean that the past half an hour spent staring at Kaminari Denki's English homework had been for nothing.

This certainly wasn't the most time Aizawa had spent blankly staring at Denki's work as he contemplated just how stupid his student really was, but it certainly was the most exasperated one.

Because Aizawa couldn't allow himself the luxury of amusing himself with illegible homework when you were so clearly distressed and ready to snap at any moment.

Shouta wasn't daft, he had known something was off the moment you slumped against his chest with a barely legible 'evening' that was cut off by a small sigh. He just chose to ignore the signs with promises of dealing with your sour mood once he was done.

But then you started to switch between scrolling through social media to distract yourself and using one of the calming apps you swore by, letting out one of those tiny little exasperated sighs every time you closed an app just to open another.

Shouta knew you were waiting on him and that your patience was running thin as your bottle of emotions threatened to spill over any second, but he couldn't help but try and convince himself that it was alright. That he could finish Denki's paper and then muse about it as you cuddled the night away.

Aizawa was certain he had things under control, that he could skim over the last paragraph of his student's essay in record time and get to cursing Yamada for his inability to grade all the essays by himself.

Shouta Aizawa was certain everything would be just fine and that this was just another one of your bad days, up until he heard the broken sob that was muffled by his shoulder.

Denki's paper fell onto his desk around the same time your phone slipped through your fingers, but neither of you seemed to care for the discarded objects as your hands automatically found their way to each other, all in an attempt to ease your heart.

"Whoa, kitten, you okay there?"

You didn't bother with a verbal reply, probably too upset to muster the words without bursting into another sob, but the shake of your head against his shoulder was enough for Shouta to finally do what he should have done the second you sat on his lap: comfort you.

He didn't bother with words, for Aizawa was uncertain of what to say or if he should say anything at all considering how serious the situation seemed. The raven-haired hero had dated you long enough to know something had to be seriously wrong for you to breakdown this way, but he also knew now was no time for questions.

So Shouta couldn't help but resort to the only logical course of action; physical affection.

It started small; a reassuring hand on your head, fingers rubbing circles into your back. It was only when you sunk deeper into the embrace and buried your face into his chest as you hid away from the world that Shouta continued.

His actions were common, things people would naturally do when calming down a loved one mixed with actions he knew you craved. Aizawa didn't do anything special, not bothering to try and make you forget as most in his situation would.

Instead, he was reassuring. Reassuring in a way that made you feel motivated to cry more, to bawl your eyes out and sob until your throat hurt as you let it all out and drowned Aizawa in a river of sadness that he would eventually soak up with his unceremonious sunshine.

Shouta didn't make you hide away from your problems or change the subject, he neither forced you to speak nor shut you down. Shouta gave you options, he gave you the choice to do as you please as you sobbed away on his lap so long as you knew that he was there for you.

That no number of awful essays or hero work could pull him away from you and your needs. Because you were his darling kitten, one he was ready to live out storms with.

Perhaps that was why he couldn't help but smile as Shouta felt your hiccupped breaths even out and shaking sobs retreat, being replaced with small snores that had him nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

Sure, Shouta was willing to stick by you through it all, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to see you in pain.

As the raven-haired hero impossibly tightened his arms around your sleeping form and slowly began to follow you into the dreamland, he couldn't help whisper out one last statement, one that hung in the room long after he succumbed to the sweet lulls of slumber.

"I'll always be here for you kitten; sorry I don't show it enough."

#aizawa shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa shōta #aizawa shota x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa fluff #bnha #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa x you #aizawa comfort fluff #shouta x y/n #shouta x you #aizawa #eraserhead #mha

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rekrappeter · 4 years ago

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finding a true love’s kiss

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: you couldn’t stand fred weasley, yet you were best friends with george weasley. it was a strange dynamic until you end up in detention with fred and he reveals a secret he has been hiding for years

warnings: not proofread, written weeks a part, inaccurate Harry Potter vocab probably, shitty ending

notes: this was originally for @lunalovecroft‘s writing challenge but I wrote one part like two months ago but hopefully it’s still legible to some extent. prompt used was “you can hate people and still think they’re hot”

"How long have you and George been friends?" Katie Bell aimed the question at you, diverting your attention from the burgundy rug underneath you to the curious eyes of your roommates anticipating your answer. You were all sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, creating a circle as you delved into the usual Friday night gossip session.

Pondering on the question for a second, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, "since the beginning of time it seems."

"Yet you've never... did it?" The girls squealed around you, clapping their hands in excitement. With wide eyes, you denied the question to no end.

"Did I have sex with George?" You spluttered out, feeling your face flush, "absolutely not."

"Why not?" Angelina pushed, wanting to get more details from you.

"I'll have you know," you started, lifting yourself from the floor and making your way to your own single bed, "myself and George are only friends, that's it."

Angelina eyed Katie as you turned your back to them, stripping from your white buttoned-up shirt and replacing it with a cozy pyjama top. "What about Fred?"

The silence was deafening, no one dared to laugh or squeal this time around. You stared down at the white material dangling from your fingertips, a sickening feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. When you scoffed, the girls’ shoulders loosened and they let out a sigh of relief when you turned to them with an amused smile on your face. "Fred and I can’t even be in the same room together for longer than needs be, never mind long enough for us to... do the deed."

“I don’t know, y/n,” Katie drawled on, standing up and walking over to you, she squeezed your shoulders as she said, “I think it’s all the sexual tension building up.”

Pushing her away from you, you faked gagged in their direction, “You two are crazy.”

“I just don’t understand how you can be best friends with one twin, and hate the other one,” Katie laughed, changing into her own pajamas and climbing on top of her unmade bed. “But we see the way he is around you.”

“Yeah, an ignorant jackass,” you chuckled, flopping down onto the bed.

“More like a boy picking on the girl he has a crush on,” Angelina said.

“Please, don’t make me sick,” you shuffled into your bed, pulling the quilt up to your chin. Angelina switched the lights off, leaving you in complete darkness. You listened to her maneuver in the dark, trying to dodge the mess you all made. Hearing her muffle profanities made you giggle, assuming she walked into something or kicked a lifeless object.

“You know, y/n, you can hate people and still think they’re hot,” you rolled your eyes at Angelina’s words, twisting in your bed and letting out a loud exhale into the pillow.

“Thanks for the words of wisdom, but Fred Weasley is not hot,” your voice was filled with distaste, your lips smacking together loudly to get your point across but you knew it would fall on deaf ears. Your friends never listened when you told them over and over again that you weren’t hiding feelings for Fred, the relationship you had with him will forever be non-existence.

It was safe to say that the conversation from the night before had left a sour taste in your mouth. You were woken from a sweet slumber by the sound of birds chirping through the opened window; normally, you’d groan in annoyance but enjoy the sound. This morning, however, was different. It was as if the birds had clawed their way into your brain and changed a few wires, you climbed out of the bed with the sudden urge to crucify the loud creatures. One look at your face and Angelina was twirling on her heels and made her way out the dorm room, leaving you to your own devices.

Mornings were usually the quietest time of the day for you. You would get up and skip down to breakfast but this morning you couldn’t even work the courage to plaster a fake smile on your face as you entered the Great Hall and your mood remained foul at the sight of Fred Weasley sitting beside his twin brother. Heaving in a sigh, you sat across from George and started piling the breakfast onto your plate.

“Jesus, don’t you look awful this morning,” Fred’s voice echoed through your thoughts.

Snapping your head in the direction, your eyes narrowed, “you really want to start this early?”

“This started a long time ago,” Fred snapped back at you, the smirk on his face making you roll your eyes to the heavens. You ignored him, looking at George who has a pleading expression on his face.

“Don’t even say it,” you mumbled, reaching for the milk and pouring it into the bowl of cereal in front of you.

“There’s no point, I’m sick of saying it,” your best friend said.

You ate silently, listening to the twins bickering and there was something about Fred’s voice that was eating at you. Despite knowing him for years, it was familiar, more familiar than usual. You glanced up from your spoon, unconsciously connecting your gaze with Fred. You shocked yourself by not looking away or flipping him off, and it surprised you when it looked as if he fell into a dream. The longer you looked at him, a warning signal was going off in your head and then something clicked in your brain. All the color drained from your face, fear striking through your body.

“y/n, what’s going on?” George asked, grabbing your hand but you pulled it back and scrambled from the table, walking quickly out of the hall. Everything came flashing back - everything you dreamt about last night.

“You’re being so damn annoying today,” you hissed, pushing Fred away from you as he reached across the table to grab something. It was just you and him in the kitchen of the Burrow, a place you spent numerous holidays but it was quieter than usual.

“You’re annoying every day,” Fred retorted, taking a bite of the red apple. He leaned against the countertop, looking at you flicking through the book in hand. You rolled your eyes, stalking away from him but you could hear his footsteps follow you, “Why do you hate me?”

You looked over your shoulder, brows creasing in confusion, “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Fred repeated.

“I don’t hate you, Fred,” you muttered softly, feeling the air thicken around you. You turned to face him, watching him swallow awkwardly and you could see it in his eyes; he didn’t hate you either. Without another word being uttered, you closed the gap between your bodies and connected your lips to his.

“Fuck,” you muttered angrily, remembering the dream that soon turned into a nightmare. You’ve never dreamt about Fred before, he may have been in the background of some but he was never the main character, he was most definitely never the love interest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks given,” George chuckled, pushing his way past students walking towards The Great Hall, “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, G.”

George raised one brow in the air, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he examined you closely, “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you popped, brushing your hair out of your face and stepping out to the courtyard, “Just remembered a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” You immediately shook your head, earning a laugh from George who nodded understandingly. “Most likely about my brother being a dickhead, aye?”

“Something like that,” you laughed, trying to push the lingering face of Fred to the back of your mind.

The day slowly passed by, your mood gradually getting worse throughout it. Every free second that your mind was preoccupied with studying or maintaining a conversation with someone, it wandered off to the same red-haired that starred in your dream last night. It wasn’t the usual thoughts that you had about Fred that consisted of wanting to punch him in the face or lock him in a broom cabinet. It was worse than that, you found yourself seeking him out and admiring how he twirled his quill between his fingers. The anger that usually washed over you whenever you looked at him was non-existence. It was more of a longing feeling and it terrified you.

You had spent the majority of the day in the library, not wanting to confront George and definitely not being able to be in the presence of Fred. You were slowly making your way back to the common room, trying to procrastinate it as much as possible hence why you took the long route around the castle. What you didn’t expect was to hear an explosion from up ahead and a strangled yell of annoyance but it was enough to put the puzzles together.

Just as you were about to round the corner, a figure stumbled into you and knocked you to the floor. You gripped out for the robes that made you lose your balance and brought them to the ground as well with them landing on top of you. A flash of red-hair made you groan and your eyes connected to Fred’s wide brown ones. It startled you, the image of him kissing you making your stomach nauseous.

“Shit, get up!” Fred exclaimed, jumping from your body and he waited for you but you were still in a shocked daze. He groaned and gripped your robes, pulling you up and running along the corridor with you trailing behind him. “In here,” he demanded, opening the door and pushing you inside with him.

The rough gesture brought you from daydream, realisation kicking in and you pushed Fred away from you. “What the hell?” you yelled, fixing your robes and hair that was a mess but you were consciously aware of them now.

“Shut up,” Fred demanded, covering your mouth with his hand. Your eyes widened again, feeling your heart hammer against your chest at the close proximity of his body to yours. Your eyes darted around his face, his eyes closed as he tried to listen intently to whoever was searching for him. The freckles danced along his nose, similar to how George’s were but with Fred, they were evenly spaced and spontaneous. His eyes lashes were full and long, you envied them. His lips were uneven, his top lip thin and his bottom lip full but they looked so kissable in that moment. When his eyes fluttered open after seconds of silence, your eyes lingered on his for a moment longer. You wondered if he felt the shift in emotion between you, or if it was one-sided. “I think it’s safe.”

You feigned a roll of your eyes and licked the palm of his hand, earning yourself a look of disgust from him. “I don’t even want to know what you did…” you mumbled, glancing around the room he pushed you in; an unused office except it was piled with broken chairs and tables, unopened boxes were on top of each other, some materials spilling from them.

“Of course you don’t, it’d be too much fun for you,” Fred retorted, stepping away from you and stumbling over a box behind him. You laughed loudly, ignoring him flipping you off as you opened the door to the office and stepped outside, only to be met with the peering eyes of Professor McGonagall.

“Professor..” you gasped, trying not to stare too much at the black ashes swept through her hair, “W-what happened to you?”

“Funny you should ask, Miss y/l/n,” her glasses hanging at the end of her nose, “I’m not at all surprised to see you, Mr. Weasley, however, y/n, I do hope that detention tomorrow will give you enough time to think about your actions.”

“P-Professor -,” you stuttered but you were cut off.

“This office looks like it needs a good tidy,” McGonagall peered into the damp and dark office, “It’ll at least keep you both busy on a boring Sunday, without magic.”

You stalked away from Fred when McGonagall excused you, the anger was bubbling inside you and you ignored his chuckles as he followed you back to the common room. “Wait up, y/n.”

You twirled on your heels, getting ready to give this man a piece of your mind when you looked over his shoulder to spot the other twin making his way towards you. A grin was on George’s face until he spotted the two of you, and it deflated just as quickly. “Where did you go?” He asked Fred, shoving his shoulder.

“I bumped into this headwrecker,” Fred pointed towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “McGonagall found us.”

“And we both have detention tomorrow,” you deadpanned, glaring at the twins.

“Oh,” George mumbled.

“Oh? Oh? That’s all you can say,” you sighed in frustration, “Because you two are complete gits, I have to sacrifice a whole Sunday and spend it with this twat.”

“I don’t know which bit she’s more annoyed about,” Fred whispered under his breath to George, but you could hear him clearly. You groaned and marched towards the common room, not seeing George and Fred share a look of amusement.

“I’ll give you one guess,” George laughed, shoving his brother again and following after you.

The dreaded hour of the clock struck and you were leaning against the cold, brick wall with your feet stretched out in front of you. Your eyes were glaring at the locked door of the office you misfortunately got dragged into yesterday evening by your so-called enemy. Your developing feelings for Fred ceased before they even got the chance to blossom into something real. The trouble he caused you left a sour taste in your mouth, a permanent frown on your face.

“Miss y/l/n, good morning,” Professor McGonagall greeted you, her eyes scanning the empty corridor for a certain ginger twin but she sighed and shook her head disappointingly when he was nowhere to be seen. With a quick swift of her wand, the door glides open and you follow her into the room with a heavy exhale. “Please do use these hours wisely, maybe even consider building bridges.”

The frown deepened on your face, first because of what she had implied and then secondly because your eyes danced around the room and it looked even worse than what you remembered. Ignoring her previous implications, you questioned her desire to how tidy she wanted this room. With an echoed laugh, she turned her attention to the door barreling open and Fred slipping through the door, “Ah, Mr Weasley, just when I was starting to get worried.”

You turned your back to Fred, not having the energy to deal with him, and you missed the smile he sent your way. “You know I’d never disappoint you, Professor.” You rolled your eyes at the charm lacing through his tone, distancing yourself as far from him as you could and started stacking tables on top of one another. You grimaced at the layer of dust flying around you and tried to swat it with no success. The sound of Fred chuckling made you glance over your shoulder to see him standing there alone, the door clicking on McGonagall’s way out.

“What?” you snapped.

“What?” Fred mimicked you, sitting down on a random chair. He kicked his feet up on a desk, tilting back in the chair slightly and swinging his arms behind his head.

“So what? You’re not going to do anything?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You got us into this mess.”

“You’ll actually soon realise that if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have got caught.” Raising your brow in his direction, you challenged his statement. “If you weren’t being weird and staying at the library, I wouldn’t have bumped into you and we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

You scoffed, “If you weren’t such a dimwit, we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

“Dimwit, wow,” Fred chuckled, “What age are you, five?”

You stared at him in disbelief, shaking your head and letting out an annoyed sigh, “Just do some fuckin’ work.” You turned on your heels, letting his next sentence fall on deaf ears as you blocked him out. You tried to ignore him as best as you could, the next thirty minutes passing by excruciately slow. It seemed that after five minutes of sitting, Fred got bored of his own company and started stacking chairs and pushing them into the corner with ease.

“Where are you spending the holidays?” Fred asked, breaking the silence.

“Why do you want to know?” you retorted earning a groan from him. You turned your attention to him, watching him lift his navy jumper over his head. Your eyes fell to the exposed area of his abdomen as his t-shirt got caught in the process, you felt yourself becoming flushed and looked away quickly before you got caught. “I’m going to my Grandma’s,” you gave in, finally answering his question.

“I thought Ginny mentioned something about you staying with us.”

“Y-yeah, that was the original plan but I have to go back home,” you mumbled, feeling the sides of your mouth twitch.

“Is everything okay?” Fred asked, he sat on the top of a desk, his legs dangling beneath him. You found yourself closing the gap between your body as the conversation went on, becoming weirdly comfortable with him. This was probably the longest you have ever been in the same room with Fred alone and the hatred that was so often accompanied between you was elsewhere. It felt strange.

You shrugged your shoulders, not knowing what has got into you, why were you opening up to Fred Weasley? “I got a letter from my parents last week, grandma is ill so..”

“That’s understandable,” Fred sighed, his eyes lingering on your features. You avoided his eye contact, feeling the air thicken between you, “Why do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard and he could tell straight away when your eyes snapped to his and your brows creased together, “What?” you choked out.

“Why do you-”

“No, I heard you,” you snapped, running your fingers through your hair, “What made you ask that?”

Fred pouted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he thought of a reasonable explanation as to why he was trying to change the dynamics between you. “Honestly, I don’t know, I just want to know why you hate me so much.”

“Fred, why do you hate me?”

“Because you hate me,” he chuckled. His words made you laugh, shaking your head and when he looked up at you, he couldn’t help himself but start laughing as well and soon enough, you both were laughing together in disbelief.

When the laughing died down, you were standing closer to him with a smile tugging on your lips, “You’re a bit of a twat,” you said.

“And you’re a bit of a princess,” he smirked, his brown eyes sparkling in amusement. It was easy to see the differences between Fred and George; in your eyes, they looked completely different. George’s smirk made you want to cradle his face whereas Fred’s smirk made you want to slap it off his face, with your own lips. The thought awoke you from the daze you were in, panic washing over you to see Fred’s features softening. He let out a shaking breathe before he wrapped his fingers around the material of the checkered shirt you were wearing. The startle movement made you stumble forward, but before you could protest, his lips found yours swiftly. For a split second, you felt yourself float away, to a place where there was none of this back and forward conflict. A place where you could relish in one another's company.

It was a happy place, but that was before your eyes shot open and a loud gasp ceased the moment. You pushed him away, wiping your lips with the sleeve of your shirt. "w-what the bloody hell was that?"

You wanted to smack the smirk off Fred's face, the amusement swirling in his eyes irking every bone in your body. "c'mon, it was bound to happen.."

Any ounce of respect that had developed in the last couple of hours that you gained for Fred completely vanished and he could tell by the way you were gawking at him in shock, “It was never going to happen,” you snapped. You stepped away from him, shaking your head.

“y/n, it’s all too expected,” Fred tried to defend him, sitting up from the table he was leaning on, “in all those movies and tv shows you watch, the two that hate each other the most usually fall in-”

“They’re movies, Weasley!” you shrieked, the walls shaking with the tone, “They’re fantasy, they’re… they’re not real life.”

“Why can’t they be?” Fred wondered aloud.

It took you a moment to process his question, your eyes shifting to look at him finally. You watched him gulped, his bottom lip sucked under his teeth, and it all fell into place. The vulnerable look on his face, the pleading in his eyes, made you soften slightly, your heart hammering against your chest. “D-don’t tell me you love me,” you whispered.

Fred’s shoulders lost all the tension they held, drooping down along with the frown on his face that gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“Fred,” you breathed out, “This is bizarre.”

“You’re acting as if I had a bloody choice in the matter,” Fred hissed, his long fingers running through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Of course you do!”

“No, no I didn’t,” Fred stalked up to you, his body towering over you but he wasn’t angry or annoyed, he was desperate, “I woke up one morning and had these sudden feelings for you, but do you understand how hard it was for me when you couldn’t even be in the same room as me?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, but common sense made you see it was a rhetorical question, so you closed it and only stared up at him with wide eyes. There was nothing you could say in this moment to make it better or to make any sense of it. “When?” was all you asked.

“Christmas,” he answered honestly, making your brows cease together, “three years ago.”

“Three years?” you gasped, “Why did you act like you hated me?”

Fred sighed, creating space between your bodies again, “I thought the more I pretended to hate you, eventually my heart would catch up and stop loving you but..” He turned his back to you, swallowing back the heartache he was feeling and placed his hands on the table in front of him, his hands balled into fists. But he only fell in love with you more.

“I’m sorry,” he heard you whisper, the feign touch of your hand on the back of his shirt before it disappeared just as quick. Fred took a few moments to himself, trying to control his breathing and when he turned around to face you, he was met with emptiness. You were nowhere in sight, your bag that rested on the back of a chair gone as well. “Fuck,” Fred mumbled, wanting to scream into the abyss but pulled out his wand and muttered a quick spell to tidy the rest of the office up, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to escape.

Fred hid under the radar for the weeks that passed, hardly being the usual trickster that people were fond of. Everyone that passed the sulking boy in the corridor sent him looks of confusion, some even asked if he was okay to which he brushed them off. George had become worried when it was week three without tormenting any of the professors, and because George was worried beyond reason, you were non-stop hearing about Fred and it pained you knowing that you were the reason for his sudden change in behaviour.

Christmas came and went, the snow started to melt and the leaves were blossoming once again. It was safe to say you were enjoying the peace and quiet in Hogwarts, not having to come up with a comeback every five minutes to fight off the irritation that was Fred Weasley. Deep down, however, there was an abundance of loss. You missed him. It shocked you more than anything but it was true. You missed the sound of his voice, you missed his smart ass comments, you missed him more than you ever thought you would. Maybe there were some underlying feelings and your mind was brought back to the dreams that he occupied, the theme of them made it feel more real.

Sighing into your breakfast, you came to the realisation that morning that you had in fact had feelings for Fred Weasley. “What’s got you mopping?” your eyes lifted to see George sitting down in front of you, no sign of Fred anywhere. The Great Hall was rather crowded for this hour in the morning, there was a buzz in the air.

“I just realised I had feelings for someone,” you admitted loudly, earning every inch of George’s attention, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“And what are you going to do about them?”

Your eyes connected with your best friend’s stare, your brows creasing together. “You know?” you asked hesitantly, earning an eye roll from George.

“It’s not hard to put two and two together, kiddo,” he chuckled, pouring himself some orange juice, “he’s down at the Quidditch pitch.”

There were so many questions running through your mind but there wasn’t much time. The feelings were overwhelming and you were near sure that you’ve missed your chance with whatever could possibly blossom between you and Fred. You darted from the Great Hall, pushing past crowds of students, ignoring their displeased looks and ran like your life dependent on it towards the Quidditch pitch. When you arrived, your lungs burning and your heart racing, your mood deflated seeing the area completely empty. With your hands on your hips, you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading on your hairline. “Fuck,” you breathed out, turning on your heels but only to halt in your step at the sight of Fred Weasley.

“Looking for me, y/l/n?” he questioned, his voice not as daunting as it used to be. It was flat and soft, something new for him.

“You’re the guy that pretended to hate a girl for years to make her fall in love with you, right?” you asked, a small smirk tugging at the ends of your lips. Fred rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “What if I told you it worked?”

“I’d say buzz off and stop messing with me.”

There was a moment between you and Fred, a moment of understanding where he stared at you from where he stood, the pleading in both of your eyes that showed this was just as awkward for you as it was him. It was different. The change in your interactions was something to get used to, wanting to be around Fred was new. Wanting to kiss him was a thought so out of this world that it blew you away. “I’m sorry I had you sulking for so long.”

Fred chuckled, taking a few steps closer to you until there was just enough space to breath in. For the first time in his life, Fred felt nervous staring at the person that he longed for for so long. “It would have been easier for us both if you just told me you felt the same that day.”

“Life’s never easy, is it?”

“Not when you’re involved,” he winked, the familiar smirk making its way back to his face for the first time in weeks, “I know I didn’t ask permission last time, but..”

“Yes,” you breathed out, this time being the one to wrap your fingers around his collar and pulling him towards you. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss soft and expected this time. Your lips moved in sync, his arms circling around your waist and pulling your closer. The kiss was perfect, and it was something you could get used to.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #harry potter #Harry Potter imagines #Harry Potter fanfic #Fred Weasley fanfic #fred fanfic #Fred Weasley tiktok #weasleytok #freddie #fanfic

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hobipaint · 3 years ago

Text

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin.

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy.

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning.

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much.

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was.

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy."

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again.

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book.

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?"

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?"

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk.

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over.

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though.

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call.

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you.

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief."

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important."

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does.

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it."

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair- your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it.

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-"

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though."

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly.

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon."

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again."

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of.

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created.

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters.

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13."

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio.

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting."

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?"

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case."

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio.

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance.

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do.

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up.

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture.

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom.

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive?

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary?

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means.

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating.

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect.

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V.

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work.

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud.

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now.

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved.

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun.

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser.

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear.

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table.

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face.

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for.

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past.

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere.

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over.

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot."

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25."

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want."

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave."

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?"

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank, but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him.

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?"

"None."

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N."

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges."

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words.

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job.

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence.

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it."

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason."

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance.

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to."

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?"

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it."

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you.

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-"

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him."

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something."

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice.

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office.

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him.

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly.

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now."

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew.

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night."

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you.

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured."

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you.

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N."

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for.

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung.

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?"

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense.

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say.

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir."

"You broke the law, though."

"The law broke me, Sir."

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt?

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head."

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?"

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir."

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way."

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something."

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him."

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?"

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

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d-andilion · 4 years ago

Text

interlude

febuwhump day 7: poisoning i really wasn’t feeling this prompt and since the whole point of doing this is, for me, to write everyday, you get fluff today

(geraskier, fem!geralt, fluff, 892, ao3 link in notes)

“You befuddle me, do you know that?” Jaskier grumbled, tossing his comb onto the bed beside them. “You have the most beautiful hair of anyone I've ever seen, yet no interest whatsoever in caring for it.”

Geralt sighed in the dismissive sort of way she knew would get on his nerves and smiled when she heard his huff. “I've no need to with you here to kick up a fuss over it.”

Jaskier insisted quite fervently on combing through her hair for her at least once a day, more if he could get away with it. Which he often did. Geralt still made her halfhearted protests, but there’d been no substance behind them for some time. Loath as she was to admit it, it was nice to have her hair combed–both for the necessary maintenance and for the surprising amount of intimacy that came with it.

He hadn’t even let her out of bed this morning, insisting on ‘taming the beast’ before breakfast. Geralt could have thrown him off, of course, but she just rolled her eyes and let him hunt around for the comb. Now, sat crisscrossed between his legs clad in nothing but one of his silky shirts as he began parting her hair for a braid, she was glad of her choice.

“Yen says that hair is just dead skin growing out anyway,” said Geralt in a teasing tone.

Jaskier huffed dramatically. He so hated Yennefer’s fun facts. “Well, Yen also says that the tides are caused by the moon, and the Earth goes round the sun, so pinch of salt and all.”

“I think the Earth does go round the sun.”

“Now you're just being ridiculous to spite me.”

Not so long ago, Geralt would have bristled at Jaskier’s apparent animosity, but she knew he meant nothing by it. With the jealousy between them dissolved, their taunts turned to teasing and something like friendship had begun to take root. Geralt was glad of it; it pleased her to know that the two most important people in her life were on good terms.

“Next time we see her, I'll have her tell you,” she said. “It makes sense when she explains it.”

“Being convincing and being right are not the same thing.”

“It's all written down in a book.”

Jaskier gave a loud, phony laugh. “Any fool can write a book, my love. You could write a book if you wanted to.”

Geralt let out her own bark of laughter and turned her head a smidge to look at him. “Now who's being ridiculous, bard?”

“You could!” he exclaimed, firmly repositioning her head without losing his place in the braid.

“What would I write a book about?”

Jaskier pondered for a moment. “You could write a modern bestiary. Or a chronicle of Witcher history. I would obviously transcribe it for you, your hand is barely legible.”

“My hand is perfectly legible.”

“The first time you wrote to me, I thought it was one of my students having a go at me.” She could practically see the smug smirk on his lips.

“Never had a complaint before.”

“How often do you write to people?”

Never, except for you, she thought. Aloud, she only hummed.

“We can get you more practice this winter,” said Jaskier. “I'll make up some exercises to take with you if you like.”

Winter. Geralt had been thinking a lot about winter lately. Autumn had only just begun, but the cold winds would rise again before long, driving her back to the mountains and Jaskier off to wherever fortune took him this time. In the months since things had shifted between them, Geralt found herself more and more troubled by the thought of parting with him. A whole season spent without seeing his face or feeling his touch or letting him comb her damn hair seemed like a lifetime, far too long to bear.

She thought of Jaskier at the keep wandering the halls and getting on with her brothers because she knew he would, just like he did with everyone. Thought of him singing after supper and her pretending to hate it while the others jeered. Thought of him warming her bed every night and seeing his smile every morning.

The image alone nearly took Geralt’s breath away and she was struck suddenly by how much she wanted that. And she knew all she had to do was ask. The words clawed at her chest. She gathered her courage.

“Jas?”

“Hmm?”

“What if we didn't.” Fuck, she sounded like such an idiot. “Get me practice.”

“Then I suppose you'd continue to write like a drunk child.”

Geralt embowed him playfully in the side and he laughed, twisting out of her reach. She watched him take the hairband from atop his thigh and tie off her braid.

“I mean… what if you came with me this winter?”

Jaskier went completely still at the words and she heard his breath halt not a moment after hers. They sat there stiff as stones and just as she decided that she’d made a horrible mistake, to brush it off as a joke or something, she felt his arms wrap tightly around her waist and his nose bury itself in her neck. He finally exhaled and she felt his smile pressed into her skin.

“I think that would be lovely, darling.”

more from febuwhump

#haven't written m/f in an age so this was fun #i've jsut ahd fem!geralt on the brain all day #my fic #gj fic #mine #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jasier x geralt #fem!geralt

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randomingoftherandomness · 4 years ago

Note

Because I can't stop squealing over books and Cheolbong, what about another story where their princess and/or prince reads the prenatal education book their parents wrote for them?

A/N: Just a short one for you because I am not currently accepting fic prompts for this fandom

"What's this word?"

Their Princess turns her face up to her father with curious joy. Rain lashes at the windows and Cheoljong hitches her higher in his lap and peers at the words written in a barely legible swipe of the brush. Wincing a little, he cranes his head towards the door.

Any time now, his Queen will be coming in with a food spread for their afternoon tea. Since it is a rainy afternoon, Cheoljong is looking forward to what she will come up with.

Their Princess tugs at his sleeve and draws his attention back to her. Smiling, he kisses her brow. "You can learn that word another day, my Princess."

Cheoljong most certainly isn't going to be the one to teach her a bad word.

#queen cheorin #mr. queen #mr queen #cheolbong #gab writes stuff

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still taking prompts maybe college Peter who has a newborn (up to you how that happened) no one but his close friends know about and one day he has to take him to class for some reason and the baby won't stop crying and Flash is being a dick and people are getting annoyed but professor Tony just asks if he can hold him for him and does so for the rest of the lecture and the baby chills out (an extra if you're into more peter whump maybe he's very much struggling to deal on his own?)

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

I really liked this one - I saw the original video of this idea and it was real heart warming.

warnings: underage drinking, minor character death

word count: ~3k

Peter never imagined a singular night of stupidity would change his life forever. Right before winter break of his senior year, Peter had the sudden epiphany that girls were not for him. He and Ned were looking at a The Rise of Skywalker magazine – a typical Saturday night for the two of them. Ned went on and on about how hot Daisy Ridley was, how her badass temperament made her even sexier – but Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the shots of Ben Skywalker. It wasn’t until Ned shoved his shoulder into his side that Peter noticed his own radio silence.

Though he pretended to shake it off for Ned’s sake, his mind kept playing on that fact over and over again. A part of him always wondered why he never got that excited about the dirty magazines the guys would pass around the locker room – or why dates with girls never ended up working out quite right. Some of his best friends were girls that he thought might make the perfect girlfriend, when in fact, they were the perfect friend, instead. It didn’t bother him so much as surprise him – the thought never crossed his mind before, but now – it was the only thing he could think about.

When Ned brought up a party MJ mentioned at lunch earlier, Peter jumped on the chance – it seemed like the perfect place to test out his new theory. Maybe if he just gave himself a chance to like a girl – it would all work out.

That was his first mistake.

The next occurred when he let Ned put cup after cup of whatever he found on the drink table in his hand. The last time Peter attempted to drink, he passed out with his pants down in the middle of MJ’s bathroom – upon reflection, he hoped that would have kept him from repeating the same disastrous action.

It seemed he had not had enough punishment for his stupidity – only this time, the result was not incriminating pictures and laughed away stories.

Waking up the next morning, Peter groaned as the world spun around him when he sat up. Blurry eyes took in the room around him and immediately felt panic. The soft violet on the walls was not the normal drab white of Ned’s bedroom, and the comforter pulled over his hips was certainly not the Batman one that his best friend kept spread across his bed. And the person next to him most certain was not Ned. In fact, he couldn’t even remember who the hell it actually was.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, his head still spinning slightly. His naked body clued him in on what exactly went down last night, though no memories of it were able to surface. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the whirlwind of clothes on the floor and the odd soreness in the small of his back to understand what took place. Stepping into his clothes, Peter pulled out the little notebook he kept in his jeans pocket and tore out a page – his half-drunk brain barely able to translate a legible note.

In leaving his number, he never assumed the girl would actually get back to him. He couldn’t even remember her name – he still didn’t recall what happened that night. That’s why it was a total shock when she called, her voice a little shaky as she read his own note to him – each word one he remembered putting down on the paper. He clenched his jaw a little and stayed on the phone, the girl he now knew as Stacy had something to tell him. And man did he regret not hanging up the damn phone.

All of his plans to leave and head to MIT were put on hold the second he found out he was going to be a father. He felt May’s heart break across the room later that night when he told her the news. She wanted him to get out of here and do bigger and better things just as much as Peter did – probably even more so, if he thought a little bit about it.

The hug she gave him felt a little bittersweet. They cried together and then stood back up and made a plan. There were a lot of things that needed to happen before a new little person could take up residence in their small apartment.

It turned out that Stacy was a couple of years older than him and trying to navigate her way through NYU classes. She was a nice person and wouldn’t be too bad of a person to raise a child with. Peter told her up front that their time together was a mistake – that even after finding out about their soon-to-be son, he still didn’t think there’d be a chance for them.

It felt good to jump that hurdle before things got too complicated when the kid did actually come around. She seemed perfectly happy to share the parenting duties – it didn’t hurt that she fit in pretty nicely with May, either; the girls were always whispering about this thing or that whenever he and Stacy got together to go to appointments.

Seeing his baby’s face on the monitor every time they went in for a check up kept things in perspective for him. When May had to check him out of classes to make appointments, his stomach rolled a little – there were so many opportunities he was missing, and the kid wasn’t even there yet.

The heartbeat and promise of little hands that would wrap around his made it all worth it, though. He never thought about being a dad, there wasn’t time in a 17-year-old’s life for that. With it now on his doorstep, Peter’s brain wouldn’t shut down and think about anything else.

There was so much anxiety built up around whether he could be a good dad with very little resources and a singular aunt that would support him through anything, but had a life of her own to live, too. His deferment of his MIT acceptance chipped at the resolve he tried to build each day the arrival of his son got more and more near. Peter let himself be happy with the fact that he could still go to college at all. NYU was better than nothing.

When Atlas came around, it was with a mixture of joy and sadness. Right after holding him for the first time, Stacy simply dropped back against the hospital bed, her eyes shutting uselessly. Peter looked around with the newborn baby still in his arms, the beeping of machines and rush of people in the room making the boy wail – the stimulus almost too much for Peter himself. It never occurred to him that one moment would be the last time he or Atlas saw her. In one fell swoop, Peter became a father and sole provider to the tiniest human he’d ever seen.

The transition wasn’t very easy, either. There weren’t romantic feelings between him and Stacy, but she was the mother to his child, the person he’d come to know pretty well over the past 9 months. An aneurism seemed silly in a 19-year-old girl – yet, it took her all the same. One of Atlas’s first days outside of the hospital was spent in the small cemetery her estranged uncle picked to bury her in. He declined Peter’s invitation to hold Atlas and got in his car the second the ceremony was over.

Just like that, Peter had a three-day-old and the impending start of college classes. He assumed sometime in the near future he needed to get a job, too – but he could only handle a couple of big things at a time. Getting the baby settled and into a routine seemed like the most important thing, so he focused on that. May helped the first couple of days – her chill nature a little frayed now that a screaming child kept them both awake at night.

Atlas was just shy of a week old when Peter started classes at NYU. 3 of the 4 he signed up to take were cookie cutter prerequisites and general education classes. The pick of the loot as a freshman was not very rich. He did manage to snag a Biophysics class, though – his AP credit getting him something a least.

The professor was a gorgeous man with a neat goatee and the softest eyes. He spoke with authority and the distinctness that came from being extremely knowledgeable about the thing he talked about frequently. Peter spent a lot of his time in Professor Tony’s class alternating between drooling over how stunning he was and daydreaming about how much fun they could have together – if the older man would appreciate being called daddy the same way Peter wanted so much to say it.

The most standout piece of Mr. Stark came from the kindness he treated all of his students with. Peter absentmindedly forgot to turn in the week’s homework and wrote an embarrassingly long and blathering message about this and that as an excuse – and if he could please, for the love of god, turn the damn thing in. Tony’s response was swift and gentle, the man allowing him a couple more days to get it in without deducting any points. When it happened again the second week, he pushed the deadline back for Peter and the rest of the class. In all the unluckiness, Peter was surprised to find such a caring person in the most unlikely of places.

The next week, Peter was shaken awake by May, a distraught look on her face. “I know that you have class today, but I can’t keep the baby. I got called into work. I’m sorry, Pete,” May said softly, her eyes trying to stay soft, to stay under control the same way she’d always been. Blinking, Peter sat up a little – the sleep clung to him tightly, the crustiness in the corner of his eye making it hard to keep his eyes open. Atlas still wasn’t sleeping very well and there’d been many hours of rocking the night before.

“Okay. I got him. Thanks, May,” Peter replied blearily, his hand moving up to brush at his eyes. It took another minute or two to come around, then Peter was out of bed and moving into the kitchen – his body putting together a bottle and some things into a bag on autopilot.

He could probably change the baby’s diaper with his eyes closed now, too. Taking care of Atlas was all he’d done for weeks now, his classes the only thing that gave him sanctuary. Now, he didn’t even get to have that. Blowing out a breath, Peter got into the shower and got clean before Atlas was up and crankily crying out for him.

The idea of staying home didn’t hit him until about ten minutes into class when Atlas would not stop crying. The decision to take him came when he noticed that they were just a couple class periods away from the exam – he wasn’t sure how Tony tested and didn’t want to miss anything.

Atlas didn’t make a peep their entire walk over and when he sat down, he figured that trend would continue. After twenty minutes of it and Flash Thompson turning around three times to tell him to shut his kid up, Peter started to get out of his seat. It’d been a stupid idea in the first place.

All of the sudden, Professor Stark was in his row, his hands out in front of him. “I’ll take him. Do you have a bottle? I can feed him and talk at the same time,” Tony said, his face split with a soft grin. The man stepped a little closer and crouched down, his fingers wiggling in front of Atlas’s face. “What’s his name, Pete?”

Not knowing what else to do and suddenly so very grateful for the man, Peter turned the boy’s carrier and happily handed Tony his son – the older man cradled him carefully and stood up. He looked good with a baby in his arms. Peter reached out to give him a bottle and their fingers touched – a delicate zing that Peter couldn’t ever remember feeling before shot up his arm and settled in his chest. “Come talk to me later.” He flashed Peter a smile and started back down the stairs to the front of the lecture hall.

He tried to pay attention, he really did – but it was hard to focus when Tony was holding Atlas so delicately and swaying back and forth to mock a rocking motion. True to his word, the man continued to lecture – the normal talking with his hands transferred to his face, instead. His eyebrows hiked up his forehead and quirked to run a severe line between them while he spoke – the entire experience of it a little bit overwhelming.

Atlas finished the bottle a little bit into the more intense parts of the lecture – Tony simply put him against his chest and started to burp him while he described the math problem they were currently looking at on the projector.

The whole thing was too much and not nearly enough all at one time. It felt like a tease, seeing just how good the gorgeous man could be with someone so precious to him. The part of Peter that yearned for help like that made him want to cry – his eyes watering a few times throughout the rest of the lecture.

Flash looked back once when Peter was wiping at his eye and called him a pussy – the word not having nearly as much bite as it would have before Atlas came around. He was a father with a lot of shit on his plate – and far from the type of person that would run away from his problems.

For the rest of the lecture, Peter kept his eyes on the sleeping baby in Tony’s arms – of course he would be quiet for a complete stranger. Though, Peter understood the ability to be comfortable in the older man’s presence, he felt that way himself. Getting up when Tony dismissed everyone, Peter climbed down the stairs and put the carrier by his feet, a hesitant smile on his face. “Professor Stark, you have no idea how sorry I am,” Peter started, his words immediately cut off by Tony’s hand raising.

“Don’t apologize. You needed some help, so I gave it to you. Besides, Atlas and I are pals. He didn’t throw up on me,” Tony remarked, his eyes pinching at the corners as a stunning smile slipped across his face. “He can’t be too old. How are you coping with classes and a newborn?”

Without really knowing what was happening, Peter started to cry – the question making all of the thoughts he’d been holding back crash down over his head. He wasn’t coping – he did his best to survive and that was it.

Peter loved the hell out of Atlas, but parenting was not for young people. There was a deeply engrained need to make sure other people did not make the same mistake he did – having a child was absolutely no fucking joke.

Peter felt an arm wrap around him, the smell of cedar wood and something he couldn’t quite place invading his senses. Atlas was still fast asleep in Tony’s arms – the baby’s feet pressing into him a little when the other pulled him close. There wasn’t enough energy in him to feel embarrassed – it felt good to be held, so he leaned into the comfort of Tony’s arms.

“It’s alright, Pete. Let me help you.” Tony muttered the words softly, his tone of voice just as much for Peter as it was for the small baby in his arms. “I can take care of the both of you.”

#starker #ironspider #ask prompts #bobbie writes #au prompts #teacher/student au #anonymous #nonnie

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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years ago

Note

can I request 25 from the fanfic prompt list? from stranger-steeb 🧡🧡🧡

Of course you can hun! Thank you for it💛💛💛 @stranger-steeb

25. “I could tell it was your favorite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.”

—

Steve hated English class.

Not only was the teacher a spawn of Satan himself, but he didn’t get it. At least math had rules. He wasn’t good at following them, but he knew where he went wrong.

In english he never understood what he got wrong, until Billy Hargrove came along.

They had been in the same third-period english class for almost half of a semester when Billy suddenly decided to take an interest in Steve’s academic life.

He sat directly behind Steve, and when Ms. Lillith passed back their book reports on Great Expectations, he peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see the bright red F.

“Damn, Pretty Boy. All looks and no brain huh? How did you fail a paper like this?” He shook his own book report, which proclaimed Billy had earned an A+ in the same red script.

“Like you said Hargrove. I’m a fucking dumbass. Now piss off.” Steve turned around and resolutely ignored Billy’s constant pestering for the rest of the period. When the bell rang, he was the first one out of his seat and out the door.

Robin was home sick, and Steve still couldn’t be around Nancy and Johnathan for too long without feeling a piece of his heart break, so he was sitting alone in the library during lunch, attempting to decode Ms. Satan’s comments on his paper between bites of ham and cheese.

He was so invested in trying to understand the jumble of letters her cursive always turned into that he hadn’t noticed someone else slid into the chair across from him until he felt a boot push against his shin and a whispered voice.

“Stevie. Psst. Stevie.” Billy was terrible at whispering.

“What do you want Hargrove?” Steve snapped, already feeling a headache forming.

“Such venom Pretty Boy! I just wanted to see what King Steve is doing eating lunch by himself. Must be important to drag you away from your adoring fans.” Billy had an innocent smile, but the glint in his eye was teasing as he snatched the paper out of Steve’s hands. “Is this that book report?”

“Yeah, dickhead. It’s also none of your business.” But Billy wasn’t listening to Steve any more, instead reading over his paper and making a face Steve couldn’t read.

“Damn Stevie. You didn’t tell me you had dyslexia. Now I feel like a real asshole,” Billy said, setting the stack of papers down.

“You are a real asshole. And I don’t have some disease, so fuck off.” He expected Billy to finally leave, but he was never one to do what Steve expected.

Instead of walking away, Billy seemed to settle further in his seat, and pulled out a green pen. He looked at Steve with a raised eyebrow and grabbed the paper back.

“Do you even know what dyslexia is Steve?” Thrown off by the use of his actual first name, Steve just shook his head quietly. “It’s a learning disorder. Doesn’t mean your stupid though. Means your brain works differently.”

“Thank you Dr. Phil. Can I have my paper back? I need to figure out what she wrote so I can work on the next one,” Steve made another attempt to grab his paper back, but Billy leaned back in his chair and held it over his head.

“I could help with that. I could be, like your tutor, or some shit.” Steve stopped reaching across the table and stared at Billy, puzzled.

“You, Billy Hargrove, want to be my tutor?”

“Why not? We’re amigos after all. Can’t have you flunking out, where’s the fun in that?”

Steve bit his lip as he thought about his options. Billy was a grade A asshole, but he did have like straight As too.

“Sure. But just tutoring. No funny shit, alright? And I’m not paying you.”

And thus it began. They agreed to meet at Steve’s house twice a week at 7pm, one day to work on Steve’s essay, and one where Billy helped Steve with the assigned reading. Those were the worst days.

No matter how much Steve protested and whined and bitched, Billy insisted on taking turns reading it out loud. He would read a chapter, smooth and easy, and then make Steve read a chapter, where he stumbled over easy words and mispronounced the hard one. By the end of those nights, Steve was lobster-red and as grumpy as a wet cat.

Despite the protests and embarrassment, it was actually working. Steve was able to speak up in more in class discussions, which led to a rising participation grade, and his ‘reading journal’ was actually somewhat legible since Billy could help him put thoughts into words.

They were celebrating the fact that Steve had managed to get his D up to a C with pizza and beers when Billy got a call and had to rush home with a hurried “I forgot to pick up Max.”

He ran out the door and was roaring down the driveway before Steve even noticed that Billy had left a book behind.

It wasn’t the book they were reading for class, but instead a beat-up book with yellowing pages. The cover said that it was a collection of poems by Sylvia Plath.

Steve had never heard of her, but Steve’s interest was peaked purely because Billy didn’t seem like the kind of guy who read poetry unless it was assigned for class. He picked it up gingerly, as if the tattered pages would turn to dust in his hands and then wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. He put it on the small breakfast table before filling up a glass and returning to sit down and peruse through it.

Inside was absolutely covered in different colors of ink, all in Billy’s handwriting.

Notes, Steve realized. Notes Billy had scribbled along the margins as he read the poems. Most of them were pretty generic, underlining words and thoughts about the metaphors, except one poem.

The titled said that the poem was entitled “Mad Girl’s Love Song” and in the margins, Billy had scribbled two words. Words Steve had come to associate with a mocking tone and crooked smirk.

Pretty Boy.

Steve couldn’t understand what Billy meant, and instead of trying to unravel the mystery, Steve decided to go to bed and return the book to its rightful owner tomorrow.

Steve didn’t get the chance to give it to Billy until after english, where he followed the boy to his locker.

“You forgot this at my place. I could tell it was your favorite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.”

“Shit. Thanks Pretty Boy,” Billy said, and Steve couldn’t help but think of the Pretty Boy scrawled next to a poem about a Mad Girl’s Love, wondering if it meant something.

“No worries Billy. Seemed important.”

“Did you look inside?” If Steve hadn’t been spending two days a week with him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell that the white knuckle grip on his locker and the creases in his eyebrows meant Billy was nervous.

“Yeah, just flipped through it really.” Steve was almost certain that Pretty Boy and Billy’s sudden and uncharacteristic nervousness meant one thing, which is what gave Steve the courage to lean forward. “I really liked Mad Woman’s Love Poem, except I have to disagree with the ending. I don’t think she made anything up in her head,” Steve’s voice was low and pitched. Billy’s eyes widened and he dropped his hand from his locker door.

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” but before Steve could lean in more to close the distance, the bell rang for their next period.

They decided to hide in one of the furthest bathrooms and discuss the poem further.

—

They totally made out in that bathroom btw. Also I love Sylvia Plath, please read the poem! It’s like perfect pining Billy.

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tay writes

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Stay | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Prologue

Summary: Twelve years ago, you ran into a former classmate of yours at a grocery store and ended up going on a life changing adventure. Thanks to your dear older brother, the two of you had become closer than you used to be. But Bucky Barnes... you had no idea what was going to happen between the two of you.

Word Count: 6535

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tamilian!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x OMC Arjun Y/L/N, Steve Rogers x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: MINIMAL TAMIL DIALOGUE (I’m more than happy to translate!) & TAMIL CULTURE, References to Tamil Literature & Poetry, Mild Swearing, Alcoholism

A/N:This is my entry for @bucky-smiles‘s 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! My prompt was to write a Bucky fic inspired by my all time favorite Bollywood movie - Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani! Y’all should go watch it because it’s fucking amazing! But I decided to write this fic with a Tamilian reader because I am Tamilian. I was born in Sri Lanka. But I know that there are a few other Tamilian friends on this site who would love to read this. @jalapenobarnes & @fafulous, THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, MY CHELLANGALA! Ever since I posted this fic, I have received so many kind messages from my fellow Tamilian and other Desi Marvel fans who appreciate the representation that this fic has provided for them. I appreciate every single one of you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so much for your support for this fic!

12 years ago...

You pushed your black framed glasses up your nose as you squinted, the lined piece of paper in your hand looked like it had been ripped off of an old diary that your mother used to keep. The strains of oil and turmeric on the corner of it, and your mother’s writing in smudging black ink; you wondered how she had even thought that you would be able to read what she had even written. You looked down to read the grocery list in your hand as you let out another exasperated sigh. Your mother’s squiggly Tamil manuscript was barely legible as you tried to figure out what she had written for you to buy.

Despite the fact that you had moved to New York when you had been eight years of age, you had managed to learn English as a second language. While you were fluently speaking English by the time you were ten and had worked rigorously to be rid of your accent that had been the cause of all of the bullying that you had to endure, you could not let go of your first language all that easily either. Your parents had been it their mission to ensure that both you and your brother did not forget how to read, write and speak your mother tongue. From binge-watching VHS copies of old South Indian soap operas to enrolling you in Tamil language credit courses while you were in high school, their mission had certainly been a success.

You spoke Tamil just as well as you wrote it. Your knowledge of Tamil literature and poetry was also fairly extensive, compared to most Tamil kids who were actually born in America. You had read most of the Thirukurral and the poems of Mahakavi Bharathiyar, even Kamba Ramayanam and Silappathikaram. You had your father to credit for that. Your reading comprehension was fairly decent as well, but nothing could have prepared you to decipher what your mother had written on that marinated grocery list of hers.

“Hey, what the fuck are you starin’ at, huh?!” You heard a familiar voice call out, startling you in an instant. “Haven’t you ever seen sexy legs before?!”

As you looked up from the grocery list in your hand, you noticed the familiar red-headed Russian girl whom you had once attended high school with. In her ripped denim shorts and leather jacket, she looked quite feisty as she argued with a young boy whom she had just caught staring at her from behind in the checkout line. She had always been a ticking time bomb, not taking shit from anyone, teachers, bullies and cat callers alike.

“... I have. But those legs aren’t sexy.” The boy had responded to her with sass.

Your eyes grew wide as you parted your lips, unable to believe that a boy his age would dare to challenge someone like that. What even happened to kids these days?

“I’ll fucking slap you!” Natasha Romanoff spat at the teen, raising her voice as she grew irritated by his response. “Apologize! Apologize, right fucking now.”

At that point, the entire grocery store had been staring at the two of them. Leave it to Natasha Romanoff to start a scene like this. She had done so much more during her time in high school though.

While the two of you had not been close, you knew her well enough to know that she was not one to be messed with. The number of times she had almost gotten into physical fights with the jocks and the bitchy cheerleader girls who teased her for being a tomboy and ended up in detention were endless. If it had not been for her two best friends, you were sure that she would have gotten suspended or expelled for her behaviour. After all, that was a consequence to her non-conformity to high school stereotypes.

This poor boy must have been taken aback by her outburst. But he must have thought twice before he stared at her ass and sassed her out when she caught him. If anything, he had to learn his lesson the hard way. “Sorry...”

“Good. Now go stand on the other checkout line and don’t even dare to stare at me, you idiot.”

As you watched the boy walk away from her in defeat, you made your way over to the checkout line having given up on figuring out what the remainder of items on your mother’s list were. If you could get out of here before it got dark, you could stop by the bookstore on your way home and pick up some of your textbooks for the next semester.

It was the holidays after all. You did not have any plans to celebrate; not that you had anything to celebrate anyways. Diwali had been a month ago and it had been a decent celebration. While lighting fireworks and clay lamps was out of the question, you had spent it with your family by heading to the temple and sharing some homemade sweet treats among yourselves. You and your family did not celebrate Christmas, so you had been planning to study your ass off during the holidays.

With your three weeks off from school, you were planning on getting a head start on your readings for the following semester. The perks of being a pre-med student at an Ivy League school meant that you had a lot of pressure to excel academically. Often times this meant that you barely led a social life. Not that you minded, really. You were content with spending all of your free time being buried in textbooks and studying the last of your teenage years away.

A typical Tamil girl your parents had always wanted you to be, you had retained your innocence for as long as you could. At twenty-one years of age, you had never been kissed and never had a drop of alcohol enter your system. You still lived at home with your parents while your older brother had found himself moving out after he had left high school. It was just how things were and you had accepted it, not having a single rebellious bone in your body. As most first and second generation immigrants alike, you had found it hard to be the perfect Tamil daughter and a perfect American teenager. You had resorted to being the former, therefore sacrificing any prospects of close friendships or a social life in the process.

As you made your way over to the checkout line next to hers and began to unload your shopping cart, Natasha was quick to notice you as she began unloading her shopping cart as well. Recognizing you in an instant, she grinned widely. “Y/N?! ...Y/N Y/L/N?” She called out to you, her lips curling into a smile as she shook her head in disbelief.

You smiled at her as you laid out your groceries onto the belt. “Hi... Natasha.”

“What’s up, dude? Long time, huh? What have you been up to these days?”

“Nothing much...” You replied with a shrug. “Just... trying to get through pre-med, you know? Columbia’s been kicking my ass.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool.” She beamed, waiting for the cashier to ring up her items. “You’re still the same, Y/N. Even in high school, you were a straight A student. That is so amazing.”

“How about you, Natasha?” You asked her as the cashier began to ring up your items. “What have you been up to?”

“Just... arts, you know?” Natasha shrugged. “Studying has never been my thing, you know? Thank God, it’s the holidays though! I’m so glad I can finally relax and let loose.”

“Any plans for the holidays?” You asked her, curiously. As someone who has never had a proper holiday for yourself, you wondered what other people did during the holidays.

Perhaps, you wished to live vicariously through everyone else’s experiences. The only ever time you had a chance to travel were during the trips back home with your family. Other than that, you were pretty much stuck in Brooklyn.

“I’m heading to The Hamptons tomorrow...” She replied, excitedly. “We’re going to be skiing!”

“The Hamptons?” You asked, your eyes growing wide at her response. “That sounds quite fancy. What? Are you going with your family?”

“Oh no, I’m actually going with my friends. As a matter of fact, you know them too. Steve and Bucky, you remember them. Steven Rogers... as in my best friend? And Bucky, I mean, James Buchanan Barnes... you know him. He used to skip class all the time and get detention. You even had to tutor him for algebra once for extra credit or something, remember?”

Your eyes grew wide as you recalled her two best friends. You were slightly surprised that they had managed to keep in touch with her after all these years. But then again, the three of them had always been close. They were known as the inseparables around school, always hanging out with each other and slacking off in class together.

Often times, you had found yourself being jealous of their friendship. You wished you had that kind of bond with someone. You had always wanted a best friend but all you had was your older brother. You had been so lonely ever since you moved to New York.

For some odd reason, your parents had been against you befriending anyone who was not Tamilian. Apparently some bullshit about how anyone else would have corrupted your innocent mind and derail you from your path to being the perfect daughter you had always been. They had claimed that while they ‘trusted’ their daughter, they did not trust the society in which they had to raise their children. It was all bullshit.

Truth be told, your parents really had ruined your chance to make any friends at all. As much as you let your social anxiety get the worst of you, you had to blame them for the role they had played in your lack of a social life.

“Oh... right.” You reached into your purse to pull out the cash that your mother had given you, handing it over to the cashier and taking back your change.

As you grabbed your bagged groceries, Natasha had paid for her own things before walking over to you. “Hey, are you headed home? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“What?” You looked up at her in surprise. “Oh no, Natasha... it’s fine. I can take the subway back.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m heading over to see my parents anyways and they live down the street from yours. I’ll drop you off on my way.” She offered with a smile. “Come on, dude!”

For how long could you keep avoiding the kind gestures from people and push them away? You had known Natasha since you had first arrived in New York and you knew that you could trust her, even if your own parents would be against that. Thanks to her short hair, tattoos and piercings that made her seem like bad news according to their judgemental eyes. But at this point, you could care less about what your mother would think about you accepting a ride from Nat. “Fine...” You gave in, struggling to carry your groceries.

“Here, I got it.” Taking one of the bags from you, she began walking out of the store with you in toe. “So, what are your plans for the holidays, huh?”

“Not much, really...” You replied with a shrug. “Just getting ready for the next semester, I guess.”

Nat stopped in her tracks before turning around to face you, her jaw dropping slightly at your response. “What the fuck, Y/N? You really need to give yourself a break. You need to go and do something fun.”

A part of you knew that she was right about that. But truth be told, you did not know how to have fun. For the longest time, your idea of fun had been burying yourself in school. Studying had been fun to you until it became the thing that you always did. Not to mention your lack of a social life ever since you were a kid. After all, you had never even been to a sleepover. Now a legal adult, you had never been to a party. Never been kissed and never gotten drunk. You lived quite a boring life and you did not know how to fix that. “I don’t know, man... I never really did anything fun during the holidays. I just studied... a lot.”

Letting out a sigh of disbelief, she turned around to walk over to her car. “I’ll tell you what...” She unlocked her car before opening the trunk. “Why don’t you come down to The Hamptons with me?” It had been a casual offer, perhaps even one that she had thought you would refuse in an instant, which you initially did. But Natasha knew you and knew how hard it had been for you to make friends in high school. She was finally making the effort to be your friend by offering to let you join her on her trip; she should have done something like this many years ago. But better late than never, right?

“What?!” You gasped, hearing her offer. If it had been that easy for you to pack up and leave to The Hamptons with a skater girl and two boys, you would have done it in a heartbeat. But you knew your parents and there was no way they would even allow you to go on this trip if you had even bothered to ask them in the first place. “Oh no, I can’t...”

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be so much fun!” She grinned at you before loading the grocery bags in her trunk. “It’ll be just the four of us. It’s like you’re going to be on a trip with strangers. It’s just four school friends hanging out together for a week, catching up.”

“Oh no, Natasha... I shouldn’t be intruding.” You shook your head as you handed her the last of your bags. A part of you was longing to take her up on her offer, but you knew your parents very well and you worried about what they might think. They would never allow you to go off to all the way to The Hamptons with the kids they would have never approved of you to be friends with. Even if you were a pre-med student at Columbia University with a 4.0 GPA, no achievement would have made you worthy of such a trip when it came to their standards.

“You won’t be intruding at all.”

“Yeah, but...” You shook your head at her. “My parents would never allow it.” This had always been your excuse to turning down every invite to a party or a sleepover during high school. Your parents never allowed you to make friends with anyone, because that was just how it was.

“Well, then... we’ll sneak you out. You can’t let your parents dictate what you do and don’t do anymore. How old are you? Like... twenty? Twenty-one? You need to start making your own decisions at some point...” She was right. She knew exactly what she was talking about. “Y/N, you’re a good kid... you’re a good student, you’re doing good in school and working hard. You’ve got to give yourself a break. But there’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish sometimes.”

You sighed. “I... they won’t... I’ve never done anything rebellious my whole life, Natasha. And I don’t know how to... I can’t risk getting in trouble with my parents.”

“That’s why you have me, babe. I’ll sneak you out and have you back home in one piece. You have nothing to worry about. Just pack up your belongings tonight and meet me outside of my parents’ house at 3 in the morning. We’re driving up to The Hamptons ourselves.” She told you. “You don’t even have to pay for the gas. Just bring yourself enough pocket money to rent some ski gear and spend on booze or whatever... and we can spend the whole week skiing.”

“Natasha...” You bit down on your bottom lip. “I can’t...”

“For old time’s sake...”

“I need to think about it.” You admitted.

“Fine... I’ll wait for you until 3:30. If you don’t show up, you’ll see me drive past yours from your bedroom window.” She told you with a playful eye roll. “It’s your loss, Y/N.”

When Natasha had dropped you home that evening, you found yourself locked up in your bedroom for the remainder of the night. You paced back and forth, staring out your window to see her car parked down the street in front of her parents’ house. You had a few hours to contemplate taking her up on her offer. It was either spending another dreadful holiday drowning in your anatomy textbook or skiing with her and her friends. You finally had a chance at making friends of your own and it looked too good to pass up. But the thought of being caught by your parents terrified you, for the punishment would be a harsh one regardless of your academic achievements that should seem to balance it out.

So you did the best thing you could in your search for clarity and told your brother of this offer right away. While being of the male gender had certainly given him more privilege within the family, he knew that his freedom to do whatever he wanted was not something he could take for granted. He understood that as privileged as he was for the way your parents had been lenient on him, you were held to a higher moral standard than he was. Truth be told, he hated that and when it came to advocating for you and what you wanted, he always took your side when arguing with your parents. He was a true ally and the only real best friend you had so far. You could trust him.

“I’ll sneak you out.” Arjun offered in an instant.

Your jaw dropped as you heard his offer. “What?! Anna... are you insane? Amma and Appa would kill me they found out that I left!”

“Illa di, listen to me for a sec. I’m on your side here. Sometimes, you have to be rebellious and go out and get what you want.” He advised. “You’ve been too much of a goody-two-shoes to be treated like shit. I say you take the chance and get the hell out of here for a week.”

“Easy for you to say...” You mumbled as you rolled your eyes at him. “You don’t even live here anymore. But I do... and I don’t want to deal with all this crap because when I get back from this trip, you’ll be gone back to Harvard and I’m the one who’s stuck here.”

Your brother thought for a moment. “I’ll give them an ultimatum.” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “If they give you crap for going on this trip, then I’ll drop out of Harvard and flip burgers for a living. Trust me, Amma wouldn’t want that.”

“Anna... no, seriously... no!” You shook your head. “You’re being so dramatic right now and there’s no need for that. I’m not going.”

“Hey... po, di. If you don’t want to go for yourself, enakkaga po. Do this for me, please, di?” He told you with a pout. “Go out there and make some friends. You deserve it.”

You bit down on your bottom lip before sighing. “I’m terrified... but... I also want to go.”

“Then go. Go to the Hamptons... go make some friends. I don’t want you to end up friendless when I go off, get married and have my own family one day.” He admitted, chuckling softly. “You’ve been alone for so long, di kannamma. Go enjoy yourself while you’re young. You deserve it.”

You nodded as you pulled him into a hug. “You’re too good to me. Thank you, da Anna. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Hugging you back tightly, he sighed in contentment. “Anything for my kannamma.” He laughed as he held you close. The two of you shared a close bond and it was frankly because you were each other’s best friend. He would take a bullet for you in a heartbeat, so it was no surprise that he was willing to face your parents for your sake. “Now go up to your room, pack up your things and wait. I’ll come and get you when it’s time and we can climb out my bedroom window, sariya?”

You laughed softly and nodded, pulling back from the hug. “Sari...”

And with that, you had snuck up to your bedroom and managed to back yourself a suitcase full of your belongings. You were only going to be there for a week so there was not much to pack. But you were also cautious of how much you packed anyways, considering that you would need to launch this suitcase of yours off of the roof before you managed to sneak out your brother’s bedroom window. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to wake up from the commotion and catch you red-handed. You did not need this attempt at going on a holiday trip to come to an end before it had even started.

When the time came, your brother had helped you climb out through his bedroom window and threw your suitcase onto the sidewalk. Once he climbed down the roof, he helped you down and the two of you sprinted down the street towards the Romanoff Residence.

“Nat!” You called out to the redhead as you reached her parents’ house, your brother following after you with your suitcase.

“Y/N, you made it!” Natasha grinned as she ran up to you, tackling you with a triumphant hug.

You were taken aback by her embrace but you returned it anyways, your heart still beating right out of your chest from the adrenaline rush that came with sneaking out of your house and running down the street. “Yeah, I... I did.” You admitted, laughing softly. You were glad that you had not backed out of this ordeal, thanks to your supportive older brother who wanted nothing more than for you to be happy.

Arjun watched as the two of you pulled back from the hug. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Arjun.” She bowed her head at your brother. “Good to see you. Thanks for bringing her over.”

“Don’t mention it.” He winked at her before turning over to you. “You two should get going.”

You nodded as you pulled your brother into a tight hug. “Thank you... for being the best big brother I could ever ask for.” Your eyes glazed over as you realized how much trouble he was going to be in for the part he played in your disappearance for a week. But you were grateful that he had been there for you. “I love you, da Anna.”

“I love you too, di kannamma.” He hugged you tightly. “Have fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Natasha stood by as she watched the two of you say goodbye to each other. A part of her found it quite warming that the two of you had such a close bond. But unbeknownst to her, she had also admired how genuine and attractive Arjun really was. But that was a story for another time.

Once your brother had returned home, you and Natasha climbed into her car and she began driving towards Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes’ loft apartment. After all, this entire trip had been planned by the formerly chubby-cheeked and crooked-toothed boy whom you used to tutor. Hopefully, he would not mind that his little excursion had been crashed by his high school class’s resident ‘scholar’.

Present Day...

You tossed and turned in bed as you struggled to fall asleep, snuggling up to your pillow a you pulled the duvet over your shivering body. Despite the fact that you had slept in this bed for years, you had a hard time sleeping in it now. It was as though a part of you had forgotten how it felt to be home, which was partly your fault. After all, it had been your choice to leave home after you had graduated from Columbia. Your search for even the slightest of freedom had been satisfied, but coming home had always been a pain in the ass. You could not sleep.

You sat up in your bed as you let out a sigh of exhaustion, leaning your back against the headboard as you looked around your dimly lit childhood bedroom. Letting out a yawn, you reached over to grab your phone from the nightstand to check your notifications, hoping to see some missed call or text message from work so that you could have an excuse to leave the house in the middle of the night, this time through the front door rather than your brother’s bedroom window.

But you had been disappointed to find no messages from the hospital, meaning that you had no choice but to force yourself to go back to bed. Before you could lie back down though, you heard a slight knock on your door. “Kannamma?” Your brother said softly as he knocked. “Thoongittiya, di?”

“No... I can never fucking sleep in this house anymore.” You groaned as you climbed out of bed and made your way over to open the door. “Anna? What the hell are you two doing up at this hour?” You noticed that he was dressed in a pair of slacks and a button down shirt, a half-asleep Natasha standing behind him. “You were on call tonight?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I was... I just got called in. You think you could keep your Anni some company while I’m gone?” He asked you with a chuckle. “She likes you more than me.”

You nodded, giggling slightly as you yawned. “Sure, I guess...” You moved out of the way so that Natasha could enter your room and you let her hug you from behind. “I think she loves me, actually. She loves me more than you.”

“Yeah, keep saying that to yourself.” He mocked you with a playful eye roll before turning over to his future wife. “I’ll see you in the morning, Nat.”

“Drive safe, baby.”

“Bye, da.”You called out to him as he walked away.

Natasha chuckled as she made her way over to your bed and lay down. “I can never get used to this.” She admitted as she climbed under the blanket and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

You closed the door behind you before walking over to your bed. “You know he doesn’t like working nights. He just has no choice in that matter. He’s trying to get it all sorted out, you know. Hopefully, he can open his own practice at some point.” You admitted. “I on the other hand, I love working nights. I love that I don’t have anyone to go home to, unlike my Anna. Hell, it feels strange not working tonight. I can’t even fucking sleep right now.”

She turned over to face you. “You do work a lot so I guess being single is convenient for you.” She agreed. “But do you ever see yourself... actually having someone to go home to? Getting married and having kids of your own?”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. “Did you? Did you ever think you’d be getting married... to anyone, let alone my brother?”

“No, I didn’t... but fate works in weird ways, doesn’t it? It brought you and I together and then... it brought your brother and I together.” Natasha reminded, sighing as she hugged you gently.

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we had never run into each other at the grocery store that day?” You asked her, curiously.

“We wouldn’t be best friends.” She admitted, laughing. “We wouldn’t be family. I think we have Arjun to thank for that night.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess... if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be best friends.” And you wouldn’t have fallen in love with Bucky Barnes either.

12 years ago...

You covered your ears with your hands as Natasha honked one more time, hopefully the last time she would do so within the last ten minutes. The sound of the never-ending honking must had woken up the entire neighborhood by now, but unfortunately, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes happened to be heavy sleepers.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” She called out as she rolled down the window. “Steve, Bucky, I swear to fucking God if you don’t get your asses down here in two fucking minutes, I’m leaving without you!” She called out towards the second floor window of the building you had been parked in front of.

Despite the fact that it was way too early in the morning to be causing a scene in the middle of the street, it seemed as though the redhead did not give a shit about any of that. Her friends were both running late and she was certainly not happy about being the only one who had any sense of punctuality between the three of them.

After all, it had been Bucky Barnes’ idea that they drive all the way to The Hamptons at the ass crack of dawn. The least she would have hoped was for the two of them to be ready and waiting for her to arrive. But instead they had both been sleeping on their asses until she pulled up and honked for them to come out. With her lack of sleep causing her to be irritated, she was in no mood to be driving as it was and the boys being late was not helping at all.

It was another few minutes and constant honking before the two boys came running out of their apartment building, their duffel bags and ski gear in hand.

“Jesus Christ, Nat! You probably woke up the entire neighborhood!” Steve Rogers yelled at his friend as he loaded his belongings onto the trunk, followed by Bucky’s.

Bucky Barnes ran his hand through his wet hair that had now frosted up in the cold as he got into the car, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed the uninvited guest in the backseat. He looked just the same as he did three years ago, the only difference being that he had chopped off his long locks for a shorter hair do. It seemed fitting for the young adult look that he had been trying to pull off lately.

But he still had his high school charm on him, the one that you could not get away from no matter how hard he tried. “Hey... you?!” He looked over at you with a confused expression on his face, noticing that you looked so familiar to him yet he could not place how he had known you. He was just as forgetful as you remembered him to be. “Uh... do I know you from somewhere?”

You raised your eyebrow at him slightly. “You... do???” You swallowed your own drool as you caught yourself staring at him and looked away for a moment, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as you avoided his eye contact.

“Has your pea brain really forgotten high school that fast, Barnes?” Natasha snickered from the driver’s seat as Steve got in the car, buckling up as he turned around to notice you sitting behind him.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He gave you a look of surprise, but smiled genuinely happy to see you. “Long time.”

“Hi Steve.” You smiled at him before waving slightly, your eyes darting back to the confused former classmate of yours who had finally managed to recognize you as his former algebra tutor. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing your trip, by the way. Natasha invited me and I couldn’t say no.”

“Y/N?! Oh my God... Scholar Y/N, how could I forget these glasses?” Bucky laughed as he pulled you into a side hug. “It’s been so long, oh my God! How have you been, doll?”

You bit down your bottom lip as you felt yourself blush, slightly taken aback by his rather forward attempt for a reunion hug. “Uh... yeah, I... I’ve been alright.” You did not know what to say as you pushed your glasses up your nose, giggling slightly as you pulled back from him quickly but not as awkwardly as you had feared.

“Jeez, we used to flip a coin to see which one of us gets to sit next to you when we had exams.” Steve recalled with a chuckle as Natasha started the car.

“What? Why?”

“Because whoever won the toss and sat next to you was guaranteed to pass the exam!” Bucky replied, laughing as he shook his head. “You were such a nerd back then, doll.”

“I still am.” You admitted, proudly as you laughed and gave him a playful eye roll. “I take it you’re still skipping class and roaming the town with your camera?” You remembered that Bucky Barnes had a knack for photography, having been involved with the yearbook committee and the school newspaper for multiple years. You had worked closely with him when you had been the editor of the school newspaper during your senior year, so it was not as awkward being in the presence of these three. Thankfully, they were not absolute strangers to you.

“Yeah, I... I’ve been interning with a studio though. Photography is my calling.” He told you as he motioned towards his camera bag next to you. He never left the house without it and he was hoping to document as much of this trip as he possibly could. After all, this was going to be the last trip he was going to take with his friends and neither of them knew that yet.

“So, you still have no plans for going to college then?” You asked him. You remembered that Bucky had initially decided to take a gap year and go traveling after your class had graduated from high school. As Natasha had told you during your drive over to pick up the boys, it turned out that he had not managed to go back to school when he had returned from his trip to Italy.

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip before letting out a sigh. “Not for now...” He told you with a shrug, but it was a partial lie. After all, he had received his acceptance letter for a Journalism and Media Degree in London earlier this month. But he had chosen not to break the news to his friends just yet.

“We’ve actually been saving up our money, Y/N. We’re going to open our own bar in Williamsburg and be business partners, isn’t that right, Buck?” Steve clarified.

He looked up at his best friend with a small smile, but did not nod his head. Unbeknownst to you, the reason behind his silence would eventually cause a drift between all of you by the time this trip came to an end.

Present Day...

When you and Natasha woke up the next morning, the two of you headed out to mail out the wedding invitations that the two of you had finished packing up the night before. Your best friend turned sister-in-law made it her mission to personally deliver Steve Rogers’ invitation to him, just to make sure that he knew that he had no choice but to attend the wedding. With his current financial situation though, the two of you were sure that he would do anything to avoid the wedding. But Nat was not going to have any of it.

You should not have been so surprise to have walked into an empty restaurant, but you could not help but feel slightly bad about how your friend’s business had taken the turn for the worst. You knew that this was not what Steve had signed up for when he had first purchased this restaurant with all of his savings, but he had kept it going for as long as he could.

Natasha blamed his recent increase in alcohol consumption for his failing business, but you knew that there was more to Steve’s pain that he had resorted to drinking as a coping mechanism. Perhaps, this intervention was a much needed one.

“Ladies...” Steve laughed as he walked out of the kitchen with a cold glass of whiskey in his hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Steve, it’s 10 am... what the fuck are you doing, getting drunk this early in the morning?! Give me that glass!” Natasha walked up to him and tried to take his glass from him, only to fail miserably.

“I’m a grown ass man, Nat. I can do whatever the fuck I want...” He muttered carelessly before downing his drink and setting down his glass. “Always goes down easy.”

“Steve...” You sighed as you walked up to him, your lips curling into a frown as you pulled him into a hug. “Steve, come on... I know the restaurant is in a lot of debt right now but drinking your ass off is not going to solve that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, doctor.” He chuckled as he hugged you back. “If I drink myself all the way to cirrhosis, then that’s my fucking choice.”

“I don’t like what I’m hearing, Rogers.” You admitted, shaking your head at his words. “You’re struggling, buddy. Just admit that you need help and we’re more than happy to throw in a little investment, just to get this place back up and running like it did when it first opened. We hate seeing you like this, you know?”

“No...” He shook his head as he sighed. “I can’t do that, Y/N. You guys... have your own lives and your own shit to worry about. Don’t... waste your time and energy being worried about me or my business.”

“But we are worried about you, you asshole.” Natasha admitted, joining in on the hug. “I’m getting married and I hate that my best friend is... fucking miserable. I hate to see you like this. If you won’t even let us pitch in to keep this place going, then at least stop drinking your days away. The last thing I want is for you to leave me for good like he did. I’ve lost one of you already the way that I did... I can’t lose another friend either.”

“Don’t bring him up, please. I don’t want to talk about him.”

You shook your head at Natasha before you sighed, rubbing Steve’s back as you bit back your tears. “Fine, we don’t have to talk about anything... or anyone. But we have a wedding to get ready for. So, can we at least focus on that for the next few weeks?”

“Fine.” Steve admitted, finally forcing himself to smile a genuine smile. “Anything for my two favorite ladies and you becoming family.”

#2kbollywood #aj writes #stay #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel au #bucky barnes x desi!reader #desi au #bucky barnes desi au

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minsyal · 5 years ago

Text

Mutual Feelings Pt. 10, [Revali x Reader]

Summary: Read it yourself, lazy

The sun was unbearable. It had been a minute since you last visited Gerudo and the desert was even hotter than you last remembered. The City was cooler, but when you couldn’t bear to be within the City walls knowing you would have to sneak out at night, it was off limits. There was no way you were going to have the guards stopping you as you left only for Urbosa or one of the others to find out what you were doing. They’d think you were insane. To risk your life in the Yiga and monster-infested desert, especially at night, for a mythical flower would be idiotic.

Kara Kara was as lively as you recalled. With tired travelers lining the oasis, horny boys looking to sneak into Gerudo City, and hustlers insisting you purchase their goods it made for quite the atmosphere. Urbosa and Daruk greeted everyone with open arms as you pulled a small container from your satchel and handed it to Mipha. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing the thick liquid quizzically.

“It’s for your skin. It’ll protect against the sand and heat. Plus, you’ll be able to safely travel in the desert if needed without worry of dehydration.”

She nodded, securing it to her side, before turning her attention to the princess who was laying out the game plan. Zelda spoke quietly, wanting the conversation to remain as inconspicuous as the group could possibly be. There was no way to ensure clan members weren’t around and listening.

“I think we should split into two groups. One led by Urbosa, one by Revali.” Revali agreed with the princess, the suggestion inflating his ego. “Urbosa knows the desert better than anyone and Revali can easily navigate the skies if you get lost.”

“Sounds good t’ me!” Daruk pounded his hand on his chest.

“I’ll be traveling with Urbosa and Link… Mipha, would you mind joining us?” Mipha opportunely agreed to her request. “That leaves Revali with Daruk and [Name].”

“A good choice in pairing.” Urbosa noted, a knowing smirk on her face as she eyed you. “We should leave as soon as possible. The desert gets cold at night. I suggest we meet at the Outpost before sunset to report what we find.”

Traveling with Daruk and Revali proved to be difficult. Daruk could easily work his way through the sand but threw up large clouds in his wake. It was just your luck that you happened to be behind him. No matter the direction you stood, you struggled with the bits of dust and dirt that were attracted to your burning tear ducts. Revali flew from above, remaining suspended in the air just out of the sand’s gritty grasp.

Your shoes weren’t crafted for desert travel. They sunk down with each step and pulled a pound of sand up with them. At some point in the day, you became separated from the two. You could see Daruk’s cloud appear and disappear as he rolled through the desert. He stopped a few times near what looked like shrines. They shifted and waved in the excruciating heat. Revali vanished in the sky too, dipping down every now and again as he likely did what Daruk was doing.

You were perfectly fine being alone at this time. You had a different mission, a different undisclosed mission. Sand had not yet permeated the pages of your journal. By the end of the day, you imagined you would be brushing the thing out. You can only imagine how long you’ll be finding the stuff crushed and stuck down in the page’s crevices.

According to the book Sopho gave you, the flower should bloom in or near an oasis. It should be uplifted from the ground, on a plateau for example. This is to provide it with the best possible protection against those who wish to harvest its power. You squinted, brushing the line of sweat that dripped from your brow as you studied the pages. It was almost impossible to read your handwriting in the blinding daylight.

“Studying on the job, eh?” Revali appeared out of nowhere, taking his wing to block the sunlight from your eyes as you pivoted to see him. He wore his typical smirk. “You should be searching for shrines.”

“It’s hard to when your whole team leaves you in the dust,” you rubbed your eye, “literally.”

“I am surprised Urbosa assigned you to join Daruk and I, considering we’re the fastest travelers of the bunch. And you, well,” he put his other arm on his hip, “you’re a bit slow.”

“My bad Hylian’s don’t have a fast travel system. Some of us can’t fly or roll really fast.” The hand at your eyes continued rubbing.

“Stop doing that.” Revali scolded, moving to hold on your arm. “You’ll scratch your eye.” Still seizing your arm, he rustled through his own bag to pull a small canteen of water. “Look up at me, keep your eyes open.”

Doing as he said, you focused your gaze on him as he worked diligently to remove the cap and grasp lightly under your chin. He steadied your head, eyes flickering from yours elsewhere. When the chilled water poured from the cap, you flinched.

“Hold still, or I’ll leave you with sand in your eyes.” He instructed, grip tightening on your chin. “I imagine the walk back would be difficult when you go blind.” His hold lessened as he washed the dust from your eyes, and finally let go when he was pleased with his work. He stood back, moving to return to his former position of sun-blocker. Blinking the remaining water away, you wiped your face and dried your eyes with the loose fabric of your shirt.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“Revali?” You started, waiting for an acknowledging hum in response. “What did you want to say a few days ago at the castle?”

His head rose, chin lifting to aim his gaze upward. He took a deep breath as if thinking over the events of that night, before deciding against it and exhaling loudly. “Nothing you need to worry about. Some things go better unsaid.”

“It’s not good to keep secrets.”

“Interesting that you’re the one lecturing me on that. It’s not a secret, just,” he stopped, biting the inside of his mouth, “an observation. Anyway,” he motioned to the vast desert ahead of you. “Shall we?”

Traveling with Revali while he was on foot was strange. He walked slower to match your pace strutting about with his arms behind his back. The majority of his time was spent with closed eyes, not even attempting to locate anything. Maybe he actually enjoyed the heat. Daruk was nowhere to be seen, and likely wouldn’t be rejoining the group. He had told the two of you he may go rogue but be assured he’d find his way back. If not, Revali could find him with ease.

“Why aren’t you searching for shrines?” You asked, folding your book closed before tucking it back into your satchel.

“Why aren’t you?”

“I’m trying, but like I said… it’s kind of hard.”

“You and I both know,” he stopped walking, “we’ve identified all the shrines in this desert.” He continued on toward a rock in the distance. “So why are we all out here today? Simply to waste time? Or mayhaps to appease the princess’s desire for adventure?”

“I’d say the latter.”

“Well, at least we’ll be returning with some information.” He pulled out his own notebook and tossed it in your direction. You scrambled to catch it, becoming annoyed to a chuckle that escaped his lips. “We’ll turn this in and call it a day. The princess can barely comprehend my calligraphy anyway.”

“Is it because it looks like you coated your talons with ink and stomped on the page?” You twisted and turned the pages this way and that, trying to read what on earth he wrote. It looked like chicken scratches. “Is this really the best you can do?”

“No, but it’s the most work I’ll put in on something we’ve already done.”

“Thank Hylia, I’m not receiving letters from you.” You handed it back to him. “I would never figure out what you remotely wanted to say.”

“Like you wouldn’t want letters from me?”

“I’d want legible letters.”

“So, you admit that you would enjoy receiving a letter from me.” He hummed to himself, pleased with his ability to talk circles around you. “I’ll have to drop one in the post when I return to the Village.”

“I don’t,” you defeatedly sighed, “shut up.”

The sun moved slowly through the crystal blue sky, hiding behind clouds every now and again before peeking back out to warm the land. Walking with Revali was becoming unusually relaxing. He spoke every now and again, bringing up the few oases that littered the dry sandy Sahara. You took mental notes of their locations, deciding that the Southern Oasis matched the description of where the flower would bloom. It was only 6 hours until your window of opportunity would open. You wouldn’t miss it.

“I’m calling it a day.” Revali said as he spied Kara Kara in the near distance.

“I don’t feel like we accomplished anything.”

“I could leave you out here if you truly wish to continue this hike.”

The rest of the Champions waited at the Outpost. Gathered outside, they were enjoying a platter of refreshing fruit purchased from a delighted hustler back in Kara Kara. Zelda and Mipha both looked exhausted, lying on their backs next to one another, shielding their eyes from the now-setting sun. Daruk was content, chattering away with Link about how “the food is good, but not nearly as good as what Goron City has.” Urbosa sat quietly, satisfied with the sounds of the palm tree leaves rustling against one another as the nightly breeze set in.

“You two enjoy yourselves?” She asked, the same smug smirk on her lips. “You took quite the walk out there.”

“We gathered what information we could.” Revali handed Zelda his notebook, appeased when she interestedly started ruffling through the pages. “I, for one, would greatly appreciate turning in for the night.”

“I second that!” Mipha laughed, sitting up and resting her arms on the ground to support her. “The desert is so different from the Domain.”

“Well, it’s made of sand, dear.” Revali noted, bringing a hearty laugh from Daruk who slapped Link on the back, prompting him to politely join in.

Zelda, Urbosa, and Mipha all retired to the safety of the City after a small feast was brought out to the Outpost for everyone. Daruk and Link wanted to sleep outside near the door, resting on the large rock that served as a foundation for the Outpost. Revali opted to claim the tower as his, cozying up at the top. That left you with the one bed inside.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us inside?” Mipha asked, pulling the loose wool blanket closer to her body as she, Zelda, and Urbosa started for Gerudo. “It will be much colder out here. You should join us.” Zelda added.

“I want to go over my notes once more tonight. I’ll be less of a distraction out here. I don’t want my candle-light keeping you awake, especially after today.”

The girls nodded understandingly and left, but not before Urbosa could add her take. “Try not to spend too much time up on the tower, tonight. You’ll catch a cold.”

You pressed your hand to your blazing cheek, your hands cooling the skin to the touch. Why did she always have to make comments like that? She took enjoyment in making you blush.

Quietly, you closed the door to the Outpost, ensuring you hadn’t woken the two sleeping nearby. You watched as your footprints disappeared behind you as the harsh winds filled them with sand. Tugging the strap of the backpack up, you trudged forward. The Southern Oasis wasn’t too far away, maybe an hour’s walk at leisure, thirty minutes at a fast pace.

During the day, no group had reported on any sightings of the Yiga Clan or other dangerous monsters lurking in the desert. Night proved to be no different as you made your way peacefully to the oasis with no threats but the blowing wind and icy winds. It was different, the desert, at night. The moon illuminated each and every shadowy hill that you had to cross. There were no heat-caused waves or illusions of waterholes. There was only sand and sky.

The Oasis was difficult to climb, but you made it up after a few struggling minutes. There were glowing flowers all over the grassy plain. A small trickling stream cut through the middle of the plateau that hot-footed frogs took to with their chirping croaks melding together in the lively area. Crickets hopped from bushes into trees, hiding in the deep green brush.

The plateau was small, small enough to take off the carrying case for the flower and have no worries of losing it. You placed it down at your feet, twisting it into rest supported by the little sand that was up here. Opening it, you began examining each flower. The first had no gold speckling, as did the second, the third, the fourth, and fifth. The sixth was yet another silent princess, and the seventh was no different.

You sighed, having worked up a slight sweat. At this rate, you’d never find it. It had to be here. All signs pointed to this being its location: the oasis, the plateau, hell… even the desert. After an hour of carefully inspecting the flowers, your eye was caught by the slight gold glitter of something in the corner of your eye. It shone and sparkled like a diamond, the moonlight bounced off its petals, reflecting like a thousand mirrors on the palm leaves. There was something almost ethereal about it. The way it gave off light where there was none was magnificent. That had to be it.

Carefully, you scooped your fingers into the dirt, unbothered as it dug beneath your nails. Carrying it slowly, you lowered it into the case and gathered water from the oasis to pour into the bottom compartment. The walk back would feel longer than that out there. You had no more drive now that the mythical flower was in your possession. You felt like you could finally relax. She would be okay.

Your feet hit the ground below the plateau, indenting in the sand. Each step back seemed longer and longer as you slogged back with a considerably heavier pack attached to your back. When the ground rumbled, you shrugged it off as exhaustion finally getting to you. When it rumbled for the second time, you assumed it to be a small earthquake. They weren’t uncommon in Hyrule. A guttural growl alerted you to it being more than a natural occurrence. The large lump that slunk below the sand, causing you to rise as it swam below, confirmed it wasn’t natural.

There were no monsters lurking in the desert, at least there were no monsters you knew of other than lizalfos and the occasional bokoblin that lost its way. A monster than used sand like water was new to you. You watched as it swam away, only to turn in your direction and charge at full speed.

You ran faster than you ever had before. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as your legs threatened to lock beneath you. Your knees ached from the trek you made at day, and your ankles burned to high hell. It felt as if your shoes had been set on fire. Your arms weighed down on you, quickly turning to ten-pound weights that threatened to topple you over. The Outpost was still a mile away. You could vaguely make out the outline of Daruk peeking out from the front corner.

The strap to the case harboring the flower loosened, prompting you to swing it to the front of your body. You hugged it tightly to your chest.

You continued running.

Your knees locked.

You fell.

The monster approached fast, the sound of sand falling like water was the only thing you could hear.

You closed your eyes.

A horrific, excruciating sound of agony howled through the desert. The sound echoed off the mountain walls in the distance, bouncing around in the canyon. The ground shook once more before all was still. Opening your eyes, you pulled the case closer as if to hide behind it. There stood Revali, breathing heavily as he lowered his bow. His back facing you.

“What on earth were you thinking?” He asked calmly, not daring to look in your direction. His voice slowly rose becoming furious. “Are you brain dead? Sneaking out at night like some foolish teenager. Leaving the safety of the Champions. For what?” You could see the rage in his eyes when he finally found the courage to face you. “If nothing, this proves you aren’t meant to travel among us. This type of recklessness will not be tolerated any longer after your last incident. What is so important it means dying?”

You opened your mouth to speak but was met with him cutting you off.

“No, I don’t want you to speak.” He huffed. “You’re an idiot.” He pursed his lips, eyes tearing away from your fallen figure. “Come on.” He began walking back to the Outpost. “Come on or I’ll leave you here for the next thing to kill.”

Silently, you pushed yourself from the ground, not bothering to brush the dust from your clothes. Revali walked ten steps ahead, turning briefly now and again to make sure you were still following. He was fuming. You were tired. The eventful night only accelerated your exhaustion, making every movement feel like the last.

“I’m going to save you.” You reminded her as she beamed brightly at you.

“I know you will!”

“Oh yeah? How are you so confident?”

“Because you’re a Champion. Champion’s don’t let people down.”

The Outpost was quiet, unbothered by the shaking ground or loud sound that settled over the desert. Slinking inside behind Revali, you held your head low.

“Go to bed.” He instructed, folding his arms over his chest after he threw the blanket back. “Did you not hear me? I said,” he stopped.

Water streamed from your eyes, soaking the hem of your shirt as you focused on the still-glowing flower. Tears fell in big drops, leaving slick trails as they raced down your face. Everything came collapsing in as the mental barrier you had set up months ago fell. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry no matter how difficult things became. The emotions, everything, you felt from the fear to the joy and the sadness that was pooling in your chest finally burst. The dam that contained this calamity of passion was crumbling. It felt good.

“Why are you crying?” Revali said in a hushed, more calming, tone. He crossed the room, taking the case from your quivering hands and placing it gently on the desk. You crashed to the floor, your knees giving out.

“She’s going to be okay.” You got out between sobs.

“She?” He contemplated before it all snapped into place. The puzzle pieces finally matched up. “Keumi.”

“She’s so sick, Revali.” Wiping at your eyes was futile, but you continued to do so. “She’s so sick, and that flower is going to save her. It’s going to cure all her hurt and pain… She can finally just be a kid.”

Without another word, he understood. Hesitantly, he took you in his arms, pulling your shaking figure close as he rested his head atop yours. At some point, you moved to the twin-sized bed in the corner of the room. You relaxed into his chest, finding solace in the sound of his steady heartbeat.

“Why are you always so hard on yourself?” He wondered to himself, his voice coming out at no louder than the squeak of a mouse. He must have assumed you to be asleep. “I care about you, a lot.” A breath of air passed his lips as his heartbeat rose. “Of all people.” He tsked himself. “It had to be you.”

The two of you fell asleep, a calm peaceful sleep with no jittering kicks or unnerved grunts. It was quiet. It was nice.

“Have you seen [Name]?” Urbosa hollered from outside the Outpost to a groggy Daruk who shook his head and looked to Link who did the same. “Revali isn’t up on the tower, and I just worry that something…” She opened the wooden door to find a predictable scene, at least predictable to her. Rays trickled in from the window shades, the subtle glow giving the room enough light for her to make out the silhouettes of yours and Revali’s figures lying in the bed. The soft snores emitting from your direction made her smile.

“Find them?” Daruk rubbed his eye as Link rolled back over.

“No, but I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

#revali #botw revali #revali botw #revali x reader #revali imagines #botw #tloz #tloz breath of the wild #breath of the wild fanfic #botw fanfiction #botw fic #loz fanfic #loz fic #revali x you

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theshapeshifter100 · 5 years ago

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Joining the Watch

(Day 6 of @thewatchau‘s prompts!)

Part of her thought she should be with Charles, making preparations. New year, new realisation that the wedding was November and they didn’t have a house sorted yet!

Rena patted a paw against her, curled up against her stomach as they rode. Yes, she had to focus on the road. Especially given this horse was starting to wander off.

She steered it back onto course, moving it away from the frosted shrub it was trying to eat, and kept half an eye on Rena. He would notice if anything was coming up behind her.

In front Fort Stiofán loomed, and it was easy to assume that anyone approaching might hear the garrison before they saw it, especially on still winter day such as this. She couldn’t feel any wind, the few clouds weren’t moving and the trees barely twitched.

Clusters of houses and fields passed by, and soon they made it to just outside the outer walls. They stood tall and proud, and Mags dismounted the horse, tying it up just outside. Rena jumped off too, huddling by her legs to stay warm.

The two of them joined the steady stream on people flowing in and out of the garrison. Inside was treacherous underfoot, the frost and constant foot traffic having made it muddy and slippery.

Mags slowed down to not fall, and almost immediately someone walked into her. She assumed they apologised, as they walked on before she could get a look at their face.

She dodged some more bundled up Watchers before entering through the large front doors between two, tall, narrow towers. Inside was infinitely warmer, and even more crowded with people.

People huddled by the main fire, holding mugs of tea while chatting and comparing notes. Others stormed up and down the stairs with bundles of paper and parchment tucked under their arms. A few desks were about, and Mags just lined up at one randomly.

She got to the front quickly, and the Watcher there greeted her. That she could lip read easily.

“Are there any openings?” she asked, speaking since not everyone knew sign.

The Watcher looked at her oddly, her voice tended to have that effect, and the Watcher scribbled something before sliding it to Mags.

Would you prefer if I wrote my answers? My sign is bad.

“That would be helpful,” it would also be slow, but better than misunderstanding.

The Watcher wrote as fast as they could, and as a result it was a bit messy, but legible.

Okay! We have a few openings, what did you have in mind?

“I’m a Fae Researcher, so I could go in the Archives, or just, help out.”

It looked like the Watcher mouthed ‘interesting’ before writing further.

We could always use people in the Archive Room! And there’s always admin work that needs doing. Openings in the Messenger Tower, things like that.

As Mags read, the Watcher tapped their chin with their quill and quickly scribbled something else out.

How good it your sign?

“Good, why?”

There is a little boy, about 5 or 6, who can’t talk, and we can’t teach him properly. Would you be willing to?

Mags was not keen. She didn’t really think she was that good of a teacher.

“I’ll think about it.”

Of course! Sorry, didn’t mean to put pressure on you. How about I give you a list of options and you go over it?

The poor Watcher looked incredibly awkward and Mags wanted to laugh. Poor sod was probably over thinking it.

“That’s fine, and don’t worry about it.”

The Watcher found a list quickly and thrust it in Mags’s direction. She took it, internally shaking her head and trying not to laugh. She found a chair near the fire, and with Rena lying across her shoulder, she read it.

She couldn’t really do a full time position, given that she had a job. Really the only reason she was here was because Charles’s sister, Ivy, had such a good experience. It was just something she was curious about.

Looking around, everyone seemed friendly with each other. People paused to talk to each other, folks gathered around the fire or joined each other going up the stairs. There was an energy that could be felt, and it felt good.

The list had what Mags expected, basically part time librarians, scribes, posts in the Messenger Tower. That sounded the most interesting, but her skills would probably be good in the Archives. Especially if things remain calm in her head.

She found a charcoal stick in a pouch on her belt and made a few circles on the list, before reluctantly getting up and moving away from the warm fire. Rena snuggled into her cloak hood as best he could, also annoyed by this.

She got back in line and handed the list to the same Watcher.

“I can only do part time, but when can I start?”

(Usually I have written stuff underlined, but tumblr doesn’t seem to like that. Also, Jan 1611)

#The Watch AU #Mags #Rena #Fort Stiodan #Watch Prompts

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justice-for-shayla · 6 years ago

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Chicken/Egg

A/N: The prompt was Sex before Love and Mutual Pining and I went all the way off. I guess I had something to get off my chest.

Word Count: 1941

Warnings: Sexual content, though not graphic, scary academic situations, angst, complete lack of editing,

Tag List: I’m tagging people who liked the prompt ask and some writers I admire in the hopes that people will read this because I’m very proud of it. @sassystrawberryk, @lieblingliebgott, @r-ahh-mi, @rami-hoe, @elliotmercury

Your acquaintance started with crowds.

He was a face you saw in a coffee shop, the only person who was there as often and as long as you were. You spoke for the first time when he came over to your table, awkward as all hell.

“Is someone sitting here?”

The empty chair in front of you was a challenge. You both . knew perfectly well that you came in here nearly every day and spent hours working on one assignment or another, and no one had ever joined you. You had seen him watching you, and he had seen you watching him right back. The fact that the lunch rush had the place so packed that there really was no option other than for strangers to share was just the thing that finally made it impossible for the two of you to keep ignoring each other.

“No.”

He shuffled, worrying the strap of his bag. “Can I sit there?” He gestured at the crowd, at all the full tables, at the first dates and business meetings and tired moms catching up.

You nodded and shifted your stuff on the table, allowing him a bit of space. “Sure.”

It took all of three minutes for him to get annoying. He didn’t have to say anything-- people rarely did with you-- it was apparent without words. He typed way to fucking fast.

The stupid clicking was rattling around in your head, driving all the very salient points you’d been trying to put into your essay out of your head. “Could you not?” You snapped after a minute?

“What?” He looked up at you with an expression like you’d yanked him out of a movie theater in the middle of the show.

“The… clicking. It’s annoying.”

He looked at his hands. “Um, sure.”

To his credit, he did try, and you appreciated that, so even when it kept being annoying you didn’t say anything else.

The next time you came in in the middle of the lunch rush, you saw him tucked in the corner like a shadow, and beelined for his table, rather than make eye-contact with the guy who was clearly trying to pack up the nerve to offer you his spare chair.

“Do you mind?” You asked, already putting your stuff down.

He just nodded.

His typing was less annoying today somehow, and you did your work in silence while he did his, neither of you overly concerned with the other’s presence.

Your friendship started with panic.

Sitting with him had become natural, an easy second-best to sitting alone. Neither of you bothered to ask before sitting anymore.

“Morning, Y/N,” He said, surprising you as you sat down.

“You know my name?” You asked, running through your limited conversations trying to remember when you’d told him that.

“Your coffee,” He said, “I noticed it last time.”

You stared at the cup, the barista’s scrawl marking out a slightly misspelled but legible version of your name. “Right.” You looked at his. “Ed? Huh, doesn’t fit somehow. Shit, sorry that was rude.”

“It’s not my real name,” He said casually, not looking up from his screen. “I’m Elliot.”

“You give a fake name when ordering coffee?” You asked.

He looked up at you, his eyes humorless and level. “It’s funny.”

“Right…” With that, you went back to your work.

Two hours later, you fucked something up. Your dissertation, nearly complete, nearly perfect, worth more to you than gold at this point, was gone.

“How? What the…” You searched through all your folders, sure that it had been moved somehow. Sure that this page, which said “File corrupted” in terrifyingly simple text, was somehow not your precious magnum opus. “How?”

Abruptly, your throat is closing and your eyes are filling with tears. “No… No, this can’t be--”

“Are you okay?” You had completely forgotten Elliot, he was so quiet, and in his dark clothes he slipped easily into the background, which is how you thought he wanted it.

You shook your head. “No, I… I did something dumb. I’m not even sure what-- My dissertation is gone.”

There was a small silence while expressions flitted across his face like he was arguing with himself. “Can I see?”

“I doubt there’s anything you can do, see it says that the file is corrupted. Christ, i don’t even know what that means.”

Those eyes, which you were just now noticing were the most interesting color you’d ever seen, scanned over your screen. “Give me a minute.”

His fingers flitted over your keyboard, typing in languages you couldn’t make sense of. You vowed that if he managed this, you would never be irritated by his typing again. He was almost exactly right; a little over a minute later he said, “Is this it?”

“Holy Christing Fuck,” You said, staring at your paper, risen from the dead like a sexy intellectual dracula. Unthinkingly, you stood up and moved around the table to wrap your arms around his neck.

He flinched, and you leapt back. “Christ, I’m so sorry. I have no sense of boundaries, I’m so sorry. Just… holy shit, thank you.”

In that moment, you could have kissed him, could have done a great many things to express your gratitude, not that you would have told him that.

“It’s fine,” He said, looking away from you. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

Somehow, that weirdness broke the ice, and after that you talked--Chatted!--whenever you sat together, and he even started walking you home if it got dark while you were there. He never answered when you asked what he was doing, but seeing as he lied about his name for coffee, this didn’t surprise or offend you. He was quirky; you liked that.

Fucking Elliot started because of the heat.

It got hot in New York in the summer, the ugly, sticky, shit-smelling heat that clogged pores and ruined moods. You had turned in your dissertation and were now researching a book, but your days looked the same as they always had. You woke up, you drank coffee, you researched and wrote.

And Elliot was there. Even when the heat got bad, he walked you home and didn’t take off his hoodie. You had kind of started to think about taking it off for him. Weeks and months sitting across from him at those stupid cafe tables had called certain things to your attention. His long fingers, his eyes which were so strangely colored and so fascinatingly keen, his low, steady voice which you were sure sounded amazing when it was gravelly with sex.

You didn’t say anything, remembering your disastrous attempt at hugging him, but at night you fantasized about those hands, those eyes, and that voice.

One day, it all crashed around you, like something out of a movie neither of you would like. He walked you home on a sweaty saturday, where thick clouds hung over the city like wool blankets, making the air soupy and hard to breathe. You were walking, a block away from your apartment when they finally released their burden in a sudden onslaught.

You were soaked through in an instant but you ran anyway and Elliot ran with you, his limbs flying strangely like he’d only heard of running, and was just now trying it out. If you hadn’t been floundering in a rain-soaked white dress you probably would have stopped to laugh at him.

As it was, you both powered to your building door, and strangely, he didn’t stop at the stoop like normal, he followed you up the stairs, right to your door.

His hair was stuck to his forehead, his hoodie sodden and clinging to him, and he was frozen in place staring at you.

What had been loose, flowing white fabric--perfect for the heat--was now transparent and plastered against your skin, highlighting every detail. He licked his lips, paused for a beat, and then put his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

He did, and after a moment of frantic grasping at hair and clothes and keys and doorknobs, you both fell into your apartment and he pressed you against the wall and held you there.

Both of you had to get out of all those wet clothes, the urgency perhaps more extreme because of how much you wanted him inside you in that moment. Your dress fell next to his hoodie, winding around it like a strange, artistic yin-yang sign on the floor, which you barely had time to notice before he brought his lips back to yours and on your neck and then your chest, your nipples.

You had been right about his voice. It had been good before, but low and rough with need and desperation while he thrust into you, it was something else altogether. You wished you could have kept the sound he let out when he came for another rainy day, one when he wasn’t here and you would have to take care of yourself.

After that, you had sex regularly. The heat and the sweat of the New York summer didn’t subside, and the two of you made your apartment that much hotter, but somehow you didn’t mind. Elliot was surprisingly good in bed, and when he wasn’t, he listened and learned well. It was a perfect situation, he wasn’t too much in your life, and you weren’t too much in his, exactly as you wanted it.

Except that you started to talk after you fucked. He told you about his parents and his sister, and you told him about your classmates and your book. You learned that he wanted to help people, that he was lonely most of the time but that he cared deeply about things he would never speak of.

You started to love him because of him.

Because of all that kindness wrapped in all that damage. He was so perfectly your type, and you connected with him better than you had with anyone else, but not on that level. No, Elliot didn’t love you the way you loved him. You watched him become comfortable in your apartment and imagined him moving in, living with you in your shitty overpriced studio. He hadn’t even invited you over to his place.

But he let you in in other ways. He showed you his favorite movies and he would lay down with his head in your lap, no longer skittish about touching you. You let yourself believe that these things meant something, even though there was no way. Distance was what Elliot did best.

Still, you couldn’t pull away from him, not even to save your sorry excuse for a heart. You kept sleeping with him, sharing coffee with him, yearning for him whenever he looked away from you.

It was pathetic, and you couldn’t even really care. You wanted him, and you wished he wanted you. It was classic, the very definition of romance from those books you’d pretentiously enjoyed as a teenager.

For weeks, you assumed it was one-sided, that Elliot would never see this as more than a casual fuck between friends, but it changed rapidly, shifting in an instant just like everything in your relationship had before.

He was dozing off on your chest, laying over you in the slow, heavy moments after a particularly good orgasm when he muttered, quietly but perfectly distinctly in his beautiful voice, “I love you.”

Though you wanted to cry, or to leap out of bed and punch the air, you simply smiled and pressed a kiss against his head in an easy little affectionate gesture you’d been denying yourself. “I love you too.”

#Elliot Alderson #Elliot Alderson x Reader #Elliot Alderson Imagine #Elliot x Reader #rami malek x reader #rami malek imagine

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heartsongcreations · 5 years ago

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Journaling Supplies

Journaling makes up a huge part of what I do here, especially behind the scenes. I spend a lot of my work day every Friday working on journals and planners, so I thought that I would share some of the supplies that I use regularly.

I’ve had a few years to build up my collection before I started posting on this blog. Journaling the way that I do is a very active part of my business, which means that I put a lot more money into it than other people might. I don’t want anyone to be discouraged by what they see in today’s post, so I’m going to start with my basic supplies, then move on to the “extras” that I use for work.

The Journal

You need a journal to journal, right? That’s pretty obvious. The question is, what kind of journal? Does it matter?

Well, no. It doesn’t.

You can start with any old journal or notebook. I started out with a basic Mead brand spiral notebook - you can get them at pretty much any store in bulk, especially around July and August when the Back-To-School sales start. That’s my favorite time to shop for supplies, by the way. I know places like Walmart and Target sell them for about $0.10 a book those months, and through the rest of the year they’re maybe $0.50 - $1.00. Nice and cheap, and they do the job just as well as any fancy, expensive journal.

Over the years I’ve collected spiral and case bound journals in a bunch of different sizes. I’ve bought them from $0.10 all the way up to $70.00. It can be a very cheap hobby, or a very expensive one, and it’s entirely up to you.

If you’re looking for a new journal - maybe to follow along with the prompts and ideas here on my blog throughout the year, this is a good start. This link will take you to a 2-pack of hardcover, faux leather journals with thick paper for about $15.00. You shouldn’t have to worry about bleed-through even with Sharpies on these, but always do a test page for your writing tools before you start writing, just to be safe.

It’s not so expensive as to break the bank, but it’s a nice little splurge if you feel like spoiling yourself with a nicer quality journal.

Writing Tools

I tend to be very, very picky about my pens for journaling. I don’t like super cheap ones because a lot of the time they either dry out too fast or leave those ugly splotches in the middle of a letter. Yuck.

However, for the cheaper end of pens, I’ve never once had trouble with Paper Mate. Right this minute I’m using these Paper Mate Profile pens, and they’re wonderful. They write very smooth, the ink dries quickly (the most important thing for me, as a lefty), and the colors are very bold, which is great for journaling and planning.

You might be tempted to use pencils for your journal. What if you make a mistake? What if you decide you don’t like what you wrote. Well, you have every right to use a pencil, and they will last. After my grandmother passed away, I was given her hand written recipes, and there were a few that she’d written in pencil in the 60s or 70s that were still perfectly legible.

If you do decide to use a pencil, I recommend a #2 or 2B, just like you use for your standardized tests in school (in the US, at least). They’re very cheap, everywhere has them since school children need them almost constantly, and the graphite is hard enough to limit smudging, but soft enough for a good, dark line. If you want it less smudgy, perhaps try an HB. You might have to pay a little more, depending on where you go, but it should help with a longer lasting entry. If you do decide to journal in a softer, darker pencil, I recommend investing in page protectors or archival quality clear tape or clear coat, to preserve your writing when you’re done.

Markers are also a lot of fun for journaling, especially if you tend toward a larger or more bubbly script. I’m a big fan of writing with Crayola fine tip markers - fine enough that you won’t lose your letter shape, but thick enough for fun, bubbly font. The only trouble I’ve ever had with them has been that sometimes the marker nib absorbs too much ink, and then it starts leaking everywhere and I get multicolored fingers and some ink splotches. You can usually avoid this with proper storage though.

Extras

What are some extra things you might include in your journal supply stash? Well, I have a whole bin of supplies, so you might be surprised.

Greeting Cards - You can get them for $1 each at your local Dollar Tree, and it’s easy to include them in your journal. Just glue or tape the back of the card to an empty page, and there you go. This can add color or pop to your journal, and you can find them in very simple or very extravagant designs. I have a bunch that have little pop-up cutouts on the front.

Washi Tape - Yeah, I know, this is a little over done, right? Honestly though, the designs are really cute and I love using them on the edges of pages. If you’re journal includes things like lists or planning spreads that you might want to revisit, washi tape is a good way to mark those pages.

Stickers - I’m a huge fan of stickers and so is my fiance. I think I pick up a new sticker book at least once every other month, more if I can swing it. There are so many options, and you can find a sticker for just about any interest you can think of. Etsy has a bunch, and since the creators there tend to be small business owners, you’ll be helping them out instead of giving your money to a huge corporation (if that’s a concern for you). I also know that a lot of the time, if the store is 90-100% stickers? You can usually contact the shop owner and ask for a custom sheet. They’ll almost always be happy to accommodate you.

Envelopes - Like greeting cards, you can just glue or tape these in on a blank page, or inside the front or back cover. Including envelopes in your journal is a great way to store important keepsakes, notes, or just things you find that you want to keep safe.

----

This is a pretty basic list, but it’s a good way to get started. Almost everything I’ve listed here can be found for less than $10 (the linked journals being the only exception, and only because it’s a two pack). Journaling absolutely does not have to be expensive, and if you’re passionate about it, I’m sure that like me, you’ll acquire a larger stash over time.

#journaling #journal supplies #writing supplies #tips #heartsong creations

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unfortunatelysirius · 6 years ago

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CHOCOLATE FROGS AND LOVE NOTES // REMUS LUPIN X READER // PART V

Prior Installments: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV 💟☼💟 PROMPT 💟☼💟 ☾ ¡Original! ☾ Remus Lupin and Y/N L/N have anonymously exchanged notes through a library table for over six months. When Sirius and James start meddling, will they put Remus’s love life in jeopardy or get the pot of lurve brewin’? 💟☼💟 A/N 💟☼💟 guess who’s back again my dudes?! hopefully i’ll be able to get out some more updates before school starts back on the eighth. i’m definitely banking on getting out the next updates of not your girlfriend and whispers in the dark! and hopefully, maybe a few requests ;) btw there’s only one more part in this series!! and after that, any extras will have to be requested! 💟☼💟 WORD COUNT 💟☼💟 2239 💟☼💟 TAG LIST 💟☼💟 @kapolisradomthoughts @rageofcaliban @saucyleftovers @bunnymother93 @siriuslyr5 @apareciumimagines @random-quartz @ruefulposts @teacupwizard @sunny-day15 @themissinghippogriff @bellawolfi @semifunctionalhomosapien @pinkettepoet @allwhocansee @theravenclawlover

When Y/N L/N walked into the common-room after a strenuous effort doing Astronomy homework in the library, she was not expecting to see James Potter and Lily Evans huddled together on the sofa. She stopped just inside from the Fat Lady’s portrait, eyebrows going up to the end of her forehead. “What the bloody hell…” she muttered.

The pair of scheming oddballs snapped their heads in Y/N’s direction at the fine hearing of her utterance, and the smaller of the two went white with panic while the bespectacled prankster was just calmly lounging back. “Oh, uh, hi, Y/N!” said Lily, hand waving too frantically to be considered even remotely unsuspicious. “Fancy seeing you here… ha ha.”

James was much more suave, throwing up a hand and charmingly saying, “’Ello, Y/N.”

Y/N shook her head in confused exasperation, and instead of questioning the unlikely pair of partners-in-crime, she passed them by and went straight up the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitories.

Meanwhile, Lily was staring—doe-eyed and white as a sheet—at James. “That was close,” she whispered.

James just shook his head and laughed, putting on a game face when Lily’s stricken gaze went into a ruthless glare. “Alright, now where were we…”

- -

The next day, Lily forced Y/N from bed, too excitable to be calmed by the groans and glowers she received from their fellow dorm-mates. “C’mon, it’s Gryffindor’s match against Ravenclaw!”

Y/N groggily opened her eyes, turning away from the opening of her curtains when she saw the light streaming through. “Since when are you… so excited about Quidditch?” Y/N groaned, peeping up from her pillow when she heard Lily giggle elatedly. Merlin’s beard, she must really fancy James for wanting to get up this early in the bloody morning, thought Y/N, unaware how very wrong she was.

“Up, up, up!” Too drowsy to fight, and too annoyed to speak, Y/N allowed Lily to force her into a standing position. The redheaded girl grinned and turned Y/N around, using her wand to nonverbally fix Y/N’s wild mane of bed-induced frizz. In just minutes, Y/N’s hair was in perfect, bouncy curls. “Now get dressed!”

Y/N was almost scared to voice her irritation for Lily’s morning high-maintenance, and merely allowed Lily to drag her to their shared closet, forced into an airy dress, fit with a cloak so that Y/N would stay warm in that day’s cold, crisp weather. Lily wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around her neck, and tossed a pair of heeled boots at her feet. “Put ‘em on!”

“Yes, Mum,” mumbled Y/N with a roll of her eyes, on the very cusp of arguing, but knowing all effort was futile when in the face of Lily Evans. She grudgingly pulled on the wedges, went and brushed her teeth in their joint bathroom, then was yanked from the dorm, barely having a chance to grab her wand and satchel.

“Are you excited for the game?” asked Lily, grinning at Y/N’s lost face. “I know you weren’t planning on going, but… I couldn’t resist! I wouldn’t want to sit alone, you know.”

“You could always have shared a seat with Remus!” Y/N barked. She wasn’t much of a morning person. “I wanted to sleep in today.”

“Oh, quit whining,” said Lily, dragging Y/N into the Great Hall. Without skipping a beat, she added, “Wouldn’t you rather be the one to sit beside Remus, anyhow?”

“I really can’t stand you sometimes.” Of course, Y/N was joking, but she hated the thought that bloody Lily knew who she fancied. Now she faced torment and teasing every day from the girl, as well as from Marlene, Mary, and Alice. It was quite humiliating, honestly.

The two reached the Gryffindor table, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that the only open seats were two between Sirius and Remus. Lily released Y/N’s hand and plopped down beside Sirius. That left Y/N no choice but to walk slowly and sit beside Remus… and the two shared a fleeting glance that left them both looking away, cheeks tinted red.

It was only a few minutes of them all sitting in silence before James burst into the Great Hall, already clad in his Quidditch uniform. “Ready for the most humiliating loss of the season, birds?” called James to the Ravenclaws mockingly, before he was forcing a kid to move at the Gryffindor table, sitting across from Sirius and the rest. He caught Remus’s embarrassed gaze and grinned, winking at him. But really, unbeknownst to Remus, that wink was meant to trigger the second step in his and Lily’s plan…

“Hey, Y/N,” said Lily suddenly. “I think I left something in the library yesterday. You fancy going with me to get it before the game?”

A look of apprehension crossed Y/N’s face, but she didn’t like the idea of Lily going alone, so she nodded along. “Of course, yeah.”

Remus starred hard at James from his seat, wondering if this was all some ploy of James’s that somehow now involved Lily. James blinked innocently in response, causing Remus to drop his head into the table with a loud groan.

Shooting Remus a concerned glance, Y/N hardly had the chance to ask if he was alright. Lily pulled her right up and forced her to start walking.

“What the hell are you doing, Prongs?” hissed Remus when they were out of earshot, his glare so vicious that James nearly wet himself with fear.

“Ahahaha… nothing, of course.”

Remus groaned, yet again, looking so stress-induced that Sirius had the audacity to pat his back. All he got in response was a hard shove, and the puppy-like teenager was falling from the bench with a loud yelp.

“Bloody mongrel,” grumbled Sirius. All Remus had to do was pretend-lunge at him, and the boy was shutting right up.

Meanwhile—minutes later—Lily and Y/N arrived at the library. Lily, putting on a front so Y/N wouldn’t grow suspicious, swooped underneath the nearest table and began to frantically pat the ground as she looked for this mysterious object. A tad bit irritated, Y/N thought to do the same, but did the table nearest the fiction section.

Y/N mindlessly patted the ground, not even looking where she was going as she crawled from beneath the table. She knew she looked a right idiot searching for something she didn’t even know the appearance of, but frankly, she didn’t give a damn. After all, how hard could it possibly be to find something that didn’t belong in a library? Unless it was a book—then the two of them would really be deep in trouble…

“I can’t find it!” Lily whisper-shouted. “Can you look over by the restricted section? Please? I think I may have sat there yesterday!”

Grumbling obscenities under her breath, Y/N begrudgingly did as told… and found her head whacking something flimsy and papery. “Ouch!” she squeaked, hand smacking against her forehead as she rubbed where the offending object had made contact. Finding no bumps or marks, she then reached out that same hand beside her. She found herself grasping a piece of parchment. “What the…”

“Find anything?” Lily said from across the ways.

Y/N didn’t respond. Her heart beating wildly, she slowly undid the tape keeping the folded halves shut, and unraveled the note. She found herself faced with the same note she wrote to her pen-pal just a few days ago. “What the…”

There was a hastily-scribbled P.S. on the back, she found—and it was not what she expected in the slightest—

I know who you are. And maybe you know who I am. Here’s a clue.

Right underneath the barely-legible words was three surprisingly-remarkable drawing. One was of a fifth-year report card, complete with straight O’s and E’s. Second was a drawing of Peeves, holding a bucket of water balloons. And the last drawing was of two beautiful hazel-brown eyes… two hauntingly familiar hazel-brown eyes…

Y/N gasped. Her hand went limp, and with it went the note, free-falling like a feather until it gently knocked into her exposed knee. “Oh, bloody Merlin…”

If she didn’t have a bad feeling about today already, now her gut was a pot bubbling with unrest. The words and the drawings were too startling for her to realize the handwriting wasn’t even a remote match to her pen-pal’s amorously neat scrawl.

Her pen-pal was Remus bloody Lupin, and he knew exactly who she was.

💟☼💟 💟☼💟 💟☼💟 💟☼💟

“Lily, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” said Y/N hurriedly. After finding that indeed, Lily hadn’t forgotten anything the day before and the whole trip was both a waste of energy and of thought, Y/N spent the entire excursion back trying to convince her friend not to make her go. She didn’t know if she could face Remus without breaking out into hives and fainting. Bloody hell! She thought she’d been betraying the bloke by crushing on an anonymous pen-pal, but really, they were the same bloody person! Who would have thought this to be possible? And Lily was not aware (at least to her extent of knowledge, which wasn’t very far) of Y/N’s months-long writing expedition, so really, she had no one to turn to with this sudden revelation besides the beholder of revelation himself.

And Y/N didn’t feel like embarrassing the fuck out of herself when she’d done just that the other day, during that dreadful session of Veritaserum—wait.

Y/N came to a screeching halt in the middle of the corridor, ignoring Lily’s bemused expression. “Bloody fucking hell!” cursed the girl, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “I did it to myself… fuck. Bloody Sirius and his stupid half-arsed questions about books!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Lily, looking a bit wary of her friend’s insane-sounding rant.

With Lily’s interruption, Y/N immediately sobered up. She forced her expression back down into a nervous one, and just shook her head. “A-Ah, nothing… nothing, of course.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, but secretly, she was smirking. She knew exactly what had the short-tempered Gryffindor in such a tizzy. But would she reveal her cards before the real fun even had the chance to begin? Obviously not. “Oh, okay… well, let’s get going! The match starts soon, and I’d prefer good seats, ya know.”

“To see James the best?” Y/N forced a smile, forced her mind to stop with the persistent thoughts of Remus, Remus, Remus, as she nudged the redhead’s shoulder.

Lily suddenly looked cross, but only for a simple moment. She was back to grinning as she chirped, “No, so you can sit beside Remus! Knowing Sirius, all his bloody fans will flock to his corner, so it may be hard to find a seat near them, as you know—“

“I don’t want to sit with Remus!” Y/N blurted out.

This had Lily halting in the middle of the corridor, turning to look at her friend with a bemused, outraged expression. “You don’t?” she hissed. “How in Merlin’s name are you going to get together if you keep avoiding your crush, Y/N?”

“We just won’t, then, I guess,” the embarrassed girl said, looking away from Lily as shame arose in her stomach. Lily Evans sure had a way of making anyone and everyone feel bad about themselves. “I just—I don’t want to make a fool of myself!” Translation: I don’t want to let it slip that I know he knows!

Lily giggled. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being perfectly reasonable.”

“Oh, darling, you passed that mark the moment you decided to fancy a Marauder,” Lily said seriously, before yanking on Y/N’s hand. The girl came flopping forward, a frown on her face; of course, Lily chose to ignore her pal’s obvious unwillingness, and focused on the plan. With that, she pulled Y/N all the way to the Quidditch pitch.

Sirius was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor-supportive bleacher, alongside his fellow Marauders (sans one James Potter), and he rose a hand when he saw Y/N and Lily arrive at the stands. “Over here!” he called, using said hand to wave them over.

Lily smiled, while Y/N tried to ignore Remus’s gaze. The bloke was looking at her! How come she never noticed that ever since that day in Potions, he was always staring at her? Had she contracted some sort of disease that made her oblivious to all and any things obvious? Merlin’s beard! She was becoming dense.

“Hello, Sirius! Hello, Remus! Hello, Peter!” Lily chirped when the two of them finally got to their station. As a reaction to Lily’s surprising acknowledgment to the three of them, Sirius waved, Remus frowned, and Peter mumbled, “Hi, Lily.” It was weird, how they all seemed to know something Y/N didn’t, and she supposed that maybe they did. Remus obviously didn’t realize that Y/N now knew the extent of his own knowledge, so that was something she definitely had the upper-hand on. Not that she wanted the upper-hand. Quite frankly, she wished she was still oblivious.

Then she wouldn’t care to overanalyze the emotions behind Remus’s gaze.

And with Lily choosing her seat beside Peter, leaving Y/N no choice but to sit between Remus and Sirius, something fishy seemed to be going on… And it made Y/N wonder if all four of the people sitting around her were perfectly aware of what was happening.

Y/N sighed. This was going to be a long, long game.

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